The Sinking Ship

“All hands!” Came the muffled voices of men I had never heard before. Suddenly there was a jolt as though the world was tipping over, and everything was falling off of it including me. I rolled out of the small cot that I was laying on, and landed on my back on a wet, wood plank floor.

“Where am I?” I asked as I picked myself up off of the floor. It was dark in the room that I was in, but a small hole in the wall by the cot I had been apparently sleeping in gave enough light for me to fumble around to find a set of stairs. With no where else to go, and the sounds coming from above me telling me that there must be someone up there that can tell me what is going on, and how I wound up in this place I decided to climb to the top, and hope for the best.

“We're taking on water!” I heard someone yell as I quickly climbed up the stairs. When I reached the end there was a wooden hatch that was heavy enough that it took more than a bit of pushing to swing open.

“Hey, close that hatch” a gruff voice barked the order, and before I could climb out the large wooden door slammed down on top of me, knocking me off of the stairs, and causing me to land hard face first once again on the floor below. The only difference between the two landing was this time there was water about three inches deep, and rising with every breath that I took.

“Oh, god! I'm on a ship!” I said breathlessly. How could have this happened? It could have only been an hour or so that I was home in my study, surrounded by my books, and my typewriter. I remember the fireplace was lit making the room warm enough to melt away the cold, hard day. With barely any food, or money I knew that I had to finally write something that people would actually want to read. The few books that I had written in the past didn't seem to pan out as well as I had hoped, but I still held on to the dream of one day becoming a well known author. I longed to see my name along side some of the greats such as Doyle, and Anderson. Sadly, however, the only muse for mystery that I have is finding my socks, and the only ghosts that I see are the ones derived from an evening of self pity, and scotch. Finally I realized what was going on this is a dream.

The ship rocked back, and fourth as wave after wave came crashing into the sides. This made it extremely difficult to stand up on its own never mind the fact that the water was now half way to my knees. I braced myself by reaching up, and holding on to one of the support beams above my head, but one large blow from the ocean outside sent me toppling into the water. The water was cold enough to steal the breath out of my lungs, and on the wood plank floor slippery enough to cause me to struggle to get my head out so that I could get some air. I scrambled as best I could until finally I was on my knees with my back straight up, and my head above the water. That last blow must have caused an even bigger hole which in turn caused the water to come in faster for now even though I was on my knees my body was submerged up to my chest.

“Somebody help!” I panicked, and stood up on my feet. I knew that I had to make my way outside once more before the water completely filled the room. I was sore from the fall, my breathing was erratic, and being cold, and wet was surely setting me in the beginning stages of hypothermia. Could this be real? Is it actually happening? Is this where I will die? In a situation like this it is always best never to panic they say, however, I wonder just how many people that say it have actually been in such a situation. I can say this much it would take a stronger person than me to not lose their head. Frantically I was scrambling around unable to see, and barely able to move around in the deep water. I knew that I had to make my way back towards the steps, and to make an attempt at climbing out once more.

“We've lost the main sail!” I heard a shout from above.

“She can't take much more of this!” Another voice bellowed out.

The water rose higher to the point that I had to keep my head raised to not allow my face to be submerged. Finally after flailing about for what felt like forever my hand brushed by the railing of the stairs. I grabbed on as tight as I could, and pulled myself towards the first step, and from there I had to use my arms more than my legs to climb up.

The more I climbed the easier it became as the water was not as high as the stairs just yet. I began to feel relief when it was back down to my waist, yet I had came to the end, and with a strong push I realized that the wooden hatch door was stuck. I beat hard on the hatch, pushing, and hitting with the hope that I could somehow jar it enough to be able to open it. I tried to not let my mind wonder to such thoughts of something large laying on top of the door, or even worse it was locked, and chained from the outside. My hopes of getting out of here alive were fading just as fast as the water was rising.

“Help!” I screamed hoping that someone could hear me through all of the ruckus on the other side. “Somebody, please help me!” I beat the hatch with my fists until it felt near impossible to raise my arms one more time.

The water had made its way to my stomach when I heard movement coming from outside.

“Somebody help me move these barrels, I think someone is down there!” I heard someone yell. My eyes lit up, and hope once again started to return.

“Yes, I'm here!” I yelled back to them. The loud sound of water hitting the ship, and thunder roaring through the sky sounded as though things were getting worse. Water was coming in at a rapid rate to the point that it had risen to my neck in no time as I waited on the hatch to be opened.

“Hey, watch out!” I heard a scream, and then a loud crash, and the sound of something very heavy hitting the hatch above me, causing it to bow a little from the weight. The force of the blow knocked me back, and I slipped, and lost my footing. I fell backwards off of the stairs, and landed completely submerged in the cold, dank water below. That was when I realized this was my fate. I had never been on a ship before, and I have no idea how I came to be on this one, but it seemed as though I would never leave it. This ice cold, wet grave would be my final resting place.

Weightlessness over took me even though I was sinking to the bottom of the stairs. I could hear the rush of the water still yet, and I looked to see a tinge of light coming just a few feet from me near one of the walls of the ship. “That must be how the water is getting in, and it may be my way out,” I thought. With the last of all of the will power, and strength that I could muster I started swimming towards the light. The pressure from the sheer force of all that water being sucked into the opening made it harder to swim the closer I came to the light. Finally I found myself just at the opening of the hole. I could feel my lungs trying to burst out of my chest, and I knew that I didn't have much time left.

I grabbed on to the opening, and pulled myself closer to the hole. The whole time I was fighting the resistance of the ocean as though it wanted to keep me captive in the sinking ship. I pulled harder until I was out enough be able to push my body completely out of the opening, but I wasn't done. It was there that I could see the ship had completely sunk, and I was deep under the ocean.

Without missing a beat I started pushing as hard as I could towards the surface. Faster, and harder I climbed my way until I was able to make out the top, and finally my head broke free from the confines of the ocean. I gasped for air, and wiped the salty water from my eyes enough to see some boards from the ship floating in the water. I swam to one of them, and thanked heaven that I was finally able to give my arms, and legs a break for even just a second. The storm seemed to be subsiding as the rain still drizzled down, or maybe it was the wind blowing mists of water at me either way the waves had smoothed, and the clouds looked as though they were no longer enraged.

The aching of my muscles, and joints combined with the bruises, and fatigue made my body groan as though saying it never wanted to move again. I laid my head down on the board as I clung tightly to it for at the moment it was my saving grace. The waves gently rocked me back, and fourth all night, and on into the morning. It was then just barely under the light of the rising sun that I could make out in the distance land, and my hopes of being rescued from this dreaded ocean. I laid myself half way on the board to give me more buoyancy as I pushed towards the bit of hope that laid before me. It was then that I woke up.

I found myself back in my study, at my desk, and in front of my typewriter. The sound of horse clacking, and carriage wheels rolling along the brick roads outside came in through my partially opened window. The smell of the ashes from the fireplace mixed with a spilled bottle of scotch filled the air.

“It was just a dream,” I said to myself as I gratefully accepted that this was my reality. I was indeed wet, but it was from the scotch, and I was cold from the fire going out sometime in the night. I leaned back in my chair thinking about everything I had experienced in my dream, and then a sudden realization came upon me. I had yearned for a muse to help me find a story worth telling, and now I have it. This was going to be the greatest story that I had ever written.