Stardate 91928.31

Captains Log,  Stardate 91928.31,

     We are in a ship that is going down.  We have sent out all the distress signals, but even still, there is no real hope.  As the captain,  I am responsible for all the people in my vessel.  I am sure, that none of the civilian class in the ship will survive.  Of my crew, there is always talk of mutiny, though most will take any life boat they can find and save themselves.  There really are no children on board, but of the elderly we have over one hundred.
     I put myself in between each one of those elder humans and the sinking ship.  They will be comfortable as best as I can make them so, with what little I have and what little help I can get.  They will be gone—dead before the day this ship succumbs as well, I hope.  I will use myself up.  If help arrives I hope to one day leave my post; for I am old—but, how can I now?  I am supposed to be Captain, damn it!  I want to live, of course, but courage is such a contradiction; and to be a martyr, one only really requires the willingness to be one.
     I cannot afford to even think like this with a ship that is going down.  Moral is of the utmost importance.  It is the only thing that has a chance of keeping things going while I am gone.  If I can keep moral up enough to rest a minute.  I need rest, or I cannot help.  I know this, and still I wish it were not true.  I may even go now and reclaim my post to find that there is no longer a ship—and perhaps that would be easier in the end.  But, still without physical, as well as mental ready-ness, I would no Captain at all.   Findley out.