Thump

One muffled scream escaped as the trunk, with him in it, fell into the sea. Struggling against the ropes restraining his hands, Ellison knew time was not on his side. With no room to twist, his last hope was to kick a hole in the bottom and pray he could squeeze out.

Before his thoughts could gel into panic, he put all the force he had into cracking the wooden panel beneath him. Salt water slowly seeped in between the boards, adding to the weight as the make-shift vessel floundered in the wake from the ship making its departure.

Despair threatened to defeat him before he even started. When the boards didn't even squeak under his pressure, he sagged into the bottom, the dark pressing in as though he had already sunk to the depths of the Caribbean. Small cracks in the lid shot sunlight into his eyes. Inside, his emotions jumped through every part of the spectrum. Rational thoughts mixed with internal dialogue that had him questioning his own sanity. On a practical level, if he stayed inside the box, he wouldn't be eaten by sharks. And, rumour had it, drowning wasn't such a bad way to go, though how people would know that Ellison had no idea. Fear, as cold as ice, sat in his gut, fed by the knowledge that even if he escaped his prison, he was still miles from any shore and night was soon to be upon him. And then there were the sharks.

His brain called up an image of the trunk coming to rest on one of the outer islands. What an interesting treasure hunt prize that would be. He would be famous after death in a way he never could alive. All he had to do was stay in the trunk and accept death as the unavoidable outcome.

Heat from the sun began to impact his thinking. Water was going to become a problem. He looked around at the sea seeping in through small holes and gaps, knowing even more truly the phrase 'water, water, and nary a drop to drink'. Now that he was thinking about how dry his throat was, his mind cycled on thirst, temporarily forgetting about dying by shark bite.

All he ever wanted to do was sail. Being in the Southern seas was a bonus. Sure, there were hazards, but he worked hard and saved his coin. And he had made it, landing in a tropical paradise, his boyhood dream made real. For years, he toiled as a cabin boy or a steward, always feeding his desire to captain his own vessel. And he had come so close. It wasn't fair.

Thump.

Ellison stilled.

Thump, thump.

Fear shot through him and panic chased out any remaining rational thought. Railing against the ropes, the boards, the situation overwhelmed him and tears flowed as he fought for freedom. His wrists chafed and his legs burned with the effort. Nothing changed. His energy depleted, Ellison sank in the water, the rocking of the waves pitching his stomach, his face feeling green.

Thump.

The chest shuddered under the impact. Eyes wide, Ellison screamed. There was no chance of salvation.

Thump.

Thump, thump.

The boards creaked. His lungs heaved as the water crept up his sides, sinking his tiny craft further into the ocean.

Resignation settled in his soul as the sting of salt drew his eyes to a droplet of blood trickling down from his injured wrist to stain the water.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump!