Second Chances

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Soufriere Bay, Saint Lucia.

Leaving Tahiti

The sun was high on the horizon as I pulled back the curtain.  My eyes squinted.

Yesterday the ship slipped its mooring in Papeete, and my night ended late – drinking with the captain at the forward bar.  If I could have the evening back, there would be less whiskey.

Throwing on some clothes, I wished for a do-over of another sort; a shot to reclaim lost love.  A repeat with an old flame, this time making better choices.

My feet took me unsteadily down the stairs to the main dining room.

There was already a carafe on the table.  I sat and poured a cup, opening my laptop.  The coffee brought me around.

French Polynesia, with Tahiti in the distance.

My seat was facing the restaurant entrance.  A woman walked in, eyes scanning the room through dark rimmed glasses.  A sun dress clung loosely to her trim figure.  Brunette tresses fell behind slender shoulders colored from recent sun. 

There were several empty tables nearby.  I waited for her to pick one.

Our gazes met.  Her smile was soft and hesitant.

She approached, with a gait graceful yet tentative.

“Are you dining alone?”

I nodded.

“Mind if I join you?  I’m supposed to make new friends on this cruise.  According to my sister.”

“Please.”

She sat, glancing at my laptop as I closed it.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.”

“Not work, just a novella I’m drafting.  Slowly.”

“Oh yeah?  I’m dining with a writer?”

“Ha, no.  An aspiring writer.” 

The woman raised an eyebrow but said nothing. 

“It’s a love story. Perhaps. Or a tragedy.”

Still she did not reply, looking down at a menu. 

The air carried sounds of muted conversations and silverware clinking on china, as other guests ate their breakfasts.  Mingled aromas of bread and maple syrup wafted over from nearby tables.

I was inclined to talk, to fill the space.

“You’ve heard the intro many times. Boy meets girl.  They fall in love.”

“But by the middle chapters, mistakes are made.  Only after the girl leaves does the boy’s errors become evident in retrospect.”

“He misses little things at first.  A toothbrush on the sink, her scent on a pillow.  Then big things – the kind a person can hardly live without, once one’s had them.  A laugh, a smile – an embrace.  Losing those makes the boy want to change.”

“It’s been years now.  He’s figured out how to love the right way.  Maybe he’s ready for her now.  But when approached, she turns him down.”

““Our time has come and gone.” Words that sink a heart.”

“But from those words came a premise for the ending.  The boy would craft a narrative about love and redemption.  If she reads and believes it, their time could come again.”

“A long shot.  But writing allows the dream to linger.  When the script finishes, so dies the hope.”

“Oh wow. That is a bit sad.  So, you came on the cruise to write.”

“Yes.  The opening scene is on a boat.  So, this ship might inspire.”

The waiter came to ask about our food.  When he left, it was her turn.  “What about you – what’s your story?  Why are you on a world cruise by yourself?”

She glanced out the window, before looking back.

“I envy your possibilities – even if your chances are slim.  There is no going back for me.”

“I’m recently widowed.”

Her shoulders dropped as she sighed.

“It’s been a tough year.  I was having a hard time – everything around reminds me of him.”

“My sister suggested getting away.  So here I am.”

“Condolences for your loss.” 

“Thank you.”

“Is your story on your laptop?  Mind if I read what you have so far?”

“Really?  That would be awesome.”

I opened the laptop and handed it to her.

————

WW2 German and Italian subs sank 130 ships in the Bahamas. Wreckage near Bimini.

The Deuces: In the Windward Islands

A spring sun painted the sky orange as it rose.  Nick scanned west, where the air was still dim and the ocean dark.  Where a submarine might hide, with the freighter silhouetted against the dawn, a perfect target.

He glanced at the watches to make sure they were staying sharp.  They were.  Then his eyes took in thick puffs of coal smoke billowing out of the stack above.  Floating soot that would mark the ship’s position in the growing light.  But it couldn’t be helped. 

He walked into the wheelhouse. A couple hours of sleep would be nice.  “First Officer off the bridge.”

Suddenly one of the lookouts shouted.  “Torpedo starboard!”

A yeoman rang the klaxon and the steersman began turning the helm.  The boat would curve to the left, but not yet.  If the torpedo was running true, the Deuces would soon be a footnote in history.

Nick ran out on the wing.  He didn’t need binoculars to see the tail of the fish.  German torpedoes were still using steam drives and telltale bubbles broke the surface behind it.   It was running close, just yards abeam of their bow.

The tin pickle was going to miss forward.  What luck!  He looked for a second trail of bubbles.  But there was nothing.  He wondered why the German captain hadn’t fired a spread. 

A thousand yards away the sub’s periscope stared back at him.  It was moving slowly in the opposite direction.

Nick waited with dread for the U-boat to surface, so they could use their deck gun.  The freighter was helpless against it – not yet retrofitted with defensive armament.

“Full steam Charlie!” he shouted into the bridge.

The periscope disappeared.  After a while Nick began to think they might escape.  Underwater the submarine was slow.  Even this old crate could put it behind.  But on the surface the sub could catch up, so they weren’t safe yet.

Sleep must wait – he would stay with the watch. 

Hours later, a stationary low hanging cloud ahead announced their destination. It was hovering over Saint Lucia, meaning they would soon be safe in its harbor.

Nick relaxed and nodded at the yeoman.  “First Officer off the bridge.”  He went down to the parlour.  Janis was at their customary table. 

She looked lovely, hat askew above a ponytail – a coiffure not yet common.  A prim dress and flats completed her wardrobe.

Her face lit up when she saw him. 

“You had a busy morning.”

“Yes, I was going to catch forty winks before joining you for lunch, but the submariners had other plans.”

“The captain wants to leave Castries as soon as we offload cargo and bring on supplies – worried the sub will double back.  So don’t linger ashore if you step off.”

After a few pleasantries he stood up. “I’m going to get some shut eye.”

Nick’s cabin was shared with two junior officers, both absent on duty when he walked in.

He washed his face in a small basin, drying it with a towel which still had the stitching of the boat’s original livery – “La Deuxième Chance.”

The vessel had been French, but after Paris fell it came into the British merchant navy. A bureaucrat must have assigned an anglicized name to the ship. After today’s close call, Nick decided that he approved.

His head hit the pillow. As eyes closed, he saw the torpedo trail again. And then Janis, sitting in her lavender dress – the one he liked.

He cursed the submarine captain for making him miss their lunch.  But he would have a lifetime with her, God willing.

The Deuces was lucky to escape this fate…

————

The girl sitting across the table pushed the laptop back to me.

“I like it.”

“I want to read more, to see what happens.”

Was she just being kind?  Her body language conveyed naught.

“The first chapter is done.  But the rest is a bit of a struggle.”

She looked at me for a moment.

“How many segments of the cruise are you on?”

“The duration.  Round trip to Fort Lauderdale, disembarking in about ten weeks.”

“Ok.  Let’s make a deal,” she replied.

“I’ll read as you write.  I’m on the boat for six weeks.”

“Each morning you give me what you’ve written the day before.”

“You get a cheerleader and an easy critic. And a push to finish.”

“And I get…” she paused, glancing out at the shimmering sea. 

“…. I get a distraction.”

That sounded good to me. 

“I’ll do that deal.”

A wreck at Pristine Bay, Roatan.

Read the rest of the story – part of a two-novella paperback or ebook available at Amazon:

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