Save your breath

The morning sun has just started to rise, casting shimmering constellations on the wet parts of the boat’s gunwale. The sea was calm, and so was she. Yawning at the sight, she stretched her sore body, waiting for the familiar to pass and the unfamiliar to begin.

Setting sail at this time was unusual, especially for a boat of that size, and even more peculiar was the fact that she was alone. Nevertheless, she did not allow this sense of solitude steer her wrong; if anything, it strengthened her resolve. And she was not alone, not really. If not for the light breeze that caressed her cheeks, reminding her of what touch once was, she would be starkly reminded by the presence of a small rat crawling across the cracked, paint-covered deck before her.

Stepping back, she let out an almost gnawing scowl, not with the intention of scaring it, but simply because of the fright it caused her. Seeing such an animal was nothing abnormal; in fact, she was quite used to them. However, this was the first time she had encountered one alone, with no one to toss it overboard on her behalf.

Its long, abnormally dry tail reminded her of fragile twigs snapping. The fur was patchy and blotchy, as if some kind of stress had battered it. But the worst part was its black, marble-like eyes fixed back on her, making a shiver run down her spine.

“You win now, creature. But soon, you’ll learn the true meaning of being seasick,” she muttered.

The creature quickly scurried off to a place she preferred not to learn. She took a few quick steps to reach the bow of the boat. Slightly leaning over, she watched the water gently rippling against the sides of the hull. Although she had not yet reached the desired speed, she quietly smiled as her true mission had begun—or rather, her great escape.

*

Around dinner, she approached her lacklustre provision bag from inside the cabin. Beside the bag rested five olive-drab jerry cans, all she had managed to sneak onto the boat in the dead of night. And perhaps it would be enough, as she was certain that carrying more would have caused her muscles to give.

Opening the lid, she gently leaned it to the side, letting the fresh water drip into her enamel jug. Saltwater air had quickly parched her beyond belief and would continue to do so. After filling up the jug once more, she nearly spilt it all when she heard the unmistakable tiny voice of an all too familiar beast. Carefully opening the bag, she discovered that the despicable rat had gnawed a hole in a hardtack packet and was now nibbling on the crumbs inside.

Her body moved faster than her mind, and she splashed the whole jug of water on the creature, making it dart away in surprise. Sighing at the waste and now wet supplies, she filled up her cup once more, vowing not to take another sip before bedtime.

Skimming through her food provisions to see what was damaged, she found one packet of now impaired hardtack, various tins filled with bully beef, sardines, and stew, and even one containing fruit, which she saved for a specific moment she did not yet know would come. Alongside these, there was also a loaf of bread and cheese, likely to last only a few days, dried raisins, nuts, a small jar of jam, and tea leaves, of course.

From her pocket, she produced a large pocket knife, something all too dangerous for someone her age, but it was all she had managed to steal in her hurry. Among its uses was a cutting blade, sailor’s spike, can opener with a hooked style, a combined bottle opener and flathead screwdriver, along with an awl.

The bread had already softened in some parts and hardened in others, making the meal less than appealing. Yet, despite feeling a complaint rising in her throat, she had no one to share it with, and besides, it was nothing uncommon. In truth, she could not quite remember the last time she had proper fresh bread. It was as much a memory as childhood itself, despite being technically still a part of it.

While munching on some of the cheese, she noticed a package wrapped in parchment paper inside her bag, one she did not remember bringing. With knitted brows, she put away the rest of her food, feeling only somewhat content, before reaching over to gently pick up the package. Utterly puzzled, she opened the brown string that kept it together like a present, her fingers barely recalling how to.

Inside, she was astonished to discover a children’s novel, complete with vibrant illustrations. She had always been a strong reader, yet, for some innate reason, she could not comprehend a word of the text inside. It was as if it were a completely different language, one she could not even imagine deciphering. Nevertheless, in her stubbornness, she tried to read it, recognising only the actual words on the page, but not their meanings in relation to each other.

Realising she should have brought an actual book to stave off boredom, it became her sole focus when she could not wrangle her knotting mind. Staring at the empty waters, the long, unwinding horizon stretched out like a rope that threatened to choke her at any moment. Waiting for the right rescue, there was nothing else to occupy her mind but questions.

*

At the reel of the boat, she hung over the wooden gunwale, watching the patent log with sleepy eyes. The distance she and the unwelcome beast had travelled did not change as quickly as she had hoped, but it was not entirely surprising. She was no stranger to boredom—those days, it was rather common to stare at something unchanging, trying to imagine a world more colourful. However, it was her first time being on a boat for so long and so incredibly far out. Her usually vivid mind could not conjure up an interesting thought, not one.

