Waves of Truth

  Waves of Truth

Horns blare through the fog. People run and shout. Announcements pierce the air.

“All on deck. Everyone on deck. Now.” 

I stand by the railing on the main deck with my backpack slung over one shoulder, all my possessions stuffed into one bag. I brought it down to breakfast with me as I want it in my field of vision at all times. I hold on tight to ensure the gusts of wind don’t snatch it away from my grasp.

The message from the captain is clear and precise with an authoritative voice behind it, necessary to keep the passengers calm. But everyone knows the truth. 

The ship is sinking. It’s going down slowly but surely. 

I watch people run to their cabins and grab as much of their belongings as they can. This is wrong. Lives could be lost in the shuffle to save material goods. Then how much would their purchases cost? The life of a human?

The storm came on suddenly. One minute everyone was chit-chatting over the breakfast spread, regaling over the entertainment from the evening before. The next minute, we’re being tossed with eight and ten foot waves smashing with fury against all sides of the ship. It feels like we’re in a toy ship playfully tossed in a little child’s bathtub.

But the scene is real and therefore more dangerous. 

My arm, resting on the rail, is soaked from the spray splashing higher and higher. I adjust the bag to prevent it from getting soaked, although the material is waterproof, keeping the contents warm and dry inside.

The air smells salty and feels heavy as though weighing my shoulders down. The gusts of wind assail my face and splashes of water run down it. 

The crew are bustling about, helping the most distraught passengers first, for fear their negativity will spread and pandemonium will break out. Difficult to control people then or to give orders, orders that need to be heard and obeyed.

Bringing luggage down from their rooms is discouraged and is immediately placed in a separate room. The crew members hustle about to clear space on the main deck for everyone to gather. People find it difficult to part with their possessions. I guess I’m one of them because I’m hanging on dearly to my backpack. 

But for a different reason, I think.

I spot Henry across the deck and nod. He half smiles and turns his attention back to his crying wife, adjusting the shawl around her back. She’s holding her purse tightly under her arm and leans on him.

I sweep my eyes over the gathering crowd and notice Ted hanging onto his wife’s elbow. A messenger bag is hung like a cross purse on his body. I assume he has valuable contents like me. Last night he seemed to have an endless supply of it.

I scan the area to find others seated at our table last night, but do not find them. The area is becoming more crowded, the chatter growing louder and with a certain edge to it.

I appear calm as I stand alone against the railing. Maybe that has to do with the fact that, although the ship is slowly sinking, this is not the worst that has happened to me. 

After dinner, there are many activities to keep the passengers busy. My favourite is the Blackjack table. I consider myself a card counting expert and I have developed considerable skills to win consistently. In fact, I’ve made a living off my earnings and have more things that I want, than I need.

Last night I scooped up considerable winnings. 

I went full force with my card counting, dredging up my finest lessons and applying them. I rationalized I had one week here and then would never see these players again. So what the heck.

I’ve developed the skill necessary for quickness and accuracy like a true mathematician. The trick is completely easy on the eye. No one even notices.

Card counting is not illegal but is by no means encouraged. In fact, I have to be careful as some casinos veto card counting and ban you from the room. Hasn’t happened to me yet as I’m observant. If I think the dealer or another player might suspect something, I’m out of there, quick as can be. 

I wear my tuxedo and shirt with the cufflinks. I look like a well-to-do traveller whether at the dining table, Blackjack table or enjoying the slot machines. No effort at all because of my years of experience.

Everyone at the table focuses on his own cards and holds his breath that they have the winning cards. Drinking also helps. Many players are so anxious that they don’t notice the number of drinks they have while concentrating on their cards. Their throats must be parched and tight because of their fear of losing. 

I nurse the same drink all evening. Take baby sips now and then. Or sometimes I pretend to sip but don’t actually do it. I feel like I play a pretend game all evening and I suppose that’s true. Pretend to drink and pretend to play an honest game.

This storm is not pretend though. It’s real and it’s hitting the ship hard.

If I could pretend we were safe, maybe I wouldn’t be holding onto my bag so tightly.

I just wish we would all get off this ship safely and get on with our lives. When I’m deep in thought, leaning against the railing, I hear, 

“Morning Jim.” It’s Ted with the messenger bag.

“Morning.” I nod. “Wife okay?” 

“Just anxious, that’s all.” He wiped his forehead covered with small beads of perspiration. He chuckled, an anxious chuckle. 

“I guess we’re all anxious. Just a little rock and rolling,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. We both laugh. I see him clasp his hand over his bag. I wonder how much more is stashed in there?

I drained around ten thousand from it over several days of playing cards and hoped to collect more the next few days. Don’t know if that’s going to happen now.

“Morning, Jim.” Henry spotted us and joined us. “Morning, Ted” he says before I get a chance to answer.

The three of us stand in a small circle by the edge of the ship and assure each other that things will be all right. Henry seems relaxed enough. I took around five thousand from him during the two days of game playing. 

Over the last few days, the three of us got to know each other better. Not only at the Blackjack table. We’ve enjoyed beers together around the pool, laughing and making jokes the whole afternoon. They’ve included their wives wherever possible. 

I never like to take money solely from anyone. I like to get to know them on a social basis. Makes them and me feel as though we care for each other. The card playing becomes the business side, with no hard feelings.

My scheme, my card counting, worked. I won several hundred thousand dollars in a few days. I am eyed with respect and wonder. I was the grand winner of each of the the nights and I intend to keep my winning streak every night until the ship docks. 

