The Fisherman

                           WORDS 2,940

THE FISHERMAN

"Yes Captain, yer wanted to see me." John was an old man who spent his life earning his living off the sea. He was not a well‑educated man but his natural intelligence had earned him the respect of his shipmates. He knew his trade well and he knew how to make money from it.

"Yea, John," said his Captain. "Grab yourself a shot and sit down."

John accepted the bottle indicated by the Captain. His guard went up immediately; the Captain was not a man who gave anything away free ‑ especially not his whiskey.

"John," began the Captain, "as you know the fishing ain't as good as it used to be, he emphasized his point by swallowing his shot in one gulp. _The catches are getting smaller and harder to find."

"It's dem damn Russians!" interrupted John. The Captain knew that this had been a sore point with John for some time. The harder the fishing was the harder it was to accumulate money. The less money that John had the more his wife nagged him and the more his wife nagged the more he wished that he were a fish. All of this he blamed on the Russians for overfishing the Grand Banks. Besides, being from Newfoundland and being of the old school, they were his natural enemy. "Dey keep taking our fish. Dey ain't got no right ta do dat."

"That's right John," continued the Captain. "But unless we kin catch them red-handed there ain't much we can do about it. That's why I've called you here tonight. I've heard that there is just such a trawler in this area. I want you to take the night watch and keep an eye out for em." John knew the Captain well enough to know that a refusal would mean some very dirty work in the future. Even so John's grumbling about his plight masked his delight. He loved the sea at night and he relished the idea of playing at spying. There was a full moon to light his way and the captain had neglected to tell him to return the bottle of whiskey that was so generously offered.

Soon John was howling at the moon and singing to the stars. Off the starboard side of the trawler, John noticed a falling star. He remembered a story once told to him at his Father's knee.

"Make a wish," his father had said, "and it might come true."

"I wish dat I could find dat trawler and save some fish," the old man said to the star. "I wish dat I knew what was wrong wit da sea."

It has been said that one should be careful of what one wishes for. God in his ultimate wisdom is occasionally given to grant such requests. On this calm night, an errant wave struck the boat with just enough force to throw John overboard.

He screamed for help of course. He swam after the boat. But the wind blew his voice away and the sea carried his boat. Soon he was cold and exhausted, soon, he thought, he would die. His head slipped below the waves. He allowed the cold to envelop him, but death would not claim him this day. He awoke suddenly, his head held above the water by he knew not what. His arms flailed about finally settling on the only firm thing within reach, a dorsal fin. His first thought was sharks. Cruelty, he thought. Why could the sea not have let him die a peaceful death? Must he die like this? As food for fish.

"I am not a shark and you will not die this day," said a voice that startled John. He turned over to see who was speaking and what was holding him afloat. He found himself staring into the blow hole of a dolphin.

"Who said dat?" screamed John.

"It was I," replied the dolphin.

John looked down at the dolphin in disbelief. This is impossible, he thought. He considered his predicament for a moment. Hallucinations, yea this must be what happens to people just before they die. His body must be floating somewhere but his brain has refused to accept his death. It created this dolphin to end his panic, to make his passage to the other side a little easier. It works, he thought. He did indeed feel better. He decided to go with it.

"Yer a figment of me imagination and dis is what death is like, right," said John.

"Death? You think this is death? What do you know of death?" replied the dolphin. "I will show you death."

"I'd really rather die right now. Quickly and without all dis crap," said John. But he hung on as the dolphin carried him off to God knows where.

Was he dead? Was he dreaming? Did it matter? Whatever was to be would be. John was content to allow fate to take him wherever it would; to heaven or hell on a dolphin's back, if that were the way God had planned it then so be it. Still, John could not help but be curious.

"Ya was going to tell me about death," reminded John.

"Right there," replied the dolphin. "There, straight ahead of us. Soon you will see it."

John strained to see. Off in the distance was a speck.

"What is it? Is that death? It's too small and there ain't no moaning or nothing," said John.

The dolphin brought him in closer.

"It's a boat ‑ a fishing trawler; Russian, I think ‑ yes, Russian," said John. "It's dem damn Russians dats been stealing me fish!"

The dolphin remained silent. John watched. The trawler was busy hauling in its catch for the day. Thousands of helpless fish were hauled in as the seagulls screamed their delight at their free meal. The fish splashed in a vain effort to escape. All of this mingled with the noise of the ship's engines and the laughter of the men on board.

