Watery Deep

By Winged Poetess

He saw it coming with his own two eyes, could feel the droplets of water tickling down his cheeks but he refused to believe it. No no, this was all wrong he thought to himself. Finally his dream had come true; finally he was a first mate on one of England's most prestigious boats of the Queen's military fleet. Now that dream was suddenly crushed like the port side of the boat as it slammed into the front of a fishing boat. His body was thrown backwards by the sudden impact, shaking the boat down to it's core as it's crew where thrown left and right.

Hold on. Gotta gold on to something he thought as he slide across the now slippery deck. It had all happen so suddenly and it only took seconds for the waves to come crashing down on the sailors. Finally his frantic hands managed to grab a hold of the rail he had found himself. Hoisting himself upwards he could hear his name being called out by one of his fellow shipmates, wondering if he was okay.

Chaos. It's pure chaos and panic. Who knew one little fishing boat would cause so much damage to one of the Queen's newest elite ship. The first mate chuckled to himself as he started to tie things down, his hands moving expectedly with the rope. He could already hear the people talking, saying what a tragedy it was that such a new ship and new crew where brought down so easily.

"Probably something to do with the new designs. Don't you agree, old chum?"

The voices would probably say to themselves over and over. This little scenario which seemed to play uncontiously in his head was what made the soaked first mate chuckle to himself just moments ago. What was so funny to him? Probably the fact that the new designs, which where experimental, are most likely what cause this great wonder of a ship to fall so easily.

As if the crash was unexpected enough, another wave came swooping down as the ship rocked to it's side again. It was so unexpected that he didn't even have time to grab a hold of something this time. A failure in his reflexes that would cost him dearly as his body was throw to the opposite side of the boat along with any loose debris and rope. His back crashed into the railing so quickly that he lost his breath for a moment and instinctively grabbed onto the railing, squeezing it so tightly that the skin on his hands was starting to turn white.

This was it he thought. This was the end. He could feel the ship starting to sink, soon to be joining the fishing boat that had caused both their downfalls. He doubted he would make it out alive from where he was desperately clinging to the ship from. For that part was the first to start to sink into the watery deep. He could already feel the water engulfing his feet and he closed his eyes, holding his breath, which was again lost as the fridge cold water hit him.

If he wasn’t going to make it out of this, at least he would be going down holding onto the railings of one of England's trade mark ships.

The End

Author's Notes: I wrote this in response to word #165 at the '15minuteficlets' community on LiveJournal.