What the sea returned

The lighthouse creaked and groaned beneath the powerful gusts of wind that rattled the salt stained window panes. Every gust of wind made the lighthouse cry, the bones of it protesting against the storm. The groaning of the lighthouse matched the slow squeak of the rocking chair. Its occupant, the old light house keeper. He silently watched the fire crackle and pop in the stone fireplace. The flames cast long distorted shadows across his weathered face, a face that has seen many tragedies, too many to tell. His sky blue eyes ignited by the reflection of the light, filled with wisdom but also sorrow that no one knew about.

Outside the salty waves crashed against the cliffs, foaming and mixing in with the sheets of rain falling down. A night that many sailors feared. A lightning webbed across the sky illuminating it for a split second. But that second was enough for the young boy inside the light house to catch sight of a small sailboat rocking wildly on the angry waves. He squinted his eyes into the dark. ‘Maybe I imagined it’ he thought. Then a second flash illuminated the sky. This time it was without a doubt a sailboat getting tossed closer and closer with each wave to the rocky shore. The rocks that not many survived to tell glinted in the ocean the lighthouse light, reflecting off of their shiny and incredibly sharp edges. He saw a small blinking light on the ship. Someone was asking for help. His heart lurched. But he noticed something else, the mast was snapped in half, the sails torn and flopping wildly in the wind. He needed to do something.

“Finn!” He yelled the old keeper's name.

But only the roar of the wind answered him. The old man had just climbed the winding stairs moments ago to check on the beacon. The boy's voice was swallowed by the thunder and howling wind before it could reach him. He pressed his forehead against the cold window watching the unforgiving waves carry the small boat closer and closer. He couldn’t just stand and watch it. The old man had always told him that the sea didn’t show any mercy to anyone, not even the best sailors. He told him that he should never go out into the sea like this, especially not a night like this. But if he didn’t, whoever was on that boat could die.

Without another doubt he pulled on his rain jacket and dashed towards the door. The moment he stepped on the gravel outside the door he got hit with a wall of rain, it felt like sharp needles hitting him in the face. He pushed through the wind and the rain towards the dock, his hands holding on tightly onto the roped pathway. By the time he made his way down the steep path his hands were numb and he was soaked. He pushed the small rowboat into the water, the waves immediately taking hold of the boat turning it into its toy. He climbed and grabbed the oars, he couldn’t feel them anymore as he lost all feeling in his hands. He took one last glance at the lighthouse and pushed his boat out into the dark sea.

The waves only grew stronger the further he rowed away from the lighthouse. They had no mercy on him just as the old man had said to him before. They crashed against the side of his little boat splashing over the sides covering the bottom in a few inches of freezing sea water. Every now and then he had to stop rowing to regain some of the little strength he had left. He would look forward to trying to find the sailboat, scanning the darkness. As soon as a flash of light would reveal it he would grip the oars with renewed strength. The distance slowly became smaller but so did the distance between the sailboat and the rocks that hid under the waves.

Another flash of lightning lit up the sea. The sailboat was only a few yards away now. Every wave lifted it high before slamming it back down into the water with a loud crack. The broken mast dragged through the sea beside it, hitting against the boat with every wave. The boy rowed harder but every push felt weaker, he wondered if maybe it was a mistake to come out here, maybe Finn was right. He could die before he saved anyone. But he couldn’t go back. It felt like every time he got closer another wave pushed him farther away again. Finally the rowboat drifted close enough for him to reach the side of the sailboat. The two boats crashed together before the waves pulled them apart again. He quickly grabbed the rope he had brought with him and waiting for the right moment, looped it around one of the wooden posts on the sailboat. He pulled the knot as tight as he could. It wouldn't hold forever, but he prayed it would hold long enough.

