Maratime

• Joshua Granger, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2017

As I rocked to and through in my soft rope hammock I drifted to sleep. The sound of the cool water and salt sea breeze slowly put me in to a deep slumber.
I was abruptly awoken by the sound of terrified screams and commanding yells from the top deck. I grabbed my coat, shoved my feet in to my thick rubber boots and made my way towards the door. By this time, the boat was swaying violently side to side. As I ran for the top deck, a huge wave hit into the side of the boat and it suddenly lurched starboard. I was knocked off my feet into the wall with a heavy thud. I tried to regain my balance but the boat had not calmed its rocking and now my ears were ringing. I raised my hand to my fore head and felt the hot stream of blood run through my fingers and down my face. I huge gash had opened and was pouring blood quickly. I grabbed a long handkerchief from my pocket and wrapped it around my head.
By the time I had made it to the deck my handkerchief was stained red, my body was covered in bruises, and scrapes from being throw around like a rag doll. I looked out and saw my fellow crew fighting to hold ropes and tie knots. They fought to keep they position against the rain and hail that was thrown at them from the skies. A white fork of lightning flew across the heavens bringing a small moment of light in the dark night. The roar of thunder was muffled out by the sound of the crashing waves as they collapsed on to the boat.
Suddenly a particularly large wall of water smashed into the port side of the boat quickly sending to men over. The ropes that they were holding snapped from their spots and the mast quickly sung around. I duck just in time as three more men who were not as quick as I was where knocked in to the raging seas. The mast continued its circle and smashed through the bridges window front sending a spray of sea mist and broken glass in soft white cloud.
I ran into the room to be greeted with the doorway ripped of the door and the hinges hanging pointlessly by the side. The captain lay on the glass laid flow with multiple cuts across his face. I ran over to him and when I called his name, no response came. I grabbed his wrist but it was stone cold and still.
I got up and grabbed the wheel that at this point was spinning out of control. The wooden disc bruised my hands as I tried to take control of the ship. With all my strength, I spun the wheel back on course. As I tried to keep the ship from tipping, I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a small crinkled, ripped piece of paper. On it was a grayscale phot of my wife and daughter printed. They stood there smiling frozen in time. I would see them again. As the blood from my forehead dripped over my face I tasted the salty substance as I pulled the wheel on last time.