Beside the Sea

Beside the Sea

           The boy had lived by the sea as long as he could remember. The faded cottage was enough to keep out the weather but not much to look at. It was close enough to the docks so that he could boat watch to his heart’s content with the old pair of binoculars. If you were interested he could tell you which one was the ketch, yawl or sloop by how they were rigged. And if you were really interested he would point out the Heather Dawn or the Claire Marie and who was at the helm as they passed the point. Dreams were almost always related to the sea and boats. The occasional disruptive element to his slumber had to do with his father’s loss at sea on the boat he and the boy’s mother had been sailing the day an unexpected storm caught them by surprise. The huge rogue wave generated by the storm had left no evidence of a boat. Mother had only just survived thanks to the coast guard’s valiant rescue efforts.

           Since then she had wanted nothing to do with the water or boats and the only reason they still lived in the cottage being that there seemed nowhere else to go. On stormy days she sat facing away from the water hating the sound of waves crashing, turning up the volume on the radio or record player in a futile attempt to drown them out. It disturbed her that her son loved the sea and sailing as much as she hated them. Her attempts to divert his interest to something else seemed only to drive him to the water. She scolded him when he snuck away from the cottage to spend his summer days with the old Swede boat builder, Axel, but nothing she tried could break him of it.

           The boy pulled out the shallow wooden crate from under the bed and began browsing for the umpteenth time through the old sailing magazines he had filched when Axel wasn’t looking. There were also old books and charts which he had rescued from the trash when his mother had thrown them out. He spent hours poring over his treasures, frantically placing them back and shoving the crate back under the bed when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He needn’t have bothered though because every time she cleaned under the bed she was well aware of what was there.

           The heady smell of wood, turpentine, marine varnish, and sail cloth greeted the boy as he entered the boat shed. Axel, his back turned as he sanded the hull of his latest creation took no notice of the boy. There was a quiet, comfortable silence in the shed which the boy and Axel were both loath to disturb with trivial conversation. The boy picked up a sanding block already loaded with sand paper, moved a few feet away from the old man and began sanding with a practiced hand.  When the old man finally took a break and put on the kettle for a cup of tea, the boy broke the silence with a statement. “I’ve been thinking,” Axel turned to face the boy waiting for him to go on. “I want to build my own boat.” The man knew what the boy’s mother would say and how strenuously she would object. “Your mother would never allow it you know.” He said it slowly and quietly hoping it would sink in. “How would you pay for it?” Money would be the obstacle the boy would not be able to overcome he thought. “I could work for you after school and on weekends. I could work all day in the summer and work on the boat after that.” The boy had clearly been planning this for a while. “You would have to convince your mother first.” At that the boy looked somewhat crestfallen. He began to construct every argument he could think of and ways to counter them. Maybe he could convince her that he would only sail to the edge of the harbor always keeping landfall in sight. It would be a hard sell he knew but he had the confidence of youth. She was adamant at first but in time, knowing that it was useless to forbid him she resigned herself to the inevitability of the boy following his passion.

           He had grown taller in two years. The only way to spend time with him was to find her way to the boat shed and watch him consume himself with his smallish fifteen foot craft. He proudly walked her around it pointing out every detail. Axel, grudgingly at first, and gradually catching the boy’s infectious enthusiasm, gave advice when asked. Even the mother eventually sanded the upside down hull along with the boy and man. During the construction the boy had been voraciously going over every scrap of information he could gather about navigation, reading the wind, and survival. Axel taught the boy how to read the sky and what the barometer readings meant. After he had pronounced the boat ready for multiple coats of varnish her anxiety began. She tried not to let it show and ruin the boy’s triumph. On the day before the boy’s maiden voyage into the harbor, the old man appeared with gifts wrapped in oilcloth behind his back. The boy’s eyes shone when an old brass compass and barometer were revealed. He proudly installed the treasures in the now christened Naomi. In spite of her growing fear for her only child she smiled weakly at his naming it for her.

