The Captain's Log

“Drop anchor here,” Eugene barked from the stern of the Mele Kai. I scurried to undo the clove hitch and drop the beat-up anchor off the port side. I had become a quick study in the art of fishing. What had started as an impromptu summer job had quickly morphed into a daily ritual. Each day I would wake with the dawn and meet Eugene down at the boat-slip, his grizzled frownlines growing deeper into his sea-worn face as the sun climbed higher into the sky. His barked orders about the slack mainstay and the state of the tack, which had once been my constant companions, began to quiet as I gained my sea legs.

Eugene’s vessel, the Mele Kai, was about as old as Eugene. What was once a sunny mango yellow had settled into a dusky mustard and the once beautiful teakwood decking had grown frown lines of its own to match Eugene’s.

The fishing was hard work, we mostly caught a mix of Uhu, Kumu, and every now and then a bigeye tuna. Those were the good days, when we would pull up enough fish to feed us and still have enough left over to take to market.

Once on a particularly calm day, we were cutting through the turquoise water on our way to the South shore and a pod of dolphin came to play in the wake from the bow. I believe that’s the only time I saw old Eugene smile. He grinned from ear to ear as he leaned over the bow to catch a glimpse of the little calf gliding effortlessly under his mother. It was so unnerving to see the smile on old Eugene’s face I almost jumped off the boat.

“Kid, when you going to college?” Eugene grumbled one day from his captains’ seat as I hauled up another empty drop line.

“I, uh, don’t think I’m going to school.” I replied.

“Not going to school? Well what do you plan on doing?”, he spun his black notebook in his hands aimlessly as he spoke. I would catch him scribbling in it occasionally as we waited for the lines to fill.

“I figured I would keep on working with you, maybe pick up some shifts at one of the joints in Waikiki” I could feel Eugene’s eyes on me as I continued to pull the drop line in. The familiar sound of the black book turning in his hands marked the passing moments.

“Who knows,” I said finally “maybe I will just keep fishing” As I spoke, one of the drop lines got stuck in my thumb and I couldn’t help but yelp as I tried to discretely yank it out.

Eugene grumbled something that almost sounded like a laugh as he plopped the book down next to the helm and groaned as he hauled himself to his feet, “Bless the boat that takes you on kid.”

Thus the summer passed.

Eugene had been planning a big Labor Day trip to take advantage of the end of the Hawaiian summer. We were going to stock the boat up and head out for two days. Sleep on the boat and see how many fish we could stock our freezers with. Nothing but the rugged Oahu coast and the salt from the sea and my sweat lay ahead of me, and I would never admit it, but I was actually looking forward to it.

The sun rose higher in the sky, and still no Eugene. I waited on the dock for another two hours before my phone finally rang. I picked up without looking, expecting Eugene’s raspy voice to let me know he had been caught up getting supplies for the journey and I had better have the boat ready by the time he got there. Instead, all I heard was my mother telling me Eugene had passed away the night before. I felt my eyes drawn numbly to the Mele Kai bobbing softly in her slip as my mother whispered her condolences. I can’t prove it, but I could’ve sworn Mele Kai’s mustard yellow paint somehow turned gray in the weak morning light.

Summer turned to fall and I found a job as a barback training to land a coveted bartender job in town. One day, after a particularly miserable shift, my mother came to let me know that there was a man at the door who was asking for me. Standing on the lanai was a man with a little black book tucked under his arm. He introduced himself as Chris, Eugene’s son.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here man” Chris said, shifting uncomfortably “There’s just been so much to deal with Dad. It was so unexpected”

“I’m really sorry for your loss. Eugene, he, uh…he taught me a lot”

Chris laughed ruefully, “Yea, I bet he did. Nobody could bark an order like my old man. He could teach a deaf man to sail against his own will.”

“Anyway,” Chris said, pulling the black book out from under his arm “He wanted you to have this. Left it in his will that it should go to you. Sorry we didn’t let you know sooner; we didn’t know you were mentioned in there”

“No worries, I don’t know why he would want to give me this” I said, taking the worn black book from his outstretched hand “it’s probably just a list of all the knots I tied poorly”

Chris chuckled remorsefully again as he started to head down the steps then he stopped and turned back, suddenly serious “He was a tough old man. Tough, but fair. Never one to give out an unearned nice word, but he loved the sea and I know he appreciated having your company. I just want you to know that.”

I offered a wave as Chris drove off and I sat down on the stoop and opened up the little black book.

Jeremy-

You’ve been one hell of a fishing partner. It’s a hard thing to explain what happens when you get old. You can still see your whole life sitting behind you, clear as day, and there are moments where it’s so real you feel like you can almost reach out and touch it.

Sometimes when the sea is calm and you see the dolphins, I think of my wife. She used to love the dolphins. Even now I can hear how she would laugh when she saw them playing.

Life is short and it goes by so quickly. You’ve got to hold on to joy when you find it and treasure it. Thank you for sailing with an old man, you brought back some joy.

Tears welled in my eyes. I pictured Eugene’s face as he leaned over the bow to look at the dolphins and how his eyes would crinkle as he looked at the sunset over the Hawaiian cliffs as I started to weep. I felt grief for this old man I had barely known, an entire life lived that I had never thought to ask about.

As I wiped my teary eyes with my sleeves a folded paper fell out of the pages into my lap. Unsure, I waveringly opened it, it was a cashier’s check for 20,000 dollars. My breath caught in my throat as I read the hasty scrawl at the bottom of the check:

And for gods’ sake go to school. He can’t bless a boat enough to take you on.

-Later-

Jeremy stood at the helm of the newly repainted mango-bright Mele Kai watching his daughters fighting to have the prime spot so they could stand Titanic style on the bow. His wife Leilani stood, pareo wrapped around her, as she looked serenely over the passing coastline, the fiery dusk bringing out the red in her hair.

Jeremy laid a hand over the little black book that had travelled with him to university, then to medical school and now sat proudly in its traditional spot at the helm of the Mele Kai. He thought back on Eugene’s words. Bless the boat that takes you on. Jeremy smiled to himself as he turned Mele Kai into the wind.

Bless the boat, indeed.