Dragonfly by Jax Hill 

The squall came up on us fast. I assume Torstein was still sound asleep in the tiny cabin below. Tawny and Marigold came running from the bow of the boat to get under cover as soon as the first big rain drops began to fall. Jazz said he better turn us back to shore, and the last two fishermen in the fighting chairs reluctantly let us reel in the lines. Everyone had caught something, which was crazy in itself — we’d batted around, and Franz had even had a chance to catch a fish of his own, in addition to landing Maggie’s fish. My brother Pete and I didn’t take a turn, and neither did Jack or Jazz, but everyone else had amazing luck.

Maybe the sea gods were going to make us pay for that luck, though. The first big drops of rain had fallen out of a mostly blue sky. But within five minutes, the sky had completely crowded over with roiling black clouds, laden with hard stinging rain that came down and hit the roof and the deck like the rat-a-tat sound of a machine gun. The choppy seas we’d been riding with relative ease began to build into big 8 and 10-foot waves.

Jazz was a good captain and kept the boat from turning, but we still had to pitch and roll with the rising seas. Ferdy got sick first, and then Bruiser. You can’t vomit on the boat or the smell makes everyone else sick, so they would stagger to the rail and heave, holding on for dear life. Tawny got sick, and Franz held onto her as they crossed the slick deck, and anchored her with his arms while she leaned over.

Everyone was soaked, even those of us who hadn’t had to visit the rail, because of the way the wind drove the rain straight at us. We’d sent Sully with the girls downstairs to get out of the weather, but Tawny couldn’t stay because she had to throw up, and Sully wouldn’t stay because he was five and had never had any good parental guidance.

With all the rock and rolling, all the heaving and upchucking, Torstein never budged from the little berth where he’d gone for a nap. He must have been exhausted, or the heaviest sleeper ever.

We hadn’t been strictly as safe as we should have been when this pleasure cruise began, but now we passed out the life jackets, and made sure Sully was secure in his. A gigantic wave broke over the bow, and the resulting wash across the deck actually lifted Sully up and carried him forward a few feet before Bruiser grabbed him up out of the water. Several of us were crowded into the wheelhouse, and now Jack pushed up next to Jazz and looked at the instruments.

“We’re not far from home,” Jazz said heartily. “Things may get rough, but we’ll be fine.” Jack nodded. Jazz said, “I do think we oughta stuff the kid below, though. Make Bruiser go with him and hang onto him. Just in case, you know. Send anybody who will fit and who isn’t sick. I don’t like the waves breaking on the deck like that with people up top.”

Sully started to kick up a fuss, but Jack said, “Look, on a boat, the captain is in charge, and Jazz is the captain. You do what he says or you get off.” Bruiser picked Sully up, popped the hatch and descended to the cabin below. A few others followed, to clear the deck a bit. The rest of us stayed packed in the wheelhouse to try to get out of the rain. Jazz was calling for weather reports ahead of us. We knew this squall could not be very big, or there would have been reports about it earlier in the day. We expected any moment to sail out of it ...

... but instead it seemed to get worse until one crazy wave pushed the boat sideways, near 90 degrees. Jazz had been steering us skillfully into the rollers to keep us steady as could be, but this wave came out of nowhere and slapped us hard. We all went crashing into each other in the wheelhouse and anything loose on the starboard side came smacking down on top of us.

I knew there would be chaos below, judging by the relative chaos up here, as the boat lurched and — I hoped — righted itself, I fought my way to the stairs and to the cabins below. Bruiser was picking himself up off the deck. Maggie and Marigold were still in a heap up against one wall. Ferdy and some of the other guys were sitting in the floor looking a little stunned, and Sully was crying like the kid that he was ... I started helping the ladies up and making sure everyone else in the crowd was okay.

At that moment, Torstein’s disheveled head popped out of he forward berth where he’d been sleeping, and he grinned at us and said, “You playing Twister, or what?”

“Just a little squall,” I said.

“We’re sinking!” Sully screamed, running, as best he could with the boat rolling, toward Torstein.

Torstein laughed and swung his legs out of the berth. “I don’t think so, Sully,” he said. He picked the kid up and started walking toward the steps to go up.

“Maybe you oughta stay down here, Torstein,” I said. “It’s pretty rocky.” But even as I said it, I noticed the boat was starting to roll a little less. Torstein just grinned at me and walked back upstairs. By the time he popped the hatch and stepped out on deck with Sully in his arms, we had sailed out of the squall ... or it had blown past us.

The sea was noticeably calmer even than the light chop we’d had in the morning, and the setting sun was gleaming peacefully across the water at us. Sully’s jaw dropped in amazement, and I could hear Torstein chuckling ...

“Sinking, huh, buddy? Doesn’t look to me like we’re sinking.”

A few minutes later we were tied up at the dock, safe and sound, and Jack and Jazz’s parents were serving us drinks on their patio.