The Seafarer

 

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Roddy knew he wasn’t supposed to take the dinghy out without a grown up-- his father had told him so many times. But, his track record with following directions being what it was, it didn’t take him long to give in to temptation.

At first, rowing the dinghy around the cove was just as much fun as he’d expected. The sun was warm on his back and the salty sea air was invigorating. The water was a beguiling blue-gray, and the spray kicked up by the oars was refreshing on his face.

Roddy rowed, moving steadily towards the small island just past the edge of the cove. He’d seen it from the back seat of the car the day they arrived, and had known immediately that he wanted to explore it.

As islands went it wasn’t particularly large, but large enough to have a small stand of trees looming over a narrow strip of sandy beach. Roddy envisioned himself grilling hot dogs on a fire he made himself, then napping under the trees before rowing back across the cove, ultimately getting back to the bungalow before his parents returned from the farmers market in Orleans.

That was the vision--but in actual fact he’d forgotten to bring the hot dogs and it had taken him longer than expected to get the hang of moving the dinghy in anything but a wobbly circle. But at least he would get to say he'd explored a deserted island, and that was still something.

Roddy paused his rowing to look around and take stock of his progress. The sun was high overhead now, and the dock he’d started from at the end of the garden looked tiny in the distance. When he looked in the other direction, however, the island didn’t seem much closer.

Roddy frowned, perturbed. His shoulders were starting to ache in a less than pleasant manner and the warm sun that had felt so good on his back earlier was starting to burn his neck.

His enthusiasm dulled, Roddy resumed rowing. He gritted his teeth and put his best effort in for what felt like an hour, but turned out to only be fifteen minutes when he checked his father's heavy watch, which he'd borrowed for the occasion as it had a compass in it. To his horror, the island now appeared further away than ever. He tilted his wrist left and right, trying to read the compass, but the needle on the little dial just swiveled around meaninglessly. 

One thing, however, was clear. Somehow, in that last frenzy of rowing, he’d gotten himself turned around and was going in the exact opposite direction. This was a problem because now he was a good ways out from the mouth of the cove. The current out here was much stronger, and in fact was pulling the dinghy out into deeper waters.

Roddy hated to admit defeat, but his island dreams were rapidly slipping away. He knew he needed to figure out how to get the dinghy turned around and headed back to the dock. He dipped the oars back into the water and got to work trying to spin the dinghy around. Despite a lot of thrashing and heaving--and a little bit of cursing--the dinghy was still drifting in the wrong direction. 

Realizing he would probably die, and his parents would never know what became of him, Roddy flopped down in the bottom of the little boat and threw an arm over his face. He wasn't one for crying, much, but tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes and dripping uncomfortably into his ears. He supposed dying would be horribly painful, and a shudder went through him at the thought. 

Abruptly, he sat up, having remembered there was a life vest under the seat. He dragged it out and shrugged into it awkwardly. It was a size or so too large for him, but wearing it made him feel safer. Guiltily, he realized he should have put it on before he even left the dock. But if he did die, at least now they would find him wearing the life jacket and his mother would not be able to say she told him so. 

At some point, the sunlight on the water and the rocking of the dinghy must have lulled him into a doze, because the next thing Roddy knew someone was yelling to him from across the water. He startled awake, surprised to see a large lighthouse looming over him and what appeared to be the Lighthouse Keeper waving at him from the jetty. 

Roddy grabbed for the oars and started rowing frantically. Luckily, this time he was able to move the dinghy in the direction he wanted to go--away from the rocks, toward the little stripe of beach at the base of the jetty. 

"Ahoy there, young man!" The Lighthouse Keeper waded into the water to grab the rope trailing from the front of the dinghy, then started trudging back toward the sand, towing the little craft behind him. "You ought not to have gone out on your own, I'm sure you know that. You're lucky the tide was turning, else you'd have been out to sea." 

The man helped a very sore and sunburned Roddy out of the dinghy, then escorted him up the beach to the base of the lighthouse, where he sat him on a bench in the shade and brought him a bottle of water. "I'll need to call your folks so they can come get you." The Lighthouse Keeper said, not unkindly. 

Roddy had hoped they could keep this whole incident between themselves, but as he had no idea where he was or how to get home, there was nothing for it but to give the man his father's mobile phone number. 

He had survived being lost at sea only to now be killed, or at least permanently grounded, by his very own parents. "I'm going to be in so much trouble." He whispered to himself, as the phone began to ring. 

#Flashfiction

#Coming of Age

#Kids

#Lighthouse

#boats