Ships in the Night

The waves lapped gently against our wooden starboard bow. It amazed me how the rhythmic ripples could still draw out the deepest parts of my soul after 23 years on the water. The sky stretched broadly past us. Shades of pink and purple yawned over us as the sun set, reflecting shimmering tips of the darker, hidden depths below me. Soft white waters and faint seagull cries served as the white noise to an otherwise still evening.

“We’re coming into port.” Jillian said, approaching my perch to stare out at the wide, wild scene that’d been his life for months. “Glad to be home?” he added after what seemed like an eternity of silence.

The tide below me laughed in gentle irony, echoing against my chest. “The sea is my home.” I spoke its emotion into words, “This port is just another buoy for me.” I glanced at the upcoming dock, a plain-looking bit gradually growing into the horizon.

Jillian turned his face towards me, salt and pepper eyebrows matched the color of his thinning hair. His weathered face spoke of years under the sun. “Weren’t you born on this island?” he asked.

I let out a long breath, returning the fresh air I’d inhaled to its habitat, transformed. “On this boat. Off this shore, yes.”

A hesitant pause, and then, “It’s true, then. You've never stepped foot on land?”

His incredulous expression nearly settled again to its natural form on his face, leaving him looking only lightly amused. “Why am I not surprised? After spending all this time with you on the ocean... I almost believed it as soon as I saw you hoist anchor the first day. Couldn't say why.”

Slowly, it sank in that I didn’t have all the pieces to fully understand what he was saying. Why was that true to him? Why was that true to him?

I'd never once supposed I was a publicly speculated topic on land. Trading in one or two sailors for the next one or two at every port was a way of life for me and most times, the newcomer was someone I'd never met before. I never thought such a disassociated group of people could’ve scrounged up any kind of rumors about my humble living.

Completely oblivious to my internal ruminations, as always, Jillian moved past me to toss a rope towards the dock cleat. “Something about the way you handle yourself out here.” he continued.

I let it go.

I began to hoist his belongings onto the dock, along with several of the loads of fish we’d caught during our time out at sea. It was a good haul and this was his cut. The rest would be unloaded later on that evening.

“Tell you what,” he crowed on his newly arduous sea legs, “What’sabout you and I finding a good, fishless meal together in town, just for the evenin’? We’ll get you back on deck before collection and then you can go about business as usual in the morning. Maybe you’ll get to see all your supply shops in person for once. There are plenty of nice ‘uns around, it ain’t scary or nothin’. A young girl your age should be doing exciting things with her life. Going to parties and getting' to know people. Not just working all the time.”

Jillian was an odd specimen himself. I'd come to think of him as the grandpa of sailors. Despite the fleck of pride he tried desperately to quell as he offered to be the first to show me around land, I knew he was pure of spirit. He didn’t act as tough and weathered as most shipmen tended to be. There was a real simplicity to him, almost a timidness sometimes, that I'd come to appreciate in a lone shipmate. I was almost disappointed at having to drop him off. But that was beyond common for me. Good people came and went as the bad ones did.

“I appreciate it, Jillian. Really, I do. I can’t leave the boat unattended though. I know it’d probably be alright but, it just doesn’t feel proper.” I said, looking him in the eye.

I could tell he wanted to say something more but, looking me back in the face, decided against it. “Well, with a boat as old as you are, I imagine that’s true.” he chuckled a little. “Can’t believe I sailed on that thing this whole time actually. It’s a mighty fine boat.”

I smiled back, “That it is.”

“I’ll be off, then.” He loaded the last of his effects onto a public cart that was one of many always waiting on the docks. “I’d love to sail with you again one day, if you’d let me.”

“I’d love that, too.” I said, truthfully, and then just watched as he walked across the field, getting smaller and smaller until he disappeared into the tree line.

This was one horizon that hadn’t changed since I’d been born. Memories of my father coming down that field to the water swam across my mind. We were happy back then.

The rest of the night was as smooth as pond-living. Both the fish merchant and the supplier who he paid my money to came to collect fish and drop off provisions all before the sun officially set, which meant that I had plenty of time to check the lines before winding down with more exciting things.

