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Jun 18, 2012 at 6:48pm
#2406452
The wind pushed the small craft faster than Ballard was comfortable with. The masses of ice were thicker than just a half hour earlier. Soon they would be thick enough to slice clear through the hull of the ship. He barked orders to his men, but many of them were lost in the wind before they reached the ears of those who could make a difference. He saw Michael run across the deck just as the boat heaved. Water came straight across the bow of the boat. There was no time for Ballard to wonder where the boy thought he was going. The waves passed and he conducted a head count. Seven men. Only seven men. He counted again. He could not find the eighth man. Michael was nowhere to be seen. "Man overboard! Man overboard!" It was the call he'd dreaded since they reached the edge of the ice pack and the storm beared down on them. Men ran to and fro. There was a moment of chaos. Then each man was at the rail, searching the icy waters for all they were worth. It seemed like hours, but Ballard knew it was only minutes. "Over here!" One of the men shouted the alert, and the others scampered to the side of the boat from where the alert was sounded. There was nothing Ballard could do but watch as one of the men threw the life preserver to the man in the water. Luckily, Michael was in a survival suit. Most of the other men had yet to don theirs, but Ballard had made sure the two green horns knew the dangers and were prepared. Michael grabbed the preserver and three other men pulled him to the side of the boat. He seemed weak, and the preserver actually slipped out of his grasp once. The men all urged him to strap himself in. "Hold on, Boy. Hold on," Ballard muttered into the glass of the wheelhouse. He saw his own reflection for an instant and wondered how he'd become so old and weathered looking. He barely recognized the man who looked back at him. Do you love SteamPunk? Check out this group:
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