Only Memories

We had been out for a day of fishing. Out in Gardiners bay. The old wooden boat creaked and groaned with every wave. Down in the cabin you could smell oil and salt. A little dark with just beams of light coming through the port holes. She was an old vessel even then. But she was tight and seaworthy. The " head " was located in the bow. No more than an outhouse really. When you had done your business throw it clear of the fantail. No amenities here. This was no yacht but to me it was like a cruise ship. We even had a transistor radio hanging from a piece of string. It swayed with the motion of the boat. The sounds of country music blaring over the engine noise.
Dad was the captain of this ship. I was just about ten or twelve years old at the time. He was an impressive sight at the helm. Throwing out those nautical terms. Bring her about and off the port bow. I remember him saying, better keep a weather eye out, as it looked a little threatening over on the horizon. I didn't know I had a weather eye, but kept it out anyway. We had caught a few fish. A few blues and a mess of bottlefish. Mom had packed some sandwiches and coca cola. All in all it was a pleasant day on the bay. My weather eye saw dark clouds racing across the sky and the bay began to churn just a bit. Dad says we better head in, looks like some weather coming in.
And so the anchor was lifted and we were underway. In order to reach the safety of the harbor you have to traverse the breakwater. The breakwater is a narrow channel lined on either side by rocks. Those big blue/black colored ones. The tide runs through there fairly strong. The old girl was chugging along at full throttle. The bow rising and falling in the troughs. She seemed almost anxious to reach that breakwater. And the waves grew stronger. As she rocked and rolled a little bit my oldest brother thought it would be fun to ride atop the wheel house. So, up he went. Now there are handrails that run along the edges of that wheel house. He laid down and grabbed onto those handrails. He had to stretch his arms out to full length to get a grip. His legs spread wide to avoid rolling. He lay there laughing. Before long the squall, as Dad called it, picked up in intensity. The boat rocked more violently. Bringing her about Dad headed into the breakwater. The tide was running hard and the passage was a churning cauldron of white water. My sister and I reached for the life jackets. Mom went into the cabin. My brother was stuck on the top of the wheel house. No way could he safely climb back down from that perch. There was nothing for him to do but hunker down and hold on.
The passage through the breakwater seemed like a trip around the world. It took that long. When we reached the safety of the harbor the waters calmed down. The clouds cleared out and the waters smoothed. My brother climbed down from his roost. Dad was standing there smiling. Looks like you left your hand prints in the woodwork. We made many a voyage on that old boat. No pictures remain of her, only memories.