Without thinking, he slipped the strap of his binoculars from around his neck. They were old, a hand-me-down from his father, the leather fraying at the edges, but the lenses were sharp. He lifted them and focused on the ship’s deck. At first, he saw only what he expected; peeling paint, broken railings, twisted metal.
Then, something moved. His breath caught. Between two stacks of containers, a figure stepped into view. Elias’s grip on the binoculars tightened. The figure raised its arms, once, twice. A wave. His chest tightened. Someone was alive on that ship. Someone was asking for help. “Look!” Elias lowered the binoculars and grabbed the arm of the man beside him.