As Luke, my Dad, and I pulled up to the dock, the smell of strong oil and fish guts filled my nose. My determination to catch that giant fish had slightly decreased.  We stepped amongst the ancient dock, built of decaying wood that creaked under the weight of each person. Seaweed and barnacles of all shades and textures seemed to be slowly overtaking the dock, climbing up the sides. Beneath the dock, was beyond polluted water, turned dark shades from all of the spilt oil. Despite the odd smell and appearance of the old dock, the finest captains and fishermen once had their treasures parked in her presence. The variety of boats was unreal, from luxurious, sky scraping yachts, to small skiffs, to the average Boston Whaler, this marina had everything. My younger brother Luke and I walked to the dock, maintaining hope everytime we walked past one of the monstrous vessels, we had reached near the end of the dock and there was only one yacht left. The vessel was towering, filled with luscious leather seats, soft beds, and one old man, most likely one of the countless CEO’s or Founders that lived amongst the waters. Slowly we trudged by the yacht and were greeted by an old, stoic looking man in a small ancient boat.

Luke, my Dad, and I climbed aboard, perhaps the most mundane boat in all of the marina. The old boat was covered in wood that seemed to have built up a patina of seaweed, all sorts of barnacles, and a scent of the salty sea. The old man had a scraggly voice and muttered out words and terms I believed to be of medieval times. 

“Untie us, me fellow fisherman. We got some fish waitin’ for aur bait and a vicious storm approachin’,” muttered the captain.

Slightly unsettled, I curled up into my oversized sweatshirt and slowly, slowly, faded into sleep…

Suddenly I was awoken by the sound of sparks. The ancient motor had quit on us.

“Oi, do me a favor youngin’. Screw that cap back on with this tool, and watch out for the blade. She’s deadly,” advised the old man.

I climbed from my seat, and my sleep, to the back of the boat. I bent over the side, with extreme caution, and reached for the cap. Suddenly, I was greeted by the blade of the motor, slicing right through a layer of my skin, blood drew and oozed quickly, spilling into the water. The old man sighed and assured me I would be alright, and he wrapped my hand in a dusty rag. I sat back down on the wooden seat and watched as the old man worked his magic. Slowly ahead of him, a deep gray fin sliced through the surface of the calm water, and then another.

I heard my younger brother Luke shriek. The boat creaked. The calm water transformed into tall, violent waves, and the blue sky rumbled, full of deep gray clouds.

Luke violently screamed “SHARK! SHARK! SHARK!” Two sharks surfaced, deep gray with scars, and millions of teeth shining, panic crept in.

“Hurry boy, fetch the emergency phone. It’s sittin’ in the cockpit,” requested the captain with far too little nervousness. I raced to the front, while the boat slowly, but surely descended to the bottom and I grabbed the phone. My fingers tracked across the buttons, 911, the phone dialed. It was ages before a lady with a soft voice picked up.

“911, what is your emergency?” calmly questioned the lady.

“I, I am stuck at sea. There are sharks everywhere, and our engine has f…” I tried to say. The line had dropped, far from, safety, and warmness, and hope. Now even the unbreakable, stoic captain was in dismay, and fear, his treasure was on the verge of being sunken. The stern of the boat dipped under the water, the four of us raced to the stern, angst rushed through our bones. We waited, and waited, and just hung on to the smallest bit of hope. It felt like years and years of awaiting our fate, until a small object appeared from underneath the vibrant sunset. We waited, curled up on the front of the boat, while the keen sprists of crisp but salty ocean waves thrashed against our scalps. The captain showed no emotion, stiff faced, while Luke, my Dad and I were all shivering in fear.

“Dad! Dad! It’s a boat!” I exclaimed.

“Will, I’m sure you're hoping for these things and just seeing them,” said my dad in a defeated voice. 

Luke quickly but quietly rushed into the conversation and said “No. I think that that is an actual ship Dad.”   The old captain kept quiet this whole time, to himself in deep thoughts. This small dim spot in the distance slowly crept toward us. I gained a small, but noticeable sense of hope and warmth grew inside me, and then I could make out the object. A towering Coast Guard boat filled with saviors! Equipped with buoys, jet skis, and all of the people trained for this exact situation, was coming for us! Despite the sudden moment of happiness, I felt that water had ripped across my feet. The ancient vessel was almost fully submerged, but the boat was still a distance away. Our boat threatened to let go and fall to the bottom of the ocean, the craft rocked violently over the waves.  All of the sudden, the boat slipped under. The surrounding water engulfed us. Sharks circled, fins sliced through the waves, and quickly formed circles all around us. The 3 of us struggled to swim through the harsh storm and tall, rumbling waves. The sky rumbled, the waves blanketed the remaining sun and everything turned dark…

I looked up to a dim shadow that quickly evolved into four or five men and women dressed in lifejackets, surrounding me, my Dad, and Luke. A sense of relief flowed throughout my body as I was safely on board with my dad and brother in the 1 vessel, with the most prepared people that patrol the deep blue.

I thought to myself “I must have blacked out. Thank God for the Coast Guard.”

As soon as I rose to my feet I questioned “Where's captain? Dad where is he?” 

“Head to the railings, we could see him from here,” said Dad with authority.

Despite his stoic character, I had grown to love him, over the short but eventful disastrous trip, and admired how loyal he was to his boat. Luke, my dad and I rushed to the railing, and we saw the captain, withstanding the towering and thrashing ocean waves. We quickly demanded that the ship turn around and attempt to rescue the old man.

Just then, I heard the captain mumble from the sea “A good cappin’ will die at sea with ‘is treasure . Remember me youngin’.” At that moment while we safely glided over the thundering storm waves, I thought to myself, this is what the captain must have wanted, to die a death, along with his lifelong treasure, his ship.