There
was once a large pier from which, in the before time, sail boats used
to sail to all parts of the world. But now the giant metal behemoths
rule the waves and the sail boats are seen there no longer.
Bereft
of its former purpose, families now use it to launch their personal
water craft, fish from, and picnic on. On a warm summer day, water craft
roil the waters as children play upon the still sturdy beams of the
dock.
But
early in the morning, before the visitors and vacationers arrived, an
old sailor could often be seen sitting at the end of the pier. He had no
fishing pole nor water craft: he was content to look out upon and
listen to the waves. For the sea was in his veins, and though he was no
longer a sailor, he still heard the sea’s call. He visited her to watch
the sun rise and stayed with her until the crowds began to arrive.
Often,
he would simply gaze for long periods of time deep into her depths,
communing with some spirit that only those intimate with the sea would
know. For the same unknown longing called to him even now as it once
called to him as a young man. Where once he traveled the world in hopes
that he might find an answer to this longing, as an old man he became
content to experience the mystery without the need for answers.
One
day, as he stared into the depths that the waves were always trying to
conceal and distort, he saw a motion deep within. It was but the
briefest of glimpses but it set the hair on the back of his neck at end.
It was one of those mysteries of the deep that sometimes rise from the
dark and give hints of all that was submerged.
It
was big. Of that there was no doubt. He had seen enough in his days to
not be mistaken. A glimpse of white that would terrify him if he were in
a boat. Would have terrified if he had been a younger man. Terrified
him now.
He
thought he knew what it was but stared transfixed at the water, looking
for confirmation. Again he saw something — just a hint, but it turned
the blood within his veins cold. He scanned the waters, his trained eyes
fixed to look beneath the surface and the dancing waves that reflected
the sky rather than reveal what was within.
And
then he saw it again. This time, there was no doubt in his mind. It
confirmed the fear that filled his body. A shark. A great shark, its
body larger than a life raft, and just as white. He was safe where he
crouched as he peered over the edge of the wooden dock, but still fear
gripped him. There are some fears men do not outgrow, some fears that
reason cannot tame. It swam about, and the old sailor believed he could
feel an aura of malevolence around it. Superstition clings tight to
those who have long looked into the depths of the sea.
He
stared for a while, waiting for the beast to appear once more. He knew
it was lurking, knew it was a hunter that sensed prey. He could almost
feel its hunger. And while such a thing frightened him, it was this sort
of peril which perhaps urged people such as himself to the sea in the
first place. Life lived fully is spent in defiance of the jaws of
predators.
He
would not have noticed the arrival of others were it not for the fact
that his every sense was strained in anticipation of spotting the thing
again. They were at a distance yet, not on the pier, but they were
readying their toys and their tackle, and would soon be headed his way.
Another vehicle pulled up as he looked, and another turned around to
back a trailer full of water craft into the water. The old sailor walked
toward them, waving to them in warning of what he had seen.
The
people were familiar with the old sailor who kept mainly to himself and
to the water. They thought him odd but harmless. But as he approached
them on this day, he looked — as they may have thought to themselves —
off his meds. His behavior was wild and in his eyes was a look of
danger. “Do not go in the water!” he cried. “There is a shark in it.”
“Show
me,” cried a father, entrusting the children to their mother while he
walked toward the end of the pier with the old man. The old man,
hesitant to lead him too far out, nevertheless did as he was asked.
But when they got to the end of the pier, the father said, “Is that what you see? Why, it’s only a duck.”
And
sure enough, there was a duck bobbing gently upon gentle waves, quite
unconcerned with the people on the pier and quite unaware of the danger
that lurked beneath.
“Not
the duck!” said the old sailor, exasperated and angered. “I have lived
my life on the sea, surely I know a shark from a duck. Look.” And he
pointed down into the depths, because for a brief moment the shark again
raised close enough to the surface to be seen by one who knew where to
look and what to look for.
“I only see a duck,” said the father, the patronizing tone in his voice thinly veiled.
“You have to look deeper,” cried the old tar. “Anyone can see a duck!”
“And
yet I only see a duck,” said the younger man self-assuredly as he
slowly turned away from the older man. He waved his wife and children
forward. One who has lived his life successfully without ever
encountering a shark may grow foolishly confident that he knows best,
and feel he need not worry about what has never bothered him before.
As
the man walked towards his family, the old sailor observed that the man
with the water craft had released them from the trailer into the water.
He stood thigh deep in the water, still close enough to shore to be
safe but assuredly headed toward danger. Still more people came, heading
toward a day of carefree enjoyment. The old sailor went from one party
to another, trying to find someone who might heed his warning. Some
seemed concerned initially, but with a nod from the father he had first
talked to, they seemed to take the warning less seriously. And so they
went about their business, heedless of the old man who seemed
increasingly emotional and irrational as he went from one person to
another.
At
last, he despaired of warning anyone at all. He thought of the duck who
bobbed among the waves and thought that at the very least he might be
able to save him. And so he grabbed a rock and walked back toward the
edge of the pier. People had already fired up their water craft and were
speeding off from shore towards deeper regions. As they accelerated,
they created huge waves behind them which roiled waters, making it
impossible for the old sailor — or anyone else — to see what lay within
the depths.
The
old man neared the edge of the pier and saw the duck bobbing quite
comfortably. He changed his grip upon the rock, getting ready to throw
it in the duck’s direction, hoping to scare it away from the danger that
awaited it. But even as he loosed the rock a violent eruption happened
beneath the duck, and in an instant huge white teeth closed over the
duck as it was dragged forever more into the darkness of the water and
the darkness of the shark’s belly.
The
father who the old sailor had spoken to had seen him throw the rock and
came forward to see what had happened. Looking out at the water and
seeing the duck was gone, the younger man asked, “What did you do to the
duck?”
“It was the shark!” the sailor cried.
“It wasn’t a shark,” said the father, disgust in his voice. “It was just a duck. A poor, innocent duck. And you killed it.”
“I
didn’t,” cried the old man. But the younger man was done listening. He
walked back to his family and the others who were with them, and soon he
pulled out his cell phone and could be seen talking to someone. The
people on the shore — the crowd continuing to grow — stared out at the
old man, who tried to tell whoever might listen of the danger he had
seen.
Soon,
a squad car arrived. Two police officers walked out onto the pier,
spoke briefly with the old sailor, placed handcuffs on his wrists and
led him to their car, where they placed him in the back and drove away.
“Is the bad man gone, mommy?” a young boy asked
“Yes, son,” said his loving mom. “It’s safe to go in the water now.”