Occasionally, a few of the kids running around the bank would cross the dock to talk to me as I went about my business. A couple of them I recognized, most of them I didn’t. The strange build of my ship was probably what intrigued them. I invited them all aboard and taught them how to tie knots or play jacks. Eventually they’d be called home by their parents.

Books were another favorite pastime of mine. They came like little gifts from God among the piles of stuff Phil brought me every haul. Portrayals of eccentric cultures across the sea, lifetimes of the past, and silly governments tended to range from true to false to entirely made-up altogether, whether they were fiction or not. Either way, it was very entertaining.

Over the next few hours, stories of warrior riders and the politics on land filled my head. By my third book, I could feel myself nodding off. The last time the book fell from my hands, I didn’t even notice. But I dreamed of a young blonde girl, captive among a barbaric tribe, only to understand and become one of them in the end.

“Knock knock.” A man’s voice registered faintly in the back of my mind. “Hello? …Anna?”

At the calling of my name, my eyes fluttered open into a soft sun. I sat up on the oriental blanket I’d used as my mattress last light and hobbled over to peer off the side of my boat. Below me, looking up, was a man in his mid-thirties, dressed simply in jeans, a t-shirt, and a corduroy cap. Slung over his shoulder was a small sack of what I assumed were his personal items since he had nothing else on him.

“Hello?” I asked, unenthusiastically.

“Um, Anna?” he smiled up at me with intentional eyes and what looked like a hint of laughter. Was he always this cheery?

“Yes.” I answered, trying to seem alert and failing.

“I’m Henry. Hi.”

Recognition seeped into my brain, “Oh! Yeah. Sorry, I was sleeping. I literally just woke up. You can come on board!” I started letting down the ladder. “Welcome.”

I watched him throw his sack in his teeth and climb up the rope and boards from my previous spot on the wooden rail. It wasn’t a long climb, but it was far more graceful than having to leap and then drag yourself up the side. Which some people, like Jillian, probably couldn’t do.

“Thanks.” he said, grinning again as he took his stand on deck. “Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t down there long. Is that where you slept?”

His survey of his new home stopped on my blanket, surrounded by an old, fizzled out oil lantern, my open treasure box of knick-knacks, and my poor book whose pages looked a little bent from my falling asleep on them the night before.

“Uh. Yeah.” I said, unable to find any relevant context to add, “Just last night.” I moved to clean it all up. “Don’t worry, there are actual cots for us both below deck.”

“I’ve never seen a boat like this. It’s so…”

“Long.” I’d heard that before.

“Yeah.” He said with a slight tsch of humor.

“Welcome aboard the Atlas!” I said, pausing from the ground to give a grand sweeping gesture with my arms. “A one-of-a-kind home to all sailors looking to take a trip across the sea!” My tone was equally proud as it was mocking.

At face value, Henry didn’t look as cheery as he was. He looked like a hard worker who’d experienced some crazy things. But his intense gaze gave away his contrasting disposition in a way that made him seem intentional. I realized immediately that it was what I liked most about him.

“It’s bigger than it looks.” he said, appreciatively, taking everything in a second time.

“So they tell me.” I said, “Want to see your quarters?” I stood with my thick blanket neatly rolled around my belongings in a sack less practical than his.

“Sure,” he said without hesitation. “It’s not called the Annabel?” he asked.

“No. That's my name. Annabel Lee. Ana for short. Atlas is this; my girl. My dad designed her. She's lasted my family longer than I've been alive.”

“Oh? How old are you?”

“23. And you?”

“35. I'm old.”

“That’s not old.” I smiled at him and gestured to the guest quarters I'd scrubbed the night before. Not that Jillian hadn’t been a tidy bunker. “This is your room. Spick and span. It’s not a lot but... I usually don’t spend much time down here.”

“So I saw,” he joked, looking about his new space.

“You can settle in. I’ll be on deck.” I turned to go.

“Uh, Anna.” I turned back. “I hope you don’t mind me telling you this, but you have something on your face.” he gestured as if brushing something from his cheek.

