Prompt: Ocean, from W.Y. Traveller
It is an unimaginative man who cannot look out on the open ocean and feel a sense of awe and respect bordering on fear.
Holmes and I were en route to the Dutch colony in South America, aboard the steamer Friesland, and on this night I had gone on deck to look at the stars, more brilliant than ever seen on land. Especially in London, where the ever-present fog obscured the sky more often than not.
But it was not the stars which captivated me, but the vast expanse of water and the sound of the waves crashing against the ship. The wind was picking up, and although we were on a more southerly route, the temperature dropped steadily.
"There you are," Holme said, coming up behind me. "The weather is turning and the captain wishes us to go inside."
"In a moment," I said. "I have always found the sea to be stimulating for thought."
Holmes laughed. "Really? The only thought it inspires in me is how very little we can do against it should it turn against us."
I turned to him. "Truly? You do not strike me as someone who fears the sea?"
"It is not fear, merely knowing one's limits," Holmes said. "A ship, even one of this size, is helpless against the ravages of water. We are always alone in the deep when at sea."
This unsettling image served to take me out of my reverie effectively, and I looked uneasily at the dark water below. "There have been great improvements in shipbuilding," I said. "Even ten years ago I should have been more worried."
"Yes, and ten years from now, there will be more improvements," Holmes said. "It is still far more worrisome to be at sea than on a good train."
I could not help laughing. "I prefer a good train myself, but I doubt it will ever be possible to replace ships with trains for long journeys such as this."
"Perhaps not," Holmes said. "And so we must risk sea travel. Still, it must be said that the food is somewhat better on a ship than on a train."
"It would have to be," I said. We lapsed into silence, looking out at the ocean. Whatever Holmes said, I still found the sound of the waves to be soothing, although the rocking of the ship told me that the water and the wind had increased.
Gradually, as I looked out at the sea, I realized that the horizon line seemed to have disappeared, and the stars replaced by a wall of black, steadily growing larger in my field of sight. Next to me, Holmes's brows furrowed. "Watson, what is that?"
The wall of black grew and the ship's bell rung frantically. I confess I have never felt fear like in that moment, as I realized what it was I was seeing. "It is a wave," I said in a near whisper.
"A wave? But the weather is hardly bad enough to cause a wave of that size," Holmes said.
I was already running inside to find something to hold onto "It is a rogue wave! I have read sailors' tales of them. We must find something to hold onto before we hit!" I pulled Holmes along with me, the horizon now nearly full black with the size of the wave, and though I am not a religious man, could not help a prayer, for surely Holmes was right. There was little we could do against such a force of nature.
The next moment, the wave hit and chaos erupted.
A/N: Rogue waves are abnormally large waves out at sea, not caused for some concrete reason (hence, not tsuanamis, which are usually caused by earthquakes). Long thought to be myths, their existence was finally confirmed relatively recently and many previous shipwrecks/losses confirmed retroactively to be because of rogue wave activity.