Wednesday, January 9, 2013

An excerpt from TF, Chapter 3, "Sea Legs."

Here is a fun clip from the early interaction between Jake Sloan and US Coast Guard Petty Officer Charlie Beckwith.

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Standing at the railing outside the bridge, starboard side, he looked across a sea that went on and on. The sky was mostly clear, save for a few high-elevation clouds and a white condensation trail from a lone jet. Moisture hung close to the sea, making the horizon indistinct. He imagined the southern Alaskan coast just beyond the horizon, but knew it must be much farther away.
“It seems to go on forever, doesn’t it?” Charlie stepped through the door behind him, and leaned forward against the rail at his side. Jake’s insides gave a little flutter as her shoulder brushed against his. He could smell her perfume now; it surprised him, as he assumed no female sailor would wear perfume. Guess I was wrong.
“It does,” he said. “I was just imagining where the Alaskan coastline was beyond the horizon. How far do you think we can see from here?”
“My guess would be about ten to fifteen miles. That is, on a clear day.”
“So there are hundreds of miles between us and land in that direction,” he said, nodding toward the east.
“Yep. And if we go a little over three thousand miles south”—she pointed that direction—“it takes us very close to Hawaii.”
“I see,” said Jake, enjoying the view, briefly catching Charlie’s scent again. What is that perfume? Seems so familiar.
They were quiet for some time, looking out at the flowing sea. The white line of foam broke away from the side of the ship. The salty air blew past them. After a while Jake noticed Charlie staring at him, not smiling, not frowning. Just looking, contentedly.
“What?” he said, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. “Did I spill something?” looking at his shirt quickly.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” She looked away, then back again, as if not sure what to say. “I was just thinking.”
 “Ah, thinking. Uh-huh. But you were staring at me,” he said, still wondering what it meant.
“Well, it just occurred to me that you’re very peaceful.”
“Peaceful?”
“Yes. You don’t seem all tied up about … anything, really.”
“Am I supposed to be?” Jake asked, half laughing at the idea, trying to keep the mood light, because it suddenly felt rather serious.
“No. I mean, I’ve never met someone, a guy, who wasn’t uncomfortable with something, who wasn’t always after something, going somewhere.”
“You mean they’re driven to achieve?”
“No,” she said, sounding apologetic. “I don’t mean that at all. I’m just talking about being at peace where they are. Not many can do that, in my experience. But you seem to do it quite easily. It’s … calming. I find that I’m constantly at something, working on one problem or another.”
Charlie looked out across the blue-gray waves. “On the ship, especially, it’s rush to this, hurry to that. I thrive on it, actually. I’m just that way.” She paused. “But I miss relaxing, or stopping to see, to really see what’s around me. Like all this beauty out here.” She waved her hand toward the open ocean.
“It is beautiful,” he said, gazing out at the deep blue water beneath them. Jake thought about what she had said for a while, then noticed her furtively looking at him again.
“I’m sorry, Jake,” Charlie said quickly. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine,” he said, “not a problem.” The two-year difference in their ages suddenly seemed much wider. He half-suspected that she was a little older than nineteen. Was she telling the truth? She wouldn’t have any reason to lie. It would take a mature person to do well in the military. And that’s obviously her gift.
Charlie straightened. “Hey, you want the rest of the tour?”
“Sure. We have yet to see the front half of the ship, right?”
“Right. Let’s head down from the bridge, to the lowest level, come up through each deck, then I’ll take you to the fo’c’sle. We can work our way backward from there.”

Jake followed her inside, past his father and the captain, who were in the middle of a conversation about tides. They climbed down the hatchway and walked forward. “What is a fo’c’sle?” he asked as they walked up the sloping deck toward the bow of the ship.
 


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