But before she could release a wistful sigh, there it was—something in the vast distance that broke the monotony of her supposed grand escape. Her eyes widened as she stood upright. Despite the lonely days she had spent at sea, making her ache for a companion to converse with, and despite the raw longing to be saved from her predicament, she could not give in.

Rushing into the cabin, she immediately reached for the forward gear before grabbing the throttle lever that controlled the amount of fuel going into the engine. Pushing it forward, the fuel flow increased, raising the engine’s revolutions and the boat thrust ahead at a quicker pace. Using the wheel, she steered the rudder in the opposite direction of the unknown vessel, constantly flicking her eyes over her shoulder to check the distance between the two.

With her heart lodged in her throat, she suddenly sensed movement around her feet. A quick glance revealed the shape of that cursed creature, and she attempted to push it out of the cabin with her foot, though futilely. However, its persistent presence and the fact that they were still detectible caused her mind to crumble in a way that invited more biting attention from the small beast. Giving up on removing it, she allowed its sullen weight to rest on her foot, merely shaking her head at the absurdity of it all.

After whispering to herself a prayer she thought she had forgotten, finally, the foreign vessel seemed out of sight. Yet she did not slow down. The incident had frightened her to the core, which had never been allowed to grow with age.

When she finally judged the vessel to be far enough away to ease up her jittery nerves, she released her tense grip on the helm and exhaled deeply. Looking down at her feet, she found the rat fast asleep, lying on its back like it did not have a care in the world. How she wished she could be that untroubled. Perhaps soon she would be.

*

The sun was setting, sinking into the sea—she could almost hear it sizzling as it hit the water. Using a piece of black cloth and some chalk, she fashioned a head covering, both to shield her head from the sun during the day and for her own juvenile enjoyment at night. On the front, she had painted a picture of a skeleton. Although blissfully unaware of what a skeleton looked like outside books, images of heavy bodies still remained vivid in her mind.

With pure wonder, she approached the bow, placing one foot on the groaning wood before opening her mouth.

“Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest,

Yo! Ho! Ho and a bottle of rum!

Drink and the devil had done for the rest,

Yo! Ho! Ho and a bottle of rum.

Drink and the devil had done for the rest,

Yo! Ho! Ho and a bottle of rum!”

Hearing the acquainted squeak of the beast, she turned her head with a striking smile, laughing more than she had in years. The rat turned its head as if perplexed by her actions, which only made her rave more.

“Creature!” she yelled, pointing her finger squarely at the animal. “I’ll admit, I have not yet tasted rum. But if pirates of the olden days drank their share with smiles, I shall attest to their joy and drink up my cup at the nearest opportune moment!” She giggled, showing all her teeth, though some were missing. “But you! You small yet indomitable devil... I shan’t share even a drop.”

Poking out her tongue at the pestering beast, she turned her gaze back to the sea to continue her song.

“Dead men only the secret shall keep,

Yo! Ho! Ho and a bottle of rum!

So bare the knife and plunge it deep,

Yo! Ho! Ho! Yo! Ho! Yo. Ho, ho...” her previously buoyant voice drifted into the towering waves approaching before her.

The clouds were visible from miles away, yet in her confident state after a successful journey, her assumptions led her to lack reason. Barely but also clearly, she spotted lightning shooting down from the clouds into the raging sea. Although small, with each blast, it grew closer and closer.

Before she could react, a deafening thunder roared overhead, as if Thor himself warned her of what was to come. The sudden appearance of the inferno above startled her into tumbling onto the deck, her eyes fixed on the clouds now darker than absolute night. Then, all at once, as if released from unrelenting restraint, rain descended upon her, soaking through all her clothing within seconds.

Pointing at the rat once more, she proclaimed, “Creature! Stay here and do not...! Do not interfere or we will both fall overboard.”

Hurrying into the cabin, she grasped the wooden helm once more, and with petrified fortitude, she confronted the unyielding sea that had graciously sheltered her until then. Fighting against violent swells and the howling wind, she clung to her compass until her fingers paled. Visibility was poor, and it was her sole guide—she could not afford to lose it.

Each wave that struck them proved larger and more formidable than the last, causing her heart to rise and fall with the merciless surge. After only a few, she was completely exhausted, fighting the wheel that jerked and kicked back from the blunt force of the sea. Adjusting the throttle to avoid capsising, she slowed down when rising waves hit and sped up when safe. Yet all of this was not her only obstacle; her salt-sodden eyes made visibility a thing of the past. But there was one thing she could see, one thing clear.

