Posted by AlOmega on April 14, 1999 at 15:24:03:
THE SEA
The sea
To me;
Its call
"Tis pall,
Ne’re at all
Must I seek
The sea
To thee,
Ne‘re more
its roar
‘Tis no glower
It is meek.
The sea
To me,
Is dead
‘Tis Dread
To be fed
Lives too weak.
The sea
To me,
Means death.
No breath,
Deep ‘neath
The waves
Lies Death.
I hear the sea call to me but I cannot go. So okay I won’t go. I’m a wild and crazy guy. Maybe I’m paranoid as well. But you will never, never ever make me take a trip which involves traveling over water. Can’t sail. Won’t take cruises. If I had to travel from Houston to Tampa, I’d route myself through Jacksonville so as to avoid flying across the Gulf. I hate the water. Sure I can swim but I’d rather not. I’ve not always been like this. There was a time....
There was a time when I sailed the waves and plunged from north to south in search of commerce. As a lad, I ran away from home to find my new home on the sea. Soon I became a seaman then Second Mate, First Mate, and Captain. Through care and luck I acquired a ship, then two, then nine until I was well off. I knew the sea when she was rough and fair. Like a demon at times she treated me. And like a sweetheart she returned my love once more. But the sea can be a jealous lover.
I guess it was late October that I met her. "Take an Alaskan cruise" was how the brochure read. So I shelled out the few thousand it took for a two-week first class passage along the Pacific coast to Alaska. True it was a bit chilly but the rates were better. The second day out I met her. At the fantail of the boat she was. Over the edge and leaning back as if she was intending to jump. But I could see she had no intention of doing that. Still there was the chance that her fingers would slip and she’d fall. And drown most likely since the water was so damn cold. I watched her for a bit scarcely breathing as the wind blew her hair into her face. Such a pretty face she had. Frosty winds which reddened her cheeks and dried her lips forcing her to moisten them frequently could not hide that. She was oblivious to everything - everyone - including me. My voice startled her so much that if I hadn’t grabbed her wrist, she might have fallen.
"Oh, beautiful lady, why do you take such chances?"
Perhaps the words caught her off guard even though she smiled sweetly at me as if to say she was unafraid and in charge of her fate, her life. A few more words and she let me aid in returning her to the safety of the fantail. No, she had not contemplated suicide. It was her way of living vicariously, of taking chances. Her mother had forced her to take this trip feeling that a sea voyage was for the best since she had been seeing a man neither of her parents approved of . I can still hear the sweetness of her voice and her name though my tongue can scarcely say it.
Claudia.
Perfection by any other name would not be as sweet.
One month later, we married with approval from her parents and mine (though we couldn’t have cared less). And for our honeymoon, where better to go than on a ocean cruise. This time we traveled for three weeks in the Caribbean. How to describe how we felt. It was about the middle of the cruise that we had a three-day layover in the Virgin Islands. While there, we decided to rent a sailboat and explore the area to our heart’s content. Heck, we wouldn’t have cared if we missed the boat.
Now I’m a pretty good sailor having earned a sailing license while in the Navy. Nice of the Navy to permit its personal to learn sailing. I thought so anyway. I never thought to ask how much sailing experience that Claudia had. It was enough that I knew. Actually, its not difficult to learn basic seamanship. You should know a few things like the difference between a jib and rudder. Plotting a course is a bit more difficult but easily learned. And I wish people who write about ships and sailing would avoid using fancy words to describe what they don’t understand. Sails are not ‘sheets’, for example. Canvass is rather a stretch. A ‘sheet’ is similar to a lanyard. Using improper words without knowing what they mean is rather like saying you’re sleeping with your sister when you mean you’re sleeping with your wife.
Anyway, we were out of sight of land when the squall hit. Now most storms at sea are quick things that one travels through in a steamship. Fascinating to watch also. A cloud dispensing rain on the ocean is a sight to behold. And you can get wet enough not paying attention to where the ship is taking you.
But this was not an ordinary squall. The winds twisted and turned every which way forcing me to tack one way then another to avoid being tossed about like so much flotsam. I had no time to step down the sails so I had to go with what we had up. I did drop a sea anchor which seemed to slow the craft down. But the sea was rougher than it had been before the storm. About the time the rains stopped, the currents went one way; the steering went the other. I’d felt that type of lurch only once before. The sickening sound of twisting wood confirmed my worst fears. Neither I nor Claudia could avoid being struck by the ruined mast. Almost in a dream state, we tumbled into the rough waters. The hull, caught by the current, drifted quickly, quietly away. Only part of the mast was available for us to clutch to. The mast and a good deal of line. I helped Claudia to the mast and tied first herself, then me to what was left of our boat.
Fascinating how the sea is sometimes - emerald green, the deepest blue, a soft steel gray. Right now as the sun dipped into the waters, it was the blackness of death. But while we drifted I talked of lighter things. Of how we met. Our lives so far together. How I loved her from eternity to eternity always, forever. I heard a quiver faintly as she replied. And we talked well into the night and early morning. But how long could we drift? How far? Was rescue minutes away? Or hours? Or never? We both feared the answer.
We had removed most of our clothing from the start. Clothing is okay in the colder climes. But in these warm waters, its weight creates more problems than its protection serves. Time passed. We stopped talking. Again the sun was extinguished and darkness reigned - the darkness of both sky and sea. And still we drifted, hunger and thirst adding to the woes of being adrift.
Well you know from this story that we were rescued. I couldn’t tell you of this otherwise now could I? But Claudia. Dear Claudia. We drifted for three days growing weaker each hour. I saw a fishing boat and shouted hoarsely. I could see the boat turning. They had seen us. I turned to Claudia to see her fingers slip from the mast. Somehow during the night, the ropes binding her had come undone. She had held on as long as she could; but, even though help was near, she could not hold on longer. As she slipped away, I fought the ropes binding me. Then I dove long and deep. But the water soaked ropes held me fast. I almost touched her fingertips. A little more? Denial. I watched as she gave herself to the sea. As the dull blue of the depths dragged her down, I saw her fluttering fingers trying to reach me. Her eyes longing for mine as the cruel depths took her deeper and deeper until only the faint bubbles of air marked her passage. They soon stopped as the ropes of the mast dragged me to the surface. Even as the sailors cut me free from the ropes, I could hear Claudia’s faint cries calling to me. I longed to go forth - to sink forever beneath the rippling salt water so like her tender tears - for what did life hold for me now. Yet even then I knew I heard not lovely Claudia but the horrible sea. The sea after all is a jealous lover. It’s why I’ll never see the oceans again. It’s not fear; it’s anger.
Sometimes like tonight I hear Claudia in the sounds of a brook or the laughter of a waterfall. Sometimes in the gentle tapping of spring showers, I think I hear her footsteps. And the thunder does call her name. The waters of heaven know her. And I still love the feel of raindrops on my face as if she’s kissing me once again. I feel she may be in the soft waters of land for she always loved water.. But the sound of the surf and gentle lap of wave on sand holds nothing of Claudia for me. The ocean took and destroyed her. Now it wants me.
AlOmega