Adolescence is onerous for most, fleeting for some, and impossible for a sad few. The Matthew Flinders replica ship, the Windward Bound, was built as a tool to bring youths together, often taking them out of hostile or unfortunate surroundings, and help sculpt their budding identities. Our Captain and fearless leader was a potent congruence to this ideology, even though I may not have thought so at the time. After my mother told me I would be on a ship for a week with a transsexual, ex-Navy diver, Vietnam Veteran captain, I ran through a number of disturbing scenarios of the events that were to follow.
Having moved from a rural part of town to the beachside, I sold my motorbike and was presented with a tough choice: spend the money on a tinny, or go on the aforementioned voyage. Perhaps if things had gone differently I might currently be wearing fishermen’s shoes, or be deserted on an island, or chipping the barnacles off of my seven foot rowboat, “Beauty”. Or a combination of the above.
“Oh. I should tell you. The captain’s name is Sarah, but she used to be Brian.” My mother decided to wait until I was stepping onto the ship before hitting me with that gem.
Looking back, I wouldn’t say it was a turning point in my life by any means, but at twelve years old, I can say with absolute certainty that it was the first time that I had met a transsexual. Thanks to future international travels and my apartment being in close proximity to a gay bar, Sarah wasn’t the last transsexual that I met.
As soon as my mind grasped the situation, and I realised the potential for an odious faux pas, I stepped onto the ship and began analysing the faces, gestures and vocal registers of the crew; careful to control the dilation of my pupils lest they expose my anticipated shock.
“Pleased to meet you.” The First Mate had a gruff appearance. Needly stubble covered his face and had somehow managed to bypass convention and win freedom via his ears. The stain on his shorts revealed that he had enjoyed eggs recently, though how it managed to get down there I hadn’t the foggiest. From this, I cunningly deduced that he was not the Sarah that my mother informed me of. He was to become David – a pleasant but odd gentlemen, whose oddity I couldn’t (and would rather not) put my finger on. He was also the man whom I and the Second Mate had the misfortune to become cabin mates with – a circumstance that lead to unfavourable encounters in which I return from my watch to discover that he enjoyed reading in his underwear.
The Second Mate greeted me with a wide grin, his mouth filled with half a banana, “Hoor yer gering make?” The only time he wasn’t eating was when he was securing the main lines, and even then he would be complaining about being hungry. One night I finished my watch and had again executed the inconceivably risky manoeuvre of pole-vaulting David’s sleeping semi-nude body – a self-taught talent that I had perfected over an auspiciously short period – and noticed the Second Mate had gone to sleep cradling an apple. In the morning he awoke cradling a core and was convinced I had thieved his precious ruby in Aladdin-esque style, devoured its worth, and returned the remains to his wanting arms. Neither David nor I touched the man’s apple.
The third person I met on my first time aboard the Windward Bound was a long-time sailor and youth worker who was a little older then the others. His eyelashes were demonstrably long – so much so, that I actually noticed them. His hair was slicked back and he was wearing a shirt that was so colourful it could’ve done with a volume control. With a brimming sense of accomplishment I extended a hand to the person who I was certain was Sarah.
“Hi Ethan. I’m Bob.”
Curses.
I surrendered my futile attempt at controlling the diameter of my pupils and began to ponder if perhaps I had misunderstood my mother’s words, and Sarah had become Brian, who was actually named Bob, and I was right all along. As I began to sink into a self-induced smog of confusion, a deep voice from behind me said, “Hi Ethan, I’m Sarah.”
To date it is the third firmest handshake that I have ever received.
To be continued..
Remembering Ethan..
