On the Horizon

The afternoon sunlight made it hard to see anything on the water, and Maera had a difficult time searching the docks. She was a captain without a ship and when that happens you have one of two options, buy a ship, or steal one. Whether is was her lack of morals or wallet, Maera was set on option number two, she only needed to find the right boat. I need something not too big, she thought to herself, skimming over row of cruise ships, but with enough room to hold a few weeks worth of supplies. One boat on the far left stuck out. There was something about this boat that made it catch Maera’s eye. First being the name. She did not think the The Crew was a unique at all, and the name was the only paint or decoration on the boat. The rest of the ship was either white or the color of the wood and metal used to build it. It’s bareness was equally parts eye-catching as it was inconspicuous; Maera only saw it on her second sweep of the dock when she noticed a train of men hauling creates and bags easily the size of her with great ease onboard. They’re probably getting ready to leave in the morning, Meara thought to herself as she discreetly made her way towards The Crew. Crouching two boats away, she waited until it looked like the men had finished packing and weren’t going to come back, then she snuck aboard. 

The sun was setting. On the horizon it looked half sunk in the water, like an island off in the distance. The sky above Meara began to darken, but the sun’s golden reflection on the water gave her plenty of light to survey the deck. From a distance it looked like these men were working in an orderly fashion but now Maera inferred that from the way all the crates were stacked haphazardly against the rails, The Crew was in a hurry to get somewhere. 

“That doesn’t matter. The quicker this ship sets sail the better,” Maera thought out loud. Descending below decks Meara walked past what she guessed was the captain’s room, and stopped to peer inside. “I’m going to need to remember where this room is for when the time comes to execute part two of Operation Castaway.” 

Operation Castaway. For years Meara has been haunted by a treasure she never really had, but had always felt like she’d lost. When she was little, she would spend hours playing pirate and hunting for lost treasure. Each time it would be something different, the golden fleece, a pomegranate from the underworld, the feathers of a pegasus. However, there would be one reoccurring vision of an island not charted on any map. Maera could see the sun-bleached beaches, trees several feet thick from centuries of growth, and an assortment of flowers, always in full bloom and so colorful it put the rainbow to shame. Somewhere in her mind the name of the island came to her: Ogygia. Whenever she tried to ask her parents about it she’d get the same response, “There is no island called Ogygia. It doesn’t exist.” But the realness of her dreams made it feel like the island was real. Her father was a sailor, and the best one she knew at that. He taught her everything there was to know about sailing, but even without her father’s instruction, Meara had always felt a strong connection to the ocean. Right now she could feel a thrumming in her, like a second heartbeat. Many times when her father let her sail his boat Meara would hold her arm out to the sea and let her senses guide her in the right direction. She tried to explain her inner compass to her father, but he had only seemed unimpressed- almost disappointed. 

“It’s foolish to rely on your gut like that when you can always use reason and logic to direct you,” Her father’s words echoed in her mind. Maera found a supply closet to sleep in for the night, and feel into dreams about islands off in the distance. 

The boat roared to life. Footsteps ran across the deck above Meara as she felt The Crew start to move. 

“This is weird,” She whispered to herself, “it is not even morning yet.” Only a few hours had passed since Meara climbed aboard. Meara couldn’t see what it looked like outside without compromising her position, but her digital watch told her it was only 10:30. So many questions came to mind. Why are they leaving so soon? Where are they going? and in the dark too? Meara hoped The Crew wasn’t involved in any shady business, she cursed herself for not taking that into consideration when picking a boat, what where in those huge crates anyway? Beggars can’t be choosey. Meara reminded herself. She sat in the closet and listened to the activity going on above. Whatever time they set sail, Meara needed to be ready for when the captain went to his chambers, it was critical for step two of Operation Castaway.

