And then, for a captain, Thomson did a most uncharacteristic thing. With deliberate slowness, he got to his feet. The renegade stumbled an involuntary half step back. Thomson extended his hand and said. “We need seasoned men on this cruise. This is a dangerous assignment.”
A rattle of boom chains made me discombobulated.
“I appreciate your signing on,” Thomson said. “Welcome aboard, Sir!”
The deckhand mumbled something that I did not catch and departed smartly. I could not fail to notice the suggestion of a spring in his spirit if not in his step. I made a pretence of asking Thomson a question. I put my hand on his shoulder and said something that could well have waited. I looked down at the register. The deckhand’s shaky scrawl seemed to be diminished with age.
Thomson poked his head out of the office door. I thought I heard him say to his First Mate, “Weigh anchor!”
I must have heard it wrong. I put it down to the frailty of my advancing years. My thoughts had been diverted by the humanity that Thomson had manifested when he spoke so kindly to the last man to be signed on. I was pleased by the realization that over the years Thomson must have picked up a few things that cannot be found in books.
It promised to be a sparkling July morning. The lines were cast off. We drifted slowly away from the dock. The deck soon shook and the ship rumbled. The sun was off to a fast start and so were we. Only moments after dawn broke, the mist that lay under the Lions Gate Bridge was dispersed thanks to a gentle breeze. As we cleared the bridge, the sight of gulls wheeling and diving made me young again. I peered dead ahead, lest we run down the gill-netter bobbing in the chop off our bow. Even the frenzy of the gulls did not mar the memorable peace.
Ease the Capstan! Full Speed Ahead!
the end