Sailing away, getmyboat.com
There are revelations that can put a mind into a state of stupor, of such profound unexpectedness and surprise that the faculties of thinking freeze, so to speak, overwhelmed with an infinitude of new possibilities, as at the end of that sonnet by Keats, when Cortez climbs a mountain range and is the first European to view the wide Pacific:
“Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific, and all his men
Look’d at each other with a wild surmise,
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.”
I don’t remember when I fell asleep or what I said or what she possibly replied. I can only guess that I told her I loved her and that I was hers with all my heart at such news.
We awoke in each other’s arms to the sound of a horn honking or rather blaring, and then the noise of our front gates scraping on the pavement of the driveway. We rose after a kiss and dressed. We didn’t make the bed. I threw the sheets on the floor. I didn’t want some stranger to be sleeping in it so easily.
Downstairs Charlie and Jason had the front door wide open. Two soldiers were present, and Charlie was giving them instructions as to which boxes to load up. There was a green army truck out in front. A moment later Naomi was leading her mother and the Abbotts up some fold-out steps into the back of the vehicle. There were two benches along each side, with all the luggage sitting in the middle.
“So this is it” I said to her, running up, “so off you go.”
“No Roland this is just temporary you silly fool. Like the governor said, they’re taking us to Angel island, to a radio station. From there with a good telescope, we can practically see this house, and we’ll be talking to you every day.” She gave me a warm kiss, and I wondered how she knew about my most pressing concern.
The truck was loaded up, along with Charlie, Naomi and Jason. It set off down the hill, all of us waving furiously, especially Scout, who was sad to see Naomi carried away. Her mother was holding her other hand. We turned back into the house awaiting another truck.
I pulled Claire gently by the hand into the library.
“Claire, I don’t want you lifting anything or even doing anything. Will you promise me that?”
She giggled. “I’ll be alright and can take care of myself and as I just heard Naomi say, you are a ‘silly fool’, but I love you.”
About a half hour later the other truck pulled in to take us away.
Samantha and Jaime and Jane were the first at the door, directing two more soldiers what to load up. Scout was holding Mary’s hand, watching the whole event just as Claire was holding mine and I felt like Scout, a child, heading off into some deep unknown, full of wonder, parenthood.
With all of the boxes and suitcases packed, when it was our turn to board the truck, I panicked. The others were already seated. I made sure I was the last in line to take a seat. But at that moment I bolted, saying that I’d forgotten something and that I had to retrieve it.
The others just sat there fancying my whim. I ran into the hallway, looking up, as if to the clouds. I was half delirious, mad, not knowing what I was doing. But a persistent thought was pressing on my brain. I was forgetting something, something important but I knew not what.
It struck me as odd. ‘How can you forget something but still know you forgot it’.
I looked up again, not to the ceiling or some imaginary clouds but some divinity, the spirit of the house. I was on my knees on the floor on the exact spot where we’d dragged the dead Russian right after I’d killed him. I left that spot and ran up the stairs to my bedroom, glancing at the bed and the sheets on the floor as I went by. Then past that to the tower library. In a flash, I knew what I was looking for. It was the copy of Erasmus’ book ‘the Praise of Folly’ which I’d read on that first night of enlightenment.
It was still there, in its pale blue cover, being a cheap paperback edition and not one of the gilded books I’d stashed away. Right away I realized my own folly in the choice of books I’d stashed in the panic room. I didn’t go by content. I went by totally worthless embellishments. Now I had to leave. I grabbed the slim volume and stuffed it into my back pocket racing down the stairs. And halfway down I had another epiphany, the important one and I remembered what I’d forgotten.
I could hear Scout’s voice, as if at the end of some long tunnel, and she was yelling: “Come on Roland, come with us. We have to go.”
It was the house. It had a life to it. I looked up again at the stairway ceiling and said: “So long my friend. I’ll be back.”
What I’d forgotten was to say ‘goodbye’.