           “Please!” It was all she could say looking deeply into her son’s eyes. He was well aware of her fears and tried to reassure her that he’d only be gone a few hours. As she trudged back to the cottage it was all she could do not to run back to the docks to look for someone to go after him and bring him back. Sitting on the steps she scanned the harbor with the old pair of binoculars keeping him in sight. After two hours of watching she became alarmed. The Naomi was only a speck on the horizon and she could see a squall line just ready to block her view of that speck. Panic swelled her throat almost closed and she began to run towards the boat shed. “He’ll be fine; it’s a sturdy little boat.” Axel reasoned with her but she would have none of it. She continued running, this time to the Coast Guard station. “I’m sorry Ma’am no civilians on board this vessel unless it’s those being rescued. Besides he’s not actually overdue yet is he?” This was the standard policy line being regurgitated by the young lieutenant. Walking back dejectedly to the boat shed she cradled the cup of black tea Axel had finally persuaded her to take and sat brooding and fretting. The sky darkened as late afternoon and then evening came on. Finally, setting down her cup of which she had only drunk a little, she marched back towards the station with Axel trailing her trying to persuade her not to borrow trouble but she refused to answer his pleas. “He’s out there alone in this weather with no radio possibly getting blown from here to who knows where!” At the station she demanded to see the commander in charge of it.

           The commander, in his late forties, had been a young lieutenant at this station when Naomi was rescued. She plead her case vehemently and after looking at her quietly while she remonstrated for action he relented and agreed to send a crew to the boy’s last location and bring him back. “I want to be there,” she said with a pleading look which, given their history the Commander could not deny. “You will however stay out of my crew’s way and not do anything to hinder them. At first she sat in the wheel house of the cutter eyes shut trying to ignore the rolling of the waves under the cutter. After two hours, the crests became a little higher and the ship began to climb them and then make the trip into the troughs which made her begin to shudder under the old sea coat Axel had provided her. She gripped whatever was at hand until her knuckles had turned white as bone.

           At midnight, the young lieutenant turned to Naomi and shook his head. “Ma’am, we’re running low on fuel and have to head back.” She felt sick and wanted to scream at him. At the point where they made to turn back east and head for shore, one of the crew who had been glassing the port side of the cutter gave a shout. He pointed to a small speck of light on the horizon which he knew could not be coming from a large commercial vessel. The lieutenant told the helmsman to turn towards that small speck and to adjust speed to conserve precious fuel. When they reached the area of the light it disappeared momentarily in a trough and just as quickly bounced up on the crest of the next wave. In spite of her overwhelming fear Naomi joined Axel and the rest of the crew at the rail. By the time the small boat had reached the top of the next crest Axel and Naomi recognized the boat as the boys.

           After several tries they managed to grasp the weighted line the boy had thrown and towed the small craft with its now safe occupant back towards the station. As they neared the shore the waves settled to gentle rollers and there was no difficulty in mooring both craft. Relief washed over the mother as she hugged her son in a squeeze that made it hard for the boy to breathe, and washed his already wet face with tears. After thanking the sailors of the cutter profusely, she, Axel and the boy walked slowly towards the boat shed.

           In the days that followed, her fear of the sea had only slightly lessened and the boy’s adventurous spirit only escalated. They spoke only briefly about that day and every so often she sat in the boat shed watching her son grow into a young man being taught the shipwright’s trade by whom the young man called the old salt. In time this aged old salt could only sit and watch the young man expertly build sleek custom sailing craft for someone with no shortage of funds. The summer day came when the shop lay silent while the young man and the mother stood alone at a seaside graveyard mourning the passing of a familiar friend. The woman faithfully placed flowers on the old man’s grave until there was no point since the winter storms would just blow them away.

           A blond toddler ran to the boat shed followed by his grandmother. He picked up a stray piece of sand paper and reaching as high as his small arms would let him he imitated his father as he sanded the upside down hull of a new sailboat that was destined for some wealthy buyer who lived in a distant city. The older woman sat watching her full grown son and his son sharing the same passion for the sea and all things of boats and smiled.