By Matteo Sorcinelli, Year 11
The sea was the only place I felt at home. I loved the pungent smell of salt and the rhythmic crashes of the waves against my small motorboat. I had saved up for a long time for it and my friends always told me I took too much time looking after it rather than hanging out with them. Which explains why I was here alone on my boat on a Saturday night. Not only had they all ditched me, saying I was obsessed with my boat and calling me all kinds of things, but the one person who I thought would be by my side, had decided to leave me as well, saying she wanted a boyfriend who had his priorities straight.
So I decided to take my boat for a spin and be alone with my thoughts for a while. I slowed down my boat to a stop and decided to close my eyes for a bit, gently, as the boat rocked back and forth, I felt myself drifting off to sleep. MAYDAY MAYDAY. I woke with a jolt as I could hear someone yell MAYDAY MAYDAY through my radio. I couldn’t remember for the life of me the standard procedure of answering a distress call, and without thinking I picked up the radio: “Hey, everything alright?” The radio goes quiet and I can only hear the sounds of the waves slapping the boat. Suddenly he answers “OBVIOUSLY NOT OUR BO….” the radio goes static. I shake the radio desperately when finally my brain kicks in and I remember the training course I took. First localise the caller’s location using a signal tracker which every boat had. The call had come from somewhere around 30 nautical miles south. I start the boat’s engine once again and speed South. I saw it when I was only a few nautical miles away. A red and orange blur in the distance. As I got closer I could smell the smoke blowing in the wind. I slowly approach the flaming boat when I hear a groan coming from inside the boat. My instinct kicks in and I dive in, yelling words of encouragement as I swim towards the flaming boat. The heat is unbearable but I plough through until I see a man aged well into his 60s laying on his back coughing out smoke. My breaths shorten as they fill up with smoke but I manage to grab him and pull him back, away from the sinking vessel. I lay him down and start pumping his chest. He coughs out enough water to fill a pool but still does not regain consciousness. It’s only after 10 agonising minutes, that he finally opens his eyes. “Beware,” he groans. I immediately go and get some water for him to drink. That’s when I realise that his thirst isn’t my biggest concern as I see a huge storm coming towards us. I look back at the man I have saved and see his chest stop moving up and down. I check his pulse but to my dismay, his heart had stopped beating. The wind starts to pick up and the boat lurches forwards sending me flying towards the bridge*. I start to lose hope as the helm goes out of control and I hear the wave crash on the makeshift roof of my boat. As I hang on to the boat which has given me so much joy, I wonder if it was all worth it. Was all the time and effort I have spent on this boat worth it? Was losing people who were dear to me worth it? Was saving this man worth it? As the storm gets stronger and my dark thoughts continue to spiral into despair, I open my eyes one last time to look back at the blue sea that used to give me so much life and passion and as I begin to lose consciousness I realise what the man meant by beware.
*bridge- the front of the boat where all the controls are
