The Umpteenth Crossing

The Umpteenth Crossing

an elegy for Bill

Look at me. I am crossing the Pacific for the umpteenth time. People think that it is a fantastic feat, but the wind and sails do the work. I only do a little adjusting. The trick with sailing is to let it happen, just like life. Let the kids grow up, let the wife (or wives in my case) love you and leave you, let the money run out, let the body break down.

First the money, then the body. I can hardly believe that I declined into this disintegrated age. Diabetes is the curse that stripped my pride. I don't like meddling with medicines and thought that I could control my diet. I snort with laughter at the thought. It was madness to think that I could banish the tastes that I cherish. My appetite echoes an upbringing that tarnished my taste against the bland and small. My mother raised me indulgently. Whatever I desired, she provided without guilt. Where if I followed my father's example, I would have toiled to reap the rewards. He worked and achieved. All the while, I yearned for the one priceless thing: his time. When I inherited millions, I wanted to vanish and let the tide bear me away from the blessing that would make me like him – responsible, worried, and able to own everything but my own time. It was only when the money ran out that I could see the blessing for what it was – a conduit for my sentient self to languish in deep blue seas under sun bright sails. I never thanked him.

*

There was a storm brewing. Dark clouds were on the horizon, and the scene looked like a Turner painting. It was his sacred duty to capture the sublimity of untamed nature on film. He went to retrieve his camera from the cabin. His left leg was amputated below the knee - a wooden peg, moving in a semicircle as it stepped ahead. The sound of his gait as he moved across the deck was a part of himself - clunk, step, clunk, step. The camera fit in his hands like an old friend. He set the shutter speed and aperture. He held up the camera to his eye, focused, and adjusted the exposure level. He focused the camera again. There it was – a total work of art. He remembered the German word for this: Gesamtkunstwerk.

After taking several photos, he lowered the camera and paused in awe. The winds were whipping, and the swells were growing. His boat, Darling, was unsteady. It was necessary to batten down the hatches. With his peg leg, it was hard to manoeuvre. It took a while, but he tied everything down and went inside the cabin to lie down until the storm blew over. The wind whistled and eddied around the boat.

He took off his peg leg and lay down to take the surges as they came. Like many times before, he closed his eyes and wished to be restored to a lover's arms – warm, soft and full of peace.

*

I dwell in memory; it is my hidden treasure. My heart is full of precious gems. I pick one and remember her – one of the women whom I loved before I retreated, vanishing into vacancy. There are many memories to choose from, and my heart mourns them all. Rain descends like their tears, fast and full of jealousy. I was often transient, following an impulse to ease my loneliness. They nursed my body, and, in return, I paid homage with my camera. I captured their fair, faint souls with photographs that were visions of my unspoken love. These stunning beauties captured on film are the shadows of my abandoned past. I conjure their touch in my dreams.

*

A loud crack woke him. It was the worst storm he had seen. The furies of hell were thrashing the boat with wind and water. Lightning cracked. The air was full of electricity; the white hairs of his beard stood on end. He popped his head out of the cabin to see how Darling held up.

The wind ripped off the door. Reaching after it, he lost his balance and grabbed hold of the doorframe to inspect the deck. Poor Darling, her mainmast was dangling. Inside the cabin, he pressed the distress signal and grabbed an axe. As he went for the mast, the wind pushed against him. It was impossible to steady himself with only one leg. He crawled, grabbed hold of the mast and hoisted himself up.