Bill Wright 11575 SE 59th Avenue Milwaukie, OR 97222 503-659-3898 billwri@msn.

com Fictional Short Story Word Count 749 The Mariner I step on to the deck of the schooner, from my quarters below. I wish to have a final pipe before I take to bed. I feel the night breeze as it strokes my face. It is a cool and refreshing change from the earlier day and its hot and humid lashings. The smell of the salt air clears my senses and it still has a hint of land mixed into it. We left port with the evening tide and were sailing east. It was just that time when the stars are at their fullest. There was no moon and the stars twinkle in rhythms to which only they hear. The sky is like a starry tapestry and with the reflection on the waters, it is difficult to see where the sky begins and the sea ends.

I think of what it must have been for the early explorers. They left their security to risk everything to reach the far horizon. The courage that it took to sail beyond safety. Beyond where knowledge ended.

I have not been at sea long. This ship is my first and I hope to do well. As a junior officer I am learning the ropes, so they say, and trying hard to fit into the operations with out any disruption.

Bill Wright The Mariner Page 2 I walk toward the bow passing rigging and hatches as I draw my pipe from a pocket. I look out at the ocean and its mysteries as I turn and make my way to the stern. All is quiet. I light my pipe from a lantern hanging on the mast.

The watches are in their places and the helmsman has a light grip on the wheel. The watch says, Good evening sir. He gives the common knurled finger salute as he speaks. The helmsman nods and also wishes me a good evening. I start to climb the short steps up to the stern castle deck and nod to the helmsman and the watch who is about to chime the bells and toll the time for entry into the log. They know I am not on duty and wonder why I stroll the night. The officer of the deck is below but I am not looking for him anyway.

It is then that I see a man standing at the rail. He stands straight and tall. A hand on the rack of belaying pins just to his left and his bare feet a bit apart. He wears the clothing of a seaman but has no hat. Then I see his cap has been tucked into the rope that serves as his belt. He reaches into a pocket and withdraws a pipe, which he quickly lights. He puffs once and then shakes his head while letting the smoke slowly from his nostrils. Its

Bill Wright The Mariner Page 3 like he is letting the sea air wash his mane and I now see a scruff of a beard that, though short has been cared for regularly. I remain behind and a slight bit off to his right. I stay quiet in the hopes of observing this veteran seaman and his manner.

He stands there looking out to the sea he loves watching the luminous wake slowly disappearing to the horizon. He looks with longing at the mistress of his soul. He admires her with the same desire and longing a young man shows for his hearts love. He stands firm while the sea rises and falls. He might be thinking of how the sea is ever changing and alive. He may be remembering a far away port and his promise to a woman. He looks up to the rigging in response to the call of the wind in the sail. The ropes sing in answer to the sails flapping. He puts his pipe away and turns back to the job at hand. Knowingly sensing that work must be done and things put at the ready. He knows that the sea is a harsh mistress and though he loves her, he must show his leadership and command. I look at him and he sees me not. He grasps a line tied to the belays and pulls to make it taut. I know that I am not seeing a seaman but gazing upon something more.

Bill Wright The Mariner

Page 4 I turn away as silently as possible. I have taken what I need and need no further interaction. I know my goal is to one day attain what that seaman has grown to be a mariner.