An afternoon at sea

Those of you who sail will recognise this and those who don't may get some idea of what can happen in a very short space of time.


Azure sky, the wind a zephyr, riffling my hair with gentle caress. Warm sweet smell of the slumbering sea, whiff of oil and the tang of hot varnish. Roughness of salt on sun scorched skin. Playful patting of waves on hull, gently rocking my sleep inspiring cradle. Seagulls patrolling around me, wheeling and swooping as they clamour for food.
Clouds gathering, darkening, lowering. Glooming towards my peaceful dream. Petulant wind now smacking sharply. The sea, rising in a bad mood, rocks the cradle with impatient hand. Rigging awakes with nervous twitching, planks groan as they feel the peevish touch of the swelling tide. And where are the gulls? The gulls have left me, their going a warning I do not heed.
Blackening skies eclipse the sun, venomous wind now whips with vicious force, twisting, ripping, snatching the peace from the afternoon. Loose sails crack in protest, desperately trying to flee the vengeance of the wind.. The deck is now a bucking bronco, trying to hurl me into the maelstrom. Rain drives into my skin like white hot needles as I slide and slither, trying to bring order in to wet, cold hell. The world is howling, banging, bumping as I try to see through rain blinded eyes. My hair is whipped like a wet cat-o-nine tails as it lashes my face with stinging thwacks. The force of the storm is stealing my breath. I’m drowning. drowning, in the open air, gasping, clasping at rails with cold-palsied hands, losing my hold and my balance as the boat tries to writhe from under me. Sharp pain as I strike my head on a thwart. Tasting blood as it mixes with the rain on my face and drains into my gaping mouth. Salt tears now add their flavour and I haven’t the strength, oh, I haven’t the strength, to continue the fight. I lie where I fall, teeth chattering, body quaking with cold and terror. Where will it end? Is this the end? This is the end. No need to rise, no need to continue the battle, all is hopeless, my boat and I are doomed. I feel for a rope and cling to it desperately. Like a captain of old I will stay with my craft, it will be my shroud. I close my eyes and give myself to the blackness waiting to engulf me.
The mewing of the gulls waken me, and I rouse to gentleness, my face feels stiff and I lift my hand and feel the encrusted mixture of salt and blood. I open my eyes and above me I see azure sky. I feel the wind caressing my hair, smell the sea and the tang of oil. Shakily I rise and sit on the thwart, feeling the sun warming my skin.
As I get my bearings and head for harbour, I thank God.
It was only a squall..