The Foolishness of Men

The Foolishness of Men

The Cut

The brightness of the Haitian day brought spray sparkles flying outward splattering the aquas of the waters. Peebo picked the conch shell up from the bilge still eyeing the edges of the spray before they land and disappear. He let a sweet and sour tone echo toward the island. It was a homeward bound signal to whoever might hear it. A home signal to all the families waiting for their sloops to arrive back safe. For him it was also a signal that he was a free man who took life as serious, who was alive and coming home.

Instinctively, he looked at the luff run up of the mainsail next to the mast, the power of the sail wasn’t just right. So Peebo let the big sail out a bit. His fingers, lightly atop the tiller, settled as the new vibration showed that Treasure was capturing the lift of more speed through the short seas with a steady move forward.

Ahead, he looked at the waters breaking on both sides of the narrow cut in the reef. The pathway through the cut looked velvety in its smoothness but he knew the laughing sides played little underwater tricks of strong current swirls at the cut’s almost flat entrance

Behind Peebo’s charging sloop a blue painted hull was nearing enough for Peebo to hear its swish in the water. He turned his head to see Hiram’s The Ranging Light coming on with Hiram’s arm raised fingers pointing ahead challenging to make the entrance first. His sloop was armed with sail. He had hooked on a studding sail made of potato sacks to the boom, under his big mainsail. He was sliding along the light blue horizon.

Peebo raised his fist to meet the challenge for the entrance and he gives a strong blast of Conch blow assuring Hiram that Family Treasure would make it there first as the lead vessel.

The short chop of sea seems to breathe with the anticipation of a race and that breath turns into a strong breeze that seems to sense the scent of a contest.

Treasure loves this sea with this breeze. She rides smoothly now with higher spray flying,

leaning just enough not to take water over the short rail and not a drop on the deck. It is a sparkling sea, a diamond sea.

Hiram leaves the helm with a line around the tiller and pulls boxes and bags from one side to the other with his muscles straining under his torn shirt. He knows and is satisfied of a victory even before the race starts barely looking up to judge his gain. His sails are full and life is great.

The blue sloop is coming up as the Peebo’s smile becomes the thin lips of determination. He lets the jib out to ripeness and the main in just a touch.

The breeze is blowing little caps off the swelling.

Hiram pushes weight more aft to lift the bow and let less water touch the hull. There is an importance now to levelling everything just right as he gains on the yellow hull of Treasure.

Peebo smiles at his Family Treasure as the Light only slowly gains. He knows Hiram has too much weight to catch his graceful sloop. Treasure moves like no other on God’s sea. Hiram cannot out run her and cannot out point her. The sea is her’s and here she goes.

The Ranging Light moves faster hiding Treasure’s stern as the bow raises to the swell.

Treasure touches the soft water of the cut. Light touches the soft water of the cut. There is barely room in the cut for both of them with sails out Treasure almost touching the Light and Light almost touching the dry reef rise of iron shore teeth.

Peebo calls to Luther, his crew and partner to hang out to weather to get by this Light before the current moves us wrongly. Let’s show Hiram Treasure’s ass. A big smile from both men. Luther grabs and hangs onto the port wire-shrouds, puts his head back and laughs at the thrill as they pull a little ahead.

Peebo is steady on the helm with a tighter grip than usual. The devil is in his grin that becomes a great laugh with Luther taking it up. They laugh as Treasure pulls ahead slowly, then they hear Hiram laughing too. They are all laughing at the entrance to the cut with spray making a wide grin on their hulls and the sparkling sea laughing at their pleasure.

Hiram sends a conch call from the Light. Luther laughing, looking at Hiram a few feet away. Peebo laughs at Hiram and nods up and down with pleasure. Hiram sends another conch call to the sky. Peebo sends a wavering conch call to the sky from Treasure.

The breeze marches faster calling their attentions to the movements forward. Treasure heeling more. Water is sloshing in the bilge. Luther is hanging way out getting sprayed by the wet. The wind in the shrouds whistles. Both boats foam through the soft turquoise with the blue channel marking the deep water cut in the reef. They are side by side with Treasure’s boom ahead of Light’s bow in the narrow cut evenly powered and not looking at the other for fear of a mistake. The sails are straining and there is a singing in the rigging holding the burdened masts and heard by the sailors who are all leaning forward.

There are blue skies and running white clouds

In the distance there are the crashing aside the reef’s cut. But the sloops are moving together rising and smoothly falling cutting the flat cut into diamonds with rainbows at the bows each on an edge of the deep blue cut and their hulls do touch now and then.They are all looking straight ahead

with their bows the only life they now know. Breathing slows, conch shells forgotten. Side eyed fleeting sights of the closeness of hulls are their only knowledge. There is the pressure of the fingers of death beneath swirls of meaningless waters that allow no time for wishing nothing after so long at a sea that was a wish for home.

The Shore

Mary is holding Celeste’s hand looking out at them coming through a cut that they both knew could not take two sloops. Celeste says to the two boats still sailing in the cut, Why do men play so much when life is serious and God-sent? All that foolishness gone in a flash of wood in white waters. Shaking their heads going off on those thoughts and holding hands that were once soft. Fixed smiling frowns and clear eyes, they are both just wishing that their men were back ashore with all of the things that are needed. They have their eyes only partially open to the harshness of the sun and the comfort of prayer.

Why are they playing at danger? Mary mumbles to the other, without looking away from their approach. They are both shaking their heads at thoughts that question why those men are doing it. Celeste’s free hand goes to her chin to think of the things to be brought home. The flour meal and material for clothes and maybe a candy for the children and syrup. She had practically begged for syrup and Hiram said he would get it. She looks over at the children and Mary follows her turn of head and they both smile now with folded arms. The girls are playing with sticks talking just out of earshot under the tree in the shade. The boys are climbing and swinging from the branches laughing at each other.

The End