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The Ship Of Fools |
| Written by Robert Black | |
| Friday, 23 November 2007 | |
Nevertheless, she still served her purpose for the time being. ‘The Rubicanna’ as the ship, a ferryboat in reality, was officially known. Some folks called her ‘The ship of fools’, and I don’t know why, and neither do they. Yes, ‘The Rubicanna’, traveled all along the east coast, from coastal town to coastal town. She never stopped at any city harbor; there was no market for her there. And, lately she didn’t even bother to service northern towns; she just kept to the southern coastal towns, mainly between the small port towns of St Rascal, just ten miles outside of
With my ticket in hand I waited before the barriers of the pier. I wasn’t in a hurry to board just yet, besides I don’t think I could even if I wanted to, she didn’t tie up just yet. So, I found a nice spot on the west side of the pier and leaned on the railings and just looked out to sea. I remembered I had a bottle of ‘Southern Comfort’ with me and so I took a few drinks, just to pass the time.
I leaned on the railings, and just thought of how my boss called me earlier that morning and told me so politely to move out and get my self down to
He didn’t answer my second question but he did the first. He said: “That’s not my problem, it’s yours. So get the **** off your drunken ass and get there. On time!”
And so I did. I got off my drunken ass, chased the girl out my room and packed my bag. Got over to the airport, and caught the next flight to
And there I was, in St Rascal, outside
I thought about the time when I graduated from university with an engineering degree. My old man wanted me to be an engineer just like himself, and so I went to university and learned about that. In University I also learned how to drink like a man and how to have fun, with the girls. But, I also learned how to think by myself, and for myself. And so, when I graduated, with an engineering degree, I got a job as a reporter in the ‘Southern post’, because that’s what I really wanted to do. My old man wasn’t pleased, no doubt, but hell I had to make my own decisions in life. So I got a job working for the ‘Southern Post’ covering the small functions and get-together’s usually displayed on page 10 or 12 of the newspaper. I possessed an item called ‘Ambition’ back then and I figured if I worked hard then my time would come and I would get promoted. Maybe, I would get to do some real reporting, investigative journalism was my dream. But ambition and dreams fade away sometimes and you are just left with a mighty hangover and a sick cough.
Therefore when the thing called ‘Ambition’ was lost and when the dreams faded, I was just happy to get-on-by with an undersized pay-check and a son-of-a-bitch boss. Well, I wasn’t happy but just content. Hell, maybe not even content but just… I just accepted things as they were and didn’t complain, as long as earned something and so in turn could drink something and play some cards every now and then I didn’t care that much. I owned an apartment in
“All aboard! The Rubicanna, traveling from St Rascal to *** It took me a while to locate the bar. I knew some of these old boats kept a well stocked bar. It didn’t help that there weren’t any other passengers to ask for directions to the bar. “They all decided to stay in their cabins,” I thought. “That or I am the only passenger here.”
I finally located the bar, if you can call it that. It was a tiny room about the size of a jail cell and warm as an oven. An old wooden ceiling fan circulated the hot air a little bit and also provided a back ground racket: Click Clack Clack. The bar was empty except for the black barman who looked older than the ceiling fan, with a pair of old wrinkly eyes that have probably ‘seen it all’, and more.
I sat on the only available stool and said: “How about a drink?”
“That’s my job, what will it be?”
“Southern Comfort on the rocks, double.” I said and lighted a cigarette.
“Coming right up.”
I made myself at ease, drinking and smoking, and trying not to think about the heat or the dreary work I had in front of me: covering the god-damn farmers’ summit in
“Another?” asked the barman indicating my empty glass.
“Sure. Another and another, and then some more. When you see this here tumbler empty then you go on right ahead and pour me some. You don’t even need to ask.” So I took a few more drinks and then said: “Say, why is it so empty?”
“Well, you is the only passenger.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, we didn’t need no more.”
“You didn’t need any more? I reckon the owner of this boat would disagree with that statement there.”
“Well, no, the captain is fine with it. We only needed an engineer and we got one.”
“What?”
“Didn’t you hear me, boy?”
“I think I did. Who told you I am -or was- an engineer?”
“Well, the captain told us.”
“How does he know?”
“He knows everything.”
“Maybe you just guessed right or maybe you knew, somehow. Hell, I don’t know and I don’t give-.”
“Captain told me.”
“All right, the captain told you. So what are you saying?”
“Well, I am saying we needed an engineer and we sure got one.”
“Got one for what?”
“To work on this boat here.”
“I ain’t working on your damn boat mister. Are you a fool?”
“Well, we-“
“Well, hell!”
“We all is.”
“What?”
“Fools. We all is fools. Every single one of us on this here boat. You included.”
At that point I felt like smashing the bottle on the old fools head. God damn it, I just wanted to sit in peace and not be bothered by an old crazy fool.
“Listen,” he said, “you’ll find out soon enough so it won’t do much harm if I tell you. You ain’t gonna be getting out at the next port, not for at least ten years. That’s your sentence. You is a prisoner here. Yeah, hoot all you want boy, it ain’t changing the fact that you gonna be serving on this ship here for a long, long while.”
“Old man, I think the heat and the booze is giving you a headache. You should go lie down a while.”
“Boy, I served eight years on this here boat. Eight god damn years and I got eight more, that’s my sentence-“
“What sentence?”
“For wasting my life.”
“Aha, and my sentence is ten years?”
“That’s what the man said. Hell, you don’t believe me do you?”
“No, I don’t think I do but I’ll play along,” I said and lighted another cigarette. “Okay, let me ask you this: who passes out the sentences?”
“The captain.”
“Is he God?”
“No, he is a demon, but he can only be in command of certain type of peoples, peoples like you and me: drifters and time wasters.”
“I see.”
“You don’t believe me do you?”
“No, I still don’t believe you but keep filling my glass and I might in a while,” I said, “and let me ask you this: what if I was to jump off the boat, what then?”
“Boy! You think none of us tried? Hell, we tried everything a man can think of, there is no use. The moment you try to jump off, your legs freeze up on you and you can’t move no more but only to get back to your post.”
“That’s quite a story old man.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Sure it is, I believe you,” I lied. “Now get me one last drink, I’ll be off to my room to catch some sleep in a while and I’ll need this last one to knock me out cold and stop me from having nightmares of genies and spirits and flying Dutchmen. Go on now, get me that drink.”
I sat there finishing my last drink. I really needed to get some shut-eye, because the next day I would have had a hell of a job to do, covering that dull farmers’ summit. I was just about to get up and leave when an old sailor walked in the bar room and said, “Mr. Robert, sir. The captain will be seeing you now, to hand you your duties.”
*** There I was, in the port town of
“All aboard! The Rubicanna, traveling from St Rascal to
I didn’t get on the boat. I had other things to do. I had a job to quit, and a new life to live.
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