It was 4am when everything finally seemed to settle down. Slowly Meara opened the closet door, and peeked out. Fortunately, nobody was in the hallway to see her. Making her way to the captain’s room she found that it was vacant. She could see the thin strip of light at the bottom of the door that meant someone was in there. Right when she reached for the handle she had a moment of hesitation. Was she really going to do this? The severity of becoming a stowaway was just now beginning to weigh on her. Step two of Operation Castaway required Meara to ‘dispose’ of the captain so that she could take over his ship. She had a knife concealed in her sleeve and held it tightly while she hovered in front of the door. Now with her hand just above the door handle and her heart pumping furiously, Meara realized how stupid her plan really was. Just because I kill the captain doesn’t mean I’ll have full control over the ship. What if the crew members liked their captain? What if they turn against me? The sounds of laughter resonating from up above shook Meara out of her thoughts. She pushed through the door before she could loose her nerve again. Steeling herself, she forced her way in and was immediately confronted by a teenage boy. “Oh” she said with equal parts relief and disappointment. Right in front of her stood a boy. Meara guessed him to be around 17, a year her junior.

“I was wondering when you’d come in,” he said with a grin. Meara was caught way off guard. First off, the boy’s tone was too bright and cheery for 4 in the morning. Additionally, he was young, lanky, and his smile made him look like he was always up to something terribly wrong. There is no way this…. child is the captain. Yet here he was, standing before her. “You seem disappointed,” the young man said still smiling, “Where you looking someone else? Preferably someone old and feeble who would be easier to slice with that knife you’ve got?” 

“Oh”, Meara didn’t think the knife was obvious, but she had been holding it so tightly it was clear to tell by how white her knuckled had become. 

“Or maybe ‘oh’ is the only word you know in that case I-” 

“I’m looking for the captain!” Meara blurted once she’d gotten herself together, “I’m— I am looking for the captain,” she repeated once more, softer this time. 

“I am the captain of this ship,” the boy spread his arms around him, “and I’m looking at a stowaway.”

“Hey Captain Dory! We need you over here,” one of the crew mates bellowed. Every member aboard The Crew was considerably large in size and equipped with the muscles and weather worn looks Meara had expected the captain to have. 

She turned to one of the men, Johan, and asked, “Who is Captain Dory?” It had been 3 days since she tried, and failed, to complete step two of Operation Castaway. After meeting the boy/captain on her first night, she was confined to his room while he talked his crew over their predicament. 

“Are you going to turn me in?” That was the first thing Meara had said when he discovered her plans to kill him. 

“As it turns out, I not on the friendliest terms with the law right now.” It now made sense to Meara why The Crew had leave that evening instead of in the morning. The youth before Meara, who had introduced himself as “Captain” and nothing else, was on the run form the police, coast guard, and CPS. 

“Oh that’s just our way of teasing with him,” Johan elaborated, “We call him that because he refuses to give us his real name, and Captain Nemo was already taken.” He explained this to her as if it was flawless logic, and Meara found that amusing. “Hey, so now that you are co-Captaining the ship with Dory, where do you plan on taking us? Captain only said it was going to be far away from the feds.” 

“It’s an island called Ogygia,” she told him, “there is something on that island I that belongs to me.” Before she found herself confessing all her secrets about Ogygia, she was called. 

“Hey, stow away, you can take the wheel now.” 

“Aye, aye Captain Dory!” 

Captain groaned in frustration, “do not call me that.” Which was answered with laughter from Meara and the better part of The Crew. 

At the wheel is when Meara felt the most clear headed. For the next few days Meara stayed at the wheel, never tiring although she stayed there from dawn to well past midnight each day. She didn’t need any compass or map to know where she was going. The only guidance she needed came from the constant dreams she had of Ogygia. Maera had so many visions of the lonely island that it became hard to tell what was real and what was in her head. The sky was streaked with purple and red, and the sun painted the waves gold as The Crew cut through them. Sea spray misted the deck carrying in the salty smell of the ocean. Meara didn’t notice this though, she was thinking about the last time she saw her grandmother. It seemed like an eternity ago Meara was sitting by her grandmother’s fireplace and retelling her pirate adventures. Unlike her parents, Meara’s grandmother never doubted the existence of Ogygia; in fact, she seemed adamant about its existence. 

“Don’t listen to your parents,” her grandmother told her, “they are fools to say that legend is anything but true.” Meara loved everything about her grandmother. She was as old as time, and you could tell she was, but her grandmother was special. She didn’t get the cloudiness in her eyes, the shrillness in her voice, or nearly as many wrinkles as other old women did. What Meara loved most of all about her was the way she told stories as if they were fact. On that evening her grandmother described Ogygia’s beauty as if she had been there herself. The island was always alive. Fruit trees in constant blossom, insects humming so much it made the air vibrate, and packs of wild dogs teaching their young how to hunt deer and rabbits. In the center of the island a house of white marble sparked like a gem. Tall columns framed a large and dark wooden door, but no matter how much Meara dreamed of this island, she could never see inside the house. She concluded that whatever lay inside must be what she felt so connected to, and it was that connection that guided Meara across the sea for the next two weeks. When she rose that morning to take the wheel, Meara looked out onto the horizon and saw a dark spot against the rising sun. Ogygia was not far.  