As the truck pulled slowly out of the driveway and down the winding lane, I made one last mental picture of my home. The neighborhood was deserted this morning, silent and somehow lonely. Nobody was on the streets. Such hordes of people had left the day before that it might well have been a ghost town. Only when we reached the campus did I see activity. There, a small group of older people and a few soldiers were milling about with two old school buses parked by a curb with their engines humming.
Down the avenues towards the Oakland pier, we passed other stragglers in small groups heading north. I wished that everyone would leave as they were told to, but I knew human nature too well to trust in that. One of the soldiers who helped us load up was sitting next to me, and I asked if there’d be patrols to round up those reluctant to leave.
“We haven’t been told anything of that sort yet. Right now we’re still setting up posts and perimeters. I know there’s going to be a permanent one at the university. It’s designated an asset, and from there they’ll probably run patrols. Why, is it your house you’re worried about?”
Once again I was struck with the fact of another person guessing exactly my thinking. I was getting used to it with Claire, but a total stranger. Was it written on my face?
“Why yes, of course” I replied.
“We’ll do what we can to keep the peace” was his not too reassuring reply.
At the quay, our launch was once again waiting for us. With the soldier's help, we loaded up our many boxes and bags and then ourselves. As we approached the ‘Gitgo’ I could see three empty dinghies tied off to one side. Mr. Higgins was in the cockpit with Ken and three other men grouped around, all looking at a large chart spread out on the rear deck. Higgins was smoking a pipe and cut quite the figure with his cap and bushy eyebrows and chiselled features. He was in his element now, explaining the course he planned to take to Tahiti, down the coast and within sight of land to the tip of Baja, to test the vessels, then veering southwest in a long sweep into the blue ocean.
As we approached, the men left off their talk and began helping us on board, leaning over the side and pulling us up with one arm. Helen had just stepped out from the hatch, and as the women boarded first and then Scout, I could hear her say with each one of them, “oh my”.
When I climbed aboard, she came to me and said: “Roland, I never expected such a troupe of women. I thought maybe there would be one, Scout’s mother, and I be outnumbered by men five to one as I usually am on our yachting trips.”
“No, you’ll have a whole flock of femininity to revel in. May I introduce Scout’s mother, Mary and her partner Jane, lesbians, and here’s Samantha, Jaime’s partner and Claire, my inamorata, who also happens to be newly pregnant, so you should have a gaggle of women’s issues to discuss. And let me not forget Scout here, the darling of my heart”.
Helen knelt, looked Scout in the face and took her by the hand. “And what a darling you are, come, I can’t wait for you to meet my children.”
They disappeared into the cabin. We began hauling in our gear. Ken took us below deck and showed us four double berths in the back center of the boat, two on each side, each with its private bathroom and told us to take our picks. There were two more staterooms in the rear, one for Mr. Tanaki, the other for Ken and his wife. The children had their bunks in the forecastle and Higgins the last cabin. It was decided by Ken after meeting and seeing such a fit crew, that his two deckhands, Tom and Adam, would sail with the Herberts who could use the help, their other guests being in their sixties.
So all was settled. The dinghies made their way back to their respective crafts and as we unpacked and settled in the sails were hoisted. We were underway, towards the Golden Gate, ten vessels in all and ours in the lead, Higgins at the wheel. Samantha was right there on deck as we set out, in her green shorts and a tank top, bare feet, handling the rigging with Ken, skipping like a pro from one side of the boat to the other in the flash of an eye. She had sailed before in competitions. I don’t know if there was any sport she hadn’t tried.
The three children now joined me in the cockpit, Helen leading them out, spectators to the show. They were already laughing and holding hands and delighted by the motion of the boat whenever it took a swift dip and the sea spray blew into their faces. Claire joined me, and we sat tight together, arms locked tightly around one another. I felt as happy as the children, perhaps more so, like a baby in a rocking cradle. Then somehow I fell asleep.
When I awoke, I could see we were just leaving the bay and turning south. My head was on Claire’s shoulder and I was a little embarrassed at having nodded off.
“Sailing on a sunny afternoon will do this to anyone” Helen said kindly.
Then Claire led me by the hand to our cabin, out of the sun, for the rest of the afternoon.
