The Comforting Sea

[Will_Couper]

Michael Stubbs knew that it was a mistake to leave when they did. Even as the ship pulled away from the Japanese dock, the sky and the sea both glowered grey. A storm was forming just below the unsettled surface of the water and within the clouds.

The ship was rolling. That was a bad sign. When a container ship the size of the one he was on was feeling the sea move like that, it meant that something big was on the way.

He had always tried to avoid the cliché of being the superstitious sailor, and for the most part had succeeded, but leaving dock, and cutting out into the surly expanse of the Pacific that day, gave him a sense of prescient dread that he had never experienced before.

As he stood on the deck watching the land dwindle, he heard a voice. Since he was the only one on the deck it could only have come from the open sea. A woman’s voice came to him, hanging on the breeze, yet seeming as though it had been whispered right into his ear. He could make out no words, and even though it was spoken in a soft, soothing tone, he felt menace in the voice that made him wish he had some talisman to grip to bring him some comfort. The voice made him think disaster.

Of course he kept this from the Captain as he told him of his concerns. The old man smiled at him, his brown face wrinkled like cracked paintwork. He was unconvinced.

“Michael, my boy, I’ve set out in seas a lot choppier than this and nothing’s come of it. The Pacific is temperamental, but has never been unpredictable to me. I know its moods. Mark my words, in a couple of days it will be clear, sunny skies.”

Michael left the Captain to his smug ruminations over thirty years on the open seas. Michael may have had a third of that experience, but he had found the Pacific Ocean less than predictable in that time. He had loved the sea for as long as he could remember. He had yet to have a relationship last more than a month because of that overriding love that always drew him back. However he understood how dangerous and unpredictable the sea was. For that he feared the sea as much as he loved it.

There was little that he could do about it. This was the third time he had been out on the ocean with this man, and he had known at that first meeting that the Captain was unstable. The old man was deluding himself he had decided at the time.

As it turned out Michael was right and he regretted it.

He knew the Captain was wrong as soon as the rain began. The old man laughed this off too, as it was just a mild drizzle. From the way the sky darkened, Michael knew that it was going to get a lot worse. When the wind picked up on the fourth day and drove the rain into twisting torrents through the air, the Captain was beginning to have his doubts too.

“Looks like the weather’s not doing what I expected it to. Doesn’t matter, I don’t expect it will get too much worse than this,” the Captain said. Michael could tell from the waver in his voice that he was bluffing. The usual jaunty attitude was a thin façade.

The old man was afraid.

Both wind and rain became more severe as the day went on. The giant container ship lurched in the sea as walls of spume exploded up along the hull. The water had become almost black. Luminescent foam stood out against the inky water in the night-time darkness.
As used as he was to the roughness of the sea, Michael was having trouble maintaining his balance on the shifting floor. It was going to get bad.

The wind was howling around the ship, whipping the spray high into the air. It was impossible to tell what was rain and what was sea water carried by the ever-increasing gale.
He also realised something else. That if the storm got any worse, they were trapped out here. They were too far away from the port they left and they were never going to make America in whatever time this storm chose to hit them with.

Michael got onto the bridge. With the way the sea was acting against the ship, he decided that it was prudent to wear a life jacket. He received some amused looks from the members of the crew who seemed to trust the Captain’s judgement far more than he could.

The Captain was staring out into what had become a grey haze of rain, even through the spinning disc of the clear view, with bursts of white as the growing waves burst apart and washed over the deck of the ship.

“We’re going to have to ride her out, Michael,” the Captain said without turning round, his voice tense.

“We should have turned back days ago, or never left port at all,” Michael said.

“Don’t be insubordinate, Michael.”

“Shut up, you silly old goat. If you hadn’t ignored me and the weather reports, we wouldn’t be in this mess now.”

The Captain turned to Michael and in the half light of the bridge his eyes glittered with rage. A glimpse of the steel that got the old man to the position he was. No smile crinkled his face now. His expression was hard and unforgiving as a mountainside.

He got no chance to say anything to Michael as the rear of the ship tilted up. He was thrown forward, along with the helmsman over the helm and into the window. The glass splintered under the two robust men’s weight. The clear view stopped working. Rain became a cataract over the cracked glass.

