Ankle deep in the cool waves of the northern Atlantic stood James Ward.
He was the foremost scientist of his generation. No one knew the seas like Ward. He had even gained notoriety with the publication of his cleverly alliterated book Ward's Wonderful World of Water.
The awkward piece of his life came not in his studies, but rather in the strange way in which he treated the ocean. Ward lived every day of his life teaching from the ocean itself; never more than knee deep. He would lecture to groups of marine biology students with a whiteboard anchored from the constant ebb of the waves. Shin-soaked he taught oceanographers of nuance in water temperature and its affect on the global climate. Yet, he never swam.
On particularly sunny days he had been know to pontificate from his aquatic pulpit on the long term health benefits of swimming. When a group returned from a study of the Marianas Trench, they went to Ward to speak of the beauty of the deep ocean. Ward was more than obliged to compare notes and nod sternly at the research. With furrowed brow he could be found starring at scuba equipment as divers used his makeshift classroom as a launch site for expedition.
Grimacing, James Ward stood ankle deep in the cool, relentless waves of the Atlantic.