Finn's Wave

I’m going to make it home, but not in time for dinner, he thought.

That Friday morning, when Finnian called and talked to his daughter, she asked if he was going to be here this weekend, and he had promised he would. He’d made and broken far too many promises to her when she asked if he would be home, and when the foul weather blew up and blocked their way, everyone on board said we go through He might be a new sailor, but damned if he was going to let an unexpected squall take him to the bottom of the sea when he had a promise to keep.

Finn was in the wheelhouse with the Captain when they entered the storm. The rain, when it hit, was a sharp demarcation from a calm shower to chaos. He stood there, looking over the Captain’s shoulder, watching the imminent curtain of rain, drawing nearer, nearer, and suddenly - a torrential downpour of water crashed into the shrimp boat, churning the previously calm waves to frothy whiteheads as the wind pelted the droplets at stinging speeds and rattled off the windowpane with a sibilant hiss.

Even with the windshield wipers going at full speed, visibility was near zero as the sheets of rain covered the glass faster than they could wipe them away. The ship lurched, dropped precipitously, and rolled sideways, staggering Finn and sending him to bounce off the bulkhead. He grabbed on to the hatch handle and hung on for dear life. The captain stood unmoving, riding out the swells and drops with a veteran’s seasoned experience.

The captain had to raise her voice to shout over the sound of the hammering rain and howling winds. “We’re going to be in this storm for the next few hours. Get seated or go below, but don’t you dare trip me up.”

Finn figured that the stairwell was tricky enough to navigate when they were standing stock still at port, so safe descent down it now was going to be impossible. Instead, he returned to the breakfast bench, secured the folding table, and braced his legs against the other bench. From there, he simply willed himself to endure as the bucking ship did its best to dislodge him from his seat.

CRASH!

With a noise too loud to be heard, an enormous rogue wave broadsided the boat, shattering the right side window of the wheelhouse door. As the roaring water poured in through the broken window, it knocked the Captain aside as if she weighed nothing. The boat listed to its side, thirty, forty, forty-five degrees. Instead of sitting, Finn was now standing on the other bench back and trying not to fall and watching the water pool up on the far side of the galley and wheelhouse. The engines screamed as one set of propellers was spinning freely at full throttle out of the water, and items that Finn thought were permanently attached flew to the downhill bulkhead. Just when he thought they were going to capsize, the boat rocked back to level and slammed into the next wave, dropping Finn back into his seat and rattling his teeth, washing him in seawater that was ankle deep in the room. The Captain struggled back to her feet and to the helm.

Finn yelled in panic and pain. “What was that?”

“Rogue wave! We’re going to have to run downsea!”

“What does that mean?”

“It means get up here!”

Finn sloshed and staggered his way up to the wheelhouse from the adjoining galley, caroming from side to side as the sea buffeted them. Pelting rain poured through the shattered window, drenching the captain.

She shouted into his ear, “We’re traveling east with the storm until this gale loses its force. Hold this wheel steady and follow the compass. I’ll be right back.”

He swallowed hard before speaking, hands locked on the steering wheel. “Where are you going?”

Instead of answering, she took three staggering steps to the galley and pulled a metal cooking sheet out of a hidden recess. The metal was just a little bigger than the missing window frame. Finn lost sight of her behind him as another wave dropped them into its trench, and his stomach rising into his throat as he held onto the steering wheel with both hands for dear life. When she reappeared in his peripheral vision, she had a roll of duct tape.

“I have to go outside to patch that hole. Keep us on this course.”

With that, she stepped out of the broken door. The wind caught it as it opened and it jerked out of her hand, bashing into the wheelhouse bulkhead with a resounding slam. Water poured out of the open hatch. Finn could see her struggling to get the door shut again, but because she was holding on to the duct tape and the cookie sheet, she didn’t have the leverage.

Finn let go of the wheel for one terrifying second and stepped a foot outside. Stinging rain pelted and blinded him in its ferocity, but he braced against the frame of the door with one hand and grabbed the handle with the other. With a mighty heave, he pulled on it against the force of the wind and the emptying water, muscles bulging and straining with every closing inch. Finally, the hatch grudgingly acquiesced, and Finn stepped back inside as the door banged shut. The Captain made temporary repairs to seal the hole while Finn turned the wheel so they were back on the correct compass heading.

Once fixed, the captain again opened the door, but with both hands free she kept the gale force winds from ripping it out of her grasp. Both were drenched, and Finn didn’t know if he was shivering more from the cold or from adrenaline.

“Good work.” She took the wheel and Finn stepped back. “Now go secure yourself again. We’ve got more weather to ride out.”

*****

It took the storm at least three hours before it wore itself down enough for the captain to steer back into the wind and return to their scheduled course. The storm decreased to a steady rain, then a gentle rain, then finally stopped, and the waves subsided to their normal swell and ebb.

By this time Bruno and Chuck, the other two crew members, had made it up the stairs from their berths. The captain took care of that by putting Finn back on the helm and told him to keep the course locked in to their current heading while she inspected the ship for further damage.

Both Bruno and Chuck looked exhausted, but Chuck somehow still found the energy to complain. When the heavy weather had started, they closed and secured the porthole and closed and locked the hatch. Fortunately, they had fastened their belts to their bunks, so the rogue wave didn’t throw them across the room. Unfortunately, Chuck had only been barely keeping his breakfast down and that broadside by the rogue wave was enough to push him over the edge. His vomit had triggered a chain reaction from Bruno, and they had been trapped in a room that now reeked.

When the captain returned she declared the ship needed no other immediate repairs they could do now, and she told Bruno and Chuck to follow her. Chuck asked why, and she said “You need to swab that deck and change out your bedding, so there’s no time like the present.” Finn thought Chuck was going to show his usual stubbornness, but surprisingly didn’t disagree and they all left, leaving Finn alone in the wheelhouse and with the boat under his control.

He tipped his head forward for a minute and closed his eyes, relaxing his shoulders and just appreciating taking breath. Heart full of gratitude, he knew now they were going to make it, late, but still.

I’m going to make it home, but not in time for dinner, he thought.