The Open Boat

The short story “The Open Boat,” by Stephen Crane, explores the experience of four men who struggle to survive the perils of nature. After their ship, the Commodore, sinks off the coast of Florida, the oiler, correspondent, captain, and cook must navigate the ocean in a small boat. Now, perhaps the term ’small’ is rather generous– their dingy is a very tiny craft in the desolate ocean landscape. Nonetheless, a dingy is all that separates these four men from their fate.

Each of the four men are skillfully characterized– their personalities aligning with such precision to their generalized titles. The oiler, of course, keeps the boat moving. The correspondent alternates the rowing duties with the oiler, and thus, between the two men, the task is divided. The cook, a man with a passion for food, has thoughts of ham and pie while he scoops buckets of water and returns them to the sea. The injured captain rests himself, physically, in the boats bottom, and expends himself mentally, navigating the dingy to shore. There is much mention of rowing, and rowing, and of rowing some more. 

Twice– once from a lighthouse and once from an omnibus– the men were provided false hopes of rescue. The lighthouse was brightly lit, but there was no sign of life. The omnibus appeared, to these desperate four men, first as a life saving boat, then a life saving boat on wheels, and then, disappointingly, as an omnibus full of oblivious tourists. Such events would not have been disappointments for the four men, you see, if the surf separating them from the shore was navigable. But it was not and thus they pondered thoughts of fate, and nature, and of the misfortunes of men.

One can understand why– considering the circumstances of the four men in the dingy– they questioned the ability of nature in the ways of her job. Each wondered to himself: If I am destined to drown, why was I allowed to come so close as to witness the beauty of land? Certainly, they reasoned, if nature were to deprive them of survival, then such should be revoked her authority in managing their fortunes. There was this pondering, an exchange of addresses, epithets in dishonor of the oblivious men ashore, and there was night. 

Upon daybreak the four men held a meeting. They realized they had no choice– a decision was made to rush straight for land and bail from the dingy when it swamped. And swamp it did. The oiler, most understandably, was the leader in swimming to the shore. The captain held tight his grip on the capsized boat. The correspondent swam and got caught in the current and then released again. The cooked drift afloat on his back and discovered the use of an oar. Running from the shore a man came towards them– a saint in their eyes. The cook and correspondent and captain were safe. But as the irony of nature would have it, the oiler lay face down in his sandy grave of fate.