A Fiction: Part IX

V

At promptly 2:59am, the last rope is untied from the dock, and the Angel’s Head is away. At first we only seem to drift off and I wonder if something may be wrong. But suddenly the engines burst to life, and we quickly reach cruising speed as we draw away from land. With the exception of the captain and the executive officers in the control room, the entire population of Angel’s Head is on deck to say our last goodbyes to land for God knows how long.

I lean over the back rail by myself sipping from a bottled water I found in the small chiller in my room. I reach into my shirt pocket and pull out the earth filled cellophane I had collected on shore. Careful not to lose it in the breeze, I empty the contents into my cupped right palm. In my left, I tip my open water bottle until a thin stream pours into the earth. I stare transfixed as the earth is washed away into the endless ocean below, until finally there is nothing but cool clean water in my hand. I raise it up over my head and let it fall into my hair and down my face; a quick refreshment before the long days work ahead.

I hear footsteps approach behind me. I turn to see Hawthorne lean on the rail beside me.

“I haven’t properly introduced myself. Elijah Hawthorne is the name.” He extends his hand.

“Pleased to meet you, sir. I’m Cole, sir,” I say and shake his hand.

“No ‘sirs’, Cole. Please just call me ‘Hawthorne’. So are you ready for the long trip?” he asks.

“Not 100% sure what to expect to be frank, Mr. Hawthorne. They haven’t told me much.”

“And they won’t. My work is of the utmost… delicacy, Mr. Cole. I’m sure you understand. But I expect things will be a bit clearer as we go along. Can’t be helped.” He pats me on the back and steps away towards the front of the ship. Delicacy. A curious word, I think to myself. I walk to the front deck of the ship and spot Hendricks and soon we are down below for a long day of labor.