Target Practice

I headed east under grey skies free off the machinations of amateur and undisciplined crew. The sea was soft and murky. The wind moved at a barely discernable five knots from the north. It was just enough to keep the main and mizzen full, but not enough to keep the 150 Genoa from collapsing and filling with an awkward thud. The frantic pressing forward to reach Greece and pick up my charter gave way to gentle acquiesce of a turtle’s never ending pace. Before leaving I contacted my Chef/mate girlfriend Laura. She was back packing with two girlfriends through Europe while I made the crossing. We would meet in Palermo Italy in four days. To say the yachting world is a man’s world would be an understatement, but Laura with her beauty, genuine smile, and vivacious personality fitting into this world and its demands was simply natural. She made life fun and hardship a joke. My guests loved her cooking. She was in fact better at chartering and entertaining than I. Over the last two years she carried the brut of entertaining guests. Our team work was flawless. While attending to my duties as a captain, sailing and maintenance, she carried on with the small talk. She made friends easily. Every evening after dinner I would appear in the cockpit with the guests and do what I like to think of as performance art. I would tell stories. When the final story had been told, the last of the dishes and brandy glasses cleared, and the guests stumbled off to their cabins to sleep we would retire to our cabin and make love. I was in love. I was deeply in love. I had two more days of sailing then two days of waiting then I could pick up my beautiful dream come true. I was nestled into the cockpit with a clear view of the sea thinking and yearning over our rendezvous when I spotted a yellow light directly on my course. I grabbed my binoculars and zoomed on the light. At first I thought it was a barge, but I couldn’t see the tug’s tree of lights. Could it be a barge just floating alone in the sea? I checked my book on navigation lights. If this had been a question on the captain’s examine I surely would have gotten it wrong. I altered course. Then searching through all the pages of arcane but important information I found that a submarine when on the surface was only required to have a yellow light. The closer I got I made out sub’s tower. There were no markings. I waved to them as I passed. Brilliant a sub, one more interesting if not obscure sighting in the world of shipping and navigation added to my list. So I went back to pining and dreaming. The next day I was dozing in the cockpit. The sun warmed my face and my dreams about seeing Laura again grew into full blown fantasy. The submarine surfaced to my port scaring the shit at of me. What they did they want? They hung around for thirty minutes. I called them on the radio. No answer. Then they slipped beneath the surface of the sea. The next night I caught site of the yellow light following my course. Honestly, I found it unnerving. My dreams about Laura turned into questions about her commitment to me. Maybe she found a boyfriend on her journey. I imagined some suave Frenchman with whose only attributes were my flaws, plus the newness of her adventure. The next day I was sailing down the coast of Sicily just minutes from the commercial port of Palermo when I spotted the submarine’s black tower off in the horizon. I imagined they were using me as target practice, but what they didn’t realize it was my heart they were shooting at with their fake torpedoes.
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