Michael managed to grab a solid surface. The ship lurched back until the prow was facing skyward. Through the blurred windows, angry slashes of lightning could be seen in the low darkness of the sky.

Moaning, the Captain was dropped onto the floor.

The enormous wave dropped the prow into the waiting sea just another wave, just as huge, lifted the stern of the ship again. The prow was plunged further into the roiling sea.

Still gripping the surface he had before, Michael’s feet left the ground. The Captain and the helmsman were slammed into the window again, cracking it further. The Captain was no longer moaning.

Michael knew he had to get off the bridge. As he thought it the prow smashed into the water and the next wave drove it deeper.

Through the roaring of the rain-driving wind and the explosion as the prow of the ship smashed into the water, Michael could hear that voice again. It was even clearer than it had been on the day they had set off. Somehow it was still delivered in a delicate whisper that he could discern over the tortured din of the battered ship.

“Be with me,” it said. A fleeting image of a smiling woman of ethereal beauty came to him before the ship shifted again.

Running on blind instinct, he scrambled from the bridge, the woman’s voice forgotten in the desperation of finding a place of safety.

He made it to the top of the stairs leading to the main deck and was thrown down them. Screaming reached him. Some of it was the ship’s frame straining as the sea and wind endeavoured to rip it apart. Some of it was the horrifying sounds of men being killed; thrown to their doom into the boiling waters or smashed against the walls of the ship.

At the foot of the stairs he wanted to lie. He refused to give in to the demands of his injured body. He stumbled to his feet, fighting against the tilt of the ship.

Water was leaking in through the bulkhead door that lead to the main deck. The floor was slippery. Getting purchase was difficult as he tried to wrench the wheel to unlock the bulkhead door. Without the proper leverage his feet skipped across the slick floor. He groaned in terrified frustration.

Feeling as though his muscles were about to tear he made an enormous effort and the door released. The weight of the door seemed to have doubled as the power of the wind pressed against it. He launched himself through it with a roar.

The prow was driven into the water again. Michael clung to the door. It closed on his arms and he almost let go. Looking down he saw that would have been a death sentence as the boat was submerged almost amidships. He saw this in the second before he was blinded by tears of pain. His forearms crushed by the door and his shoulders feeling as though they were being pulled apart by his own weight.
As the ship tried to right itself the roar of the storm was overtaken by an even louder noise, a screeching moan that cut right through even the pain in his arms. He blinked and looked down again.

The ship looked crooked.

Another fleeting impression and the ship was horizontal for a moment. He let go of the door and staggered to the rail around the side of the main deck. Water struck him from every direction. It conspired to blind him and knock him off balance and stop him breathing. Stop him thinking. The force of the storm gale was pushing the breath back into his lungs. Rain and whipped-up ocean spray stung his skin.

Everything was slick with water. He clung to the railings as best he could. He had to get off the ship – it was death to stay. The raging sea would be death too, but somehow he thought he would be safer in the water, rather than the sinking ship.
Jumping straight in from the deck was too risky. He had to get closer to the water. Jump in while the ship was half submerged.

He used the railing to stop himself sliding off the aft and into the propeller as the ship tilted again one way, then the other. He made his way down the ship.

In the hold, stacks of containers had come loose. Through the driving rain he was reminded of a child throwing brightly coloured building blocks. The ease with which such huge and heavy objects could be tossed into the sea was frightening. The sound they made as they bounced off the deck made him feel small and helpless.

The prow was disappearing further into the sea. The ship was almost perpendicular with the surface of the water. The protests of the ship itself were getting louder. He could feel the deck begin to buckle and warp under his feet.

The life boats were gone. And they would have been of no use in the teeth of this storm. A resonant thump came from deep within the ship. The aft part of the ship jerked down towards the sea. Breaking. The vessel was breaking apart.
He had to get off before that happened.

The tortuous straining of the ship was coming up through his feet. That was when his feet were on the deck. The ship was tilting up again.

Using the vibrating railings as a giant ladder was no easy task. The metal was hard to cling to. It was the best way he could think of to get off the ship.

