The Open Boat

The characters in “The Open Boat” are given names that are representative of their character: the cook, oiler, correspondent, and captain. This style is also found in Crane’s other work, for example “The Blue Hotel.” It provides the story with a strong sense of characterization, even from its very beginning. The lack of capitalization of the characters names, along with the description of their faces as being “gray” (1), implies their generic quality– it seems as if any person possessing similar traits to each particular character could easily stand in as their replacement. Yet, it’s through Crane’s powerful narrative that we develop a strong attachment to each generic personality– and ponder their ultimate destiny.

Judging by his name only, the oiler would seem to be a character that keeps things moving. Within the beginning of the story, we learn this is exactly his assignment– the oiler provides much of the muscle to steer, and paddle, the boat. It seems his name is mentioned less then the other characters in conversation– we can assume his concentration is focused solely on getting the boat to land. When the oiler does join in conversation, he often does so with a simple gesture: “The busy oiler nodded his assent” (2). In regards to his position, a rower is typically set in the rear of the boat, also called the stern, and facing backwards. This traditional rowing position of the oiler is indicated in the story’s context: “…said the oiler, in the stern” (1). It’s ironic that while the oiler’s importance in the story is imperative, his physical position of being ‘last’ in the boat undermines this. The narrator contrasts this, however, by also implying that the uncompromising oiler is ’stern’ in his passion and dedication.

Rowing with the oiler was the correspondent. If a one were to assume that he inquired as to the meaning of their situation, they would be correct. While the others seemed to act instinctively, the correspondent often wondered to himself: he “wondered why he was there” (1); “wondered ingenuously how… there could be people who thought it amusing to row a boat” (3); “wondered if none ever ascended the tall wind tower” (7); and wondered at the “certain immovable quality to a shore” (7). He was trained to be “cynical of man” (3). He was also very inquisitive, for example, asking the oiler “Do you ever like to row?” (4). When he himself was rowing– and therefore “did not dare to turn his head” (4) to see what the others could– “he was obliged to ask questions” (4) to gain insight as a reporter of men’s fortunes.

The cook’s personality is also deduced easily from his name. As a man with a passion for food, it’s not surprising the he is described as having “fat forearms” (1) and thoughts of “pie” (4) and “ham sandwiches” (5). Somewhat less defining, but still seemingly fitting, the cook “squatted in the bottom [of the boat]” (1), and maintained that relative position thereafter. In his line of work a cook often measures quantities of food. In his current situation, he measures quantities of the boat: the cook “looked with both eyes at the six inches of gunwale [the lip of the boat]” (1). Also, similar to how he would handle pots of liquid on the job, the cook’s assignment on the dingy is to bail out the incoming sea water. 

Alongside the cook, the injured captain rests in the boat’s bottom. It’s interesting that the captain is on the escape boat, however, as a captain traditionally goes down with his ship. Perhaps the injury he sustained on his hand is symbolic of his guilt– or mental anguish– in making this decision. On the other hand, it’s to the survivor’s fortune that the captain is present– his nautical experience proves crucial in the boats successful navigation to shore. Many times we witness the captain take command of the men: “Keep’er a little more south” (1) and “Keep her [the boat's] head up!” (4), he often tells the oiler. In return, the oiler often looks to him for guidance: “Shall I take her to the sea again, captain?” (2).

Throughout the story the boat is characterized almost as a living thing. Thus it could be pondered if Crane did not intentionally personify the boat as a fifth character. The men sat upon it “not unlike a seat upon a bucking broncho” (1) while “the craft pranced and reared, and plunged like an animal” (1). Furthermore, the boat is consistently referenced as a female: “As each wave came, she rose for it, she seemed like a horse” (1); “… she would slide, and race, and splash…” (1); “she seemed just a wee thing wallowing …” (4); “Swing her head a little more …” (4); “she is going to swamp for sure” (7). Considering the importance of the boat to the four men, and their isolation together, it seems reasonable they would develop an attachment– even a dependance– to her.

Interestingly, like the boat, nature is also personified as she. Thus, it’s more likely that the boat’s female characterization aligns it not with man, but with nature. While rather complex in explanation, (perhaps it’s a far-fetched idea), essentially the boat acts as a bridge between man and nature– I will attempt to explore this. So far, the men on the boat are, of course, men. The boat is referenced as female. So, the distinction between male and female elements in the story seems representative of the dichotomy between man and nature. In a traditional philosophy, man assumes his own free-will, but acknowledges nature is beyond his control. As such, the men in the boat understand they can not control the sea, the weather, or other natural phenomena. They do believe, however, that they are in control of the boat. Yet, (as previously stated), the boat’s female characterization aligns it with nature– of something that man can not control. Thus, the men, little to their understanding, have no control over the boat (even though this seems contradictory. After all, aren’t they choosing to row it?) The question then arises, do the men even have control of themselves? Is their free-will absolute?

This is an essential question explored in the American literature movement of naturalism. Crane was a master of the naturalistic style, as best exemplified in “The Open Boat” when the correspondent ponders “…the serenity of nature amid the struggles of the individual…” (7). Naturalism often explores this struggle, contrasting the free-will of man with the fate of the universe. Ideally, the dedication of the oiler, captain, correspondent and the cook would be rewarded with their survival. The forces of nature, however, are less then ideal. As the narrator explains, “She [nature] did not seem cruel…, nor beneficent, nor treacherous, nor wise. But she was indifferent” (7). Nature’s indifference is exactly what does not guarantee the mens’ survival– they are instead at the hand of fate. They contemplate this notion, repeating: “If I am going to be drowned, …why was I allowed to come thus far and contemplate sand and trees?” (4). If fate cannot ensure their survival, they believe “she should be deprived of the management of men’s fortunes” (4). This admittance of the men that fate is essentially controlling their destinies is an admittance of naturalistic principles. 

If the men’s survival is in the hand’s of fate alone, then the oiler’s death should not be symbolic– it should simply be his destiny. Considering this, it’s interesting to examine and debate some events that do seem symbolic. Most prominent is the importance in the oiler’s rowing of the boat. As readers, we can safely assume that without the oiler as their powerhouse– he even “…worked double-watch in the engine-room…” (4) before the ship sunk– the men would not have reached shore. If this were anything other than a naturalist work, the oiler’s death would seem symbolic. Instead, its simply tragic. Also, consider the scene where the correspondent, eager to celebrate their initial discovery of a lighthouse, produces four wet cigars, four dry cigars, and three matches. Is it a possible coincidence there is one wet and one dry cigar for each man? It could easily be reasoned that the dry cigars represent each of the men while the three matches represent the survivors. To coincide with the principles of naturalism, however, Crane contrasts the dry cigars (survival) with the wet (drowning,) thus, symbolizing the equal possibilities of each. The matches set their destiny aflame. Consider then, in final thought, the men’s fate if the correspondent had instead pulled two dry matches, one dried match, or four wet.