Inishraam

The cold was intense. It chilled me to the bone. But worse was the storm. The waves picked me up and tossed me about like a doll. And the wind howled and raged at me, the rain warring with the sea, and I was caught in it all, swimming for my life.
I could taste salt in my mouth and knew I couldn’t survive for long. I swam away from the boat, just flotsam and jetsam now, fragments floating on the waves, and heard moans and cries from the crew. Panic – icier than the water and just as deadly – surged through me. Nearby people were drowning, dying, far from home, in a watery hell none of us could escape. How much time did I have ? How much time did they ?
I swam and swam, through darkness and downpour, my legs kicking and my arms flailing, swimming as I’d never swam before. I knew that if I stopped, I’d die. And I didn’t want to die. Not after all I’d come through. No, I didn’t want to die… Swim and live - stop and … it was as simple and as stark as that.
The wind started to die down. The howling bacame more of a low, whining moan, and the rain too was letting up, the cascading torrents easing into steady, consistent rainfall. The sea seemed to be growing calmer as well, the waves less turbulent, less restless and angry. The fit was passing.
I looked up. Darkness had fallen on us with the coming of the storm. Now a grey light was returning to world, and I could see in the distance what looked like land. Inishraam – it had to be! I dared to hope.
The cold was brutal. I knew that it would start to slow me down, that I’d start to succumb to its deadly numbing embrace. I had to focus on Inishraam. If I could get as far as that deserted island, I might have a chance. Out here, in the cold, stormtossed sea, I would die. Inishraam was my only hope.
Pale shafts of sunlight started to pierce the grey world. The sea grew calm and still, and overhead I could hear seagulls crying into the wind, as if to let the world know that life had triumphed, that they had survived the storm, that nothing could now kill them.
It was suddenly as if the storm had never been. The sea was as flat as glass and the wind had become a gentle breeze. I could see Inishraam now when I looked up, I could smell it. I kicked and flailed, for the cold was making me drowsy, and I knew that that though the worst was behind me, I couldn’t hold out much longer.
Mist started to from ahead of me, great swirls of it, as if the wind had thickened into fog. Inishraam was disappearing! Sight of the island had kept me going – now I panicked again, thinking I’d never find it. I kicked as hard as I could, knowing that this would be my final effort. I had no reserves of energy left – the cold was slowly killing me.
I knew I must be close. I had been swimming forever, and as well as the cry of the seagulls overhead mocking me, I could hear the slap of waves hitting the beach.
In the dim light the mist cleared and I could see the shoreline on the right between the movement of the waves and the fog, though as I swam towards the island it seemed to fade before my eyes, as if under a spell, and I could see nothing but the mist curling in above the sea again, and a small circle of foam.
I swam on. The water was really cold now and I weas chilled to the marrow. I knew I couldn’t last much longer. Slowly, dreamily, I saw a large rock emerging up from the fog, and beyond it the makings of a hill. I swam on and could feel rocks start under me in the water, and hear the slap of waves and the jingle of stones as the sea ebbed and flowed onto the beach. I could feel shingle under me now and stood up to wade ashore. I was on dry land ! At last ! I collapsed onto the cold flinty stones, and passed out.