Sailing across the South Pacific was a beautiful and deadly affair. The strong currents, both wind and water, allowed the journey to move smoothly. The only downside to such a voyage was the size of sea one had to traverse. Nearly 5,000 miles of nothing but ocean water and the occasional deserted island, that was the South Pacific trade lanes. Not only was the length of travel long, but the occasional storm could occur within a matter of minutes. Many ships would succumb to such quick, massive storms. The HMS Gorgon was one such ship.
Savaged and beaten after a bloody battle with the German cruiser Rhineland, the Gorgon limped slowly towards the British sea bases in Papua New Guinea when it was hit by a stray torpedo from a U-boat. Sinking rapidly, the ship broke apart, taking most of the crew down with them. After 3 days of floating, only one survivor remained of the original 300. Patrick Tyne, Gunner's Mate.
Sighing deeply, Patrick paddled softly, his hands still bleached badly from the beating sun and the salt water of the sea. He had spotted the island not far from where he was currently at, he just had to keep up a decent pace.
Arriving near a section of reef, the bloody and broken seaman touched foot down on a piece of coral. The feeling was hard and wet, his legs slightly atrophied from the long days in the water. Looking up at the island, Patrick smiled. It was a jewel of an island. The island looked similar to those islands that old salts would talk about, late at the bars near Patrick's home in Liverpool.
Patrick looked down into the water, his feet barely cooperating when he noticed something in the water. It vaguely resembled the face of a beautiful young woman. "Get a hold of yourself Patty..." Patrick said, rubbing his eyes. Looking back down the face was gone and was replaced by the clear rolling waves. Shaking his head, the sailor continued on until he ran into something.