Talking of boats David Cattanach

David Cattanach Talking of boats

Today a flat sea reached to the horizon projecting a glass light, on morning calm. A boat moved taking a chartered line. I watched. My toes filtered the sand at the shore’s edge.

A mariner shouted ‘Take hold of the rope’. Others pulled the boat, crunching pebbles, on board I sighted flapping fish, gasping. I walked further out, the sea rolled about my knees, screeching seagulls attacked the harbour quay.

On another boat a man pulled the net, which had landed fruits of the sea into an ordered pile of yellow thread, aside red buoys marked eyes, scales, fins and blood

Swaying, face in shade another dealt with knots in the yellow net re-stringing for future voyage. I waded deeper among the bright colours, wood and lanyards’ ringing..

Over the side went the captain his crew shouted hard. But he was already in the blue chasing dolphins. His necklace glinting in the sun.

The waves came on, becoming fierce, he turned his head. I saw his eyes - red bitten by salt. Did I want to swim down to his deep locker?

Unaware a speedboat came by pulling a skier, in its wake the captain disappeared. All became quiet again, seahorses drifted, then the pedaloes came bobbing back.