Second Chances
By: Pam Saraga
Tags: Short Story, Fiction, Sailing, Love, Magic

Photo by Anja Junghans on Unsplash

Love and magic are pretty much the same thing

The gentle swells rocked the forty foot sail boat almost putting Koloni Swartz to sleep. She loved living on the Namaka and seldom ventured into town for supplies, most of her needs were met by the sea. She ate fish and crab, boiled up kelp and sea lettuce for vegetables or tucked into a cove for coconuts. Sea water was desalinated into fresh in ample amounts. Anyway she couldn’t afford to get a permanent slip in the high priced marinas, even if she wanted one. It was a good life but she missed her husband, James. This boat had been their dream but he died almost five years ago and now she was alone.

The little money she needed came from her savings and her frequent dives to find oysters, fancy shells and lobsters to sell in town, that’s if she didn’t eat the lobsters first. And rarely an oyster would yield a pearl.

“Back to work,” She said out loud. Checking to make sure she remembered to put on some clothes. She went to the dive platform and slipped into the sea. She prayed to the sea goddess, “Protect me Namaka,” as she was taught to by her elders. Koloni felt safe in the ocean. The goddess had always provided for her people. The warm water held her in an embrace as gentle as the air held a bird in flight. But she had a job, paradise is expensive. This was a new area for her. The depth gage indicated a bottom between twenty to fifty feet. She kicked for the bottom. The clear water showed the outline of a wreck. A large ship was broken in half. It was old from the WWII era, must have been unlucky enough to be bombed by the Japanese. The only part of the ship that wasn’t encrusted was its name plate. It was called the USS Flint. Great area though, oysters loved ship wrecks. She took out her knife and gathered as many oysters as she could fit into her basket. She returned again and again until she had a large pile on the deck.

Exhaustion finally made her slip out of the water to rest and eat. She sat on a deck chair expertly shucking oysters. She checked for pearls and ate her spoils until she was rewarded by a small white pearl. She put it aside and continued. Three pearls later she was struggling with a huge unevenly shaped oyster. When she finally split it open a large, beautiful, green pearl swam in its slimy interior. “It must be 18mm and perfectly spherical,” She marveled. It would pay all of her expenses for years. It was a magical gift from the sea goddess. She remembered the myths about Namaka. She could grant anything. The sea had given her everything, yes everything but James. She carefully put the pearls in a cloth pouch and placed it in the small safe in her cabin. Its interior had been empty except for her wedding set and a limited visa card.

The chop came up and the seas where running in gentle three foot swells, nice sleeping weather. The roll and yaw of the ship put her to sleep quickly after the exertion of the dive. She awoke abruptly to a violent knocking and scraping on the starboard side of the hull. She at first thought that the boat slipped anchor and was bashing on the rocks. The hull was echoing with the force of the blows. Then she heard the voice. She ran to the gunnels just as a hand reached over the rail, followed by a waterlogged face with extraordinary green eyes. Koloni reached over the rail and helped pull the man on board. She scanned the horizon for a boat and saw only empty sea.

“Are you all right? She searched his soggy body. There were massive burns and scratches on his face and chest. A long gash ran the length of his arm. He lay dazed on the deck mumbling, “Thank God, Thank God.”

“What’s your name? How did you get here?”

He opened his mouth to reply and suddenly realized he had no idea who he was. “I’m sorry Miss., I have no idea.”

“No matter, I’ll fix you up the best I can and call the Coast Guard.”

Three days later her phone rang. The hospital called to say that John Doe would like to thank her. She was in town selling her pearls so she agreed to meet him at the hospital. The green pearl turned out to be worth forty thousand dollars; at least that’s what the broker gave her.

She met him at three and by ten she knew he was the one. They agreed on, William as a temporary name until he could figure out his real name. He loved the sea and when he saw her sail boat he asked if he could crew with her for a while. That was a good way to start, she thought. He slept on board in the lounge area that night. When she woke up the next morning she walked quietly past him. She noticed a tattoo of a ship, partially covered on his bandaged arm. The ship’s name was the USS Flint.