Sable Island

This story is by Devin Farmer and was part of our 2024 Spring Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

Trickery is at the heart of courage—or so I told myself before boarding Dad’s charter boat. I watched anxiously as home became a blemish upon cerulean waters.  

Ugh, what I would give to be anywhere but here.

Being the daughter of a starved fisherman meant spending my summer tethered to a war-torn deck as the salty sea air coated my sun-kissed skin. It meant fighting unruly fatigue as the rise and fall of the tide was our compass to unbeknownst riches.

I admit that these past years, we have had to take on more risks to scrape by, and today was a day I will never forget. The day our boat wrecked upon the reef-teeming shallows near Sable Island during a torrential storm. The day I realized my own courage.

***

As our boat headed out the south channel, soft splinters of morning rays emerged as the fog lifted. We ventured just past Sable Island and into the open seas of Nova Scotia in search of the prized bluefin tuna.

Several hours had passed since we set out, and there was no sign from below—only the cawing of a few black-backed gulls that had wandered past the shores of Sable Island.

Should we call it quits? I shook my head. No, no… We didn’t come out here to return empty-handed… Show yourselves, fish. Please. Or so help me…   

As we stood on the deck, heads crook, our fish finder ignited into a series of singsong clicks. Several moments later, our prayers were answered. One rod after another soared to life.

“Fish on.”

An hour later, our deck was teeming with well-fed bluefin tuna. As we celebrated our monumental victory, our smiles were short-lived when we heard an alert through the CB radio.

Uh, that’s not good.

We knew what we were in for as the wind churned the seas, causing waves to ascend toward the heavens.  

I looked at my father, and he seemed unchanged.

“We came out here to fish… and by golly, we shall.” Father clarified.

Wait, what? Is he out of his mind? He’s gone and lost it. No one with half a sense would stay out here—not like this, not with high winds and unpredictable swells.

“I don’t think we should—”

“Look alive, kid.” An unfamiliar voice said.

“Best to keep your head on a swivel and your feet firm unless you’re up for a swim?” William, a burly aged man, asked amusingly. He was the only crew member alongside Father of the Fortuity.

“A swim? Do you mean—”

“Man overboard or, in your case, kiddo overboard.” The man smiled.

My eyes widened as my hands instinctively reached for the straps on my life jacket, checking each strap meticulously.

Don’t panic. He’s messing with me, I think. But just to be safe. I checked the straps on my life jacket again. Okay, it is secure.

“Got it.” I finally managed.

I watched silently as the vibrant sky that showered us with warm rays of sunlight was hidden amongst the clouds, like sand into water. It was there—just hidden, as the cerulean waters below immersed everything above.

No fish is worth the risk.

The boat and our rods swayed unbothered by the rhythm of the wind as it courted the sea, but not I. I was like a newborn foal, trying to stand on papery limbs.

What I would give to anywhere but here…

A series of clicks from our fish finder pulled me from my thoughts.

Come on, big fish… Come on, big fish.

All was quiet on that boat except for a few squawks that hitched a ride off the backs of the fierce breeze as it tormented the salty sea. And then it happened. One-click. Two clicks.

Ugh. Come on, take the doggone bait—  

Before I could finish my thought, a rod soared to life, followed by a thunderous shriek as the fish descended at an alarming rate.

By golly. We’ve hooked a monster of a fish.

William, without delay, clasped that shrieking rod into his harness and waited for his moment to reel.

How does he do that? I can’t even stand, let alone move toward the water.  

“Get your head out of the clouds and make yourself useful, kid. Reel in the other rods.” William said hoarsely, lifting the rod’s tip upward to lessen the distance of the fish.

“I… can’t move,” I admitted. I can’t help but envy those who smile upon the sea… She all but frightens me during a storm. Mom would still be here if Dad weren’t so prideful.   

“I can do it—”

“Damn it, kid.” Father bellowed as he walked out onto the deck. “This childish act of yours ends here and now.” He closed the distance and added, “Move them rods, or I will throw you over myself, and you can swim back…What will it be?”

“Dad, I-I can’t. Please try to understand. Not—” My eyes drifted downward, and I sighed before I spoke again. “Not everyone can handle being on a boat.” Not when a storm can change everything

Why does it always come to this? Forcing me onto a boat, knowing I’m frightened of storms. Ugh, I wish I wasn’t his daughter. Then life would be easier.

“Reel in those lines or take a swim. That’s an order.”

My heart pulsated violently through my chest cavity, and my vision began to take a different form. And yet the truth was my father was never one to lie, regardless of how I felt.

“Y-yes, Cap.” I finally managed.

I reeled in the other lines one by one, but that was just the beginning. The fish was luring us towards Sable Island. Towards the shallows, where a staggering reef dwells.

“Reef off the starboard side!” William bellowed as he desperately tried to steer the fish in the opposite direction.

Fear overtook me as I lunged toward William and grasped the rod with both hands. I began to pull with all my might.

I will not be uprooted from this damn boat.

William began to reel with such tenacity that I thought the line would snap from the friction. But as William reeled, the fish did not lose momentum.

“Do not lose that fish,” Father shouted from the cabin.

He’s completely lost his damn mind.

We were nearly upon the reef when the line snapped.

“No!” I shouted. Don’t do this to me. Not now.   

My heart hung heavy in my chest, and my shoulders slumped.

William patted my shoulder and smiled, “Don’t stress it… it’s inevitable, sometimes.”

I peered up at him and forced a smile. That’s when I saw it from the corner of my eye. A mountainous wave headed straight at us. I latched onto the starboard side of the boat and braced for impact. But it was no use. The wave not only swabbed the deck, and I was forced overboard, but it also plunged the boat into the reef.

Father scoured the whitecap waters until his eyes rested on me. “Swim towards Sable Island. I’ll radio for help.”

“No, I want to be with you.” I bellowed, but the downpour of rain drowned my voice. “Please don’t leave me. Dad, I need you—”

I glanced in all directions, trying desperately to locate my father’s boat. But the only thing I saw in the distance was Sable Island.

“Dad is alive. He will make it to Sable Island.” I repeated as I swam towards the island.

I knew I was lying to myself, but I had to believe in him—in something—so my courage would find me and give me strength.

And so, I swam for God knows how long until I reached the shores of Sable Island. There I lay as waves washed against the shore, and there I heard a familiar voice.

“That’s my girl.”