Again the ship dropped back into the water only for another black wave to catch it from behind. Thanks to the action of the sea, he was closer to where the ship met the surface of the water as the prow was driven deeper into the sea.

This close to the source of the sounds he could see a huge rent in the deck of the ship. With the blinding effects of the rain and sea spray he could only make out a black depth. How deep it went, he was too afraid to guess.
The prow was dipping into the water. The horrendous sound of tearing metal boomed. The rip on the deck stretched to the side of the ship, the ship was close to breaking in two. Another rock back and forth would do it.

Now was the time to get into the water. He clambered over the side of the ship and into the waiting water below. The crush of cold hit him and he blacked out.

“Be with me,” the voice said, waking him.

He was bobbing on the surface of a tranquil sea. The sky overhead was covered by enough cloud to stop the blaze of the sun cooking his brain in his skull. Though his head was warm, and the shocking cold that had caused him to fall into unconsciousness had abated, the water was still cool.

He should have been shivering, the fact that his body was as still as it was made him afraid. The ship was nowhere to be seen. Undulating sea stretched around him. There was no way to determine where he was.

He was less than a mote of dust in the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. The long shot that he had taken to survive the sinking ship had landed him in the situation where he was going to dehydrate in the sun. There was no doubt in his mind that the cloud cover would clear and the relentless heat of the sun would do its work, leaving him a desiccated husk floating thousands of miles from anywhere in the world’s largest ocean.

He would have laughed at the paradox were it not for the question of the voice that had roused him.

For a second time, he craned to see that he was the only human being drifting in this part of the ocean. He wondered if a person could be driven mad in such a short space of time. The idea of someone going mad in their sleep sounded preposterous, but out here, with no one else to speak to, he had only the shouting thoughts of his own mind with which to converse. Like the quiet of the middle of the night, even the wildest notions can seem real and plausible.

The mystery of the woman’s voice plagued him throughout the day. He had to have imagined it, there was no other explanation. Something that was probably nothing more than a strange effect of the breeze the day the ship left port was now threatening to become an obsession as he bobbed alone in the open ocean.

As darkness approached again he took the opportunity to look at his fingers in the dwindling light. The skin was wrinkled and sagging from the bones, he wondered if they had begun to rot yet.

It was this thought that was with him when he fell asleep.

Shivering woke him; darkness greeted him. The chill of the early morning was working into his body. He was finding it hard to think, he tried to grab any thought, but it was like grasping at vapour.
Dying of exposure scared him more than the death of dehydration that he had first imagined. His muscles were already tightening and aching from shivering, yet he was still cold. This must be the way he was going to die. He began to cry. He had become a child, alone and helpless in the darkness.

His dangling feet were stirred by a gentle rush of movement. At first he panicked, thinking that something was pulling on his legs, trying to take him into the depths.

Sharks.

Somehow the aquatic predators had detected his presence and were coming to claim his flesh. He expected to feel hideous pain as their teeth sank into the muscles of his legs and tore chunks away.

No pain came. Instead there was warmth that spread up from his feet, up his legs and into his body. A flow of warm water was stopping the incipient hypothermia. He was confused and grateful as his shivering subsided in time for the rising sun.

“I won’t let you die like that,” the voice said.

He cast around to see where the woman’s voice was coming from - even as was beginning to convince himself that it was his imagination.

“You know who I am, Michael.” The voice was mirthful.
“You’re not real,” he said in a voice that was no more than a croak.
“That’s not true, Michael. You wouldn’t be talking to me otherwise.”
“I would be if I was mad.”
“You aren’t mad, Michael. You know that. I know that.”
“Where are you then?”
“You know where to find me. You have had all the answers, Michael. It was just a case of acknowledging them.”

He had no answer to that. He could sense that she was waiting, expecting him to do something. He looked down into the water.

The impression he got, stronger than the one he got before getting off the ship, was of something definitely female. Delicate features, a soft mouth and wide eyes greener than any that he had ever seen. She was smiling at him and he recognised her ethereal beauty. He was afraid of her. The impression lasted a few short moments before he was staring into the water. Whatever she was, she was still there, below the surface, watching and smiling.

