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Shipwreck

Charlotte West

By Charlotte WestPublished 2 years ago 6 min read
1
(CDFW photo)

"A little assistance here, Little Cap!" The call came from the man. His voice echoed the waves pounding the bow from below as it swept across the ship.

His vision was obscured by the wind, which was laden with salt and water. His sandal-clad feet struggled to gain grip on the Mariana's slick surface. The man was startled out of his stance when the boat swung back and forth in an angry symphony. When the boat took another punch from the enraged sea, his hands hurried for the ropes he had just tied, but he missed them. He was struck. As he was hanging in the air, his universe tipped on its axis, grasping for a sense of stability that didn't exist.

He landed with a thump on the deck and fell into a chest bolted into the floor that held the life vests. His head was the first to hit the box, followed by the remainder of his body. As the full effect of the hit registered in his nerves, the world around him softened at the edges. He lay down for a few minutes, trying to catch his breath. He rose up on wobbly legs. He made his way back to the cabin, grabbing the railing for support and hoping to escape the disturbed waters cuffing at his ankles.

As he forced his feet to find the traction they so desperately needed, the entrance to the cabin steadily drew closer. Around the railing, his knuckles turned white. This was the most severe storm the Mariana had ever seen. His brother's lifelong dream of sailing around the world was slipping away. He pushed forward with increased purpose, pushing for the cabin door and steeling his resolve to survive.

His hands finally touched the metal of his security after what seemed like hours but was only seconds. The door burst open, denting the wall, the wind still ripping at his soaked clothing. He stumbled inside and hastily closed the door, shutting out the raging water. He closed his eyes and slid to the floor. He didn't give a damn about being alone or that no one was piloting the boat in the right direction. His head throbbed and his breath was heavy and ragged. He reached up and gently stroked the back of his head. It was wet. He lowered his hand and examined it again. It was red.

A tear streamed down his cheek as he looked down at his sodden cargo pants. His eyes were tightly shut and his mouth opened in a guttural scream. He slammed his fist into the cabinet next to him, forcing the wood to fracture. He let out a sob, followed by another. The violent waves shook him back and forth, just like his mother did when he was a child. She used to rock his younger brother to sleep. Especially when he became ill. To him, his younger brother meant the world. When he was told he had cancer, he was devastated. The young boy had always dreamed of sailing around the world and spending his days at sea. His brother chose to do it for him on the day he died. Using all his savings, he bought a boat and a haphazard sailing lesson from a sketchy guy on the docks near his home. Without so much as a note, he left. He left to fulfill his brother's dream or maybe just to get away. He didn't know anymore, especially at times like these. The times when his brother's voice plagued his mind. Talking to him. Reminding him. A new wave of sobs racked his body.

The roaring storms outside seemed to mirror the ones raging inside of him. He had refused to cry since the death of his younger brother, and now he couldn't stop.

“I’m so sorry, little captain. I promised you it would be okay. I promised.”

He remembered his mother. How concerned she'd be. She had to be convinced he'd been kidnapped. He began to feel a tremendous amount of guilt. His mother had lost not one, but two sons because of him. He was out of money and about to die attempting to accomplish the one thing he thought he was doing right. In the middle of the goddamn ocean.

“God, you’re so stupid! Why the hell did you think this was a good idea!? You’re a coward! You didn't do this for him, you did it so you could run. How could you do this to mom!?” He hit the palms of his hands against his face.

His mind was against him, and rage swirled about him like a perfect storm.

He raised his eyes. A keychain hung from the dashboard. His brother had had it since he was a baby, a small chewed-up fish. He'd stolen it just before leaving, hoping to take a piece of the Little Captain with him. He rose up after wiping his face with a wet sleeve. No, he wouldn't die here. He was not going to break any more promises. He wrenched open the little cabinet on the cabin's side with his fists balled up. He took out his first aid box and poured peroxide over his head wound. His legs sagged beneath him. The pain diminished after a few seconds, and he was able to stand up.

He hauled himself up toward the steering wheel, his face still twisted in misery. Peroxide-laced blood, perspiration, and salt water began to stream down his brow and into his eyes. He couldn't see anything. The Mariana was thrown into an approaching wave when the wheel jerked. The crunch of the boat hitting the water was unmistakable. The Mariana was going down.

Eyes wide with terror, the man ran toward the cabin door. A rush of air hit him in the face forcing him to stagger backward. The floor below him seemed to become increasingly unstable and his heart pounded to the beat of the perpetual tide below. Clambering over assorted ropes and tools he struggled to get to the life vests. His wound began to throb double-time as the memory of his head hitting the chest washed over him. Crouching in front of the case, he fumbled with the lock to open it. His hands shook, and his vision was still distorted. He let out a savage scream and began to try again. Just as he managed to get it open, a mighty bludgeon from a livid sea crashed over the bow and drew everything back toward its unforgiving jaws, including the man. His stomach hit the railing and momentum made him flip over. His body was thrown into the turbulent ocean and his skin was assaulted with icy daggers. The jarring impact froze his body and he lay quiet for a few precious moments. Finally coming to his senses, he forced his limbs to work and ripped his way to the surface.

Gasping for breath, he inhaled water and began to choke violently. The waves swallowed his frame as he desperately tried to make his way back to the surface for a gulp of precious oxygen. His chest seemed to be collapsing in on itself. After an eternity of suffocation, he made it to the surface. He looked around frantically for the Mariana. He spotted it 30 yards away, slowly disappearing into its saltwater tomb. His heart sank.

Thunder sounded overhead. Despair filled his being. He and his brother had lost their battle. The Mariana descended to the ocean floor, the little keychain fish falling with it.

Short Story
1

About the Creator

Charlotte West

Gotta do what you love, right?

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