Light on Dark Water

By Stephen Hayes

Corbett Hale knows the sea is an inscrutable ladyone day calm, the next a fury. But as he sets sail with a crew of three from the bay waters of the Chesapeake, heading to the Bahamas, Corbett cannot know what awaits them as he guides his beloved sloop, Gilead, into the Atlantic.

Sailing south, he confronts haunted memories from a time he spent on another water, in another part of the world. Even as the violence of the sea tests his courage and skill as a sailor, he finds himself both drawn back into the turbulence of the Vietnam War and pulled forward into a struggle for survival.

Light on Dark Water tells the story not only of a battle for survival at sea, but of one mans fight with his own sense of incompleteness, anger, and remorse, as he attempts to come to terms with the raw interplay of loss and grace that is the essence of life itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 18, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475925838

Stephen Hayes

Proved to be 'of a cavalier attitude' to life, the author failed his entry to be an R.A.F. pilot. Armed with five GCE 'O' Levels and no real community spirit he was urged on by his father to join Manchester City Police. His father, an ex-commando, having gone through five years of hell was a great believer in 'bottle'. Our languishing hero was an easy target to prove he had plenty. He later enjoyed the years of fighting, preventing and detecting crime as the GMP motto still proclaims, by now, with total abandon and little accuracy. Identified as a naturaI he moved through the Plain Clothes Department, The Drug Squad, the CID city centre, then the CID Didsbury and finally the Regional Crime Squad before resigning, being totally disillusioned at the 'wokeism' which was affecting his black arts of criminal detection. Be in no doubt he is qualified, has credentials and experience to ably compare the charlatans posing as leaders of Greater Manchester Police with real success. Become engrossed in the alarming detail "you'll hear fat dripping off a chip".

Book preview

Contents

Chapter One  Currents

Chapter Two  Anchored In The Cove

Chapter Three  Getting Three

Chapter Four  The Other Water

Chapter Five  Puzzle Pieces

Chapter Six  Into The Atlantic

Chapter Seven  With Max At The Rex

Chapter Eight  When The Long Trick’s Over

Chapter Nine  Last Session With The Shrink

Chapter Ten  The Fish And The Photograph

Chapter Eleven  Bend In The River

Chapter Twelve  The Day Before The Night

Chapter Thirteen  Into The Maw

Chapter Fourteen  Frantic To Save

Chapter Fifteen  Vanished

Chapter Sixteen  The Purple Spinnaker

Chapter Seventeen  The Coast

Chapter Eighteen  Sunday Sail

Chapter Nineteen  Desiderata

Sailors’ Words

Acknowledgements

About The Author

CHAPTER ONE

9781475925838_TXT.pdf

Currents

It was a dangerous sea. Enormous gray-green waves rolled across our bow. The wind and current fought for control of the sea, and even though we were flying only a jib in the high winds, it was almost impossible to keep the boat on course. As we rose on a wave crest, I glimpsed the sun-speckled ocean and the horizon in the distance. Our sloop careened down into a deep, shadowed trough, then up again to a briny hilltop, and then down once more.

My friend, my good friend with his olive skin and flashing, white-toothed smile, was enjoying the sail. But for me, it was a fearsome struggle.

The sea is an inscrutable lady, he said. One day calm, the next a fury. You will never fathom her meaning, Corbett. Just ride her. Do your best and ride her.

Another monstrous wave loomed ahead off the port bow.

We’re going under! I shouted.

Turn into it, he said. Turn straight into it. We’ll ride up and down the back slope.

And we did.

Then the dream changed. My olive-skinned friend and I were now on a beach in the Bahamas. The sand was white and soft; the ocean was a clear turquoise. We walked, talking slowly about everything and about nothing. Ahead of us, a man was standing knee-deep in the surf line, looking out to sea. His gaze was steady and serene as he followed a littoral current sweeping silently along the beach. He was dressed in khaki, his index finger hooked into the handle of a coffee mug. Sunlight gleamed from a small silver bar on his collar. I recognized him from years ago when we were together on the other side of the world.

I started to walk over to greet him but then spied a shell at my feet and bent down to study its rippled pink perfection. Then I stood and looked around, scanning the entire circumference of my vision. I was alone at the water’s edge.

