Volume 1 No. 3

The Tradesman

May 2007

A Sailor’s Tale: Part I

“With an ill feeling in my stomach, I coughed and began to lose all sense of hearing…”

By Dan Medeiros ‘07

A sinking feeling; vomiting. Heaves of unstoppable liquids and solids spewed from my inner organs. I coughed wildly and held the side of the boat for dear life. Seasickness. Everyone had it from time to time. Being out here on the ocean could take its toll on anyone.

The rocking of the boat, the constant movement of the sails. It was peaceful and nauseating at the same time. Back then, the ocean was everything to me. I had no family, for they had all been stolen from me. It hurts to talk about, but I know I’ll see each of them someday.

My beautiful wife, Cassandra with her glass green eyes, brilliant smile, and flowing gold hair. I loved her with all my heart and once I heard news of her death, I aimed all of my grief and anger at what I loved; the ocean.

Cassandra left me and took my only child, a boy named Thomas. I named him after my grandfather whom taught me all I knew about sailing. My plan was to teach my son the ways of the water, but as I said, he died along with my wife. Although my son was only four years old, he had his mother’s looks. Golden hair with a beautiful smile; the only thing he inherited from me, was my last name.

McAllister.

With one final heave, the last of my vomit splashed into the ocean and fused itself with the raging water. A relief came over me and left a warm feeling in my chest. With a weary hand, I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and stood upright to look up at the sky. Grey clouds covered a bright blue sky. A storm was coming, along with another difficult feat to survive the ravages of the water.

The last thunderstorm I had been through, two men were thrown overboard and four were terribly injured. I survived with a few lacerations to the legs and arms. When it came to the weather, you were considered lucky if you’d survive. When I first started this trade, I was fourteen and alongside my grandfather. He taught me the rules to run a boat and be thankful for each day you live while others die.

At seventeen I knew all there was to know about sailing, I had seen every situation there could possibly be. Storms, whales, sharks, if it has to deal with water, I had had experience with it. I remember one time an entire mast toppled over because of a hurricane. I took charge and made sure we rode out of the storm alive.

When I turned twenty, my grandfather died. He had retired from the sailor’s life and spent his final days with my grandmother. It was April then, he went to sleep one night and never woke up. After that, my grandmother passed away from a broken heart. I went home as fast as I could and spent the next few years raising a family. I met Cassandra in September that year and asked her to marry me a year later. To the day, actually.

“Hey!” someone called to me. I whirled around quickly and spotted one my crewmates trying to let a mast drop. I ran over in three strides and attempted to help him with the mast.

I pulled a rope that wrapped around the mass of wood and ran it around, counterclockwise until the sails finally let go and was blown out by the wind. We were trying to outrun the storm, and with the winds blowing away from it, our plan seemed to be working.

A wave crashed into the side of our boat and a steady stream of water plowed inside knocking men to their knees. I held on to the rope and jumped up to swing around the mast. As if on cue the mast dropped and sent me straight towards the deck. I landed hard on my back and rolled over. It was an instinct, I didn’t want to be caught off guard for anything. It’s just the way I am.

My eyes darted across the boat’s deck and I searched for the captain. He was in the cockpit, just standing there. With a crooked eye, he stared at a compass and turned about as if looking where “North” was.

“Captain!” I yelled and ran over into the cockpit.

The captain of our boat was younger than me. He wore a yellow sailing jacket and a yellow hat. I stared at him awkwardly until he finally looked up from his compass. He looked worried, like he didn’t know where we were or where we were going.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, my voice yelling so they could be heard over the sounds of waves.

“I think my compass is broken,” the younger man said and handed me his compass.

With a shaky hand I grabbed the compass and peered at it. As soon as I looked at it, I started to laugh uncontrollably. The idiot was looking at a watch. I didn’t want to say anything to him right then, so I threw the watch into the water and looked to him.

“You’re right, it was broken,” I said, “We need to outrun the storm,” I said defiantly, “So get to the helm and get us out of here!”

The Captain’s face froze and lost all expression, he looked as if he had no idea that he was a human being. I stared at him in disgust and decided to take things into my own hands. Without waiting for the Captain to snap out of his temporary trance, I ran to the helm and took the wooden wheel in both hands.

I didn’t feel much through my callused hands. The wood was just as rough as my skin. I twisted the wheel to the right and let it spin until the ship began to turn. I stopped the wheel and looked over my shoulder. The storm raged behind us, maybe about a few hundred yards. It was gaining fast, but the winds from it pushed the sails forward.

Powerful gusts of wind fueled our ship’s sails and carried us away from the storm. I looked back over my shoulder and saw a mass of rain collide with the ocean’s surface. It pounded into it and made an eerie popping sound. With an ill feeling in my stomach, I coughed and began to lose all sense of hearing...

Look for A Sailor’s Tale: Part II in the June Tradesman