The phrase "red sky at morning, sailor take warning" echoed through his mind as the sun rose on the horizon. The wide planks of the deck cooled his cheek. He flattened both palms against the ship and pressed hard. Now, on hands and knees, he swooned. The sway of the vessel didn’t help. He placed his right hand on his upturned knee and stood. Light and warmth washed over him. Dizzy, he caught hold of the thick hemp rigging before nausea, or the ocean, could capsize him.

North, South, East, or West. Which direction he faced was uncertain. Also uncertain was his precise location. He trawled for memories that might help. Deeper up, then higher down; left in, then right out. He felt lost in body and mind. Suspended ball of golden light, the sun appeared normal. Unreachable edge of the world, the horizon was still thread-thin. Glints of light reflected in his eyes off the crystal sea. It was all so recognizable. Yet. Where was he?

The ship's maps and compass might solve the mystery. He wobbled a few steps toward the captain's quarters, still finding his sea legs. He grasped the cabin’s brass knob. A bulkhead with bulbous rivets materialized before him. In his palm, the cold grey-steel handwheel of a quick-acting door replaced the antique grip. He spotted a Zippo, engraved with the carrier’s emblem, by his foot. He carried the same lighter through Vietnam. That wasn't right. He blinked away the vision. The wooden door returned, the sunlight-warmed metal still in his grasp.

A seagull cried out with joyous glee. He saw the bird dive toward Neptune's dome. Wings pinched tight against its feathered thorax; flawless motion, majestic, and awe-inspiring. The gull crashed through the water and disappeared. The doorknob forgotten, he sprang to the starboard taffrail of the vessel. The unbroken surface never revealed a single trace of his lone visitor. A peculiar reality struck him. The sun never moved while he waited for the little bird’s return. Red sky might welcome a new day, or might it deepen to purple? He hoped for an inky black of night to reveal flecks of silver stars. In the same instant, he wished to spot a dolphin rising to breathe the salty air.

Then one did, and the jet of water startled him as excitement flooded his veins. He pivoted and ran to the port railing. More expulsions greeted him. An entire pod bobbed and dove beside the small ship. He recognized the Sea of Cortez, off the coast of Mexico, and searched for sardine fishermen gathering bait for tourists, but found his the sole sail against a cloudless sky. No other boat floated on the gigantic expanse around him. He sprinted to the companionway and leapt it two stairs at a time. He peered down from the upper deck at the trail of churned and glowing wake. The bow pointed into sunlight; her stern, toward an endless midnight littered with stars.

"Welcome home, son," a father's voice said.

THE END

In honor, and memory, of my late father

Earl Kenneth Jackson

(January 11, 1956 - December 15, 2018)

Final Voyage