Oh Captain, My Captain

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up–for you the flag is flung for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

–Walt Whitman

Isabelle stood on pier 57 and looked out over New York Harbor. The wind cut into the water creating white caps. She could hear the sound of the water slapping against the pier’s metal walls and the rush of people around her. The air smelled of steam and metal and coal. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She had never seen New York and began to wonder what it would have been like to come here with her father… or to take this, her first journey, across the Atlantic. She had spent the last three months planning this trip, wanting to make the most of her voyage to Oxford since she had never gotten the opportunity to travel far from home. She looked at her passport and boarding ticket and headed to the ship’s entrance ramp. As she entered the ship, she could feel its buoyancy. Her stomach turned and she felt like there was no gravity beneath her.

She closed her eyes for a moment and heard a friendly voice say, ” Miss, are you OK? Is there anything I can get for you?”

When Isabelle opened her eyes, there was a man of about thirty in a navy blue uniform smiling at her. He smiled so fully that she could not imagine him smirking or doing anything half-hearted for that matter.

“Oh, no I am fine. Thanks!” she grinned, “I am just not used to the feeling of being on a ship yet.”

“Just give it some time. You’ll get used to it,” he said.

Isabelle looked at the name tag pinned to the young man’s uniform. It read T. Holmes.

“Why thank you T. Holmes!” she smiled.

He looked at her oddly and then glanced down at his lapel.

“Oh! I always forget that they don’t put the first name on these things. The name is Theodore. But I go by Ted,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Ted. My name is Isabelle,” she reached her hand out to shake his.

It was then that the ship blew its horn and began to move. Ted took Isabelle’s hand and led her through the crowds of people and to the railing, They both waved to the people gathered on the pier. As the ship moved, Isabelle felt as if she were on the top of some planet looking down. She tried to imagine how this great ocean could dismiss such a massive steel object as this ship and cause it to float so weightlessly. She looked over at Ted and mouthed the words thank you and headed inside the ship. Ted followed her.

“Can I help you find your cabin?” he asked.

“That would be great! Thanks,” she said.

Ted and Isabelle walked down the long corridors and then to a flight of stairs, walking down one flight. It was the first cabin on the right. Isabelle took out her key and opened the door to a small cabin. Inside there was a double bed covered in a red velvet bedspread and a table and chair by the window. Isabelle was happy to see this quiet space because she knew it would give her somewhere to write and reflect.

“Thanks for all your help,” she smiled.

“No problem. I will catch you later,” Ted replied.

After Ted left, Isabelle unpacked and pulled out her world map. She ran her finger along the path that the ship would be taking. Tomorrow, the first stop would be in St. Johns, Newfoundland. She had only been to Toronto once with her father when they had crossed the Ambassador Bridge and drove to spend the weekend there. She recalled walking down Young Street holding her father’s hand. They were lost in a blur of people going in every direction. It was in Toronto that she felt it for the first time–the energy of a city–this thing that hooked her and made her want to see and experience the world for herself.

Darkness began to set in, and Isabelle changed her clothes and went up on the deck to see what it looked like now that the ship was fully out to sea. As she arrived on deck, she leaned over the railing and felt the ocean wind biting her cheeks. The sky had a few remnants of the day remaining in navy blue clouds patterned in thin lines against the burnt orange sky. She closed her eyes and let the rhythm of the sea internalize. Life was like this–everything had the rhythm of clocks, the urgency of time. But, even though there was a rhythm to this ocean, she still felt as if she was caught in the center of some wild thing. How she hoped that being here would remove the gnawing of her grief over her father’s death. She whispered something to him under her breath. And as the darkness settled over the sky and stars began to appear, she sat on a deck chair and felt the lullaby of the ship as it rocked up and down.

The constellations in the August sky were closer in this place. She felt a nudge on her arm… it was Ted.

“This sky is the reason I began to work on ships,” he said.

“Yes. I can see why,” she whispered.

“Cephius and Cassiopeia are so brilliant tonight!” Ted mused.

“Have you ever seen the Northern Lights?” Isabelle asked.

“Yes, I think the best display I ever witnessed was when I was in Iceland. The view there is so spectacular! Hopefully you will get the chance to experience it when we dock in Rekjavek,” he said.

“Oh that would be amazing!” Isabelle smiled.

“Yes, you will never get a better view of the Northern Lights anywhere. The city sky glows in green and blue electricity,” he murmured.

After he said this, they simply sat and listened to the water creating staccato and then gushing sounds against the ship. And she felt the sound, the rocking of the water and looked up at the sky and became drunk for the first time on the possibility of what life could really be.