Crestwater

Warning sirens rang through the air. Everything changed. My life hasn’t been the same since. It never will.

I come from a proud family of sailors. My Aunt set the world record for the fastest to sail across from Perth to Tasmania. My Grandfather led many expeditions at sea, and even once captained a submarine. My Dad was known worldwide as one of the best sailors alive…until he vanished in the Mediterranean. I was only four when he disappeared, so I don’t remember him that much. Now I’ve only got my mum. Yes, sometimes family does visit, but mostly it’s just her and me. I like it that way. Late last year, my mum announced her plans to sail a ship from Darwin to Perth with just her, me, and four friends. Actually, I guess that’s when it all started. We were halfway through our journey, our food and water supplies were fully stocked and the water was calm.

I had just settled down in my bed after a long day of sweeping the decks, assessing damage and food provisions, and hauling sails. Bone tired and content, I couldn’t wait to get a good night’s sleep before the next day. Taking off my boots, I slid gracelessly under the bed sheets and onto the hard mattress. The first night I had slept on board, the mattress had felt like a concrete block, but now after a day of work it felt like I was resting on clouds.

Suddenly, a blaring noise ceased my sleep.

WHOOOOOP! WHOOOOOP! WHOOOOOP!

I gasped and instantly untangled my legs from my blankets. Donning a coat and my boots I scrambled up on deck. May, Natalie, and Daniel (Natalie’s son) were already there, my mother just appearing behind them. Dave, Natalie’s husband, stood before us. His body tense, face stricken. Above us, a large storm brewed, and I felt a raindrop land on my cheek.

The ship gave a great jolt, and I fell to my knees.

“REEF!” Dave screamed and ran to the lifeboat. I cautiously got back to my feet and ran to the railings, my boots slipping a little on the wet planks. A few stars were trying to shine through the dense fog that had gathered in the sky, a sign of an oncoming storm. Even so, I could see the dark outline of a reef in the water. I bit my lip. What was going to happen to us? We had struck a reef in the middle of the ocean, and from the frightened cries of the others, I could tell the ship was taking on water. The rain had started to fall more heavily now, and the wind picked up, making large choppy waves on the surface of the ocean. I ran over to the far side of the ship and started helping Dave and Daniel untie the ropes that held the lifeboat to the deck. They were frayed and stiff from sun damage, and almost impossible to pry apart. Our ship, Crestwater, was now sitting roughly ten centimetres above the waterline, and with every wave, was taking on more and more water. We didn’t have much time. I quickly glanced behind me to see May trying to get the radio to work, but it was soon clear that there was no signal. We were on our own. Daniel and I dragged the small red lifeboat to the edge of the ship, and pushed it in. It gained a bit of water, but floated, rocking haphazardly on the rough waves. Suddenly, with a tremendous cracking noise, the ship fell apart. The bow of the ship tilted upwards, breaking the planks on the bottom of the ship, and letting more water rush in. Crestwater was now moving sluggishly, and the deck of the ship had sunk well below the surface. We had all run up to the bow now- the only part of the ship above water- and watched as the planks in the middle of the deck bent and snapped. The waves had pushed us just past the reef now, and onto deeper waters. I dug my nails into the railing and desperately hoped my feet wouldn’t lose their purchase on the deck so I’d be left clinging on with just my hands.

“Mum!” I cried, over the roaring of the waves and wind, “MUM! We have to get off now! There’s no point staying on! We’re sinking!” Crestwater was disappearing quickly under the waves, it would take only a few moments before she was under fully. The bow was pointing upwards at about 45 degrees now, and we were all drenched from the rain and waves. I’ll never forget that look in Mums eyes. That look that told me that she knew we didn’t have long. That look of sadness, rage, and utter determination.

“Jess! Promise me you won’t give up ‘till you find land! You have to make it back! Tell them what happened! Promise me!” I could barely hear her over the storm.

“Wh- what are you doing, Mum!”

“Promise me, Jess!”

“M-mum!?” I saw Dave go to the starboard side, overlooking the lifeboat two metres below. He lifted Daniel as if he weighed nothing, threw him overboard and into the lifeboat.

“MUM! NO! YOU CAN’T!” I understood what she was doing now, and I wouldn’t allow it. I remember kicking, twisting, squirming, trying to get out of her grip, trying to convince her to come too, that she can’t leave me. But her grip was iron strong, and no matter how hard I tried to fight back, she lifted me above her head, and threw me over the side, and next to Daniel. I landed in a sprawling heap, my head hitting the wooden seat. I stood up in a frenzy, just in time to see mum shout at me, before the ship submerged, pulling down my mother with it.

“Promise me Jess!”

“MUM!!!!!” Then I cried, endless wails and screams cutting through the night air like a whip, leaving my throat sore and red. When I couldn’t cry any longer, I sat, my knees pulled up to my chest, head down, rocking back and forth. Back and forth.