The thick gray fog hung over the harbor like a wet wool blanket, heavy and dripping, absorbing all sound, and making it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of the boat. We lowered the sail since it was soaked and with no breeze, had become useless. Besides, we dare not risk a gust of wind tugging on the sail when we couldnt see where we were headed. We stool on the deck, silent, trying to listen for any sounds and straining our eyes watching for rocks and shoals. We moved very slowly as our ship rocked gently, the only sound was the soft lapping of the water as it rocked us back and forth. We were unsure of our location and were being lulled into a trance like state. This was the danger of fog. We felt a gentle thump as the ship gave a slight roll to port. It was so gentle, we were not even sure if it had occurred. We were tense and uneasy as we tried to see ahead. Then the second bump. There was no mistaking it this time. It pushed us hard enough to turn us further port than before. James tried to keep us on an even keel and straight ahead, but whatever had pushed us was still there with a third hit. We were standing at the rails trying desperately trying to see what was hitting the underside of the ship. Then nothing. We sat perfectly still in the water, just gently rocking. I was shivering in my cold damp clothes as they were clinging to my skin. I had to change and headed below deck to put on some warm dry clothes and rain gear before heading back on deck. I even laid out clothes for James so he could change once I was back topside. suddenly we were hit hard forward on the starboard side and pushed port almost 50 degrees. I slipped and fell from the hit. My mind was racing as to what was happening, I knew we were not beaching or even hitting rocks or shoals, but that something, something very big, was hitting our boat! I quickly scrambled to the engine room to check for damage. Thankfully there was none found. I checked the galley and again found nothing. I climbed back topside and saw James at the helm holding fast. I could see a look of panic in his eyes. I informed him everything was good below and he needed to go change and that I would man the helm. I never let on, that I was afraid I would not be able to handle it if we took another hit, like the last one. We waited. Nothing. We had been sitting in the same place for almost and hour without any further hits, but the fog was growing thicker. I knew we were soon going to be enveloped by ice-fog. The fog so thick and cold it freezes everything. I told James that since we were not sure of our position and knew that nothing was moving in the fog, that we should drop anchor and wait it out. He was pondering the though when we were suddenly hit again! This time it was more aft on the starboard side and we were thrust forward. We scrambled to the rail in an attempt to see what was pushing us away from where we knew the harbor was, and out towards the open sea! Still we could see nothing. We could not hear the fog horn or see any light from the lighthouse we knew was on the point about a half mile away. There was no sound at all. No sea birds were calling or flying in this murky gray. We dropped anchor in our attempt to keep whatever was pushing us, from crashing us into the rocks or out to sea. We sat and waited. Night was falling and we had been trapped in this steely grip for over 12 hours. At least we had not been hit for the last two hours. I ventured below to try to heat some coffee and grab us some food to help sustain us through what we knew was going to be a long night. As I was standing in the galley fixing the coffee I suddenly heard a faint sound. The high pitched sound of a whale! I was near panic as I raced back up on deck and told James that we were being stalked by a whale or whales! He looked at me as if I had lost all my senses. But just then we were slammed with the hardest hit we had taken yet. This time it was directly mid ship on the starboard side. It knocked us both to the deck. I slid several feet as the ship rolled over at a sharp angle. James realized the the anchor was holding us and causing us to keel over with the hit. He jumped to the wench and began to furiously draw up the anchor as I held the the boat on an even keel as possible. We then felt the ship rock as we turned further to port, yet again. We were not even sure which way we were headed, but we knew we were in trouble. Another strong hit from aft, sending us forward with a bit of speed. We were sure we were going to crash into the rocks! Then it stopped. There we sat for another hour with nothing happening. We were exhausted from the anxiety and stress of the long day, and night was falling and still the thick freezing fog cling to us like thick mud. We knew there would be no sleep tonight. The best thing we could hope for was that the fog would lift and come morning we would be able to find our way to the harbor and safety. Little did we know, that was not the way things would happen. At a little after 4:00 A.M. we were sitting together on the bridge trying to stay awake, and talking softly, while keeping a keen eye on the deck in hopes we would be able to tell if the fog began to lift or we could see any lights from the lighthouse or shore. We were being lulled into sleep by the gentle rocking of the ship, and we were unaware that we were actually being pushed gently by the large whale under to ship. As dawn was approaching we both snapped our eyes open at almost the exact same time, realizing we had both fallen into sleep. We could tell the sky was lightening but still had the thick steel gray of the fog wrapped around us. We still had not become aware of the fact that we were now miles form where we thought we were. All day that day and again through the night, this went on for 3 more days. We were blissfully unaware that the whale was coming up as gently as a feather floating on water, and pushing us slowly