A Speck In The Sea

In the Sea IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT ON JULY 24, 2013, A LONG ISLAND LOBSTER FISHERMAN WAS THROWN OFF THE STERN OF THE ANNA MARY AND INTO A FIGHT FOR HIS LIFE.

- John Aldridge And Anthony Sosinski

Warm. I register that as I go under. I gulp seawater, then shoot back up to the surface. I am freaking out. Red-hot adrenaline is coursing through me, and I am flailing, gagging on seawater, thrashing my arms as I reach for the receding Anna Mary. I am trying to run to my boat—to fly toward it—shrieking “Anthony! Anthony!” then screaming “Fuuuuuuuuuuck!” at the top of my lungs.

No way I can be heard. I scream because the scream just pours out of me, but the Anna Mary is steaming away, its motor drowning out any sound that might be heard by human ears, especially the ears of two guys who are dead asleep and snoring in the nose of the boat. The Anna Mary becomes smaller and smaller as it runs away from me, and I am still fighting to run toward it, to keep my head above the swells, but now all I can see are the lights on top of the boat; they’re getting smaller, too. Dimmer. This isn’t happening. How can this be happening?

There is nothing to hold onto, nothing floating past me, nothing to grab, not a piece of driftwood or a piece of garbage, not a lost rope or a dead fish. Nothing. The wearable flotation device that is a safety requirement aboard every commercial fishing boat is no good if you’re not wearing it. We never wear ours. I am aware that my arms and legs are thrashing around stupidly and to no purpose, that I am alone and violently beating the ocean in the middle of the night. My whole being is certain that I am going to drown. I am going to tread water uselessly till I become so exhausted I drown. My God, I wonder, what will that feel like?

The despair is overwhelming. It has taken over my body, tensed it to the max, made my stomach muscles as rigid as iron.