He carefully climbed over the side of the sailboat, his boots slipping on the deck. He caught himself before falling and hurried over to the man lying near the front of the boat. Up close he looked older than the boy had expected. His face was pale, his clothes were soaked through and a long cut above his eyebrow had mixed with the rain, thin streams of blood ran down his face. The boy knelt beside him and gently shook his shoulder, hoping for some kind of response, but the man didn't move. He placed two fingers against the side of the man's neck just as Finn had taught him years ago. For a second he couldn't feel anything, but then a weak pulse beat against his fingertips. Relief rushed over him but it didn't last long. The boat let out another loud crack beneath them. Water was beginning to float onto the deck, and with every wave it seemed to rise a little higher. They couldn’t stay here much longer.

He slipped the man's arm over his own shoulders and tried to pull him toward the side of the boat, but he was way heavier than he looked. The boy pulled with everything he had, managing to drag him only a few inches before another wave slammed into the sailboat. They both fell to the ground, the unconscious man rolling on the slippery floor as the boat tilted violently.

Determined he grabbed the man under his arms and dragged him to the edge of the sail boat, he took a deep breath, his arms shaking from the effort, each step felt heavier than the last. With a final push he rolled him over the edge just as another wave lifted the small rowboat with the level of the deck. The man rolled into the rowboat. Then he followed, jumping into the boat beside the unconscious man. With trembling hands he untied the ropes from the sailboat letting them carry him into the darkness. He looked back to the boat watching wave after wave crash onto it swallowing it in foamy sea water and before long the deep sea claimed another one of its victims. Horrifying thoughts kept crossing his mind. Thoughts of razor sharp cliffs, of death, of the man laying on the bottom of his row boat. What if he didn’t make it back? What if the man's a lost cause? He gripped the oars tighter trying to silence the gnawing feeling of fear. His body had gone numb. He couldn’t feel the freezing rain seep through his rain jacket anymore. The lighthouse beam swept over the little rowboat every couple of seconds. That was his only guide and he never took his eyes off of it. He kept rowing, the lighthouse growing bigger and bigger in front of them. The closer he got to shore the rougher the waves got. They crashed against the rowboat from every direction tossing it around as if it weighed nothing. The cliffs were incredibly close but he didn’t dare look at them knowing he would be paralyzed by fear.

Finally the edge of the boat scraped the end of the dock. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. His whole body ached and trembled from exhaustion. He climbed out onto the deck pulling the man with all his strength after him. He had no idea on how he will bring him to the lighthouse. The path up was steep and slippery making it extremely hard to walk in this sort of weather. He bent down and slipped the man over his shoulder, the sudden weight almost made him drop him. One slow step at a time he half dragged half carried him up the path. Every step was painful but the warm light from the lighthouse gave him enough courage to persevere. By the time he made it to the lighthouse he thought he would collapse. He fell through the doorway falling onto the floor, his chest heaving.

“Ollie!” Finn was kneeling over him in seconds.

He was furious but there was also a flicker of relief in his eyes. He took the boy by the shoulders, shaking him.

“What were you thinking?”

Ollie lowered his head, he was too exhausted and hurt to argue.

“I told you to never go out during a storm. You could’ve been killed!”

“I know..but he needed help.”

Finn opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes drifted past Ollie and his gaze fell onto the man slumped by the doorway. His words caught in his throat. Slowly he stepped past Ollie kneeling in front of the stranger. With a trembling hand he brushed away the wet hair plastered on the man's forehead. He froze as if unbelieving. The color from his face slowly drained, he parted his lips to speak but no sound came out. Finally he spoke but it sounded more like a breath than a word.

“Thomas..”

Ollie looked up confused, “You know him?”

The old man didn’t answer, tears pooling in his sky blue eyes, he smiled sadly.

Ollie looked at the scene in front of him, the old man kneeling in front of the man holding his face with his shaky hand. For a long moment neither of them spoke, the only sound was the crackling fire and the distant howl of wind. The strangers' eyes flickered slightly before slowly opening. His gaze settled on the old man in front of him, with the same pair of sky blue eyes.

“I thought the sea took you a long time ago.” A tear fell down the old man's face.