He had to be cracking up. He was seeing transitory things under the water. The feeling of warmth that he knew had saved his life was no hallucination though. It could have caused the hallucination, the shock from chilling cold to warmth, as well as being out here all alone with no chance of rescue may have been enough. He wanted it to be temporary.

There were eyes on him, or he was being watched in some way at least. He had to ignore it.
“You cannot ignore me, Michael. I have been with you since you were young. I have known your admiration for so very long. Now you can come to me. Love me, Michael,” she said.

“Stop talking to me! You’re not real!” He said.

“But I am Michael. You know I’m real, no matter how much you deny it. Come, be with me. There will be no more uncertainty. The death you so fear will not happen.”

“I can’t. I just can’t.”
“That is unfortunate, Michael,” her voice became cold as hard-packed ice.

The sun was up now, and its heat was causing vapour to rise from the surface of the sea. The flow of warmth that had been enveloping his body stopped. It was less cold than it had been in the darkness, but it was still uncomfortably cool.

Hunger was beginning to bother him. His stomach felt shrivelled and it ached. He thought about grabbing at any fish that came close enough. As unlikely as it was, it was the best hope he could give himself.

Glaring sunlight began to make his eyes water as the day dragged on. He lapped at his cheeks as the tears escaped his eyes. The amount of moisture was tiny, but he was unwilling to let it go to waste as he had with his weeping before.

Heat surrounded his head, radiating from the cloudless sky and reflecting up from the undulating water. Sparkling light rendered the water opaque, so his hopes for seeing fish were slim.

He spent most of the day with his eyes closed, afraid of the damage so much sun was doing to his retinas. The pain that hit him was sharp and jittered up his arm.

Pulling his wrinkled hand out of the water with a hiss, he was shocked to see a sizable chunk missing from the side of his hand. Blood was oozing from it and dropping into the water. There was nothing he could do but look in horror as scent-laden blood dropped and dispersed into the water.

Too late, he clamped his mouth on the wound. The damage was already done.

A short time later the first of the white-tipped dorsal fins appeared. He prayed that they would bypass him, that the blood from his hand would disperse and they would go on their way. They began to circle and more arrived.

Panic surged in his limbs. He wanted to thrash and flail to get away from the sharks. That would do no good, even if he was at full strength he was no match for these creatures. Staying still made him look like a lump of carrion, bleeding into the water.

It would be a short time before they were tearing hunks of flesh from him as he screamed. His heart was hammering at the thought and the proximity of the predators. It was a matter of time before the first set of teeth ripped into him.
One of the sharks broke off from the circling group. It was heading right for him.
The restraint vanished. Terror destroyed it. He screamed and tried to swim away.

All of the sharks turned on him. Their frenzied movement and his uncoordinated attempt to escape turned the water into a churning froth. The head of the first shark loomed out of the water. Triangular teeth flashed into view. The inky black eye fixed on him. Stared through him.

In a fit of wild self-preservation he struck at the eye of the animal. His thumb found the centre of the black eye. His arm was covered in blood and clear liquid as the eye erupted apart. The shark thrashed away. To be replaced by several more.

In that second he knew what he had to do, what he had been forced into.

“I’ll go with you!” He said, screaming as much as his dry throat would allow.

Around him and under him the water exploded up. He was carried up on a pillar of water. The life jacket was ripped from him. The startled sharks were thrown high into the air. They landed, flopping in the water.

Wings of spray spread out behind him and he outstretched his arms. He hung in the air for far longer than should have been possible. He became electrified. Life that had sapped out of him in the past two days came back with a hundred times the power. He laughed and the sound was explosive.
“You will live every day with that feeling,” she said.

He turned and looked at her. She was stunning. He should have resented her for putting him in the position she had, but she was right. She was the sea and she wanted him. The love he felt was one he had felt for no woman. Her hand was outstretched. A hand that was at once delicate and pulsing with force.

They dropped below the waves. Her smile reassured him as the water rushed into his lungs. The moment of fear passed and he smiled.

The smile stayed with him as he was carried down into the depths.

[amytiger]

Ooh, nice. I enjoyed that.