Chapter 4
Alma braced herself as the wave was getting nearer, it seemed impossibly large and she was unsure if the boat could withstand its force. The boatman had thrown the wheel to one side to face the wave head on instead of parallel, in hopes that the covered bow would take most of the blow as the wave began to crash. Grabbing tight to a rusted metal pole with one arm she linked her elbow closed and curled herself protectively around the bird in her arms. The impact was jarring, and no matter how tight Alma had held on it wasn't tight enough. Her arm slipped from the pole and the collision sent her sliding across the floor of the boat, the bird inside her arms shrieking in pain and panic from the sudden movement.
Alma caught a glance at the boatman, who was near the front of the boat. The bow had thrown him up into the air several feet causing him to flail and grasp for anything he could hold onto. All of this happened in an instant and Alma, who was splayed across the boat reaching out for anything solid, was praying to the birds that the wave would pass under them. Everything was happening so quickly she hadn't even a moment to look up and see the horrific sight before her. The wave that struck the boat had begun to crash on top of it.
Almost in slow motion the water began to engulf the front of the boat and Alma could see the boatman scrambling for a handhold, somewhere, anywhere. Just as the wave was crescendoing on top of her, Alma grabbed onto a bar attached to the inside of the hull, pulling the bird in closer even though it was still screeching and thrashing inside of her coat. Everything went dark and quiet, and consumed by the cold water every moment seemed to be separated into a million tiny pieces. And for a moment there was a supernatural calm as if everything had stopped moving.
An intense surge of pressure forced Alma's entire body into the floor of the boat as the vessel was forcing itself back up to the surface. As the water began to dissipate Alma gasped for air as the boat bobbed back to the surface, righting itself. She released her death grip on the bird inside her coat and being thoroughly soaked, she removed the coat entirely and threw it behind her. Fresh blood was dripping down Alma's blouse and skirt, and the bird in her arms didn't seem to be breathing. "Oh no… Hang on my dear one, you can't die on me now." Losing no time Alma laid the bird out infront of her on the deck and sank down to her knees to examine it. She checked its pulse, weak but still there. Blood pooled around them both, mixing with the water still covering the deck. Taking a deep breath to prepare herself, Alma began CPR, now thanking her elder Ymbrynes for making this a requirement while in training. Pulling away from the small bird she waited for any movement.
"Come on sister, fight!" When it was clear that there was no movement, the determined woman started another round. It was becoming more difficult to perform the small resuscitations when the boat began to rock back and forth again. Miss Peregrine slid across the deck which was currently enveloped in several inches of sea water and blood. Usually never this ungraceful, Alma was clambering on all fours to regain her composure. The small bird had slid much further across the deck than Alma had, and the poor thing was still lying there, motionless.
Alma shot out to grab it and just as her hand reached the bird, it began to heave, its chest rising for the first time in minutes. It started to cough out a lung full of sea water, its breathing uneven but present. Alma let out her own breath she didn't know she was holding. "Oh, thank the Birds," Alma exclaimed as she carefully scooped up the small bird. Its breathing had returned to normal, but the wound was still producing blood. Alma noticed the tourniquet she had fashioned earlier had come loose and fallen off. Shaking her head at the state her wardrobe was in, she tore another piece of fabric from her skirt making quick work of a new tourniquet.
Once she was satisfied that the wound was no longer bleeding, Alma looked around. The boat looked like the scene of a massacre, blood everywhere, including all over her. A pang of alarm struck the woman, something was missing from this scenario. Where was the boatman? Quickly she paced the short length of the boat, looking in every corner, but he wasn't anywhere to be found. She panned her gaze across the vast ocean before her, the waves still violently choppy and the storm still all consuming. But Alma's ears perked at hearing a small cry amidst the loud booms of the crashing waves. She whipped her head in the direction and saw the boatman, not quite 15 feet out. His whole body seemed to be fighting against the war that the waves were waging against him.
Alma contemplated changing into her bird form, but she knew that she wouldn't have enough strength to pull the man out of the water that way, so she figured it best to stay human. By some miracle there was a life preserver tied to loose rope and Alma moved swiftly to throw the float out to the man, who was seeming to only periodically surface for air as the waves kept pulling him under. She yelled something incomprehensible to him but did so loudly enough to get his attention while he was above water. Luckily Alma was a good shot and the life preserver landed within arms reach of the struggling man. "Quickly, grab hold and I'll pull you in!" Alma shouted once again not knowing if the man could hear her but figured she'd try anyway.
Desperately he grabbed a hold of the float and curled himself around it as quickly as he could. Anchoring her feet behind a bench for stability, Alma began to pull the rope with both hands. Even though she looked small, the Ymbryne was in flawless shape, the outline of her lean biceps flexing as she pulled the rope closer to the boat. As the man reached the outside of the boat's hull, Alma extended her arm as far as she could, reaching for the man. Being lifted from the water, the boatman was shocked at the woman's strength and also entirely grateful for it. Panting he stood in the middle of the deck catching his breath and composure.
"Thank you Miss," an inflection of sincerity penetrating through the man's gruff exterior. Wiping her hands on her blood soaked outfit, Alma looked up at the man, "You are most welcome. Considering I am not skilled in operating a vessel of this caliber, this arrangement worked out for the both of us, hmm? Now let's continue on shall we? Best to make haste." She spoke nonchalantly as if the events of the past few minutes didn't even occur. Slightly shocked at her demeanor, the man faltered for a moment, and then adopting the same attitude stood up straight and began towards the wheel.