“Faster!” Jeane O’Clery cried, the wind roaring in her face, the lightning striking all around them, white flashes amidst the endless grey of the rolling skies and seas. It seemed hard to tell where one ended and the other began. The storm dominated everything, stretching from the waters to the heavens, casting long shadows across the crimson ship as it struggled across the white-crested waves.
A glance backwards showed her that the white-trimmed ship of the line was still on their trail, Union Jack whipped back and forth by the ferocious winds. She could imagine Captain Stainthorpe standing by the wheel, blue coat streaming out as he ordered his men to keep going.
Stainthorpe was obsessed, a bloodhound with her scent in his nostrils. She knew he wouldn’t relent until he had her or he was dead. It was that which drove him on past the point when most would have turned back.
Fortunately, Jeane thought, he’s not the only one with an obsession.
She stared defiantly into the howling wind and stood strong against the thunder. It was there, she knew, just on the other side.
The island. The treasure.
“Keep going!” she ordered. “No matter what, keep going!”
Word Count: 200
This is my first entry for Sunday Photo Fiction. I saw the picture in my Reader and immediately was struck with inspiration.