Listing hypnotically
port to starboard to port
on the wrinkles of the tides,
flat on his back on the laced canvas bunk,
within reach of the overhead cables
that transfer stem to stern
the energy of the war weary destroyer.
Hallucinating,
he grips the cables: handle bars
of a commandeered bicycle,
pedals rapidly through purple ground fog
past the mangrove forest and
the chorus of cicadas,
along a grassy lane,
guided by the slap slap of the nearby surf
and the moon
glimpsed intermittently
through the blackened evergreens.
He glides toward a thatched village, now
but a few yards beyond
the next bend,
to rendezvous with the captivating island girl
who calls herself Black Pearl,
and who pledged in deep guileless eyes
to await his arrival,
if need be forever, she sighed
in her Tongan tongue,
a pledge of submission he
had boasted of just a few hours ago
to his shipmates,
amused that each
had described one not dissimilar
to the petite island girl waiting around the bend.
There! in the village square,
in the misty glow of amber lamps,
concealed in the circle of the blue laughter
of his shipmates.
He releases the overhead cables,
sinks into his bunk,
searches for sleep in the monotony
of the harbor swells
lapping at the ship’s rusty shell,
interrupted now and then
by distant drums,
a tiny laugh.
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Sheila
egads, i think i need help.. ..
this has a sense of reverence to it; a voice of saltwater, undrinkable unless one goes mad. .. . mad..mad.. ..
water water everyhwere and not a drop to drink; black ink.
nessa
And yet, he misses it... the ports... the exotic sites... the sunsetting on the sea-scape... and I think he misses the boredom too.
You capture the essence of that time so well, that for the first time, I think I was able to experience this part of his life with him. Thank you for that. --Charlie
John
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Was reminded of a little boy, dreaming/imagining ... well done!
Regis
Ah...but did Black Pearl actually live again for him?
The loneliness there is real and we sink into his dreams to join him.
I enjoyed this trip!
Newfie Hugs, Rose
This One Dips Into My Memory Banks of When I Went To The Bahama's on The Big red Boat...Oh I Love Love Love The feel of The Sway of The Sea. I went into the theater room...way down below...WOW!! I just sat there in the dark all alone & felt like I was being held by the sea. You are lucky to have so many memories & vivid eloquence to poetisize your love of the sea...I can hear the gulls calling us Gene :)
Much Love To You Always Sailor :)
Embraced ~ Embrassé
Vickie
What a romp.... to where and what? Gene, tell me now, just what the hell were you drinking that day? My boredom was airborne and base lock down, and after reading your story, I'm glad. You are the best writer on this block, Buddy! - Bill
ET
Unfortunately for the non-Christian natives, a Western, Christian gift was left behind--sexually transmitted diseases. Sounds like the narrataor might have malaria. Well done--vivid. I almost got sea sick.