~ ~ ~
“Let’s see where we’re headed,” Inés says from behind the wheel of The Sea Witch. She beckons to me to come join her.
The boat is heeled hard to one side, the mainsail full, pulling us forward towards the horizon. Behind us, the lights of Greywater Arm are fading in the distance.
I hold the railing to keep my balance and make my way to the stern of the boat, pulling the kelpwood compass from my pocket and springing it open. There’s a small battery-powered light for reading charts, and I hold the compass under it. Inés watches as the needle swings and points directly into the storm ahead.
“Should we go around it?” I ask, watching the clouds light up with lightning.
“There’s no going around it, b’y,” Inés says. “That beast of a storm is the edge of the Morrow Line, and exactly where we’re headed. ‘Tis no easy crossing, not by any stretch. Esteban and I did it some forty years ago with a crew of twenty.”
“What happened to them?” I ask.
“The Morrow Line took them. Some tales say it’s a way to keep our worlds apart, some say it’s a challenge only the worthy can overcome. Either way, it broke our spirits, broke our ship, and then drowned our crew. ‘Twas stupid luck that Esteban and I survived.”
Inés’s eyes are fixed on the storm ahead. We’re making good speed and are almost onto it. “Here,” she says, opening a locker in a bench beside her and pulling out a worn green life vest. She hands it to me. “Might be some big on you, my dear,” she adds.
As I pull the vest on and adjust it, she asks, “You can swim, my son?” I shake my head no, but she’s so focused on the sea ahead that she doesn’t see me. “No,” I say clearly, speaking up over the storm.
“Curse that woman,” Inés mutters under her breath, then, clearly intended for me, “Now you listen to me, the whole time, even if it feels wrong.” I nod my head, then, remembering her focus, I say it out loud: “Yes.”
The storm is right on top of us now. The dark water is getting tossed about, little waves from every direction slamming into each other. The rain starts, and the wind cuts through the thin dress shirt I’m still wearing. Inés stands at the helm, staring down the storm, leaving the mainsail full.
The first of the rolling waves comes under us. I feel the pitch as we ride over it, back and forth. I squint my eyes, looking ahead, but in the darkness and rain I can barely see past the bow of the boat. The compass. My mind jumps to it, and I open it carefully. The needle is still pointing forward, still pointing into the storm.
“HOLD TIGHT!” Inés shouts. I grab the railing with both arms just as the boat swings wildly, the sail going slack, and then is jostled sideways by a huge wave.
“What was that?” I ask.
“Rogue wave,” Inés says, bringing the boat back on course. “If that had caught us beam-on, she’d have capsized.”
I imagine my dad alone on a boat in a storm like this seven years before. Everyone said he was a great sailor, even Inés. Surely if Inés and I could make it through, so did he.
“Are we almost across it?” I ask, feeling my stomach drop as we ride a large rolling wave.
“HA!” Inés gives a laugh. “We haven’t even begun, b’y.”
Suddenly I hear a crackle of static, and a voice. I look at the helm and see a light on the radio.
“Sea Witch, Sea Witch, Sea Witch, this is Greywater Arm Harbour Master.” The voice is garbled by the radio static, but it sounds like Reverend Hiscock. “Repeat, Sea Witch, Sea Witch, Sea Witch, this is Greywater Arm Harbour Master, please respond.”
“What do they want?” I ask Inés.
“Leave it be,” she tells me, her hands firmly clenched on the steering wheel, eyes locked ahead as we ride another roller.
“Sea Witch, Sea Witch, Sea Witch, we have a message here for Mateo.” At the mention of my name, my attention narrows in on the radio. “Mateo, my son, if you can hear us, please respond.”
“They’re calling for me. What should I do?” I ask Inés.
“I told you, leave it be,” she says, a look of dread on her face as she holds the wheel steady.
“Sea Witch, Sea Witch, Sea Witch, this is Greywater Arm Harbour Master. Mateo, if you can hear us, Nora is hurt. You have to come back.”
“Nora!” I call out. My mind races through what could have happened, then it hits me. When I ran off she was still hiding. What if she went looking for me and fell off the cliff?
“We have to go back!” I call to Inés. She won’t look me in the eyes and just stares fixed ahead, her knuckles turning white as she grips the wheel. “No” is the only thing she says.
“Sea Witch, Sea Witch, Sea Witch, Mateo, Mateo, please, if you can hear us. Nora fell from the cliff. Your mom is here. They’re going to take her to the hospital, but they’re not sure if she’s going to make it. Mateo, please, turn around, come back.”
My stomach sinks. It was stupid coming here, running from home to go on some dumb adventure to find a father who had clearly been lost at sea after going on his own dumb adventure.
“We need to turn around!” I yell to Inés, but she doesn’t move. I let go of the railing, lunging forward, almost losing my balance on a rolling wave, and slam into her.
