This was simply rage.
The sea was expressing its extreme anger and frustration by thrashing the boat back and forth, crashing waves after the other upon the deck, and threatening to throw passengers into the relentless sea, making them prey for the lapping and turbulent currents.
The young boy skidded from one end of the boat to the other, struggling to help keep the mast upright.
The flashing thunder revealed the clamor happening over the deck as boxes, barrels, and sacks slid on the slippery floor, some even toppling over the side and falling under the waves.
The people clung to whatever they could cling to as the ship swayed dangerously from one side to the other, as if about to shake its passengers away.
" This is no normal storm!" Shouted a sailor who narrowly avoided being squashed behind a barrel.
" It's almost as if it's set to upturn our ship!" Another cried, tugging at the ropes to prevent the pole overhead from falling.
" It's pressing on us, captain!" Added a rather skinny and mousy-looking man who climbed up the mast to the looking point and peered over the surrounding sea. " There is no way out!" The wind buffeted them from all directions.
The man who stood tall above all others by the ship prow shook at the might of the storm before his eyes. The waves were so tall they could swallow his dear boat whole and render it to splinters scattered over the surface.
There was simply no way out of their predicament.
" This is our end…"
" It's the wrath of the Almighty One!" A deep shaking voice cried over the clamor, promoting every passenger to look at its owner. A wheezing old man, probably no less than seventy, marched on to the center of the deck as the boat swung left and right. How he managed to walk was a mystery to any of them. The old man's eyes wandered separately as he looked up, hands reaching above his head as if seeking a way out of there, as if seeking relief. " The Almighty had set his sight on this boat! Someone here had angered the Great One!"
" Hey! Stuff it!" One of the sailors tried to reprimand him for spreading such nonsense only to have the old man turn on him, transfixing him with his off gaze.
" Do you think it is a lie?! You think I'm insane?!"
" I think you should get yourself to safety!" Cried the captain over the wailing wind. " Wondering here will cost you your life, old Nasser!"
" I tell you!" The man cried again. " One of us angered the Almighty! We should throw him to the sea for this ship to be spared his wrath!"
" Even if what you say is true, old man, how do we even figure them out!" Argued the large sailor still playing tug of war with the pillar of the sail.
The elderly looked at him silently for a couple minutes, as if he had turned into some unfathomable creature, before reaching his hand into the folds of the clothes over his chest and drawing a set of logs with shaky hands. " We draw lots…" the old man mumbled. " That who draws the shortest one is to be thrown into the sea."
The sailors looked from one another, hesitant to follow through with what the old man had suggested. It was insane, throwing one of them off just like that.
" We've lost most of our rations to the sea…" the mousy man climbed down the mast. " We're too many. One of us must be sacrificed for the rest of us to survive."
With their dire situation plainly laid before them, the sailors' resolve and solidarity wavered.
The old man stood there, the wind whipping his beard and hair around as he held out his hand, waiting for them to reach out for the sticks.
The captain could not speak against the crew's decision.
Hesitantly, and with shivering hands, the sailors one by one plucked each a stick, and they breathed out a sigh of relief when they found their luck hadn't fallen on the shortest before their eyes promptly went back to the remaining ones, curious to see who would end with the fatal stick.
As most of them slipped away with their sticks, the ones left to pick broke in a sweat, fearful of what they might draw.
One by one, the sticks in the old man's hand reduced, and the shortest still didn't come out, until there was only one person and one stick left.
Every eye locked on the black-haired boy who drew the stick despite knowing full well what it was.
The young boy stood there, under the rain, staring down at the stick in between his fingers. The shortest of the lot.
The sailors looked at each other worriedly. Were they truly going to let a kid be thrown off in that storm?
" We do it again!" Their captain's voice was strong and firm it rivaled the thunder rumbling all around them.
The sailors nodded their approval and drew lots again.
The shortest stick was drawn by the kid once more.
" No, again…" A sailor stepped before the boy as he resigned himself to his fate. " As they say, third is set in stone."
As so, the kid's fate was set in stone as well. Once more, the shortest stick was resting in his palm.
The captain looked at the boy sadly. What are the odds that someone would draw the shortest stick thrice in a row?
" We can't throw the kid…" The mousy-looking sailor objected.
" But… we drew… we don't have a choice…" Another sailor mumbled.
" You say you want to abandon a child?"
The other sailor bit his lip. " Luck had given up on him already. His fate belongs to the Almighty one and the sea."
The ship swayed and tilted dangerously to the side as another large wave came crashing at it. The splash of a couple barrels falling down into the water resounded through the tense air.
" We definitely have!" The captain argued. " We can ignore all of this and go back to trying to save what we can from this storm. In the end, these are nothing but sticks. What do they know that we don't?!" He hurled his directly into the frothing sea.
" You're going to ignore the warning!" Nasser cried in utter horror. " We will die all in here then!"
" I would rather we all die than survive by throwing a child into the sea, if that even worked!" The captain countered, voice booming over the storm.
" It will! Our ship will survive the Great One's wrath!"
The sailors split into two groups, those who believed in Nasser's words, and those who thought it absurd to just sacrifice a kid to the sea. Arguments began to break here and there.
A pair of blue eyes squinted at them all with such intensity that they seemed to have swallowed their own tongues. The man then turned on the older one.
" You're turning in circles, old Nasser!" The captain placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. " You go back inside, I'll make sure you stay alive. But I'm not as heartless as to sacrifice a kid for a storm. Take him back in, Sin-"
The captain broke off as he turned around, eyes flicking in search of a certain pair of golden eyes among the ones staring at him.
He found none.
" Sindbad? Where is he?"
The sailors looked around the deck, but still no shadow of the boy. Sindbad had vanished from the upper deck…