Thinking the worst, I hastened to wipe it off. I didn’t feel anything.

“It was chalk or something.” He half reassured me; half questioned me.

“Oh, from last night. I was drawing.” I recalled, “Go up on the crow’s nest. You’ll see.”

I walked back down the narrow hallway, stopping to drop my stuff off in my room—and check my reflection—before going back up to daylight. My hair was a little messy, but nothing that couldn’t wait until we made some headway. I didn't like being stationary for too long.

For me, setting sail was easily a one-man job, so I didn’t wait for Henry to hoist anchor. The day was near perfect on the island, though I could tell it might not be that way where we were going.

And so the journey begins. I thought: the opening thought to most of my trips nowadays. I'd have to jot that down sometime so I could get it out of my head. I just didn’t know what’d come after it. Maybe that was part of the problem.

“What is that?” an incredulous voice exclaimed from above. Henry stood in the crow’s nest, evidently appreciating the chalk art beneath my feet. I moved out of the way before he could ask me to, giving space to a white bird with wide-spread wings and long, flowing tail feathers trying to make headway.

“It’s a long-tailed widow bird.” I called back, “It should be black, but all I have is white chalk. I like it though, it gives it a sketching feel.”

“You drew that?” he shook his head, impressed, “I couldn’t do that.”

I smiled, slightly embarrassed, “It’s taken years of practice. It'll get washed away by the end of the day.” I added as he climbed down, “For the most part.”

“That’s a shame.” he said, landing in front of me, “Looks like a lot of work.”

I shrugged, “It lets me draw something new.”

“I guess that’s true.” he agreed. Maybe it was our age difference that made me expect otherwise, but he was surprisingly easy to talk to. I liked how upfront his mannerisms were and how his kindness didn’t stop him from enjoying life. It seemed easy for people to get jaded over nothing nowadays.

“Where are we going, by the way?” he asked.

“Mmm, I'm not sure, actually. Well, I started going towards Opah territory because people are always willing to buy it, but it really depends on you. We don’t have to start there. Where did you want to go?”

“You didn’t have a plan in mind when you started this trip?” he seemed concerned.

“Not really.” I said, smiling to acknowledge the irony.

He gave a short laugh in reply, “Ok...”

Not wanting him to worry too much, though he had joined this trip, apparently not knowing where we were going either, I jumped in with the details I had, “Depending on what Phil told you, we can really go anywhere you want, so long as we catch enough fish for me to restock the supplies we used. You get 40% of the catch and I'll take you anywhere you want to go. I kind of just assumed I was dropping you back off here.... Or I can plan a trip if you want.”

“Huh. Phil did tell me my cut, but not much else. He knew I was looking for work and said there was a fishing trip I could apply for. Since I had experience, I did. I guess I didn’t ask where I was going either.” Another short laugh.

I shook my head, smiling. “He usually lets people know so that they can prepare if they have a specific fish or destination in mind. Unless I have one. But I guess he figured you didn’t care. Are you going back home?”

“Yeah. Well, actually, if I have the option?”

“Yup!”

“I’d like the end up in the Quies, if that’s ok.”

“What’s in the Quies?” Out of curiosity.

“An old life. Not much but, it used to be home.”

“You have family over there?”

“No. Just friends. But I’m... transitioning from a reckless lifestyle, you could say. Now that I've spent the time I needed to at home, I want to put down roots somewhere else.”

"Interesting. Ok. Well, the Quies it is, then. I haven’t been over there in a while myself.”

We decided to stop for opah anyway, since our destination was in the same direction. At my suggestion, well, my insistence really, Henry agreed to learn to fish them with a harpoon the first go-around. I dragged out scuba gear for two and set it near the rail.

“I’m good on that,” was his first response to my proposal, “Can you catch opah in diving gear? I don’t think I've ever heard of someone doing that.”

For good reason. Opah were fast, so it was hard to catch them in gear. Not to mention, they were deep. Usually, 300-600 feet deep. Without a doubt, you had to be a good diver...or with someone who was.

