Cold wind blasted his face, carrying with it the tang of salt. The ship bucked and bowed with the waves, and while everyone else scurried to get the cannons tied down, David scaled the mast. Ropes lashed out, threatening to knock him into the raging waters below. The ship tipped dangerously to the side, and David thought that if it rocked just a bit farther he could touch the waves; but the ship righted itself and started to tip in the opposite direction
"WOO," David yelled in elation. His thick coat flapped in the vicious wind that knocked the ship across the waves. He could see the crew scampering around the main deck like cockroaches scurrying away from a death-carrying boot. Adrenaline and youth pumped through his veins, this was the way to live, on the edge, no fear, pure fun. He didn't see the death-carrying wave that capsized his vessel.
Cold. Not the regular cold of ocean air and northern winter, but the bone-freezing chill of constricting fabric weighted down with glacier cold water. His lungs wouldn't work. They felt as though a cannon ball had hit him in the chest and permanently flattened his lungs. He couldn't tell if his heart was beating, could be it was pumping enough blood for fifty men or was perfectly still. A cough racked his young body, and a fountain of water spewed from his mouth and nose.
"He's breathing"
Yes, he was breathing but it was painful. Each breath burned his raw throat and salt coated it so that each inhale and exhale felt like swallowing gravel. Uncontrollable shivers shook his body. His coat was heavy, and his limbs wouldn't work.
"Get him inside. Hurry!"
He was lifted into the air. Am i dead? Am i floating to Heaven?
Not Heaven, boy.
Who said that? But his mouth couldn't form the words aloud, and blackness claimed him again.
A dim light threw dark shapes and shadows up on the walls, which swayed in the consuming black. There was a soft weight on top of him, blankets. But his body was still freezing and this realization released another wave of shivers.
Outside the wind howled, water beat the hull, and the vessel creaked. A shadow moved closer, settling into the shape of a man. His mind must be playing tricks on him. David felt numb, cold, and fevered all at once, and another wave of shivers racked his body. His stomach tried to expel its contents, salt water and bile scorched his already abused throat.
"So you're awake, again," said the shadow-man.
David's brain was still working to reclaim reality. He heard the soothing cascade of sound coming from the shadowed figure, but had yet to associate the sounds with their meanings.
"David you're body's dying."
The voice, it sounded familiar, like a half remembered childhood dream, but as to which dream it belonged to David couldn't tell.
"Drink this David." Be one of us.
The cool lip of a glass was pressed against his lips. Its thick contents filled his mouth and dribbled down his face. It was salty and tasted of metal. But it wasn't an unpleasant taste, even if David hadn't been at Death's door it would have tasted rich, hearty and like life itself.