wherever she wanted. And we remained tightly wrapped in this interminable heavy fog. Finally on the fifth day, as the sun came up, we could tell the fog was letting up and the sky was brighter than we had seen for the entire four days before. We began to think this was going to be the end of our voyage and we would be able to head for home. Ha! As we finally began to sail out of the fog we realized we were nowhere even remotely familiar. No coastline to be seen. Where the hell were we? Then as if on queue, the large gray whale surfaced near the ship and spouted. She then began to spy hop with us as we watched her in amazement. It was as if she wanted us to come play with her. James spent several hours working on figuring out where we were and how to get us back home, while I sat at the rail and photographed our whale as she breached over and over around us, as if to show us her joy at our being there. Finally she came alongside the ship and rubbed herself gently as if to ask for a scratch on her back. I finally complied and reached over and delicately stroked the smooth firm glistening skin as she rubbed against the side. It was exciting and made my heart just burst with joy. We continued this for a couple more hours. Finally she slipped under the surface of the water and we did not see her again, at least that night. James had determined where we were and how to get us home, so we planned on setting out first thing the next morning after some much needed sleep. We took turns taking watch, but we were both so exhausted we both dozed while on watch, blissfully unaware that our whale was hard at work yet again, slowly, gently pushing us along our way home. When we both rose that next morning we realized we were again miles from where we had been and where we were supposed to be. As the sun shone bright our whale surfaced and began her games yet again. Asking to be scratched and showing us her leaping ability. Then she resumed her position and she began to push us again. As we finally began to near our destination she came to us more and more as if asking us to stay and play. I would talk to her, as if she understood me. I explained we had to return to our home, that I would never forget her and how she gave me the privilege of allowing me to touch her. I spoke to her all along the way as we sailed closer to port. Finally she came up to the side and rolled onto her side, looked at me with her large eye, as if to tell me something. She blew and breached one last time, then she was gone. We never saw her again. As we arrived in the harbor, it was quiet and still. We could hear the church bells tolling on the hill above town. But it wasnt Sunday, so we knew some disaster had fallen to someone from the village. We tied up in our slip and headed to the shop just at the end of the pier. It was locked up tight, which was odd. They never closed. We thought they must have closed to attend whoever had dieds funeral. We climbed in our car and started for home. There were no cars on the streets and all the shops were closed. We were totally confused by this. We decided we would go by the church to see what had happened while we were away. As we stepped out of the car at the top of the hill we could see the cemetery beside the church proper. There were at least 10 large mounds of dirt piled beside newly dug graves. We looked at each other in silence. We stepped into the darkened gloom of the old church to see all the coffins lined across the front of the church. All the crying families at the front and every one else form town near the back. We slipped into a pew and watched. As the familiar face of Father McNeil came in from the door near the alter, he had the look a man haunted. He stood silent for several minutes before he was even able to begin to speak. Then he began to offer his condolences to all the families sitting there as we prepared to bury so many members of this small community. Still, James and I had no idea as to what had happened to all the men. They were not fisherman, so we knew it wasnt a ship that sunk, but what had happened? Shortly after we had gone from grave to grave saying prayers for each man, we started for our car. Father McNeil spotted us and came over. James asked him what ever had happened. Father McNeil spoke in a hushed tone as he said they did not know what had happened, but that when the thick fog-ice had set in all the men had been down at the docks, playing cards at the little market that served as the local market, pub, poker place, and general place to gather. He said that something had happened and the ten men had died when a cloud of methane gas had drifted into the fog bank and wafted ashore. All the men were heading home as they locked up. They had all breathed the poison and died. The EPA said it was some methane gas which can occur naturally as it bubbles up from the ocean floor, but with the fog, it had trapped it and allowed it to stay concentrated as it drifted into the harbor. Everyone who had been in the harbor that night died. James and I looked at each other in stunned silence. My legs felt weak and as wobbly as rubber. The color drained from my face and I feared I might faint. James caught me, and Father McNeil lead me to the car. I sat there stunned as the enormity of what had happened and that we would also have died if we had stayed in the harbor that night. And the fact that our whale , that had frightened us so, but she had saved our lives, returning us home when it was safe. As James and I drove home in silence we both pondered these facts. Once we were home we vowed to never speak about them to anyone in the village, since they would not have believed us anyway. but now every time we go out on the ship, I look for my whale, my guardian angle who pushed us away from danger, then brought us home again. I have never seen her again.
Posted on: Sun, 18 Jan 2015 21:33:02 +0000
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