The boat

                                                  BOAT

They were a middle-aged couple and I liked them-no not liked, loved them. I first saw them the day they came to the jetty by the boat-yard to buy me.

    He was a tall, premature balding, pale-faced man with the bluest eyes- how I imagined the colour of the sea was.

    She was small, stout with brown hair and was always laughing. Her eyes were green. Mary was happy, but I sensed her slight apprehension about buying me.

    I was moored between two bigger boats that had sat there for over six months before I was made. My new paintwork was shining in the morning sun. The, For Sale, sign was fluttering about in the breeze and it had irritated me ever since the young man who had painted me had stuck it on. I knew when it was removed it would take some of the paint with it.

    We sailed up the coast that day and later Mary and her partner docked me at their mooring near their home. And it was from there that I spent many happy days at sea with them. I loved the nights especially when they would sit out on my small deck in the stars in some secluded bay and open a bottle of wine. Mary’s laughter filled me with the deepest happiness and I wished it would go on forever, but of course it wouldn’t and didn’t.

    I remember the day it happened. The morning they came to take me out I felt there was something wrong. Around mid-day, when we where well out to sea he collapsed. I heard Mary crying over the radio as she explained to the Coast-guard what had happened. I don’t know how, but she managed to sail me home and when they carried his limp body off me, I felt fear for the first time. What was going to happen to me?



    I lay at their mooring for nearly a year and then he came, a heavy, black bearded man. His name was Dan. I heard Mary, who was with him, say his name and I heard her tell him about the many happy days they had spent on me. Mary looked a lot older and her eyes weren’t as green as I remembered them. I couldn’t sense her happiness in her at all.

    Dan bought me and I never saw Mary again.

    I was at sea every day then, he fished. Dan loved fishing and he had a girlfriend. Her name was Veronica. At night, at the mooring, they would sit out on my deck and drink. They would get drunk, and I would rock them to sleep.

    This went on for nearly three months until early summer when one day after they had been drinking all evening I heard her scream, “It’s fishing, or me!” I didn’t know what she meant, but I heard him shout, “Fishing!” She left in a fit of anger and I never saw Veronica again. Later, Dan brought another woman on board. I thought it was the same woman, she looked the same, and she drank a lot. I wasn’t interested enough to remember her name. She lasted for a month and the ultimatum was, “Fishing!” Oh my, how Dan loved to fish, and drink.

    And I was beginning to like going out to the deep water to fish too, but then one day it all changed. His son came to see him. He had brought a bottle of drink- whiskey, I believe it’s called. I heard Dan shout, “At least you remember what I drink!” They argued that day and his son got very angry jumped onto the walkway and left. I only saw him once more.

    I remember Dan didn’t do much fishing that day. He drank almost the whole of the afternoon then decided to take me out. He fell several times as he cursed the choppy water. We really shouldn’t have been out as it was quite rough. Dan hadn’t anchored me and we were just drifting when I heard the splash. I felt his shock as he fell into the cold water. He sank quickly for he couldn’t swim. I never saw him again.

      They never found his body. They found me drifting miles out to sea. His son had me towed to the mooring and there I lay until the end of summer. Barnacles attached themselves to my hull and rain filled the deepest parts of me and then he came, Captain Jack. I felt his hands touch me, examine me, look at my engine and sails and I knew he would treat me right, knew he would sail me to places I’d never been before. He loved being alone at sea. He loved sailing. He loved me and I loved him.

    We sailed everywhere throughout Europe for over twelve years then one night on deck he fell, broke his hip and we returned to the mooring. I was moored there for two months without seeing him. He came one day with a younger man. I saw Captain Jack had a walking stick. He had extra lines on his face too. He sold me and I never saw him again.

    Over the years I had many owners, and once I heard one of them tell another that I was an unlucky boat.

    At the moment I am moored with other vessels. I’m covered in algae and parts of me are porous and I can feel the osmosis eating into my hull, but I’m always wishing someone will buy me. I hope they do soon. I’m getting really tired, and oh how I miss the sea.



                                                THE END 

              945 words