The Orange Nightengale cut through swell and wave as its sturdy wheelhouse repelled the elements. An Atlantic storm tested the vessel, but this was not the worst she had seen. This happened to be a typical Tuesday off the coast of Maine. The Nightengale had survived hurricane and squall, so this storm was a mere tickle.

Captain Parker Bore stood at the helm, keeping his eyes on the ocean and his hands on the wheel. While he knew his vessel could handle the conditions, Bore also knew the ocean was a fickle mistress whose temperament could change in a blink, so he approached every day on the water with respect and caution. You were either thankful for calm days or thankful for surviving. Getting back to port could not be taken for granted.

Despite experience and confidence telling Parker this was a day like any other, the storm made him uncomfortable, because it was not supposed to exist. Adding to his unease, radio contact with other vessels belied any inclement weather. As Parker steadied the wheel over another swell, he realized the radio had been silent for an unusually long time. He reasoned the likely explanation was that most pilots and captains would be focusing on riding out the storm, only radioing in an emergency. Bore’s instincts, however, screamed that he was missing something.

His doomsday thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his brother, Hudson, clambering up the stairs from below deck. Hudson walked past Parker to a storage cabinet, knelt, and began rummaging around inside. As he located a roll of paper towels and ripped off a wad to begin wiping his hands, he stood and turned to Parker while looking down to make sure he did not miss a spot.

“Engine is running in the green and she’s dry where she needs to be. How’s it going up here.”

Parker nodded to acknowledge his brother’s update before suddenly grabbing the helm’s console to steady himself for the downside plummet over another swell. Hudson was naturally steadier on his feet, but he still crashed back into the storage cabinet.

“Son of a…A little heads up would’ve been nice.” He was now draped in loose bungee cord from a box that had crashed down upon him like an upturned pot of wet noodles. Several flashlights rolled around the wheelhouse floor, and the paper towels had unrolled and bounded away.

Parker gave a slight smirk but knew that must have smarted. Plus, he was intrinsically opposed to messes, so the disarray around him quickly became distracting.

“Sorry, that was the biggest one we’ve encountered yet. As you can see, it’s going great up here. You okay?”

Hudson gave himself a pitying laugh.

“Yeah, hurt my pride more than anything.”

He watched as Parker’s full attention stayed on the storm with every second requiring effort to navigate the undulating ocean.

“Hey, do you need a break or anything? I’m good to take over for a while.”

Parker shook his head. Sure, it had been exhausting thus far, but he sensed the rhythm of the water now and was getting the vessel through the waves with less effort.

“No, thanks, I’m good. Probably need to check on Stone though after that big one.”

He thought of his nephew, their sister’s kid, and how he had immediately gone to the guest cabin after showing up late this morning, the consequence of a night, and early morning, spent partying with Bar Harbor tourists. Stone did not necessarily want to be out on the water, but his mother refused to have him spend his summer at home during the day and cause trouble at night. She forced Stone to spend quality time with his uncles learning the family business, and if he did not like it, then he had a reason to go back to school. Parker and Stone always got along well, and he suspected the kid was spending his nights out to win the attention of a certain girl he had always liked rather than to give his mother gray hairs. Both Parker and Hudson felt responsible for the boy after his father died on the water two years ago, so they agreed to help him grow up. They did not plan, however, to put him through the grinder to learn the trade like their father had.

Hudson chuckled as he said, “That kid could be upside down and sleep through it.”

This was likely true.

“Do you just want to make sure he didn’t get tossed around into oblivion?”

Hudson nodded as he corralled the flashlights and flipped one on to head below, thinking he could test the extent of his nephew’s hangover with a quick shine to the eyes. He was spared the trip, however, as the sound of clumsy, plodding feet climbed the stairs.

The flashlight ignited in Hudson’s hand and caught a mop of brown hair emerging from the stairs before blasting its bright light into a pair of reddened gray eyes.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Stone’s hands flew to bock the blinding light, “Hey, hey, cut it out! You want me falling down these things?!”

