Tempest

Theo climbed to the bow of the ship and checked the horizon again with his telescope, then gave in and started lashing down the supplies he kept on deck. A storm was coming, and promised to be a bad one. Most of all, it was different. All day, the tempest almost had followed him. He sighed and went back to getting the ship ready. It wouldn't do any good to think while the storm drew closer.
Scarcely an hour later, a thick wall of mist pushed around the ship until Theo couldn't see more then a few feet. The water became choppy, then escalated to twenty foot waves that crashed onto the deck. A cutting wind sliced the warmth from his bones, and filled the air with a ghostly wailing. A wave half the hight of his mast loomed up, and he pulled the rope that tied him to the mast. 'I'm screwed.'