So far, I’ve stashed plenty away in off-shore banks.

My dream is to live on an island in the South Pacific, wasting my sunny days with leisure activities and using my evenings grilling whatever I catch in the sea.

Too blissful to be true.

“Think winds will calm down shortly or are we getting punched around the rest of the day?” asked Ted.

“Heard that the storm will hang around for the morning, at least. If it does, might do further damage to the ship.” Henry’s voice shows concern.

“Wish the captain would make an announcement as to which way things are going,” said Jim as a forceful wind slammed him against the edge. The backpack slid down from his shoulder and rolled a few times along the deck. He stumbled as the ship heaved heavily in the waves, crashing loudly against the side. His eyes glued to the bag as he held the rail and slid along it. 

Both Ted and Henry knocked against each other and stretched for the railing to steady themselves. Ted’s messenger bag stayed secure with the cross body strap. 

The rocking subsided and the three looked from one to the other, relief spreading over their faces. 

“Hope we don’t have too many of these,” said Henry. Jim made a mental note to purchase a messenger bag, like Ted’s, the first chance he got. More secure, he thought. Sleeping with it would even be easier than his backpack.

He shifted the bag to the other shoulder and held on to the strap with two hands. The wind and rocking ship were too fierce to take a chance. Too many of his dreams depended on the contents of his bag.

“If things calm down and repairs are made, are you ready for another game of Blackjack tonight?” asked Ted, looking around at the other two. He patted his messenger bag.

“Fine with me,” said Henry. “I’m good for a few more days.”

“Count me in,” said Jim. “A little rocking tonight won’t affect me.” He grinned at the other two. Nods went all around solidifying the evening’s game. The three of us act like the ship’s tossing is normal for a cruise ship, that nature will calm down and things will go on as usual.

I watch Henry and Ted rejoin their wives and lean against the railing, facing the deck and observing the commotion in front of me. 

I watch the passengers dart around, like scared caged animals looking for a place to hide. All were clutching various size bags filled with their best clothes and jewellery, technology gear and documents.

I listen to the cacophony of voices and the staccato ringing of an alarm bell every ten seconds.

In my peripheral vision, I catch a commotion on my left. People, standing in a circle, are shouting and arms flailing. 

“We’re going down,” screams a male voice, louder than the rest. He breaks apart from the crowd. The wind carries the shrieks with him. He hurls himself over the railing into the spiralling water, sucking him down and under.

Passengers run to the side and within seconds, a life jacket and boat are slung over the side. 

All of this happens eight feet from me and in eight seconds. I freeze and my fingernails dig into the railing. My heart thumps louder and faster as his anguish sweeps through me. 

As a betting man, I surmise the rescuers have the odds piled against them. Within minutes, it’s all over. 

The life jacket and boat are pulled up empty. 

Groans and chatter increase like a wave splashing through the crowd. The event, so unexpected, increases agitation. I recognize fear in their gestures and on their faces as I have experienced it, too, at a gamer’s table. 

I confess to my soul now that there have been times when I have kept an ace up my shirt sleeve for the right moment. And there were many of those. Thoughts jumble my mind.

What if the ship does go down? What if this is my last day on earth? Is this calamity that’s now happening, my retribution of living a life of cunning and deceit? 

My hands curl into a fist and my stomach tightens. I pick up their fear and stand frozen.

Is this the universe’s way of saying you will never get away with it? You will never enjoy your winnings when you cheat other people. 

Maybe it’s the insistent staccato ring of the alarm bell or the helter-skelter of the passengers before my eyes that a realization comes over me. My hands relax a touch. I take a deep breath.

I turn around at the railing and watch the swirling angry water. The wind whips my hair and shirt and I gasp for air. My breath becomes ragged again.

I don’t move.

In the end, we should all atone the sins we have accumulated throughout our lifetime—however large or small. Mine—a lifetime of cheating at blackjack, at taking other people’s money with no qualms, with no mea culpa.

I lean further over the railing and stare at the churning, surging water. I contemplate throwing my money overboard. Give it to the sharks as dessert. Let them see what money does to the soul.

My mind scans over the last decade or two when I acquired—purposely—these cheating skills. Only then I saw them as survival skills—to earn a living, to get a comfortable life.

I have a different perspective now.

Did I come to this realization by way of a sinking ship—a sinking life to realize the error of my ways? I’ll never know for sure. Last night, I had no second thoughts—just win the money whatever way I could and walk off proudly for what I accomplished at the table.

But this morning, standing by the deck and watching, something clicked. Yes, the ship is sinking and we may or may not be saved. Control is out of our reach for now. One man thought he could control things. 

I make a different decision.

I decide I’ll be the last one off with the captain. Maybe this will atone for what I have done. I’ll be seen as a hero but that is not my intent. 

I guess I’ve been lucky in life—luckier than most. And I have not given back. I have taken, taken some more and then some. 

Now it’s payback time.

I will save as many people as I can and give each a portion of my earnings as I lead them to the lifeboats or helicopters. If we all go down, I will comfort as many as I can in their last moments. My life may end today so I will do what I can to restitute my lifestyle.

If I should survive, I will continue thinking in this new vein. I will direct my earnings to helping destitute people on the islands. I will build schools, houses and roads. Clean water is a must. 

Yes, my life will go in a different direction. I’m at the point in my life where time and a sinking ship have given me new meaning. 

I feel calm and purposeful now. Like the storm that is lessening.