Re: 03 - First Light
Hall shifted his gaze from the seals to the water. He sighed.
”When I was fourteen, I was old enough to work in the shipyards. Not doing the heavy, ship building work that most did, but I fetched tools, carried lumber, helped hold beams in place. Those small chores that always need doing. In the afternoon, I’d sweep the owner’s office before leaving.”
“I got into the habit of not returning home. Not until late. My presence wasn’t really required, or wanted, until well after sundown, when the nightly chores had to be seen to. So, I took to exploring Deer Island. I enjoyed it. The solitude and the safety. And the shoreline always offered new secrets, new discoveries, each time I walked it.”
“One day, I was allowed to leave early. The yard was between vessels to build, so it was quiet mostly. Not much to be done. I went east from the shipyard, further then I’d ever gone. I don’t think I meant to wander as far as I did, I just became lost in the sights, and in my own imagination. Lulled by the sound of the tide. Happy to wander.”
“I came upon a cabin. Even my young eyes could tell it wasn’t old. It was small, but enough room for those that lived there. There was a dock, a little fishing boat, nets and tackle all carefully maintained. Right of the cabin was a workshop. The place was framed by a few trees behind it, pines that gave shade as the sun grew low in the afternoon. It was quiet. Just the sea.”
He traced a few lines in the sand in front of him. ”While I was looking about it in wonder, those that lived there came home. A man and his daughter.” He smiled at the memory. ”I think they were surprised to find someone wandering about their home. But, fortunately, they understood that I wasn’t any kind of a thief, just a boy without roots who’d come across them by accident.”
“His name was Branok. Hers was Mabyn. They came from Cornwall. He’d been a sea captain for most of his years, but he’d lost his last ship to a storm. He never said as much, but I believe that’s how his wife had perished. He told me that once he and Mabyn, along with a couple of his crew, had been rescued and brought to shore in America, he never had the desire to set sail again.”
“Mabyn was older than me. Seventeen, I think. I only learned her name from her father. She never spoke. Branok told me that she was able, but since the shipwreck, she’d simply stopped. He wasn’t certain if she would ever talk again. They were able to communicate, though, and as I came to know them, I learned to understand her, mostly.”
“Branok made rope. Took it to the shipyards and to stores on the mainland. They managed a fair living. Had all they needed. From that day, I think they understood that I wasn’t eager to go to my own home. Neither ever asked me to explain, they just accepted me, and I was always welcomed.”
“For half a year I visited them. Sometimes every day. I learned to make rope, the best ways to fish from boat and shore, and how to cook properly. They treated me like one of those trusted sailors who served on Branok’s ships. Like family, even. I’m not certain that this will make sense, but there were long periods where we were in each other’s presence without anyone feeling the need to speak or communicate. I was able to just be in their presence and it was entirely comfortable. Besides my little hideaways I’d discovered on the island, it was the first place where I felt I belonged. The first place around other people, at least. After my first few visits, it was almost as though I’d lived there from the beginning.”
He paused, staring out at the sea. ”One day, I found them gone. That wasn’t unusual. Branok had to travel to sell his wares and when he went, he always took Mabyn with him. Didn’t want her to be left alone. But they never returned. I came day after day, but they didn’t reappear.”
“Some time later, one of the carpenters at the yard told me he’d heard that the old rope maker had gotten badly ill while he was visiting Bangor. That he’d passed away and that he daughter had gone to live with an aunt. He wasn’t sure where.”
“I went back to the cabin. Many times actually. But it wasn’t the same, even though it held a lot of pleasant memories. The emptiness, the absence, it pushed away everything else.”
He nodded. ”But for a brief space of time, it was one of the best places I’d ever known.”