"Father, stop it!"
I tugged at my father, Prospero's, arm, trying to get him to turn away. He stared at the mass of black cloud that hovered over a tiny ship. It plunged and twisted in the waves, and I knew that the men on board would die if he didn't stop.
The reason for this was simple- my uncle Antonio had banished Prospero and I to this island while he (Antonio) took over Father's dukedom, Milan. Antonio was on that ship, along with Alonso, the king of Naples, Alonso's brother Sebastian, and his (Alonso's) son, Ferdinand. Prospero held a grudge, of course, and now wished death upon him.
"Please, Father." I couldn't bear it if they all died, Antonio notwithstanding.
He kept his eyes to the storm, and didn't answer.
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