When the Ship Stopped Sailing

Edmund Fitzgerald had always enjoyed his life at sea. As a child, his parents would take him down to the beach to play in the sand and surf. His soft, curly brown hair tousled in the gentle sea breeze. He never minded. The old and quiet harbor of the fishing port they called home, supplied Edmund and this family with just the right amount of contentment. Being that Edmund came from a poorer disposition, he learned to value what little he could have. Just before his father died in a boating accident while working, he taught him how to sail. Even though he was only seven, Edmund took to the sport quickly. The wealthy owner of the fishing business his father worked at let them borrow his own sailing cruiser, but it cost his father two days’ pay each time.

Edmund’s mother was still alive when he bought his prized sailboat. All this life savings were dumped into the boat. The small sailing dinghy wasn’t the masterpiece Edmund had imagined owning, but it had given him the dream fulfillment he craved. Along the mast was a chipped painting of a large sailing vessel set off in a bright pink and blue horizon. This was Edmund’s favorite. The dingy dinghy had value in his kind blue eyes because of it. However, soon after buying the sailboat, his mother passed from an unexpected stroke, although Edmund saw the stroke coming the moment his father died. Since his mother died, he couldn’t shake a humful tune that rattled his brain. It called him out to the sea.

Edmund sold all their belongings. He acquired enough money to supply the dinghy with sufficient food and materials to last him a month out on the water. He quit his job at the dock gutting fish. He stole a few fillets to add to his supplies; something he got good at over the years. He climbed aboard his boat and pushed off the dock with his rubber boot, careful not to get any water in through the hole at the bottom. He looked over his shoulder as his boat drifted further from shore. It was a habitual action he picked up from his father. Before long, Edmund settled down against the mast and pulled a torn blanket across himself. He fell asleep.

When he awoke, he could not tell which way was up and which way was down. A dark mass of salty water entombed him in a watery grave. For a brief moment, he thought about his father. Was this the last thing he saw, too? Just before he felt that his lungs could take the lack of air no longer, he resurfaced to a crash of thunder. Gasping for air and grasping for his boat, Edmund spun around blindly in the somber storm.

His arms latched around what he thought was the edge of the dinghy. When he tried to hoist himself into his boat, the wood he was holding onto sank beneath the water and he too went with it. He realized that what he possessed was not his boat, but pieces of it. He quickly met the storm above again and continued to reach for something to hold onto. A sudden flash of lightning illuminated a piece of the mast. He saw the bright colors of the sailing ship and horizon. He barely clutched the mast before a wave rocked over his head. He was sent spiraling down, arms flailing out at his sides uncontrollably. He struggled for what seemed like hours. His eyes stung and his lungs felt on the edge of bursting. He involuntarily took in a breath of the dark water. It was then he noticed a hand around his arm, but it wasn’t long before he closed his eyes.

When he came to, his face rested on the painting of the ship. The colors were faded out and a few places where it had been chipping were missing.

“I’m sorry about your boat,” a quiet voice said.

Edmund’s head shot up. He turned around rapidly in an attempt to locate the source of the voice. Perched on top of a large rock protruding from the water’s surface was a redheaded woman. Her hair was loosely curled. She had thick, long eyelashes that perfectly framed her green eyes. Edmund stared at her blankly.

“I’m not like the others.”

“The others?” Edmund questioned uneasily.

“They lured you out here.”

“I must be dreaming. No, I’m having a nightmare.”

“I’m afraid you’re not.”

As she spoke, Edmund couldn’t help but continue to stare at her. He wanted to swim closer. He tried to resist for he had no energy. That was when he noticed purple scales that hugged her chest and face.

“Are you alright?”

“Besides the fact that I’m now lost in the middle of the ocean without my sailboat, I guess I would say that I am indeed alright.”

“Here.” The redheaded woman reached out a hand gracefully adorned with purple scales. Fixed onto her eyes, Edmund began to swim over to her. He kicked out his legs and labored against his feet, one missing a boot. The piece of the mast was still tucked safely under his arm.

“Where am I exactly?”

“Here, with me.” Her voice grew lower than before. Edmund drew closer to her. A movement behind her caught his attention. Up on the horizon was a sailing ship.

“There!” Edmund shouted. The redheaded woman paid no notice to his excitement. “This is what I need. Hey! Hey!” Edmund thrashed around in the water. His arms now flailing above his head. The ship stopped abruptly.

“What do you see, Edmund?”

“A ship. A ship almost exactly like the one painted—wait?”

“Edmund, there is no sailing ship.”

“What are you talking about? I...I…” Edmund could no longer see the ship at the horizon. The beautiful pink and blue colors of the sky began to dull into shades of black and gray. Edmund blinked and the redheaded woman had disappeared. “Hello? Hello?” He treaded around in a circle. He looked down at his hands and saw that the painted mast was no longer in his arms. The water went still and Edmund understood that he had doubtlessly fallen right where the woman wanted him. He sighed slowly as his mind went blank of his own thoughts.