I awoke in the darkness of the bedroom, sensing sweat on my neck and pillow. Julie lay next to me, sleeping soundlessly. As the details of the dream began to fade and blur, I struggled to reconstruct it and to mine its meaning. Instead came memories of my voyage toward the Bahamas years ago. I thought again of that sail, and I remembered also my time, years earlier, as a young man on the other water.

CHAPTER TWO

9781475925838_TXT.pdf

Anchored in the Cove

My beloved sloop, Gilead, ghosted into the cove on a light evening breeze. The sun had set, leaving a soft, red glow over the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay.

Swinging the bow into the light wind, I called to the two men on the foredeck. Drop the main as soon as she luffs!

Gilead swung to starboard in a smooth arc, and our momentum slowed as the mainsail clanked down the mast, cascading in unruly folds onto the boom. At my signal, Jason tossed the bow anchor overboard into the dark water. He then turned to the other man on the foredeck.

Mike, get those three short straps on the cabin and tie ’em around the sail.

Jason let the anchor line run out for sixty feet or so and then cleated it, allowing the boat’s continuing forward motion to dig the anchor flanges into the cove’s mud bottom. After then heading aft to help Mike, Jason grabbed the one remaining strap, threw it around the bundled mass of sail, and tied it off. Mike, he said as he loosened the other three straps and retied them, we need square knots here.

Mike grunted with a mild edge. Whatever.

Charley, the third member of my crew, sat aft in the cockpit near me.

What can I do? he asked.

Not a thing right now, I said, not taking my eyes off the activity forward.

Twenty minutes later, the gloaming glow had shrunk to a faint patch. A few stars were already visible in the late October sky. A stew was heating below in the galley, and we four were sitting, drinks in hand, above deck in the cockpit.

All right, guys, I said. Before the alcohol takes complete control of your feeble brains, I want to review the plan.

Ish too late, said Jason, feigning inebriation.

Mike raised his plastic tumbler, pantomiming a drunkard’s toast.

I plowed ahead. We get underway early tomorrow … no later than six. Depending on the wind, we may have to motor. I want to get to Norfolk by nightfall. Day two into the Atlantic and offshore. From there, we sail twenty-four seven till we reach the Bahamas.

How long, you think, to Nassau? asked Charley.

I shrugged. Ask the wind god. Four and a half, maybe five days.

I pulled a small notebook from the pocket of my windbreaker. So here are the rules while aboard Gilead. And by the way, as the captain of this vessel, I have the right to create, delete, or modify the rules at any time.

So much for American democracy, muttered Jason.

There is no democracy at sea, I said. Even in US territorial waters. Okay, sailors. Rule Number One: no consumption of alcohol until after five p.m. Rule Number Two: you may select any time zone to determine when it is after five p.m., but, I added, with a serious tone, we need our wits about us, so imbibe in moderation. Rule Number Three: in the open ocean, we’ll have three four-hour shifts at night. That’s eight-to-midnight, midnight-to-four, and four-to-eight. At night, two of us will be topside at all times. The other two below, sleeping or whatever. Jason and Mike will be one watch team. Charlie and I will be the other. Rule Number Four: we’re going to have a few intellectual discussions on this cruise.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward me.

Huh? said Mike, puzzled.

Discussions about what? asked Charley.

The topics are the sole discretion of the captain of the vessel and will be announced at the time of his choosing.

And the purpose is? asked Mike.

Well, we’ve got a bit of forced togetherness here. There are only so many dirty jokes and male-to-male insults we can tell. Might as well fill the time with something a little different … and maybe more interesting.

I thought I was helping a friend sail his boat to the Bahamas. Now I find I’ve been sequestered onto a sea salon! harrumphed Jason.

Steam was rising from the open cabin hatchway. I went below to serve up four bowls of beef stew. After the meal, we sat together topside in the cool night air. Around us were only the dark waters of the cove and, above, a majestic cloudless night sky. Jason craned his head back as far as it would go, looking up. Look at those stars, he said. There’s just a gazillion of them.

Actually, said Charley, you’re looking at just the tiniest smidgeon of what’s up there. Think of this. There are a hundred million stars in our own galaxy, the Milky Way, and 99.999 … I don’t know how many point nines … but anyway, that we can’t see. And guess what? That’s just our home galaxy. Astronomers say there are a hundred billion other galaxies, each one with maybe a hundred million stars. Really amazing.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping our drinks.

You know, I said, there’s some pretty amazing stuff right here on planet Earth. There was a show on television the other night about the monarch butterfly.