George Turner’s brown eyes darted around the ship which was currently aflame. He continued lowering the lifeboat with you, his wife, and your son on it.

The crackling of the fire shook him to his very core, though he was too proud to ever admit it. His only focus was getting you two off the burning ship, which was sure to capsize soon.

Suddenly, a stray, burning piece of wood slammed into his abdomen, causing him to let go of the rope he used to gently lower you two into the cold ocean.

Rain poured around you and your son, and luckily your boat had been close enough to the water, so the drop wasn’t harmful. You held your young son tightly to your chest, scanning the deck of the ship for George.

Suddenly, he dives off the creaking boat, going into the cold, angry waves below. He emerged a few seconds later, forcing himself to swim the fifteen feet to your lifeboat. You helped haul him into the wooden rescue ship, and he collapsed against you, pulling your body into his wet embrace.