tasted her breath. But now I stared wide-eyed at the rock. Words drifted from my lips, "I think I'm losing my mind."
"No,” Bob Hughes said, deadly serious. “You're not." He put his hand on my shoulder. "I've seen her too." Now it was my turn to stare in disbelief. "Let's get out of this thicket." I followed his lead out of the brush. We sat on the beach as I listened to his story.
"It's been almost thirty years. Shortly after my wife died, I came to the islands to get away from it all... to relax and to forget. I had chartered a boat about the size of yours and was making my way around the islands. I anchored here for a swim one October afternoon. When I jumped into the water, I was suddenly joined by a beautiful, brown-eyed girl swimming around like mermaid, buck naked. She showed me where she lived. We made mad, passionate love. I was enchanted and wanted to stay forever; I had rediscovered my youth and didn't want to lose it again.
But it all grew old quickly. After three days, I began to feel like a prisoner, a kind of love slave, and I told Mariah so. She turned cold, not just disappointed or hurt, but physically cold, like... the stone of this island. Something told me to run for my life. In the middle of the night, I sailed the hell away from here, only to change my mind and come remorsefully back the next day to find it all gone. Of course, I thought I was losing my mind. I crashed through the brambles, tearing my clothes and my hands to shreds, trying to find the steps, the cave, anything…and then I found that tombstone. I still don't understand it. Sound familiar?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Close enough,” I said.
"Well,” he added. “I believe what the natives say. She lives here. She’s part of the landscape. So I bought the restaurant over there on Marina Cay and I watch this island every night for a flash of light. If I see it, I'll come back to her. I'm eighty years old and I still miss her."
I put my arm around Bob Hughes' shoulders and nodded to him. He wiped a tear from his eye with the back of his sandy hand.
"You're the only bloke I've ever told this story to. Nobody else'd ever believe it."
"You've got that right," I concurred.
"Look," he said, "Why don't you come over to the marina. Maybe we can compare notes. Be my guest for awhile."
"I'd like that."
"Okay. Let's shove this barge off the beach and get the hell away from this accursed rock." We pushed the boat into deeper water, the diesel sprang to life and he ferried me back to Andromeda. "That boat's got great lines," he said. "I especially like the figurehead."
"What figurehead?" I said, surprised.
"That one," he said, pointing to the place where the bowsprit met the prow of the boat. He drove closer. It was a wooden carving of a naked woman staring straight ahead, her long hair flowing in the wind. She held onto the sprit with her hands and melded into the hull with her feet.
Simultaneously, we said, "Mariah?" The two of us looked at each other and burst out laughing. Indeed, it was the face, the look, the body. Bob spun the wheel and I jumped aboard Andromeda when he pulled close. "See you at the marina," he called as he waved and roared off across the strait. I still couldn't believe the sloop was intact. Every cushion, every book, every pencil was in place. There was no sign of fire and no damage from being beached. Whoever did the repair was an artist. Down below, I pulled the log book out of its rack to bring it up to date. But the last entry was yesterday in an ornate handwriting from another time. It said, simply, "I love your boat, Ian Dunn."
And then I understood.
I would never sail alone again.
About the Author
Lee B. Mulder is a writer, author and speaker. Over a career of 40 years, he has written for a wide variety of newspapers and magazines, traditional and on-line media. He is also a lifelong sailor. He has three children and two grandchildren and lives near a strong WiFi connection.
Other Works By Lee B. Mulder
Please visit your favorite e-book retailer to discover other books by Lee B. Mulder
The Call Me Mzee: One Man’s Safari in to Brightest Africa
The Missionary: A Novel
Caution: God Working
Marooned: A Fairy Tale of the Virgin Islands
Toddler Tales: An Older Dad Survives the Raising of Small Children in Modern America
Contact The Author and Follow His Work
Website: www.mulderbooks.com
Email: [email protected]
Blog: www.mulderbooks.wordpress.com
Landfall: The Tale of the Solo Sailor Page 7