We Float Upon a Painted Sea Read Online Free PDF

miniscule for such a large man. The ship groaned. A slower but more sustained noise this time, but just as distressing. A metallic whaling reverberated through the air, as the ship’s bulkheads filled with invading water, pulling the ship under. The vessel lurched and then progressively descended into the water like a coffin being lowered into its grave. He felt his body arch, drawn towards the pulsating water, and for a nauseating moment it appeared that the space between his widening eyes and the sea had compressed. He gasped for air, his breath snatched away by the augmenting fear in his gut.
     
    He gripped the rails tighter and muttered incomprehensible words dubbed with a roll call of expletives. He had arrived on deck like a rutting stag running across the hillside, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and almost congratulating himself with his impending escape. But the stag had disappeared and in its place was a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. He was frozen to the spot and impotent with fear. A mental haze descended over his senses.
     
    Like the draining grains of sand in an hour glass, every second brought him closer to the time he would have to enter the sea. He tried not to stare at the water – the aquatic Medusa, turning him to jelly rather than stone. He crept further up the metal ladder until he could go no further, but finally he found a discarded lifejacket hooked onto the metal railing. He slipped it over his quivering body and for a brief moment he relished his morsel of good fortune. A degree of clarity returned to his brain. His breath quickened on conceding that the jump could not be put off any longer. He needed to swim clear of the vessel and find a lifeboat, or face going under with the ship.
     
    His eyes settled on the surface of the sea for one last time. He could see a clear patch of green water. His body began to shake, but as if drawn to the water by an invisible force, he leapt forward with his eyes shut and his legs tucked up under his chin. The fall lasted little more than a second. He smacked the surface of the water so hard, his buttocks and thighs felt like they had been struck with a bull whip. He was submerged and his weight carried him downwards. The coldness of the water gripped every muscle in his body, stiffening him to the verge of paralysis. His bones felt as if they were about to fracture. For a brief moment, he thought he could hear the stifled sounds of other passengers thrashing somewhere in the water, and then the buoyancy of the lifejacket carried him back to the surface.
     
    Finally, his head broke the surface of the water and once more he felt the cold wind on his face. He dragged deep breaths of air into his lungs and kicked back his legs until he gained some stability. He treaded water for a moment, remaining afloat until he came to his senses. He swam, slowly at first, but in no specific direction, more out of an instinct to move, if only to keep his heart pumping. He came upon a piece of wreckage and clung to it, allowing his teeth to chatter uncontrollably in-between catching his breath. And then, a glimpse of something new. His heart began to race. Piercing through the mist, the bright orange image of a life raft, the pulse of the ocean making it rise and fall in the white tipped swells. A feeling of hesitancy engulfed him. He trembled at the prospect of his energy sapping and drowning midway as he swam to his salvation. At last, he sucked in a deep breath, let go of the floating debris and swam. His pace was slow and cumbersome through the rising and falling swells. He struggled to keep a steady course. He pulled himself through the cold sea, his hands clawing at the water and his legs thrusting back, until a large wave swamped him.
     
    Salt stung his eyes and for a moment his vision was impaired. He stopped, treading water for a while. The sea rotated him. His eyelids closed over. He blinked repeatedly until the burning sensation