John was a heavy man despite his minor height, he had short cropped hair, dark eyes and was as able a seaman as could be, Alan told him to fetch as many weapons from the hold as he could carry. Rushing forward to the ravaged bow Alan took a final look at the damage. The rain, wind and waves shoved the wreckage violently and Alan took care to keep a firm grip on anything he could. John returned with three musket belts with muskets, wrapped around his shoulder and two sheathed cutlasses, Alan took one and fitted it to his belt beside his own. With the ship breaking up they made their way to the side opposite the rocks.
“After three” Alan shouted in his scottish, travel stained accent “one….two…three”
the pair leapt into the waves, frantically swimming against the sea. After a few seconds Alan lost sight of John but was too adrenalin ridden and fearful for his own life to worry. For what felt like the entire cold night Alan put arm in front of arm until eventually he felt his hand catch a sharp rock, realising his chance he grabbed hold, taking back his breath and resting his exhausted body now flapping about in the frantic sea.
Work in progress…..