Hudson cut the light and shook his head, “Your mom’s already pissed I gave you a ride last night, don’t wanna have to explain broken bones.”

“Or neck,” Stone got to the top of the stairs and flashed his uncle a weak but wry smile. He now held a hand across his forehead, thumb and index finger connecting temple to temple, and gave a groggy scan around the wheelhouse before asking, “What…the…hell…was that?”

Hudson swung a revealing arm across the windows, hoping Stone would be able to see the storm and answer his own question, “Take a look, buttercup.”

Stone was genuinely taken aback by what he saw. Despite growing up on the coast, he had never been out on rough waters. Neither his father, nor his grandfathers, nor his uncles would bring him on the boat with even the slightest chance of a storm, and two years ago he learned why. His eyes widened in alarm, and the nausea that had been subsiding came rushing back. Fear tinged his voice, “I thought it was supposed to be clear today. Are we okay?”

Parker empathized with what the kid must be feeling, waking up in such a manner to these conditions, so he tried to inject as much comfort and confidence as he could into his answer, “It was, and we are. The water is like this sometimes, unpredictable, but we’re okay. I’m guessing coming down off that big swell gave you a bit of a ride.”

Stone’s eyes were closed now, but he nodded, “Yeah, I was in bed. Then I wasn’t.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like chum.”

Hudson gave Stone a strong pat on the back, which nearly undid the kid’s sea legs to send him flying again.

“Did I hear you mumble something about Malort this morning?”

Hearing the name of the vile nectar made Stone’s mouth water as bile and the few contents of his stomach started scratching for the surface. He gave a couple quick swallows followed by deep breaths. All he managed to get out was a feeble, “Mmhmm.”

Hudson roared but caught himself just before giving Stone another slap on the back, “Better you learn now, right Parker? That stuff is bad news in a bottle.”

Parker could taste it from the talk alone. It had only been one shot, but that was enough for a lifetime-worth of lessons. Blurry memories from that night floated in his mind until he realized they were staring down another massive backside plummet.

“Oh shit! Brace!”

The ocean disappeared from their sight as the Nightengale’s bow angled to the heavens. In a single moment, a second that felt like eternity, she flew on the clouds of the Atlantic. The wheelhouse was engulfed in silence and peace until gravity beckoned, pulling the Nightengale back toward the realm it belonged. Water once again filled the crew’s vision as the vessel plummeted toward violent waves.

Parker pressed against the wheel and jammed his feet tightly against the helm’s console, hoping to keep himself grounded. In the slow march of time that precedes disastrous outcomes, he stole brief glances at Hudson and Stone, praying their reactions matched the speed of his own. Hudson was back in the storage cabinet, bracing against its metal shelving. Parker could not tell if Hudson’s position was intentional or again the result of inertia. Stone was already airborne, experiencing that moment of weightlessness at the start of a severe drop where the body’s momentum overcomes the anchor of its surroundings. He held onto nothing except the mixed look of surprise and terror on his face.

The Orange Nightengale slammed into the nadir between swells, submerging its bow with a crash that was drowned out by the storm’s fury. Water slammed against the wheelhouse and managed to smash open its external door. Where there had been silence and peace before the fall, nature’s fury filled the space with a howl and snarl. As the water parted and returned to the ocean, the hearty vessel resurrected itself, and its bow emerged unscathed from beneath the waves.

Despite being braced against the wheel, the fall loosened Parker’s grip before the crash slammed him against it. He immediately felt pain shoot up from his chest and around his sides, and he struggled to catch his breath. Hudson rubbed his head from where the cabinet’s shelving had held him firm and left him in better shape than the others. Stone was gone, tossed about and out the wheelhouse’s open door.

To be continued…

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Featured Image: Shutterstock 34391581 (Paul D. Lemke)