The tiny creature was being pushed from side to side by the incessant rocking, drenched by ruthless sprays of seawater, unable to grasp anything for aid. In that moment, the world seemed to slow down. To think that even such an insignificant being, which had only caused her displeasure until then, would crawl, fighting tooth and nail, clawing and gnawing to survive. It was almost as if the rain-fire that had soaked the drifter reflected a cruel mirror of her own plight.

Taking a deep breath, she shut her eyes. “Cruelty is a choice,” her father often told her. Yet she did not believe cruelty was part of her nature. She had always thought that if faced with those in need, she would gladly give up anything. But there she was, confronted by her father’s words and ignoring their plea. She would not allow it to blind her any longer.

Shooting from her spot at the helm, she grasped at anything to keep her balance as she aimed for the creature. After nearly falling a few times, she finally managed to reach the rat, clutching it firmly in her arms. On her way back to the cabin, the large mizzen sail at the back of the boat ultimately gave way and crashed down with a harsh blow right beside her feet. However, she did not let this distract her for long.

Back at the helm, she gently placed the rat into her pocket before grabbing some rope to lash herself to the wheel to prevent being thrown off the drifter. No matter what happened, she could not abandon her boat. Captains go down with their ships, and she was not about to challenge that. Despite the sea pulling her in all directions, she would stay steady, as she was no longer the only soul under her command.

*

The worn-out drifter softly rocked through the night, lulling her fatigued senses into a strange calm. Lying on the front deck, she steadily gazed at the countless stars above her, wondering if they looked down at her. In her gentle embrace, she slowly stroked the equally weary rat with a newfound tenderness.

Using her free hand, she reached for a hardtack, taking a hefty bite before placing it before the rat’s mouth. With slow movements at first, the creature began chewing the modest food, and soon, it devoured every crumb with a ferocity she had not seen before. It somehow made her giggle, shaking her head before reaching for the children’s book beside her.

Inside, there were delicate illustrations of various types of talking animals. Some were large and commanding, while others were small yet strong-minded. She tried once more to read the words on the page, attempting to understand their connection. Perhaps it was not English, but an altogether foreign language. The discovery of it had puzzled her ever since she first encountered it. But maybe it was a mystery she would never unravel.

Since the storm, she had avoided several other vessels that could undoubtedly save them from the deteriorating drifter, but she avoided them all, skilfully navigating through the horizon. There was only one safe haven, one place she could prevent the bubbling invasion, and she would reach it or by God she would die trying.

“Do you think my grandpa will recognise me after all these years?” she asked her first mate, who was still entirely consumed with consumption. “I think he will.”

*

Standing at the bow one last time, she gazed at the unmoving skyline with one hand shielding her eyes and the other clutching the rat snugly against her chest. Her bag hung on her back, all packed and ready, with the children’s book slightly peeking out.

“Come on,” she said softly. “Come on,” she grunted impatiently. “Show me the land of the midnight sun...”

After a few more minutes of watching the horizon, it suddenly started to swell. Gradually at first, but then quickly, shades of green and beige began to bloom across the narrow strip of land. Jubbling with joy, the girl burst into laughter, almost dropping the rat before strengthening her grip. Despite her unwavering belief that she could succeed, not once, she still felt a heavy weight drift off her shoulders and sink into the sea.

When she was close enough to see the sand through the shallow water, she climbed over the bow and plunged into the small waves. Little sea creatures dispersed around her feet as she walked, leaving the drifter behind without a look. At last reaching the shore, she lay on the warm sand, moving her body as if to snuggle into it, unknowingly forming a sand angel.

After lying there for a few minutes, she suddenly felt something wet cling to her foot. Using her elbows to sit up, she was stunned to find a torn and battered flag clinging to her skin—the red, white, and blue darkened by what appeared to be soot.

Quickly rising to her feet, she turned around, expecting to find a vast forest at the most, but was immediately faced with utter devastation. Military buildings, burnt to a crisp, soldiers who had fallen, with the sand around them seeping crimson red. It was not a scene of beauty she had recalled from pictures, but a child-drawn sketch, butchered and ripped apart like a wild animal was on the loose.

Before she could even catch her breath through the ashen air, her little first mate leapt out of her arms onto the sand before heading towards the nearest green.

“Creature,” she called out softly. Yet she could not blame it, nor could she run after it. All she could do was watch it grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared from her sight. She wished to follow it with all her heart. But she was only human, tangled in a net of conflict woven by human hands. There was nowhere left to hide; nowhere safe to escape to. In that final, breathless moment, all she could do was hope that someone, somewhere, might still come to save her.