Novice Sailor

The Novice Sailor It was ten o´clock in the morning I was struggling to keep my balance looking out of the porthole in the galley and the day was dark as acute hatred against the living. Green waves hit the deck tried to break portholes a full winter storm and fear of the sea filled us with silence. Somehow the cook managed to bake bread and make Irish stew and it was my job to stop it from flying off the stove. On an iron ship on the precipice of a mountain of water; we were insignificant and vulnerable ants on a leaf in an immense pool. Yet the sea calmed, and the storm abated. I was fifteen and was proud to have survived a winter storm in the north Atlantic, something to tell my mum when coming home.