Her name was India. And she was intoxicating. Born of wealth and status, her beauty commanded attention wherever she looked. Sam found himself struggling to keep his mind on his work as he watched her. Her golden hair shined in the summers light, her perfume, the fresh scent of Lilacs invaded his every sense as her radiance invaded his mind. As she strolled to the bow of the old Schooner, her white cotton dress billowed in the breeze...a breeze which took poor Sam away...away to a place where they could be as one...a place in his soul.
Sudden violent thrusting of the deck awakened him back to his task. The storm was coming, and it was his job to secure the riggings, still, as he looked at her, as she held the railing with determination not to let it spoil her day, his mind drifted still.
He imagined the two of them alone on the ship. She would be at the bow; and he would come to her from behind. He would slowly encircle her with his arms, her head would fall back against his chest as she smiled ever so slightly .As he kissed the nape of her neck she would laugh, and scold him for being a wicked man. Then, she would turn. And as they looked into each others eyes he knew...He knew...
He knew by the creaking of the oak deck that the storm was to be a bad one. The sky was darkening with eerie speed as the waves began to toss the ship at will. India stood steadfast at the bow, even though asked time and time again to go below decks. She seemed to revel in the power of the ocean; laughing out loud as the ship came crashing down time and time again. Sam watched her, watched out for her as best he could. He marveled at her strength, her ability to become one with the ship and its movements. The breeze which had lifted her spirits, and lifted Sam's as it lifted her dress now became stronger, twisting and turning with frightening ferocity.
Darkness came all too early. The un-relentless pounding of the ship increased with each passing moment. With India off deck, it was much easier for Sam to concentrate on his tasks. This was the first time Sam questioned the structure of the old Schooner. Not afraid for himself really, somehow he knew deep inside that he would be ok no matter what the world threw at him, but he feared for the others. The Families that were making the voyage to a new land, the men that had worked so hard for a paltry reward. And of course, for India.
As dawn slowly approached, Sam found himself watching a beautiful shooting star. It's arc flashing high across the dark sky. He wondered what it would be like to be with her, hand in hand watching the star together like a dream come true. He never saw the barrels comings, loosened by the storm and suddenly free of their riggings they were upon him before anyone could react. They crashed through the railings taking an unexpecting Sam with them. He never felt the cold ocean as it engulfed him, He never heard his India call out to him in warning, He never...
He never even had a chance to be afraid.
India had spent many hours on the deck of the ship, watching the waves, watching the sailors work. But always she seemed to end up at the bow. The ocean view was her excuse to watch Sam work. She knew he would stare at her, as only a man in love, or possibly lust would do. She knew he wanted her, she knew these things, felt these things coming from Sam as only a woman could know. When the storm came, she too was unafraid. Secure in the knowledge that the men of the ship. Men like Sam, could handle whatever the trade winds threw at them. She truly enjoyed the feeling of the pulsating ocean pound up through her legs. The deck shuddering with each rise and fall. It was best when she could watch Sam, and feel the unbridled power of the water at the same time.
When the storm finally began to ease, India was delighted to see a wonderful shooting star as she came on deck. Somehow it made her think of Sam. A simple man that had begun to occupy quite a bit of her daytime thinking lately. As her eyes searched for him she saw two things at once. Sam, looking at the star and smiling sweetly, and the barrels bearing down on him. She cried out as they struck...her heart screamed as if in pain as he went over the edge of the ship. Everyone on the roiling deck ran to the edge of the railing, everyone except...
Everyone except India. Though she ran to the railing like the rest, she never even broke stride when she reached it. She didn't think of the sea, she didn't think of the danger, of the fact that the storm was still quite dangerous. All she thought of was Sam. And somehow she knew she had to save him. She swam with the long practiced strokes of an accomplished swimmer. Silently thanking her father for his insistence that she master all the skills she could. That she practice every day. Always he said " My dearest little India, learn as much as you can, master all the skills that come your way, for you can never tell what the road will bring". She thought of her father as she swam, wondering what he would say if he knew what she had done. But as she approached a face down Sam, as she turned him over, as he coughed and began breathing, she had her answer. Her father was a kind man, always willing to help those in need. His wealth never brought any ego or aloofness with it. And these were the things he passed on to his daughter. These were the lessons in life that she valued most and tried to remember often. Though accused by others of not maintaining her 'position' in life, she was happy with the person that she had become, and thought her father would have been pleased. And that was all that really mattered.
