Hydrophobic Fishermen

It was a funny thing, being a saltwater fisherman who’s afraid of the sea.

On Landlock Island, somewhere in the Pacific, a population of pleasant people woke up every morning to the crashing of waves and the sound of crying babies. From the moment they were born, the inhabitants of this island had a hatred of water as deep as the ocean itself. Their fear rose with the tides; their hearts pruned just like their fingers and toes whenever they had to spend any amount of time in the water. Landlock Island was their own personal hell, but how could they leave? It’s not like they could swim.

Being a desert island with very few trees and only the occasional lizard, Landlock Island’s primary source of food was fish. Breakfast, lunch, dinner… It was a boring diet, but they grew used to it. It was all they had, after all. But eating fish meant catching fish, and so the poor Landlockers were forced to approach their greatest fear in order to live.

It never occurred to any of them that there were other possibilities for their lives, and if it did, they buried those thoughts deep in the sand. They were fishermen. It was what it was; nobody ever said the world was fair. If they wanted to find another vocation, they would have to leave the island, which would require going further into the ocean than their jobs did. And, naturally, they were more afraid to travel across the sea than to sit near its waters.

Even the children understood the reality of the situation. Maybe the young ones cried about it, but then they grew up. They grew up and accepted their fates.

Marcus knew his child would be the same: afraid of the sea yet foredoomed to fall into it. It wasn’t what he wanted for him, for Altair. When his son looked up at him with terror in his eyes and all Marcus could do was look back helpless, it broke his heart. To think that Altair might have had dreams if it weren’t for the water that drowned them was gut-wrenching.

As the years passed and these thoughts plagued him, Marcus finally dared to ask his son a question that he was worried he would regret.

“What would you do,” he said, “if you could do anything?”

Altair looked at his father, a furrowed brow wrinkling his otherwise youthful face.

Marcus clarified, “What do you want to be when you grow up? If you didn’t have to fish, if there was no sea, what would you do?”

It took a moment for Altair to find the key that unlocked the door to his imagination. (Apparently he had once used it in place of a bait hook and lost it in the mouth of a fish.)

“I like to sing,” he offered in a small, unsure voice. “I mean, I sing sometimes now, but I want to sing without the salmon, you know?”

After asking the question, Marcus felt like he had a responsibility to get Altair to his answer.

Marcus would still go fishing — he still had to — but he began neglecting his cleaning and gutting duties, instead going out in search of wood. They had a few boats on Landlock Island already, though they weren’t meant to go far and they were rarely used. Although he knew very little about building boats, Marcus was determined to build an opportunity for his son.

He spent years practicing, years failing, until he’d finally built a boat that matched his standards. If his son was going to be sailing across the sea, he was going to do it in the best boat possible. It was all still hypothetical, though, because both father and son were rather hesitant about the whole idea. The other islanders were too, as would be expected from a group of hydrophobes. There were doubts and concerns filling up their minds, soon to spill over, but at least the boat was sturdy and well-built. They could trust it, if not the ocean.

When Altair’s patience for filleting fish ran dry, he was happy to discover that his courage hadn’t. Even though the thought of leaving the safety of the sandy shore made him want to turn and run, he pushed forward. He sang as he and his father dragged the boat into the water, reminding himself of what he wanted. He could do it.

Marcus stepped back onto the beach as he watched his son start to climb into the boat. He was proud, in a petrified way, but he felt a sense of comfort knowing what Altair would be achieving. And there was no doubt in Marcus’ mind about whether Altair would succeed. He could do it.

A moment of pause passed as Altair considered his father. He hesitated, hand hovering over the side of the boat as he prepared to climb in.

“I think you should come with me,” he said finally.

The idea hadn’t occurred to Marcus. He had his life, a life of waves and hooks and lures, and he was used to it. But there was that question, the one he had asked Altair all those years before. What would he do if he could do anything?

Marcus had no idea. Perhaps that was a sign that all he could do with the remainder of his life was fish.

Or, perhaps it meant that he had to go looking for the answer.

Truthfully, he was tired of being scared. He knew that sailing across the ocean wouldn’t cure his fear of it, but he didn’t want to let it stop him anymore. He’d spent far too many years doing that (and far too many years building this boat to not get in, he supposed). Maybe he wouldn’t find his answer, and maybe he really was destined to be a fisherman. But either way, Marcus would cross the ocean, and he’d get to hear his son sing. It would be worth it, he was sure of it.

He climbed into the boat.

The journey felt like it took much longer than it actually did. Marcus and Altair were seasick half of the time, and the other half they had to distract themselves from the splashing and rocking of the boat. When they finally reached another shore, finding a port on the edge of a small city, they disembarked with wobbly knees and shaky hands but relieved smiles.

The people of the town were welcoming to the strangers, hospitably inviting them into their homes and asking questions about where they were from. Upon learning that Altair was an aspiring singer, they invited him to perform at their auditorium one night. Marcus watched his son’s eyes light up as he hurriedly accepted the offer.

When the evening finally arrived, Marcus sat in a seat next to a few of their new acquaintances. A few performances were happening that night, and as lovely as they all were, Marcus was really there because of his son.

The townsfolk were delighted to hear a new song from a foreign land. Smiles were scattered throughout the audience, but they couldn’t compare to the look on Altair’s face — and even that couldn’t compare to the look on Marcus’.

He had been right. It was worth it, not only facing his fear but diving right into it. He would swim to the bottom of the sea if that meant getting Altair even a step closer to his dreams.

Maybe he had found his answer. As daunting as the ocean was, it wasn’t impassable, and neither was the terror. If Altair was happy here, if he finally felt free from the grasp Landlock Island held on him, then others would too. Perhaps Marcus was never meant to be free of the sea, but that might’ve been okay. If he got to see hope in the eyes of the island’s children and watch the other islanders find their dreams, then he could face his fear.

Marcus went back. He had expected to cross the ocean and never set foot near it again, but he didn’t. After a “see you soon” to Altair, he reembarked on his trusty boat and returned to Landlock Island. The trip was just as unbearable as the first time, and he often had to close his eyes as he sailed, but he made it.

Questions flooded upon him as soon as he set a shaky sandal onto the beach. They asked about Altair, about the town, about everything. He told them the truth.

They were all unquestionably unsure, stumbling over excuses and reasons why they couldn’t leave — all except one. A young woman stepped forward, eyes cast towards the boat still half in the water.

“You said there were trees. Lots of plants.”

Marcus nodded.

She was the first to agree to go, but not the last. It took time and lots of it, but slowly more and more people decided to take a chance. Not all of them left, and none of them ever got over their fears, even Marcus. He travelled between Landlock Island and the town countless times, and each was just as terrifying as the last. Again, though, he was right. Seeing the look on his people’s faces was enough to make him keep going.

They never regretted it. As insurmountable as the journey seemed, they always realized how wonderful emerging on the other side was. They hadn’t been happy as fishermen, and this had finally given them the opportunity to do something they actually wanted to do. And Marcus soon realized that helping people like this was actually what he wanted to do.

So, while Marcus ferried people from lives of fear to ones of possibility, his son sang. Like a nightingale, thankfully, and not like a fish.

And it was worth it.