"Is that what you want me to see?" asked John. "I see fish dying. I feel bad," John added sarcastically.

The dolphin said nothing but brought John in closer still. He could now make out the kind of fish that were caught. Mostly Tuna but there was a single dolphin struggling with the lesser fish.

"I see it, I see it!" said John excitedly. "A dolphin! dey're killing dolphins along with de Tuna. Ya wants me to go back and tell 'em to stop killing dolphins. Dis is yer death. Well, come on now, take me in sos' dat dey kin see me and den I'll tell em."

The dolphin did not move. The trawler finished its work and left. A dead calm fell upon the water. There was no trawler trawling and no fish were being fished. Nor were there any sharks eating or dolphins swimming. With it went the din of the seagulls as well as the noise of the catch. With it also went the faint glimmer of reality, the distant hope, that he may actually be alive.

"Do you see it?" asked the dolphin. "Can you hear it? Can you feel it?"

"See what?" John asked back.

"Death. It's there right now. Where the trawler was. Where the fish used to be. There is the future of our planet."

John looked. He strained to see but there was nothing to be seen but empty calm water.

"Dere ain't nutin' dere. I don't see noting_. What are ya looking at?" stated John. "Look, there ain't noting' in the water, dere's noting' on the water. dere ain't even noting' above the water. Where is dis death? I guess he don't wanta meet an old fisherman like me just yet."

"It is there," said the dolphin. "If only you could see."

"Me eyes are fine," said John angrily. He was tiring of this game. He looked again but all that he could see was empty water. However, he wanted to end this hallucination so that he could go on to he knew not where.

"Oh look, dere it is. I see it now," John lied. "I see a man in a long black robe with one of those crop tings in his hand. He's hooded and, oh my God, his hand is nutin' but bone. I see it. Can we go now?"

"You see nothing," replied the dolphin with contempt.

John's answer to that was lost in a wave as the dolphin swam off. It was all he could do to grab a fin and hold on.

John passed the time by studying the stars. From this he could ascertain where he was and, more importantly, where the Russians were. Having done this, he could not help but wonder what was happening to him. The stars were in the right place. All seemed real yet he was talking with a dolphin. He could find no real answers. He decided that God had his ways and that whatever they were he would just let them happen. To ease his mind John tried talking to the dolphin again. 

"What's yer name?" he asked.

"I am known to you as a dolphin," replied the dolphin.

"N I'ma man," said John sarcastically. He tried again. "Me name is John n what's yers."

"You can call me Gaia. You can call all of us Gaia," replied the dolphin. He paused before adding, "dolphins are not given to name themselves."

"Aye, I understand. A rose is a rose is a rose I've heard tell. What is it that yer trying to show me?" asked John. "I didn't see notin back dere after the trawler left."

"Exactly!" said Gaia, "you saw nothing. That is precisely what I was trying to show you. After the trawler left there was nothing left. That is death. That is what man leaves in his wake."

"Aye," said John, "I tink I understand. Dem was yer fish friends and now yer afraid ye'll be lonely. Not to worry though, I'll be yer friend. I hope ya wont mind if I introduce you as Flipper to me friends though."

"No, that is not the point! They were not my friends! I could have eaten them myself. The point is that there were none left for me to eat," replied Gaia angrily.

"Den what'er ya getting so damn upset about den," asked John. "If'n you eat fish n I eat fish den what the 'ell is yer problem."

Gaia paused. He seemed to be counting to ten before continuing. "I am upset because there was not any left. Can you understand that?"

John was getting angry himself. "Yer wants ta keep dem all to yerself den, dat's it ain't it."

"No! No! No! Listen to me," said Gaia in desperation. "We all live in this world together. Everything that you do affects everything else. When all the fish are gone there will be no God to come and replace them. They will be gone for good. When the fish are gone what will you do then?"

John pondered the question for a moment. "I guess I'd have to hunt fer lobster den. What would you do?"

"I would starve to death as would all other dolphins," said Gaia. He had become extremely angry with John's stupidity. "You are so dense. Can you not see past your own immediate needs? Does the future of this planet and all life on it not concern you in any way? Are you so blind that the obvious cannot be seen? Look around you man. This planet is cancerous with your kind. You are not even evil, you are merely obtuse ‑ and that is what scares me the most."

