Nomen Est Omen

I will rise. Soon. I have waited long. In the cold and dark deep. It was inevitable that I would rise. Nomen est omen. What changes will have there been above? I cannot imagine. Will steam raise me up? Or something else? It has been lonely, of course it has, with only fish for company. Who would have thought there would be so many species here in the bathypelagic?

The decision was not taken lightly. I had value. The crew could not survive without me, could they? I wonder what happened. They watched, surrounded by life boats, ditty boats, packing crates, sleds and as much as they could remove, while I sank below the ice. They even took Mrs Shippy, though I dare say no cat would have would gone down with her ship. Why should she? The Captain did not. Perhaps he thought it was the Expedition Director’s place to do so.

The men swimming round seem strange. They carry odd equipment that may be cameras, like the ones that members of the expedition used to preserve images of me for posterity. They swim, half-human, half-fish, in and out of my ruined hull. I wonder if they are surprised that I am still here? It should be no surprise. Nomen EST omen. I am Endurance.

Footnote: Oh, okay then:

"Nomen est omen" Plautus.