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Covering and up to my waist in flowing water, I grasp the floating plank and drag it to the partly submerged cabin of my craft. Dashing over the waves and the handful of rocks lining the shore, I reach the side of the sinking ship and grab the rusty ladder bolted to the hull. Each rung takes me higher and higher but I'm still only halfway up.

My clothes are torn and bloodied, held together by sinew and a thin sheen of desperation. My arm is smeared red and I can feel the blood trickling between my fingers and soaking my sleeve. I lightly dig my fingernails into the wood and pull my limp body up to the next rung. Every muscle and tendon feels on the brink of failure, but I still find the strength to lift the bottom half over the edge into the cabin below.

I reach the top deck of the sunken vessel and close the door behind me.

The water level is rising, but still only about a foot deep.

I fall to my hands and knees and let the wind and the water stream through the openings in my shirt. The water glints off my face and strays into my eyes. I flinch and blink, tilting my head back and flapping my arms. The salty spray pricks my eyes and I start to get dizzy, but I ignore it. The smell of the sea fills my nose and I bask in it. The tide carries a wave of exhaustion over me.



I wrap my hands around the small roll of rags and weight it down with a rock lying on the remaining deck. The rocks have been gnawing away at the hull over the last few days, leaving this boat stranded and sinking, perfectly for my needs. The wood cracks with a deafening crack and the end of the hull buckles and groans under the weight. The screws holding it to the ship twist and dig into the wood as the veneer slowly pulls back.



My hands scrabble for purchase and I feel the deck beneath me start to rise. My eyesight gets dimmer and my limbs ache and tingle and my lungs feel like they're full of river gravel until I close my eyes and let it all go.



The sea rises a little more and I feel the floor of the cabin start to shudder with the impact of the waves. The boat starts to tilt and I realize that my end is near. I wiggle my fingers and toes and squint at the rod that is coming closer, pulling the boat higher upwards of the water level.



I fall on my back and let the boat fall on top of me. I don't have the strength to move it anymore and the water is almost at the bottom of the cabin. This is it, I said. I won't see home again. I let go.



My life flashes before my eyes. I remember every little detail of my past. The way the hay feels beneath my feet, the salty taste of the ocean breeze on my face, the sweet sound of the bard's lute and the sway motion of my carriage. I remember the way it all smelt. The scent of the leather and the fumes of my own stall when I worked as a servant. I let my mind drift away and sleep.



....



My eyes snap open and I sit up gasping for air. The rough cut of the wood above my face is supporting my back and it feels like a soft burlap sack is being wrapped around my upper chest and shoulders. I strain to look above me and find the deck above me dropping farther into the water. The whole cabin is perched above the water line, metaphorically hanging in the high, outer seas. I heave myself off the deck and fall onto my knees.



The cabin, surprisingly dry and luxurious compared to the rest of my worn and dirty clothing, is littered with luxury goods, and objects of war. A satchel of water and bits of food sits next to a silver drinking cup on a wooden table, a baby's cradle and bedroll sit at the foot of a bed, and a small golden token in the shape of a wolf is stuck to the wall above a fire pit.



A small window shudders and vibrates as the boat drifts along. I'm on the deck of an ancient boat.

The radiant, sun-hide pewter with the flaking gold and garnishings on the edges of the porthole frame catches my eye and I stare at the glimmering light on the ship's deck and the dark and ominous things that make up the world back home.



I pick up a bag of crisps, pop a few into my mouth and suddenly remember where I am. The boat as been piloted by some big bugger, what was it? Yes! A barbarian. A barbarian on the run from the Roman Empire.

Stumbling with my bag of crisps, I cross the deck toward the wooden edges of the ship above me. If the ship had any sails, off in the distance I could see the mast with a dark green and white striped sail raised up high in the sky, ruffling in the breeze.

The deck above me started sinking too. From what seemed like an eternity, a clump of cloth and speedily rising water swallowed it and a waterfall was created out of thin air. I let go of my bag of crisps and rocketed over the edge of the rail of the deck, creating an arc of water in the air, above the edge of the cabin.

Splash.

I float, and rotate, in the middle of the rough, open ocean. With each rotation and immersion in the sea, my head meets with a painful gap against the dark brown water. My body twists in the water like a river reed caught in a strong tide. I swallow a mouthful of salt water and spit a mouthful back out.

The cabin is the only thing I can think of when I think of home. A small boat behind a great iron-clad ship plows through the waters of a great river and I pick up the fragments of a beautiful melody. I want to remember. I want it to stay. I spin, still bound to the cabin, into the waves, and I wonder what my poor mother would think of me right now. For the first time, the music dies with me. It's gone and forgotten, where it shall remain as a long-forgotten and forgotten memory.