• The sea looked very dark and rough. I stared down at it; reaching over the deck, sending tendrils of spray up to grab at me. Chilling attempts to pull me down, the wind in turns pressing me to the mast and trying to rip me from it. I climbed on, shimmying up to the top, driven by fear and necessity. If I didn’t cut the sail loose in time the entire ship could capsize and I would be thrown into the sea. The deep, dark, hungry sea.

    I tightened my hold on the mast as the wind screeched by, trying not to think. All I had to do was climb to the top and cut the sail loose. I heard a shout,
    “Wave! Wave, to the starboard side!” I looked down and saw Ben pointing. I leaned out to see what he meant, but I couldn’t see it. Then I realized, the line of white I saw wasn’t the horizon, it was the wave’s crest. I froze, it towered over the ship, at least fifty feet high. I heard more shouts and quickly wrapped myself around the mast and squeezing my eyes shut began to pray.
    “Dear Lord, please help me. Dear Lord, please help me.”

    When the wave hit the ship it felt like being hit by a brick wall, I was peeled off the mast and thrown away from the ship scrambling to grab something. Then I was in the water, swimming for what I hoped was the surface. I felt a tug at my ankle. I shook it thinking it had gotten caught on a line, but it didn’t come off and I felt myself being pulled down deeper. I looked down and saw that I was right; a line was wrapped around it. I reached down, fumbling to unwrap it.

    Suddenly the line was pulled tight, digging into my ankle and pulling me down even quicker. I reached down again trying frantically to free myself. Looking past my foot I saw what was dragging me down so quickly. The line was caught on one of the ships cannons. I don’t know if as I sank I cried, maybe my tears mixed with the sea, maybe they made it a little bit saltier. I do know that as my last breathe escaped my lips and the salty water rushed to replace it, I realized that I should never have been afraid of the sea, dying was much worse.

    Shaking off my sense of déjà vu I began to climb the mast. The sea looked very dark and rough. I stared down at it; reaching over the deck, sending tendrils of spray up to grab at me.