John was silenced by Gaia's tirade. He could not understand this dolphin's arrogance. After all, it was only an act of God that allowed him to speak in the first place. What right did this upstart have to question him that was made in God's own image? God had His plans. He had chosen man to rule the earth and that's the way it was. Whatever would be would be.

"So what's yer point?" asked John.

Gaia could take no more. He shook the man off his back and swam quickly away leaving the man alone.

"Wait," cried John. "Yer can't leave me here all alone. I'll die if left here in dis emptiness all alone. Wait! Come back! I'll leave ya some fish."

It was too late. Gaia had stopped listening. The man was left on his own.

For the second time that day, Johns's head slipped below the waves. Unconsciousness came to cloak John in its contentment only to be rudely interrupted by reality. John awoke to the putrid taste of old fish and sour whiskey blowing over his taste buds and into his lungs. He coughed up seawater but the acrid taste of oil and saltwater did not taste any better. John slowly opened his eyes mentally preparing himself for the most beautiful angels or, God forbid, the most hideous of demons. There, not one inch from his face, was his old pal and shipmate, Peter, kissing life past John's lips. John vomited.

"Git offa me ya damn fool," said John covering his momentary panic.

"Weell, n aint that gratitude for ya," said Peter. "Ya save a man's life n all ya git is vomit in yer face. I oughter through ya back to da fishes."

John's memory flashed back over the past few hours. "Where's da captain?"

"I'm right here," the captain replied.

"Cap'n, don't ask me how I know jist accept dat I do. Dat Russian boat what's been stealing our fish ‑ I know where it is and it has got its belly full of our fish."

The captain knew John to be an honest man. He considered him one of his most trusted men so when John said that he knew where something was he believed him. Time was of the essence if he were to catch the Russians before they got back to their own waters. He would ask his questions later. He bellowed the proper orders to the proper people. John was helped into the captain's quarters where the captain found him later.

"Are you O.K. John?" asked the captain. "Ya look horrible."

"Jist a bit queasy sir," replied John. "I'll be all right after a few strong shots of yer whiskey."

"Good, good," said the captain ignoring John's request. "John, I'm curious about something. When we hauled ya in you were yelling to Gaia for help."

"Dat was de hallucination I was having," answered John.

"How didja know where the Russians are?"

John did not want to admit to the captain that he had been talking to a dolphin but what other explanation was there?

"Cap'n, if I tell ya what happened ya gotta promise not to laugh or tell another soul."

The captain promised and John told him the whole story.

"...and that's Gods own truth," finished John. "I ain't lying. You'll see when the coast guard catches up with dem Russians."

"O.K. John, relax. You had better be right or we will both be looking stupid."

John turned to leave grumbling about been an honest man, a good man who never told a lie in his life. He had reached the cabin door when the captain stopped him.

"John," said the captain. "Before ya go I want to ask ya something. Have you ever heard of Gaia before tonight?"

John said that he had not.

"It's the name given to the living earth. Ya see, some people believe that the earth has a life of its own, a sort of consciousness. I believe this. That's why I believe you."

John and the captain studied each other quietly, each learning something new about the other. Volumes went unspoken but were said nonetheless. It began to dawn on John just what the dolphin had been trying to say. In this moment of intimacy, of true sharing, John understood.

The moment could not last. It was interrupted by Pete rushing in out of breath.

"Cap'n, Cap'n," he said. "Dey got em. The Russians is caught and still in our waters and dey got a belly full _o our fish. Got em red-handed we do."

Peter paused to catch his breath.

"Dey said something about a reward fer us," he continued.

"For John, ya mean," corrected the captain.

"Yea, fer John," said Pete. His level of enthusiasm dropped several notches. "So what are ya gonna do wit de money, John. Have a 'ell of a party I bet. Maybe buy yer wife a little something. Have a real good time dat night I bet."

John and the captain exchanged glances. "No, Pete. I don't think so. Dere are more important tings in life den money. I've heard o' a group o' people dats concerned wit da big picture. What's dey called Cap'n?"

The captain knew where Johns's head was. "Greenpeace," he said.

Pete was aghast. "Not dem damn fools dats always getting in da way. dey's as bad as de Russians."

"Ya, Pete. I tink dats jist what I'll do. Donate me money to a good cause."

Pete could not believe his ears. He left mumbling about a waste of good money and about getting too much water between the ears. The captain and John listened to him and then laughed.