The irony hung thick as the fog as the ship’s cook burst into the haphazard gathering of crew members, “The Skipper is gone!” Every eye glanced at the other like a Mexican standoff without the raised revolvers.
The gruff third mate grinned, “What’s the punchline, Marvin?”
“The skipper, captain, leader of this ship is no longer ON this ship.”
The irony of the scene is found in the circle of discussions in the prior twenty minutes. The crew had been talking loosely, haphazardly about the concept of mutiny. It was banter, or so it seemed to most of them. The seasoned crew had no intention of taking over the ship. None knew the waters. None knew this class of ship. Not a single one of them had the Skipper’s clearances to dock.
The newest crew member, a twig of a man from the city, was growing tired of the long days at sea. Johnny Fraley longed for the excitement waiting in the seaports. “We need to dock and find out what matter of misfortune has claimed the captain.” Most of them knew he just wanted to dock somewhere other than home.
“All hands on deck, we must find the Skipper.” The third mate shouted with coarse urgency. Before they could make it to their feet, a foghorn sounded, blaring nearby.
The wrinkled brows of the most experienced created panic in the heart of Johnny. He thought to himself “I’ve never even met the captain.” He wondered if he would be going down with the ship of a man who he had never met!
The cook, of all people, began yelling out questions to Johnny. “Which way is land? How ready is the lifeboat? Who is in charge now?”
Johnny, usually easy to answer anyone with something pulled from the ether of his untrained mind, fell silent. It was the most honest he had been.
Then more tragedy, “we’ve lost our third mate, he’s over the side and into the surf!”
One by one, every man was lost save Johnny and the cook.
“What’ll we do, Johnny? What chance do we have without the captain, without his crew?”
The foghorn and sea spray quickened his spirit. “We’ll have to steer the ship ourselves!”
“Which way, which way do we steer?” the cook pleaded.
“I’m not sure, certainly it must be against the gale. That is the direction of land.”
“Good thinking if you were home! But you aren’t and this storm is coming from the northeast. Shifting at every turn.”
“I’ll just head in one direction, it will bound to lead us somewhere!”
“Ah yes, perhaps the sandbar or rocks or reef! There are many things lurking in the cover of fog and blackness of the sea. What’ll we do, time has spun past emergency.” The cook pressured him with every insistence.
“I don’t know, I just don’t know. I wish I could just ask the captain.” Johnny was pale with anxiety.
“It seems our mutiny is playing out, not an option.”
Johnny knew the cook must have been at sea longer than himself. “Certainly, you must have some experience at sea?”
“Aye, many years.”
“Any navigating?” Johnny knew it was a long shot.
“Aye, every place on the map”. The cook seemed overly emphatic at this point. This scared Johnny, who thought at this point, he must be descending into madness or at best trying to comfort him in his final hour.
“How, how do you know this?” Johnny hoped it were true.
“We’ll it’s my ship.” The corners of his mouth turned upward.
Thinking him truly mad at this point, he obliged. “Then please, by all means steer us to safety.”
The cook sprang into action, and Johnny followed close behind, watching every move. He seemed to be telling the truth. He opened some valves, pulled some handles and grabbed the huge wheel, staring into the fog.
“How much do you know about this vessel?” the cook’s question was pointed and near angry.
“I.. well…” he stammered.
“Did you read the seafarer’s manual you were given before launch?”
“I did, some of it, well, I thought maybe it was just for requirement’s sake.” Johnny was losing all sense of adventure and importance.
“You must not have made it far.” The cook said in a growl. His sun-stained forearms handled the wheel like it was child’s play. “Find your manual, now!”
He fled in the darkness toward his cabin. He poured his satchel of contents on his small bed. He sat on the bed, flipping the pages as if he would get something. It’s then his eye landed on “the crew of the Scarlet Rose”. In it, the captain he had never seen. Bewildered, he stared at the sketch of the cook. He read on “your courageous captain and humble cook.” They were one in the same.
He looked up to see the captain-cook in the doorway. “Learn anything young man?”
With that question popped up several of the ship’s crew behind the Captain.
“Aye” gasped Johnny. “I learned never to bring up mutiny in any conversation at sea.” The captain grinned and the crew burst into laughter.
Copyright 2023, Jimmy Sadler.