She’s bigger than me, but with my full body I manage to knock her off balance. She falls forward, grabbing a seat. The wheel spins wildly, and the boat turns hard to port, the wind going out of the sail. Gaining my footing, I grab the wheel and pull it back, straightening the boat. Another roller hits us, this time from the rear first, and we ride it. The sail is still slack, but squinting through the darkness and rain, I think I can make out the lights from Greywater Arm.
The radio is right there. It barks at me, “Sea Witch, Sea Witch, Sea Witch. Mateo, you have to hurry. Nora needs you, hurry!” I reach for the handset.
“Mateo, stop!” Inés calls out. “It’s not real!” I hesitate for a moment. “Look at the compass, Mateo!” she yells, regaining her balance and coming up to the helm.
I pop open the compass and watch as the needle spins. It points backwards, back into the storm. Inés is next to me now. She places her hand on the wheel. “Whatever you’re hearing, my son, it’s not coming from home,” she says calmly.
“Sea Witch, Sea Witch, Sea Witch,” the staticky voice comes from the radio. “Mateo, please come back!” it calls.
“Look.” Inés opens a panel beneath the radio and pulls out a large black fuse. “That’s the fuse for the radio. There’s no power to it now, b’y. It’s off. The voices aren’t real. ‘Tis the Morrow Line testing you!”
“Sea Witch, Sea Witch, Sea Witch, please, Mateo, please come back.” The voice on the other end of the radio seems desperate, but something is off. It doesn’t sound like Reverend Hiscock anymore. I let Inés take the wheel. She brings us back around into the storm, and the sail catches the wind again.
“Sea Witch, Mateo, come back, don’t go, don’t cross, Nora!” The voice on the radio is getting more and more garbled, and then it’s just a low static before going silent.
“That was the Morrow Line?” I ask. Inés nods. “It’s testing if you’re afraid, my son. Giving you one last chance to go back if you haven’t the courage to go on.”
“You heard them?” I ask. She shakes her head. “It tested me with my own fear,” she explains.
As we ride another roller, I can see on the horizon that the clouds are starting to break. “We’re almost through it!” I say hopefully.
Inés shakes her head. “We’re through the storm, b’y, not the Morrow Line,” she says, her jaw locked with nervous tension.
“What happens after we cross the Morrow Line?” I ask.
Inés gives this a moment of thought. “I suppose we sail to Port Aurelia,” she says finally.
“Port Aurelia?” I ask, trying to remember if something was in the stories Dad had typed up.
Relaxing the tension from her jaw a little, Inés turns and answers: “Biggest port in the 8th Sea, richest too. Centre of the world, they fancy themselves – and they aren’t wrong. Just about every bit of everything goes through there. I’d say your father’s been through there a fair amount too.”
I strain my eyes to the horizon, imagining some grand city where my dad would be waiting on the dock to greet me. Now that I look, there is something up ahead, something grey, and it’s getting bigger and bigger.
“Have you got the compass ready, my son?” Inés asks.
The wooden compass is in my hand still. It’s warm to the touch. I nod to Inés, holding it steady.
I can make out what is on the horizon now. To the starboard and port of the boat, as far as the eye can see, are rocks.
“Take the wheel,” Inés says quickly.
“What?” I ask. Inés steps to the side, offering me the wheel. “Take the wheel,” she repeats.
I reach out, grabbing the cool wooden handles with my right hand.
“The compass will guide you. I’ll need to manage the sails. Just hold her steady, b’y,” she says reassuringly.
There’s a small shelf by the wheel where I place the kelpwood compass. Holding the wheel with both hands, I try to look ahead while focusing on the compass needle.
Inés grabs a winch handle and moves quickly over the boat. She’s lowering the mainsail, opening the jib, and throwing fenders over the side.
Up ahead, the rocks are drawing closer. It seems like we’re going to slam into them. “Should I turn?” I ask nervously.
“Trust the compass!” Inés replies. “Just try to call out your turns so I can manage the sails.”
I take a deep breath. Ahead of us is what looks like a solid rock wall, but as we draw closer, it’s clear that there’s some depth to it: an opening between two rocks, just barely big enough for The Sea Witch to enter. Once we’re through, I see the compass needle swing clockwise, and I turn hard to starboard. “Call your turns!” Inés yells from the bow, annoyed, as she grabs a line and tries to get the jib under control.
We barely make it between two more rocks, and then the compass swings again, this time counter-clockwise. “Hard to port!” I yell, remembering this time. With Inés on the lines and me at the helm, the turn is smooth and we don’t lose speed. As we pass another rock, I can just make out the top of a mast emerging from the water, beneath it an old wooden sailing ship, smashed and sunken.
