It was early. Faint light resting
across the harbor highlighting white caps offshore and the wind was angry and
stirred the blue waters beyond the reef and salted winds blew across the dock
leaving the taste of the ocean on his lips and it was warm and inviting. He
stood facing the sea and the men gathered behind him and he thought of turning
back but this was the only day they had. The journey of men with names like
T-Bag, and Stick, and Roman, and Bagger; men with names changed to reflect
accomplishment or lives led.
The first mate made his life from
the sea and the fish and the harvest the tourists would capture while laughing
and joking as he pulled the lines and baited hooks for their pleasure. He had lived
in the Keys for the past 5 years working and away from his home in Oklahoma where his
father and mother had passed. The Captain should arrive soon he said and they could
load the boat with the supplies. He looked out to the sea and watched the white
caps crash over the small jetty that would serve as a guide to the boat returning
to port. “It will be a rough day. Not good for the faint hearted or weak
stomached,” he announced.
The first mate didn’t pause from
his work and said, “You think you guys still want to go?”
“It always looks worse from the
dock,” he said. The others agreed. “Let’s load it up.” And he thought of the
men. How unwavering their hope; their confidence pure in their youth and how
they carried their truths on their shoulders as if cut marks on a rifle barrel.
The winds lay across the bow of the
56-foot vessel at 20 knots from the southeast as she cut westerly toward Calusa.
He knew what the day would hold and how the seas would move you and seemingly
keep you unaware of the horizon. Mother
Ocean is hard to resist
and more so when one knows of the bounties she holds in her belly. Feeling the
roll of the water beneath the ship’s hull, he thought of his father and his
father’s friend and the time they ventured into a gray and stormy ocean in
search of fish from the depths in swells that could have easily consumed their
boat. The old, cut from the same past, they were strong and men of character
and true beliefs and men these men would become tomorrow when time sees you
through life and your hair grays and lines on your face tell of the stories within
the generation you have lived. The old men held in their hearts those times all
men hold onto and give back to their sons as they hand down to their sons. They
had fought a brave fight as the sea fought back and they landed the behemoth
and brought him back to the dock to please those they loved and carved thick
fillets and shared cigars and scotch as some men do when celebrating.
Men can be foolishly brave believing
they can endure the nature of force given without effort from her. The men on
this day had faced the exhilaration of battle, the hope of survival, the
moments of sheer terror when all is thought lost. But the world is full of
foolish men and their follies and Mother
Ocean knows with a beckon
of her salt spray and the wind of calling in your face and the dream of
conquest all men will follow her. Men challenge their fear all of their lives
not knowing it is the fear defining their life.
The Captain had warned of the
weather and said the fishing would be poor but this trip was for men with
bravery welded into their souls and what they had within their hearts; men
experienced with the effects of war, times of challenge and moments of pure
terror and seeing friends lost and loved ones crying and nothing is quite the
same again. Friendship bonds life; those around you become priceless treasures
when they will offer their lives so others may live in freedom and peace.
The shoreline near Calusa Cove had become
a small building on the horizon behind them. The trees on the shoreline were
black marks above the water and the sky was gray and the wind cut through their
bones like a fillet knife. The Captain saw the type of men on this journey and
wanted to reward and he stopped at the reef just five miles out. With good fortune
the quest would yield a bounty from the sea. But the catch and conquest was
neither the day nor the reason for men to gather and be one. Their fortune
would depend on the kindness of the Mother and what she would give and this
father asked her for kindness and giving knowing this day would be the
beginning of a new life for one man; his son.
The Captain anchored at the eastern
edge of the reef. The men gathered courage and with wobbly knees pressed
against the transom and pulled the fish off the reef. Within a short time the
cooler filled with fish and with each triumph they yelled their pleasure. The
Captain had warned of the bad days past but they carried on as if they knew
nothing would stop them. In a few short
hours, their hopes fulfilled, the swells reached twelve feet and a few
succumbed to the calling of Poseidon as they prayed on their knees and called
to him below the turbulent waters. Still the gathered their strong stomachs and
veritable character as Mother
Ocean failed to defeat
them.
Captain turned to him and the
swells grew higher. “Time to head back?”
He thought for a moment and looked
over the crew, “Give them their time.” But he could see the resilience weakening
in the group; the uneasy feeling when you can’t feel the horizon and your
insides don’t understand where up has gone.
At port the Captain cleaned the
catch and the men enjoyed sandwiches and beers and talked of times in the past.
They separated ways knowing they would meet again in a few hours to celebrate
the reason for being there. Their friend, their comrade, their ally in fighting
arms would marry the woman of his dreams and today was only the beginning.
When you have lived the battlefield
one does not speak of the battlefield and how if affects. A man is quiet and holds
a confidence only a man of this cut can hold and when he talks he recalls times
with his friends and how they spent their time and what they did and what they
drank and the women they loved but they never speak of war.
The day ended in merriment on the
beach as the sun fell below the horizon and they relaxed, sitting at the
water’s edge in chairs of wicker and bare feet in sand. Time passed and a
sliver of moon rose across the still water as they drank Balvenie and
smoked fine cigars and talked of nothing and everything as they knew tomorrow would
hold the day.
