'Surviving the Storm' by Alan Smart

Our boat left at dusk. Five inexperienced sailors rowing out into a lightly rolling sea, joyful at the breeze in our hair and spray on our faces. In no time we are barely in sight of the shore. The rowing becomes steadily harder as the waves heighten imperceptibly, rocking the boat and forcing our breath to come in gasps. We smile at each other, calling encouragement to stifle our apprehension.

Stephen, our leader, is surveying the sea cautiously: we mustn’t drift too far out into the bay. But the change in tide catches us unprepared and we are pulled further from the shore. As the sky darkens, we feel the wind whipping up into a storm; an angry swell takes control of the boat, steering us out to sea. Before we are even aware of it, the pale light of dusk becomes an eerie darkness and our tiny craft feels lost beneath an endless, starless black.

We are frightened now, unable to steer the boat, our rowing uncoordinated, fighting the swell. Suddenly the gloom is broken by a piercing light. Across the bay we see its reflection shattering the sea’s surface and illuminating the shoreline. From afar, the homing signal of the lantern draws us in, cheers our shivering bodies, brings relief to our anxious faces. Pulling now at the oars with all the strength we can muster, our arms burning with the effort, we feel renewed energy. We fight the waves and turn the boat back towards the shore.

'Come on lads, row hard now,' cries Stephen. 'Keep pulling, keep pulling, we’re almost there.'

The boat lands on the beach; we stumble out onto the sand, exhausted with effort, cold with shock; the lighthouse looming above, warming us back to life.