“It’s a ritual for me,” I explained, “Just with moonfish. It, uh, was the first fish my dad and I caught diving. Happened on accident, really, but now I catch my first one by hand and then the rest the more profitable way. Obviously, I can’t make a living dragging these things up one by one. But it keeps my diving skills sharp, plus it's always good to experience what God made first, before turning it into your own gain. Helps you appreciate it more.”

I was attempting to sound as convincing as possible, but Henry wasn’t buying it.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but. You're crazy.” He said. We both laughed, but I wasn’t going to give up so easily.

“Come on, Henry! Just one. I'm an expert diver! I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll even fend off all the sharks.” I teased.

His mouth tightened and he shook his head slowly, eyes still laughing. “I don’t know...”

I could tell I had him on the ropes. “The fish won’t come if we don’t do this.” I baited.

He looked at me, and I put on a face that let him know I meant it.

“The fish won’t come?” he asked, hesitantly. Oh, yeah. He wanted to.

“I’ve seen it before. That’s why I decided to keep the ritual, whether I felt like diving or not. I always have to do it.”

He sighed. “Alright. Just one.”

Yes! “You won't regret it, I promise!” I started handing him things to put on and then shoved him into the haul so he could change. We emerged from our rooms about the same time. He had gone diving enough before, so he knew how to suit up.

“How long have you been diving, again?” he asked skeptically as we finished strapping everything up on deck.

“Since I was 3.” I answered, nonchalantly, so he’d relax.

He nodded. “And you promise you’ll fend off all the sharks?” I could tell he was half joking, half hoping I was able to. I was. For the most part.

“Promise.” I said.

After showing him how to use the harpoon and briefing him on the more complicated parts of the gear, diving, and hunting, we were ready.

The water was familiar. This water in particular. It was the same exact place I'd caught my first opah, and I came here often when the season was right. Sometimes to fish, sometimes just to explore.

I made Henry practice shooting the harpoon underwater, just so he’d get used to the speed and angling of it. Then, we dove, our heads always on swivel for possible dangers around us. The truth was, diving still scared me a bit. I had a healthy respect for the water; a fear of it. Because no matter how familiar the ocean and I were with one another, I was biologically one of the weaker creatures swimming in its depths. Easy prey to almost anything larger than me. And I'd seen some radical things out on the open seas. Fish, dangerous fish, could move fast, while you couldn’t. But that’s what made it thrilling. The success of diving was something to be truly treasured, and you could do it over and over and over again because it was all about how you thought and behaved. You have to be smarter than the next fish, as it were.

I saw my prey among the many other sea-dwellers this far down. He was red with his signature spots, but had rare white scaling on his underside. It was a beautiful sight among the deep, though a fairly bare scene altogether. Still, this spot was prettier than any other I tended to find moonfish in. Or maybe it was just sentimental.

I pointed the fish out to Henry and, surprisingly, he got it in one shot. Color me impressed.

I found another shortly after and speared it with no problem.

A lot of fishing is being still and waiting for a catch, so by the time we made it back onto the boat, we’d been down there for about an hour and a half.

“Wooh!” Henry exclaimed when we finally resurfaced. “I can’t believe I got that! I think I was so deep in survival mode that I zeroed in on what needed to be done quickly.” he chuckled at himself.

“Yeah, that was impressive.” I voiced what I'd thought earlier. “You shot that like a pro!”

“I’m not sure I'd do it again,” he said, “But at least I can say I did it once.”

“Let’s celebrate!” I declared. I'd hoisted myself back on the boat, sitting with my feet still in the water, but I leaned over to grab an open beer that was no longer good after an hour in the sun. Still, I had to toast with something. “To you catching you first opah, scuba-style!” I raised the bottle to him as he threw the fresh fish on ice. He turned towards me, grin stretching ear to ear.

“To diving for opah.” He cracked open a new one and cheered back to me.

I took a swig. “Seriously, though, we have a lot of fishing to do here today. Why not make a day of it in our spare time?”

“Ok. I’m not going to argue with that.” Henry replied, eyes sparkling.

“Great.” I agreed.

