The great tales of our lives are always a matter of perspective. For example, the white-haired man I am today looks back on an excursion with the family from Seattle through the Puget Sound and on to Vancouver Island in British Columbia. We are on board a vessel carrying scores of folks. Not quite the Queen Mary but fit for inland cruising. There was wind, rain, and impressive waves, but it was altogether a cheerful and exhilarating day as we made our way along.

The old man’s memory is colored and contoured by a lifetime of other experiences, but there is still that six-year-old boy inside of me. He had never been on a ship and certainly never been anywhere near out to sea.

On that long-ago day he found himself on what seemed a mighty vessel running up through the Salish Sea and the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The geographical names mesmerize his mind and challenge his tongue. They are out of sight of land, so surely the lad is forgiven for concluding he is a mariner far out on the briny main.

At first, he is a little frightened at harsh weather. The bow of the ship pauses in the air and then falls, crashing into the waves. The boy’s mind slips easily into the role of Captain.  He looks about him. Only the experienced seamen are left on the deck – everyone else, passengers and non-essential crew have been ordered below. Many are sick. 

A beautiful lass looks over her shoulder as she is bustled below by a seaman. “What a strong Scottish captain, you are! So brave! Keep us safe!”

“He will” the sailor says, as another wave crashes down on them. “Now, below with you, girly!”

“Honestly,” thinks the tiny captain, “those landlubbers and green sailors have not seen rough seas.” His eyes are bright and his cheeks red, whether from high excitement or the wind does not matter.

He is standing at the bow of the ship, his towering helmsman holding the wheel steady just behind him. The waters rise like a mountain, then crash and fall with such weight and force the sprout struggles a bit to maintain his hold on the railing. He laughs wildly. He is covered in sea mist and his shoes are soaked through.

He spares a glance at his first mate as the next cascade of water batters them.

“Steady there,” the captain calls. “I have seen many a storm worse than this!”

“Aye! Aye!” comes the nervous reply.

The captain gives the jittery helmsman a wink. “All will be well. Just hold on to that wheel and follow my commands.”

© 2019 Carlos Declan Pharis