Where the Sun Meets the Water

The sun set beyond the horizon and twilight was approaching over the open ocean. The remaining rays of light left streaks of orange in the sky, the water now darker than a denim blue. The contrast appeared to create a line on the horizon, broken only by the silhouetted mass of the schooner one mile ahead. The pointed heads of the sails created a peak in the line, resembling the graph of a man's heartbeat in his dying breath.

James stood in his sloop, watching the pointed mass out in the ocean as he guided his craft towards it. Tonight, his sails caught as much of the wind as they could, but he could not shake the thought that the schooner in the distance was becoming smaller. He was left only with the hope that his mark would soon light the lanterns on the deck, and the light would serve as a beacon towards his destination.

James did not think about what he would do once he reached the ship. His mind was focused on the task at hand. He did not think about the events of the evening that led to this moment. He did not think of the things he could have done differently in the days before. The weeks. The months.

…

Katherine often stared out towards the ocean. After she and James had eloped together, she would always look out to him as he sailed towards the dock, the setting sun against his back while it illuminated her, standing on their balcony. Years of bittersweet moments between the two of them passed, and while she would still stare out from the balcony, he could see that she was looking past him, not past him, but through him, towards the ocean, exactly at the point where the sun would meet the water.

In her youth, Katherine did not enjoy the company of her elders, nor her suitors. Both parties had expectations. She did not intend to meet any form of them. A life of only seeing the ocean behind two layers of glass in a white-painted room was not how she wanted to experience it. James knew this, and would sail his sloop towards the rocky shores, cornering around the craggy cliffs where he knew she could see him from her Elizabethan windows. Eventually they would meet, and they would sail away from the shore, never to return to those craggy shores.

James built the home they lived in, on a small island surrounded by others. To afford their freedom, he ran parcels in his sloop from island village to island village. The ocean was often unforgiving, with waves that would overcome his small craft, and at times he feared he would not be able to return to her. But to see her, illuminated by the setting sun as he returned, would always cause his spirit to return. He loved how she saw him, and how she looked at the ocean as if it was a blissful, freedom-birthing form. She begged him to let her come with him, to be his first mate; he refused, not telling her why. He did not want fear from traversing the harsh mistress of the ocean to destroy her love of it.

Years of seafaring gave James a certain controlled poise. The fear of an engulfing wave was always present, but he knew his craft as if it were an extension of his body. He maneuvered with grace over rolling wakes, navigated through crashing corrals, and overcame the toughest winds, only through his knowledge of his craft, and his sheer will. His sea legs were as they needed to be for his survival; but on land, they were useless. James staggered through his words, and his attempts to maneuver through and over Katherine's needs left much to be desired. On the ocean, he was as steadfast as the earth. On the earth, he was as frantic as the waves.

Katherine was aware of the sacrifices both of them made by leaving her home. She knew that her father, and her suitors, were not forgiving, nor forgetful. A life of freedom was a life of isolation. To leave for the ocean meant to be contained by it. She chose the location of their home, and she wanted the balcony to face the sun as it was setting. They both told themselves that it was to enjoy the last life-giving moments of the day, but they both knew that the sun was setting at the same point from where they had escaped. Katherine would watch the dying light every day, seeing James sail in. In good times, she would only look at his shadow, happy that he made it home again. In bad times, more frequent as their lives went on, her eyes looked beyond, anxious, hoping not another shadow would appear.

The torture of a possible doom was agonizing to her. She did not want to frighten him; but she tried to speak of it. To speak of the fear is to fight against it - to hold your tongue is to let the fear win. James, unconfident with such manners, never responded to her. In his sloop, he would see storms approaching and then decide the best course of action: he could face the storm and work his craft through; or he could anticipate the storm and move around it. In this case, he did neither. He saw the storm but failed to recognize its destructive power.

And the storm did come.

His sloop tied to the dock of a neighboring island, James went into the cluster of houses to finish delivering his parcel. As he returned, he spied a schooner cornering around the cliffs of an island. The schooner's sails unfurled, and it turned. James only needed to see the sails unfurl, and the urgency of the situation was made apparent to him. He ran down to the dock and untied his sloop. He made a straight line towards his waiting wife.

Katherine stared out towards the sun. She knew what it meant to see a larger silhouette against the sun on this evening. Her pulse quickened, and she took out her spyglass to search the coast. A momentarily glance at the large ship confirmed her fears - but she continued searching in the spyglass for the sloop. She looked in the direction of the rocky corrals, the only route that would give the sloop a chance to meet her before the growing shadow out on the open ocean did. She found her mark. James was halfway through the corrals.

James was conscious of his breathing. He was still in the water, and his confidence showed. He knew the urgency of the situation that would soon come to land, but he did not think about those coming moments. The matter at hand was a matter he was familiar with. He made his way through the corral, speed and swiftness being his focus, his consciousness, his body and his craft.

But it was too late.

James escaped the corral to find the schooner already leaving their home, the course set towards the setting sun. Without second thought, he unfurled his sails and followed it.

…

The sun set beyond the horizon and twilight was approaching over the open ocean. The remaining rays of light left streaks of orange in the sky, the water now darker than a denim blue. The contrast appeared to create a line on the horizon, broken only by the silhouetted mass of the schooner one mile ahead. The pointed heads of the sails created a peak in the line, resembling the graph of a man's heartbeat in his dying breath.

James did not think about what he would do once he reached the ship. His mind was focused on the situation at hand.

The mass ahead was now lit with lanterns on its deck. And the mass was no longer shrinking in size; it was growing. The schooner had stopped. There was hope.

But there was a new fear.

James looked at his feet. The corral had broken through the hull of his sloop without him knowing it. Slowly, his ship was filling with water.

The next few minutes were that of a silent, tense desperation. James looked out; the sloop was headed in the right direction, and no effort on his part could make the craft get to his destination any faster. The bow of the ship was beginning to lower deeper into the water. James made a calculation. He climbed the sole mast of his ship, and waited.

James was now swimming. The mast of his trusted sloop was now fully submerged, and he could see the ship only a hundred yards out from him.

But the ship began to move.

With nowhere left to go, James kept swimming towards the ship, as it quickly began to gain distance from him.

James was exhausted. In his last breaths, he looked out at the ship.

It was now on fire. A great ball of flame emerged from the deck of the ship. He saw a figure standing at the stern of the ship. It was Katherine, surrounded by flames.

With her in his sight, he stopped struggling. The ocean took him as the light illuminated her to him for the last time.