So we did. And that was the first day with Henry. We fished, drank, and were merry all day. I was right. The fish came. And at the end of the night, we gathered around a small fire I built on deck, and I sang him a song on my guitar. The stars and planets took on brilliant form above us. The water was perfectly calm.

“I heard you’ve never left this boat.” He said after my last notes had faded away. “How is that?”

He didn’t ask me if it was true or if I was a freak. He just assumed he was right. That should’ve bothered me, I thought, but it didn’t. Maybe I hadn’t known him for long, but I trusted Henry. His confidence was a reflection of his wisdom and his disposition radiated with love.

Still, I had to know how his brain worked, “How do you know that’s true?” I challenged.

“I mean, maybe it’s not. Sorry,” his serious, quiet side came out in his sincerity, if only for a second, “But to be honest, that was the only reason I trusted you out there today. I did a little digging on you before I came here. I had to know who I was sailing with. They say that you were born on the water and have stayed here ever since.”

I laughed a bit uncomfortably. “Is that all?”

“Well,” he half shrugged, “they say you’re not human but that you’re really kind.”

“I can handle that,” I said, amused. “My mother gave birth to me on this boat. The boat that my father built. They never took me on land, I guess because they never needed to. I have everything I need right here. At this point, land is a little worrisome. I know it’s a good place, or supposedly so, but I've never been myself, and I've never made it a goal to be good at things on land. The water requires so much of you and yields so much life and intelligence. I am human, but I guess I'm just happy to be a master of my element.”

A Tillamook I barely registered sailed passed us a few hundred yards off. Henry and I stared at each other. There was no judgement in his expression, no defense from being a land-dweller. Just intrigue and awe. I could tell he knew, also, that I didn’t judge anyone for being on land. Heck, I was the only one out here on the water all the time. But I appreciated that I could tell my story and not be looked at sideways.

In fact, I was beginning to respect a lot of things about Henry. He was quiet, like I was, but fun and exciting. He wasn’t quite as adventurous as I was. I would’ve dived headfirst into the opah challenge. But he was adventurous and humble at the same time. More than anything, he seemed to value me as I was valuing him. We didn’t say much by way of deep conversation, but we didn’t need to. It was as if our openness led to one path that was easy to walk. And in the next 6 months I spent with him, that didn’t change. Our bond only got deeper.

I learned from that night, that Henry, though highly successful in life, had gotten into some serious substance abuse. He'd gone home to his family to go to rehab and get better. The start of this trip was the start of a new and better life for him. I wished him all the best.

As we got closer and closer to the Quies, there were times he would look at me and I knew he was thinking about staying on my boat longer. There were times I’d look at him and he knew I wanted to ask him to. But for whatever reason, we both did what we thought was best. And that was to keep silent.

The morning of our arrival, we met on the deck and had our daily coffee together. The morning air was cool and fresh, but not a lot was spoken between us. It was a comfortable silence, though a sad one, since we both knew what was coming.

“Well, Annabel,” He said, finally, as he’d often said my name, “I’ll always remember this. If you ever decide to step foot on land... well, it’s not a bad place.”

As much fun as we had on the Atlas, Henry would never get anywhere with his life if he kept coming back to visit. He had a lot going for him on land, and I had a lot going for me here. Some people would never understand, but he needed to settle down and get his mind off the life he could’ve had. The life out at sea. And me. I could never be as fulfilled as I was on the waves. Yes, these moments would be the last that we saw of each other.

At the dock, far busier than my home dock, I tamped down the same feelings that I had before. Feelings of asking him not to leave. Feelings of wanting to go ashore. I knew neither of us would be happy forever that way. It felt like I was losing my best friend, but it felt like the right thing to do. I knew he had so much more ahead of him than my strange boat, and that I did, too. And in that sense, I was willing to let him go.

I watched his figure fade into the distance as he waved goodbye from the bank. For the first time, I realized what my feelings for him really were. They were Love. Something I never thought I'd find in this world. And even though I’d suffer without him, I'd always know that I wanted more for him than I'd ever want for myself. That I was willing to bear anything to see him happy. And I'd always be grateful to him for teaching me that. Because I knew it would change my life forever.