Jumping Ship
                                                                    by DAF

                                                Standing at the ship's railings, smoking and with the fresh smell of whisky on his breath looking out at the port, was like having a knife stabbed into his back. He hadn't been 'home' for twenty-two years now .. yes, he came into 'this' port often but never left the ship. It was a cold night, cold outside and cold inside, in spite of the couple of shots of whisky he had taken before going on deck. The ship had been in port for two days now waiting to be unloaded with its forty-foot containers but they were on hold. The weather, doing its best, had slowed things down in the port to slow motion and everything was running behind time. He was uneasy and getting more disturbed in his mind the longer they were in port. He wanted to go to sea and the sooner the better. He could tell that things here had not changed much at all, in fact, the dock was the exact same dock he stood on twenty-two years ago. Now he was feeling more sick and disturbed inside his head the longer they stayed in port. Crazy thoughts were taking over with the memories running inside his mind like a badly made film that he has seen far too many times to go through it again. He moved away from the railings, flicking his cigarette overboard and watching it disappear into the darkness he turned quickly to move down below when he heard the captain's voice calling him,
''Lucifero... I want a word with you on the bridge''.

                               The captain was an old 'sea dog', one of those captains that would go down with his ship. Lucifero was now standing beside the captain and in spite of being on the bridge out of the cold, he was shivering like a naked man in the snow.
''Lucifero .. we have known each other for a long time now, what is it, fifteen years now you are with me, come something like that, anyway''.
 Lucifero moves from one foot to another just short of doing an 'Irish Jig' on the spot in his steel-toed boots trying to keep warm and looking for 'port-side-answers' and said...
 ''Yes captain''.
The captain looked somewhat frustrated at the short answer he got but kept his cool and said...
''This is your home port, is it not''...
asked the captain, who was looking at Lucifero's face now and knowing deep down that any answer to his questions might not be answered and so decided to back off and change the subject. Lucifero, now looking lost in thought, did not answer the captain, there was no answer that he wanted to give. The captain took no offense by it. They all knew Lucifero kept to himself in the engine rooms and had not much to say to anybody at the best of times. Took his meals on his own most of the time too and would watch a football game in the evenings with his mates but never got excited like them over football. He was not a 'team player' in life. He was a loner and liked it that way. The captain respected Lucifero. Good at his job and made no trouble for him, if all the crew were only like him he would say... ''He would be the captain of a ghost ship''.
None of the crew knew his real name. 'Lucifero' was a nickname given to him many years ago because he liked to work in the engine rooms of ships. He took pride in his 'nickname' and would think about it with a smile on his face, something that nobody ever saw him do. The engine rooms were hot and noisy, maybe just like what you would expect Hell to be .. and all that metal around him talking from the depths within. Well, he felt he was in control of a powerful beast moving across the seas. He was well 'nick[ed]-named' .. Lucifero. 

                                            Lucifero went to his cabin giving the excuse to the captain that he was not feeling well. The captain was uneasy with his own feelings but let it go .. for now. When a man spends twenty-two years at sea, speaks of no family, and keeps to himself you tend to give him a wide 'berth'. Six in the morning and Lucifero was not to be found. He did not turn up for breakfast and his bunk was not slept in, he was not in the engine room, but the boilers were 'humming' nicely like angels singing from 'Above' trying to calm angels 'Below'. The captain's 'feelings' were becoming a reality. Lucifero had 'jumped ship', and they had started to unload now with the intention of going to sea in three days' time .. weather permitting. He could not wait for him if he did not turn up. Lucifero knows 'jumping ship' was an offense, but the captain decided he was not going to write it up in the log, he will give Lucifero time and the benefit-of-the-doubt, and besides, he has his 'feelings' as to where Lucifero might be going.
                                           Lucifero was on the road now when it started snowing again and well out of the port by the time it was discovered he had 'jumped ship'. He was making his way 'home' if there was anything left of it and the mother that rejected him while he was still in her womb .. the result of a rape is what she called it. If she was still alive he wanted to know did she still feel the same way about him and could a mother really reject her own flesh and blood. She had her own problems too, so never married in her life. The so-called 'father' ran off to sea when she told him she was pregnant with his child. Over the years he would send money back to her and for 'that bastard' as she is prone to say when in one of her moods. As for the father's 'sin', he lived with his guilt as a man does and she did for both of them .. living out their lives in unspoken pain. She would 'escape-the-pain-of-reality' by taking to her bed for days on end with fits of depression and leaving the boy to fend for himself. It all became too much for Lucifero when she would stand over him and beat him black and blue in one of her 'fits' into the corner for no reason at all at the time but for the 'reality-reason' that he was born. He had put an end to her life and the plans she had for it. She tried to abort him but was not brave enough to do so, too much guilt was already killing her that he was 'conceived' by a 'rape' .. but, she did it in her mind, abort, and did a good job of it too. Lucifero was born with deep-rooted feelings of being rejected that stayed with him every day, till this very day.
                                           Lucifero was standing on the other side of the street, cold in mind, body, and spirit, and lighting up another cigarette. The front door of the house was the same colour blue he painted all those years back. By now it could well do with a new coat of paint. Looking at the door, the bad memories came back to him. That 'knife' was turning in his back now as it did then. In a daze, he could hear his own gentle knocking on the door in the hope that it would not be heard from inside. His legs were weak and his heartbeat was racing far too fast, he felt he was going to get sick and throw up on the step. He so much wanted to walk away now but his legs would not carry him, he was 'rooted' to the spot. He wanted to be back in his engine room with its 'comfort' smell of diesel and the suffocating heat and deafening noise of the 'sweet-hum' of the boilers. He wanted to be anywhere but here at this blue door. After what seemed an eternity he managed to 'get-it' together and was moving away from the door when it opened.
''Yes''..
said the woman standing there in her housecoat that had seen better days. Lucifero turned slowly around, looking at the ground at first and slowly forcing his head in her direction and avoiding her cold gray eyes .. but the words would not come out. She stood looking at him, as lost as he was, and was about to close the door when he said, choking from in-side-out...
''Why... Why''.
The woman was now searching her mind and his face, her scrambled thoughts looking for some recognition of the man standing at her door, and then she said in a voice that had already spoken through too much cigarette smoke, asked...
''Is it you .. it is you .. you are my 'lost son' that ran away to sea''... 

                                              Lucifero was numb, like one of his bad hang-overs when he found himself sitting in the small kitchen at the back of the house looking out to the sea and smelling of fish from last night's cooking .. whisky in hand and the woman sitting opposite lighting up another non-filtered cigarette looking a lot older for her years, but older than that. The old clock was still in its same place on the wall with its brass pendulum swinging from left to right, doing what it always did. It was the only thing he was sure of that was going to do the right thing within the next second .. not even his brain could react that fast now. No words were spoken between them for some time .. maybe for a long time. He was trying hard to get his thoughts together when he heard his own voice in time with the clock on the wall asking...
''How come you know my nickname''.
Coughing up smoke and black mucus and if she was on her own she would go to the kitchen sink and spit. She looked at him with held-back tears welling up in her eyes, stubbing out her half-smoked cigarette and reaching for another for the sake of doing something with her hands .. said...
''The captain on your ship ..... he ........... he's your father''.    
 
                                                                                                                          <<<<>>>>

 

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