A youthful failure at academics, I enlisted in the Navy. I wanted to travel the world and swagger about ports of call. Bell bottoms I thought a signature of manly sex. Foreign women, rowdy bars and salty voyage painted my mind.
Older now, my self portrait was that of a tanned sailor at the helm of his boat.
Learning to sail and being the captain of my ship was another thing. Most acquire that skill with practice aboard tiny boats called dinghies or snipes. I brazenly and unwittingly skipped that elementary step and instead acquired a thirty foot sloop on which to gather the skills. My girlfriend, being much more level headed then I insisted that at least we master those abilities within the safe confines of Ke'ehi lagoon. Halfheartedly I would follow her advice. My agreement to her demands were based upon the need I had for a sailing partner. My boat needed two to handle her: at least in the early stages. For about a month we would go to the harbor and practice the mundane:
motor in and out of the slip
turn into the wind
hoist the sails
slowly navigate the harbor
OVER AND OVER
My eyes were always fixed upon that green buoy way out the the channel. It was the one that announced the deep water and fun sailing. I twisted her resisting arm one day and talked her into heading out there. "See this is nice out here. Wasn't that hard." She did not answer that, just sat there. We were coursed towards Diamond Head and Waikiki. The deep clear blue washed the sides of the boat. We were settling into a fine even sail. The island coastline looked lovely on the left and other sails dotted the horizon. My girlfriend pointed starboard to a tug pulling a barge. "Charles do you see that tug?" "Yes hon, I do." "Charles we need to turn around. The tug is headed in and we shouldn't go any closer." "Oh we're fine. We have lots of time. Besides we're under sail and have right of way." The tug sounded its horn once. I waved. "He's greeting us." The tug was closer now bearing down upon us. A series of rapid horn blasts sounded. "Turn! Turn!" She was shouting. "Oh my God" sounded in my brain. I lost everything and pushed the tiller hard right. It was a whirl of blue and suddenly a mighty crash of the boom upon my skull. I quickly fell back but somehow not overboard. The boat had jibed. That is the most violent way in which a boat turns about.
Amazing Grace, living up to her name, bobbed motionless as the tug passed astern some meters away. My girlfriend looked upon me tense and sobbing. "You've got blood all over your face!" "I'm alright." Adrenalin kicked me back to some lucidness. I agreed to her infinite wisdom and we lowered the sails and motored back to harbor and slip. "I'm never setting foot on your boat again! You're insane! You need to see a doctor."
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