Survivor

The ship began to rise, ever so gently, listing slightly to starboard. Will Young shook off his distant dreams of home and gripped the wheel tighter to keep the Andrea Gail from drifting off course. The ship continued to rise and list. Odd indeed, such a rolling swell on the calm equatorial seas.

The lookout, high in the topgallant crosstrees, shouted something unintelligible. "Speak sensibly, man!" Young said. The shouting continued, with several foremast hands joining in to form a chaotic chorus. Young followed their pointing fingers to port.

He had never seen anything like it in his twelve years at sea - a towering wave higher than the crosstrees. The Andrea Gail rose with the sea, listing sharply to starboard as she tried to crest the nearly vertical wave. A million gallons of roaring water drowned out the terrified cries of the crew, Young included, as the wave crashed over the Andrea Gail. Young's last thought was a prayer for his wife and daughter back home in New Daven.

How will they survive without me?

The question echoed in Young's head as he was knocked about in a maelstrom of crushing saltwater. He tried to swim, to survive, though he knew it was pointless to fight the fury of the sea.

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Saltwater gushed from Young's lungs in painful, retching spasms. Searing sunlight once again burned his face. The Pacific had reassumed her peaceful facade. Alive? The very thought was inconceivable. Young found just enough energy to tread water, though he wondered why he was even bothering. All that remained of the Andrea Gail, whaler of New LIverpool, was a scattering of  wreakage and a few corpses bobbing on the placid surface of the ocean.

A beefy hand grabbed his shoulder, spun him around. "Mr. Young!" someone said. "He lives!"

Young was too weak to look up at his savior. He saw only a stone spear point hanging from an intricately braided leather cord, the ancient missile oscillating before his face like a hypnotist's watch. Walker, Young thought, as strong arms lifted him from the sea and dragged him aboard a whaleboat that was nearly swamped with water. Two other survivors were attempting to bail out the boat with sodden hats.

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When Young came to, He found his saviour , Walker trying to catch some fishes using a leather cord as string.  It turned out that he had been out for more than a one day. Along with Young, Walker had managed to save Adam and the new deckhand, Cobb. They had been sailing directionless for hours now and had no idea of the other survivors. All three hadn't eaten anything after the ship had gone down and Walker's harpooning skills hadn't helped at all.

Survive. thought Young. That's the key word.

It was day seventeen when they spotted it.  Walker was on watch and he howled in happiness when he saw it. A island. Another one of those volcanic rocks in the middle of the sea but Young would settle for it.

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All this had occurred a month before. Now Will Young, former First Mate of the Andrea Gail, wondered if he and the others had survived or gone to hell as he watched Walker attempt to feed the entrails of a tiny fish to  Adam.

The four men had suffered from starvation and exposure for two weeks on the open sea, and the island they landed upon provided only scant food and comfort. It was a miserable place, a desolate, scrub-covered rock in the middle of the Pacific, home to a few elusive birds and some stunted sea life in its rocky shallows, animals that were difficult to catch and scarcer by the day. Walker, the strongest of the men, had explored all of the small island and proclaimed it uninhabited; no wonder, considering it lacked a source of fresh water. If not for the wooden tub salvaged from the flotsam of the Andrea Gail—and God's grace in filling it during a storm the previous week—the four men would likely have died of thirst.