Three more hard turns. The last one is so tight we scrape the starboard fenders. “Careful, b’y! Steady movements!” Inés yells to me.
At last it seems like we’re clear of the rocks. The sea has opened up around us. “We did it!” I call out, surprised at my own ability to handle the boat.
“Not yet,” Inés says. “Listen.”
I go quiet. I can hear a faint roar.
“Check the compass,” Inés calls.
I look. The needle is pointed straight ahead. The roaring is getting louder.
“Are we on course?” Inés asks with a desperate tone.
“Yes!” I call back.
“Right, hold her steady!” Inés commands.
She’s back at the winches, raising the mainsail, adjusting the lines until it fills with wind. I can feel the boat pull away faster and faster. We’re heeled over to the point where I can barely stand. Then Inés runs to the bow, and with a quick turn of the crank lets the jib all the way out. It drapes uselessly for a moment and then all of a sudden catches the wind, and it’s like someone slammed on the gas pedal. The boat is creaking and groaning under the strain from the sails. I’m struggling just to hold the course, keeping a close eye on the compass while the roaring sound gets louder and louder.
I see it: all around us, swirling vortexes turning to choppy white water. We’re threading a path between them barely wider than our hull. As we pass between two of them, I can feel the boat getting pulled sideways, but with the wind in our sails we manage to make it past without getting pulled in.
As the roaring fades into the distance, Inés rolls in the jib and brings in the fenders. The Sea Witch slows to a normal pace and sits more level in the water. I take a breath for what seems like the first time in a while.
On the horizon, a faint dawn glow seems to be appearing. I look around for a clock, but there’s none to be found. I wonder how long we’ve been sailing. Certainly it’s only been an hour; could it be that it’s already morning? I scan the horizon, wondering what trial will be next, but then I see it: a small sailboat. One person sits at the tiller, wearing a dark hooded cloak. The person stands and waves to us.
“Amparo?” Inés says, a note of question in her voice, but then I hear it.
“MATEO! MATEO, is it really you?” the person in the boat is calling out. It’s been so long since I heard that voice. There had been a video we’d made one Christmas that we used to watch, but the last time had been a few years ago. “MATEO! Come on down here, I’ve been looking all over for you!” the man’s voice calls again. I can’t believe it. I grab the compass, sliding it into my pocket, and leave the wheel, running to the railing.
“Dad!” I call out.
“Mind the boom!” Inés shouts, but it’s too late. Without anyone holding the course, The Sea Witch starts to turn, and the boom swings and catches me in the back as I lean over the railing. The wind is knocked out of me, and I fall over the side and into the water.
The water is warm here, and dark, but starting to shimmer in the dawn light. I look around. The life vest is helping me float, but The Sea Witch has gone past me, veering off to starboard with no one at her helm. Nearby I see the small boat with my dad on it. I can almost make out the messy curls and warm brown eyes from under the cloak he’s wearing. “Dad!” I call out again, trying to swim closer.
“Come on, Mateo, I’m right here,” he calls out, reaching out a hand.
Then I see it: something big beneath the water seems to move. “Dad, there’s something in the water!” I call out in fear.
He doesn’t move, just keeps his hand reached out. “Mateo, come here.” I swim forward for a second but pause, looking around. Something doesn’t feel right. All of a sudden the boat seems to melt away, leaving in its place a spiny webbed fin, and then from beneath the waves up rises a giant head the size of a car. Its eyes have an unnatural yellow glow to them, and it opens its mouth, revealing three rows of razor-sharp teeth.
The head keeps rising above the water on a long serpentine neck. It’s staring right at me, its jaws open like it’s about to strike.
Frantically I try to swim away, but it’s hopeless. I’m too slow. The serpent lunges forward, and I close my eyes and hear an awful sound of rending metal and splintering wood.
I open my eyes. I’m not dead. There in the serpent’s mouth is The Sea Witch. Inés must have brought her around at full speed just in time. The serpent has gotten the mast stuck in its mouth and is writhing in pain, trying to get free. Meanwhile, on the deck, I can see Inés grabbing a long metal pole and jabbing at the monster’s mouth. It lets out a horrific shriek, and then I watch with dread as it summons some last strength and slams itself into The Sea Witch, capsizing her and dragging her under.
“Inés!” I call out, swimming to where the boat went under, trying to see if I can dive down to it.
“Inés!” I try to scream but end up with a mouthful of salty water. There’s nothing, just the dark water with reflections of the rising dawn light shimmering on its surface.
“Why didn’t I just listen?” I ask myself. “Why did I think my dad would be waiting here, after all this time, just waiting for me to cross and meet him? How could I be so stupid?”
The life vest holds me afloat. I spin myself around in a circle. The sea here is vast and empty. At last, giving up, I tip onto my back and stare at the cloudless sky. I’m alone.
~ ~ ~