With each moment that brought he closer to the island, Meara felt her heart tighten, and then burst, only to tighten again with overwhelming joy. 

“I don’t think you’ve blinked since you’ve set sights on that island.” Meara forced her eyes from the horizon to look at Captain. He had never asked where Ogygia was or why she wanted to go there, and she had never asked why he was on the run. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that neither of them would question each others motives, and Meara was just fine with that. Ogygia was her treasure, hers alone. “It’s a good thing there are other islands nearby. We are running low on supplies.”

Meara had not seen another islands at dawn, but now it was late morning and she could see a cluster of land off to her far right. That’s strange, Meara thought, I would’ve thought Ogygia to be as far away from other land as possible. She didn’t think about the other island for long though. A few hours past and soon Meara would be able to take a life boat ashore. 

“Hey! It’s the Feds!” Johan was barreling towards Meara and Captain, a worried look on his face. Coming from the other island was a large red and white boat. The Coast Guard. Beside her, Captain let out a long string of curses. Then he spent a few seconds staring at the Coast Guard who was gaining on them, bright lights and sirens were getting closer and louder by the second. Meara was frozen with fear. She had no idea what to do. 

“How do they even know who we are?” She was frantic, “How did they find you? What-” 

“Look,” Captain cut her off with a steady voice, there was no resemblance to the smiling boy she first met, “if we try to loose them, we’ll have to steer away from your island. This is my problem, and I can’t afford getting you entangled in my mess, nor would I want to. Get on one of the lifeboats and don’t look back.”

“Are you sure?” Meara felt guilty just leaving him, it was her idea after all to come here, and she ended up leading The Crew strait to the cops. 

“Hey,” he said with a smile and a wink, “I’ll be fine.” 

Meara had no time to waste; she ran to the lifeboats and with the help of Johan, lowered it into the water. Before she left she turned to Johan one last time, “Are you guys going to be alright? You’re not worried about the trouble Captain is getting you into?”

Johan smiled even wider than Captain did, “Not a bit! The Crew is loyal to Captain Dory. You just paddle along and you’ll see.” With that he join the commotion aboard shouting orders, and taking a spot right next to his captain. 

Howls filled the air as the Coast guard came closer, but with Meara paddling away and the Guard’s focus on The Crew, she easily escaped them. The Crew is loyal to Captain Dory. She was wondering what Johan meant by that when she heard a low sucking sound, like when a plug has been pulled from the bottom of a full sink. In front of her, The Crew slowly sank into the water. Meara stopped and stared with her mouth agape. The boat she was just on minutes ago was now completely submerged. Then, with a deafening WHOOSH something sprouted from the water miles away. Meara smirked to herself, she didn’t need to see what had come from the water to know how The Crew had escaped. 

“Finally!” was all Meara could think of water her row boat touched the white sands of Ogygia. Her arms were sore and sweat had soaked through her shirt and stung in her eyes. I am here, I have made it, this is real. And it was; Meara was had finally reached her destination, and the island was exactly how she and her grandmother envisioned it. Now there was only one thing left in Operation Castaway. It was time for her to unbury her treasure. 

It was a short walk to the house. In person the walls gleamed whiter and the columns stood taller and larger. It wasn’t right to call this a house, it was a palace. Confidently, Meara opened the large door and stepped inside. The foyer was empty, so she kept on. Just around the corner the room opened up into a dining hall with a huge table- everything in this house was huge- pilled with foods and drink. At the head a young woman, looking just a year older than Meara, sat looking at her. Everything about her filled Meara with warmth, and she practically radiated with joy. She had a warm smile, skin browned by the sun and wavy, bronze colored hair that rested like a crown upon her head. 

“I saw your boat earlier and figured you must be hungry after so much paddling,” she said, “care to join me?” There was only one woman who lived on this island. 

“I would love to join you,” Meara said, “sister.”