She is keeping the ship inside, hostage to her fancy. Storms, rough seas, rogue waves, windless sails, these are all in her control. The ship tries to maintain its dignity, its uprightness, despite her wild imagination.
Sometimes I hear her singing sea dirges, painfully soft, and I believe that it must bring some comfort to those bottled sailors and their madcap captain.
Or, is she really releasing the cork, the men, the sea; her songs, her mighty dreams, her taut desire?