Trouble On The High Seas

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It’s fair to say that I don’t look for trouble, but it inevitably seems to find me.

Perhaps I am subconsciously seeking it, but I am like the proverbial canary in the coal mine. Several years ago, my husband and I embarked on a cruise to Bermuda. It was just like the promotions promised: luxury, gourmet food, top-notch entertainment, and inevitably, some trouble.

After sunning ourselves on the deck, eating delicious meals, and winning some money at the roulette tables, we were close to declaring the vacation a complete success. We left Bermuda feeling content, with lots of trinkets and souvenirs from the outdoor market.

That night, however, our ship was rocked and tossed mercilessly. I was fitfully awakened to waves lapping at our porthole and threatening to flood our art-deco cabin. I gingerly poked my husband’s arm, hoping he would wake up, but he slept peacefully, unaware of the danger.

I tried to read, do a crossword puzzle, but each mental effort was interrupted by those whitecaps salivating at the windows. I tossed and turned, unable to get even a few hours of sleep, but miraculously, by morning the sea had become a sheet of calm blue.

When the Captain’s muffled voice came on over the loudspeaker, I had to open the door of our cabin and move into the hallway so I wouldn’t miss what was sure to be an explanation of last night’s rough seas. My husband said, “Relax, you’re not going to miss anything.”

I ignored him and stuck my head out into the hallway where the Captain’s greeting was loud and clear. It occurred to me that my husband was not to be trusted in these instances as he seemed to underestimate the risk and urgency of everything, while I was quite attuned to danger.

Last night was rough and sure enough the Captain, after reading a litany of the day’s events, commented on the seas. He said that we were steering away from a hurricane and that we should not worry. We should leave the worrying to him.

I nervously locked the cabin door and turned to my husband who was dressed and ready for breakfast. “God, did you hear what he said?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I didn’t. I wasn’t sticking my head out in the hallway.”

“Well, this is no time to get snarky. He said we are steering away from a hurricane and we should leave the worrying to him!” I shouted, hoping my husband would recognize the precariousness of our situation.

He chuckled and said, “Okay, then. You, see, there’s nothing to worry about.”

At that point, I realized I was totally on my own.

I had long suspected that I would have to do the worrying for both of us. I always knew we were of a different disposition. If we were animals, he would be the big tranquil bear and I the skittish sparrow. So, I would have to stay sharp.

As we walked past the closed shops and the empty corridors, I said, “See, it’s very quiet, almost eerie, wouldn’t you say?”

“Of course it’s empty. Who, other than the two of us, is even up yet. No one is heading to breakfast at 7:30 a.m.”

I wanted to tell him about the thundering waves and the beating our ship had taken last night, but he had slept right through it so there would be no point in reliving the horror. As we walked along, I thought I felt a bit of a tilt, ever so slight, pushing me into his shoulder. I said, “Did you feel that? We should go back to our cabin and have our stuff packed in case we have to evacuate.”

He laughed and said, “My toothbrush is in my back pocket!

Now, you heard the Captain, these people are professionals, let them do the worrying. Let’s just enjoy our last few days. The technology of this ship is state of the art. There’s no way anything can happen to us.”

I was going to bring up the Titanic, but then again, he would just come up with some other platitude. Just like him, I thought, when he pointed at the huge chandelier in the rotunda, “ Wow, just look at that, pretty incredible, don’t you think?” He was trying to distract me, but I was on to him.

Really, how could he calmly comment on a chandelier as if he were seeing a wonder of the modern world? He had not even registered us tilting. I have to say, he seemed oblivious to what was really going on.

I said, “ Don’t you see the flickering? Those shimmering pendants are bumping into each other because this ship is totally unbalanced. Don’t you even feel that subtle rocking?”

Suddenly, there was a huge thud right under our feet.

Certainly, a sea creature of prehistoric size was under our ship and ready to toss us into the ocean where we would be devoured by dangerous eels or roam about in a poorly-constructed raft contemplating our imminent death.

This time we both froze and I could feel his fingers closing over mine, a cold clammy feeling like we were wrapped in wet towels.

The Captain’s voice, British, casual, and measured said, “I’m so sorry to inform you that we will be slowing down the ship as we have had to shut down two of our engines. We’ve had a minor explosion.”

I could gloat, but when my husband said, “I don’t like this at all,” I nodded in agreement and added my new favorite line, “Leave the worrying to the Captain.”

I ordered a glass of wine for breakfast and my favorite crepes, just in case.

Originally published at http://writingforeverydayliving.com on June 11, 2020.