And it sinks.

Take the scene: A ship, flailing about in the confines of the gelid sea. What can it do but sink?

He wonders what it was in particular that led him to this, fighting against the relentless rage of the eternal sea (for it was eternal, there was never anything but the sea). His hands held tight numbly to the steer, attempting to not lose veneer.

Arrogance. What else could it be?

This beast had swallowed whole beings ten times their size. How could it be anything but the familiar bitter taste of human arrogance that led them to believe that a mere ship could traverse its heights?

Perhaps he was being too cruel. Perhaps it was just the deceit of nature, a temptation too alluring to refuse.

He clings and clutches and cries as it roars yet again, unable to recognise even his own tears from the gentle grip of the sea.

Human life held inherent value, (for value and meaning was only a human creation) Even if it was just himself alone; in letting of the wheel, giving up the battle and giving in to the no doubt comforting grasp of the water- he would be committing a sin.

So he clung despite his fear, not out of hope in misplaced arrogance but of a mystical force that compelled him to hold onto the life he had never held so-

And it sinks.