Capsize

The mast creaked and the ground shook. The captain shouted “Raise the sails faster you monkey’s cousins!” The Mihra – a ship of twenty guns –was being tossed in the storm like a box of matches. But at least it wasn’t on fire.

The next wave came over the prow; Samuel Gladman felt the rope tremble in his grasp. Shipmates screamed as they lurched over the side, into the water below. The water surged over the deck covering it with a green slime. The waves towered from above. Gladman stumbled forward. Lightning flashed; wind howled; the sail ripped.

The world slowed for a moment as if dazed from the mighty roar of the tearing sail. With the crack of thunder it sounded as if the sky itself had been rend apart. The water stopped surging over hte deck pausing for a moment to drip over the vessel’s side. The ropes stopped sliding, vibrating in the silence. The sky brightened, and bells rang. Gladman thought of his home: to a quiet field by an old stone church where the sun always shone and the bells rang; for a single, crystal-clear moment the world stopped moving.

The boom crashed down onto the cabin deck. The planks broke like twigs beneath its weight. The sails flapped wildly as the spin spun round. A wave struck the side of the boat. Thrown off balance, Gladman held onto his rope for dear life. A man caught his arm and the pair swung out over the see. With their arms locked, they looked at each other. The vessel pitched. The pair’s eyes met. The ship toppled over; the man sank into the depths below.