On A Pirate Ship

I fell in love when I first laid eyes on her.  

The Bounty was a beautiful ship, a wooden two-mast schooner, and she was anchored just off the coast of Curacao.  We had made reservations for an afternoon aboard for sailing and snorkeling in the reefs surrounding the island.  As we boarded, I couldn't help but turn my gaze upward.  My eyes got lost in the tangle of thick ropes and in the folds of tanned, canvas sails.  The wooden banisters were worn smooth and I couldn't help but run my hands over those edges again and again.  I barely knew what to look at next: the blue sky, the bluer sea, the green and brown railings, the multitude of metal reels and pulleys, the rugged captain, the boyishly handsome deck hands...

We hadn't even set off on our voyage and I was already lamenting our return.

In my mind, I expected Captain Jack Sparrow to emerge from the lower level, shouting orders and swigging on a bottle of rum.  Or maybe Davey Jones with those slippery tentacles and that lobster claw would appear at the large wheel and terrify us with that maniacal laugh.  But this is just how my mind works... an overactive imagination combined with an affectionate soft spot for the "Pirates of the Caribbean" series.

We set sail for the Spanish Waters out of Jan Thiel.  This was only the second time I'd been on a ship with sails and I was enamored with the crispness of them, the way they puffed and pulled as the wind pushed up against them.  Everything around me felt more intense.  The sun was warm and the breeze was cool and I could feel both simultaneously on my skin.  The strangest sensation grew within me: I was calm... I was happy.  

The blue water crashed against the wooden hull.  I listened.  It sounded like Mother Ocean was playfully shushing us.  My sister and I talked and laughed, exchanging grins and happy glances. We looked over at our mother and she was smiling back at us.  I knew I was living in a moment that I would remember forever.  We were sailing and I swear I felt as free as the wide open sky above me.  

We passed by the rock quarry. The abandoned quarantine house on the cliff.  An old fort. The captain recounted the various histories.  I was spellbound.

Lunch was amazing: chicken satay with a divine peanut sauce, fresh fruit, sweet rolls, and as much rum and beer as we could put away.  Not too long after our bellies groaned from the feast, the captain announced we were headed for the sunken tugboat for snorkeling.  I remember passing on that last round of Amstel Brights for fear I'd drown from too much beer and chicken and sheer delight.

When the captain dropped anchor, I grabbed my snorkeling gear and headed towards the side of the boat.  The choice was to use a little rope ladder or jump.  Well, that wasn't much of a choice, really.  I leapt.  Down, down, down... in!  As I popped my head back above water, I looked up at the newest love of my life, The Bounty, with her tall wooden masts, brown against a blue sky, those crisp sails, and her green and gray-white sides gleaming brightly in the island sunshine.  Stunning and beautiful.  

She stole my heart.  And, given the opportunity, I would have gladly left my entire life behind to become a pirate. 

I imagined life aboard a ship, overly romanticized, of course.  A life at sea.  Vast open spaces.  Watching the sun emerge from the ocean in the morning only to sink below again at the end of the day. Starry nights.  A brilliant full moon, reflections breaking over the waves.  Storms in which thunder rattles the wooden deck while lightning cracks and sizzles overhead.  Hard work.  Calluses.  Salt.  Sunburn.  Sea legs.  And, what the Bounty represented most, freedom.

Once we were all in the water, we swam towards the sunken tugboat.  As I peered through my mask, my heart literally stopped as I heard the "Jaws" theme play in my head.  The vast blue sea was endless in front of me.  The long line of the anchor and the wide hull of the Bounty looked small against the big backdrop of the ocean... and I just knew it was a matter of time before something wild emerged from the depths.  (Again, too many movies.)

I turned my attention towards the sunken tugboat.  Thousands and thousands of tropical fish of every possible shape, size, and color emerged into my field of vision.  Slowly and carefully, we floated among them.  I dove down and admired the rainbow of an ecosystem unfolding in front of me - coral formations, sea anemones, urchins, and fish set against a cyan sea.  Instead of being a pirate, I temporarily considered growing gills and a tail like a mermaid.  

Inevitably, we had to return to the ship.  This time, I had to use the rope ladder to return to the deck.  We toweled off and grabbed a round of cold beers.  The wind pushed into the sails and the would-be pirate ship began another graceful journey.  I leaned back against the smooth wooden railing, taking in that warm, Caribbean sun.  The journey was breathtaking and I cannot remember many other moments in my life that felt so absolutely perfect. 

Like a fish in the sea or a bird in the sky, I was sailing and I was free.