Those the Sea Loves

An old seadog, a young passenger, and an old wives' tale

"Are you sure there's nothing out there?"

The sailor winked at the little boy beside him, his rough, weathered hand curled tightly around the rope above his head. "Are ye afraid o' the dark, boy?"

The boy nodded, his eyes wide. He clutched a notebook tighter to his chest, shielding it from the prying eyes of the tossing waves.

"Heh. Well, the dark ain't afraid o' you." The sailor turned towards the water, lifting his face to the skies. "Aye. There's rain comin', for sure. It'll be a rough night on these waters, I kin tell ya that."

The boy shivered. He didn't like boats before, and he didn't like them now. His mother had promised it would be fun, that he would see seabirds and fish, but after three days of tossing and turning, he hadn't seen anything yet.

The grizzled sailor pointed to his book. "What's that ya have there?"

The boy's arms tightened. "Nothing."

"Nothin', ya say? Looks a lot like somethin' tae me. Ya proud of it?"

The boy hesitated, then nodded slowly.

"Ye been workin' on it, I've seen ya. Up in the crow's nest earlier, weren't ya? Wishin' yer feet were on solid ground?"

"Don't like ships," muttered the boy. "They're bad luck."

The sailor's eyebrows shot up to the brim of his hat. "Bad luck? Bless me, what're ye talkin' about? We're the messengers of the sea 'erself, bringin' wealth tae 'er people and stories tae 'er shores! We're the reason the sea sings! Didn't ya know?"

"Sea doesn't sing," the boy said stubbornly. "Just kills."

"Ah." The sailor's voice turned quiet, almost gentle in its roughness. "Ye lost someone, is that it? It took someone away?"

The boy sniffed, pretending the dampness on his cheeks was from the waves. “My dad. He went on a ship once. And he never came home again.”

The sailor nodded. He looked out on the waves as the ship rocked them back and forth, the wind whistling through the masts overhead. "I've lost many a friend tae the sea, lad. It always hurts, but their time's not done. I'll sees 'em again one day."

"You mean... like... heaven?"

"Bless yer soul, no. Ye don't know what happens tae the ones the sea loves?"

Wide-eyed, the little boy shook his head.

"Ah, I'll tell ya. Those souls that get lost tae the bottom of the deep - they're a special kind. Not just anybody gets claimed by the sea. She loves, ye know - a special kind o' love that can't be understood by you 'n me. An' sometimes she looks up from her watery world and sees somebody, whether it be man or woman or child, who's too pure fer this world, and she takes 'em away."

"They drown?"

"Nah, lad. They swim. She teaches them tae breathe the water like they're breathin' the air, and she takes 'em home. Those folks ain't dead. They're alive, and livin' with the sea herself. She takes care of 'em, she does. And one day, we'll see 'em again."

"How do you know?"

The sailor winked. "Tis a great mystery, that. But I'll tell you this: every now and then, she lets one of 'em go. They climb up tae the surface, lookin' like you 'an me, and they see what's changed in the world. Then they go back down and tell 'er and all 'er people about what's they saw. And when they leaves, they leaves somethin' behind. A rare kind o' coin, shiny and gold, known only tae the sea. If ya find one, ye should keep it. Don't sell it, don't give it away on yer life. It just might save ya one day."

The boy's eyes were wider than an owl's. "What does it do?"

The sailor shrugged, a smile playing about his lips. "Only the sea knows. But one day, if ye find one, keep it. 'Tis a gift, from the sea tae ye."

A small smile crept onto the boy's face. His arms tightened around the notebook clutched to his chest. "Do you want to see it?" he blurted out. "It's not much, but I've been working on it for several days, and-"

"Of course, boy!" chuckled the sailor. He accepted the notebook that the boy opened and handed to him. Beautiful pencil drawings filled the pages - the other sailors at work on the deck, the round portholes that welcomed sea air into the cabins, a woman sitting on a bunk styling her hair. A few tried to capture the movement of the waves, but something about it wasn't quite right.

"It's not great yet. But my pa, he always said I should keep drawing. That I'd get it one of these days, as long as I kept going."

"Yer da's a wise man," said the sailor, as he handed the book back to the boy. "An' ye should keep workin'. Ye got a gift, and if I were the sea, I'd be mighty proud 'o yer work. I might even take ye away one day."

The boy's face glowed. "Really? You like it that much?"

"Emerson?" A woman's voice called from somewhere on the main deck. "Emerson, where are you?"

The boy looked up towards the sound. The sailor smiled. "Yer mother?"

"Yeah. She worries a lot."

"Best get goin' tae her, lad. 'Tis not safe tae be worried on a vessel like this one. I'll warrant she's had enough 'eartbreak tae last 'er life. Don't give 'er chance tae worry 'bout ye, too."

The boy smiled. He turned to the deck and shouted, "Here, Mother! I'll be right up!"

Immediately, the woman from the drawing appeared above him. "Emerson! What are you doing so close to the edge? Something could have happened!"

"Mother, I was just-"

"And why are you all by yourself? Don't you know how dangerous that is?"

Confusion clouded the boy's face. He glanced down towards the sailor, but the grizzled old man had vanished. In his place lay a shiny golden coin, face-up, with a weathered carving of the sea.

(Photo by ArtHouse Studio, Pexels)