At first she thought he was dead, for a long horrible second after turning Sam over, nothing happened. Then, suddenly he coughed, sputtered and coughed again. His breathing was ragged, but he was alive. And a more beautiful site India had never seen. She pulled him close, and held fast to the wooden railing that was their sole companion in the sea. Although she heard the men of the ship shouting, none of them had been able to get a line to her. The waves were still too large and powerful. She watched silently as the ship drifted further and further away into the morning darkness. The cries of the crew became distant echoes on the waves. When the sun finally rose some thirty minutes later. The ship was gone.
Thankfully the sea calmed, its rage finally spent. The noonday sun warmed the water and took the chill from India's legs. She had somehow managed to recover a portion of the barrel that had been their fate, and now it proved to be a Godsend.
When Sam awoke he startled at his surroundings and began to panic. It was only when he heard the sound of India's voice that he calmed. She cooed to him, told him it was going to be OK, told him to lie still. He was hurt, but he was going to be just fine. He watched her face thru his pain, listened to her voice, so childlike in its quality, but somehow strong and confident. As he drifted back into unconsciousness, he felt her lips brush his.
India woke with a start, taking a second to remember the events of the day before. Was this really happening? Briefly she thought she must be dreaming when she felt Sam stroke the wet hair from her face. She looked up and realized he was holding her. That in the middle of the night he must have awakened and held her so that she could sleep. It was at this very moment that she realized that she loved him. That one second looking into his eyes, seeing inside of him, seeing his soul. It was as if they were one, one thought, one heart, one being. She realized he was crying, as was she. They held each other for a long time. Long enough that they almost missed the small island that had came into view.
It was India that saw it first; blinking hard against the noonday sun it seemed surreal somehow. Almost as if from nowhere here it was a gift of life for two in love. It could not have come at a better time; both were wet, hungry and very tired of holding onto the barrel. And although India had tried, the bandages she had made with her dress had never quite stemmed the flow of blood from Sam's injuries. With all the reserve they could muster, they began to paddle. The island slowly, almost painstakingly coming into view with each small stroke. Their joy was short-lived however, halfway to salvation, they saw the fins...
"Mommy Mommy!! Did the sharks get Grammy India"? "No. of course not honey," her mother said. "If they had, then we would not be here now would we"? The little girl was at only nine years old the perfect image of her great Grandmother. Though a little lighter, she had the same beautiful flowing hair. Her skin had the same radiance. And her sense of adventure was her Grammy's all over again. She loved to hear her mother tell her the same stories over and over. How Grammy India, her namesake had fallen in love with a simple sailor man on the high seas. How the story of their love overcame huge obstacles but never wavered for a moment. It was a true fairy tale, a tale of a princess, a tale of wonder and adventure, a tale of love. "Then what happened Mommy? What happened next? Tell me tell me".
He had sat on the bench by the sea as long as anyone could remember. Impossibly old, small and frail he would stare at the ocean as if in another world. His deep set eyes were the color of blue ice, and they forever seemed to search the waves for something that was not there. Or maybe just not there any longer.
Sometime children would taunt him with silly games but he never seemed to notice and they quickly gave up. The older residents knew him simply as the old guy on the bench. Tourists would often try to start a friendly conversation with him as if he were part of the local attractions. It did not take them long to give up, the old mans sadness seemed to overcome them and they quickly didn't feel like talking anymore. Many left the bench close to tears and never understood why.
The first time I saw him I was like the others. I sat down and made a comment or two about the wonderful weather. Being ignored was not something that I was used to. That and the fact that I loved a challenge was what started a long pattern of me visiting the bench. Day after day, he was always there, always at the same time, always staring out to sea, searching.
As many before me, I decided to play detective. To learn about the old man who sat alone, staring at what was not there. I questioned many people, but the best answer I got was from a little boy in the sand. He said "Maybe you just can't see what he's looking at Mister!" Maybe that was it; he was looking at a memory. I followed him once, took the bus just as he did, but after a series of transfers, and the fact that I did not have all day, I gave up.
It was strange how it seemed as if he became my friend. I would sit with him every day, telling him stories of how things were at my new job, how things changed at school so fast. Or even how I never understood women. I began to think of him as someone I could confide in. He of course, always listened well. This pattern of me talking and of him listening went on for almost a full year. So when the day came that I looked up and saw him staring at me it literally took my breath away. He was quiet for a long time, and he looked at me as if he were looking into my soul. Then, slowly, very slowly, he began to speak. "I loved her very much" he said. "I loved her more than life itself. We came to this country on a ship together, right into this bay. When I look into the ocean I can see us. I can see how things used to be. See how things were when things mattered." As he spoke, a single solitary tear escaped the corner of his eye. Never before had I seen another human in such longing. In such pain.
I never saw the man after that day. He never returned. But he thanked me for spending time with him. And the only real detail I got was a small one. As he left, he shook my hand and told me that he had enjoyed his time here. And that his name, was Sam.