Just as I ducked under the arch that lead behind a pane of glass, the boat edged into the fury of the storm. Rain and seawater came from every side as the boat tossed and turned as it tried to go back to the island. We were hopelessly wet. The boatman yelled for me to wrap a towel around me. I could hardly hear him above the roar of the ocean and thunder claps. At the stern of the boat, the navigator was trying his best to steer the boat by using his leg to move the rudder. If the situation wasn't so dire, I would have laughed to see his frantic actions that looked like a cross between taekwondo and dancing.
The sea swelled and the waves got higher and higher. When I looked behind, I could see the dark sky and the ominous sea interchange as the boat rocked wildly. Didn't I say I wanted adventure as I stepped into the boat that morning to look for dolphins? Was this the end?