Iceberg Sailing

Cecilia sipped her tea as another wave wrapped around the lighthouse, crashing in its rush onto tidal shore with such a ferocity that it felt more as though the lighthouse were a submarine plunging beneath the depths, the first onrush of spray and then bubbling bluegreen, almost calm and still, submerged up the second floor, before it rose back to spray and then an equal time of silence. The herbs tasted oriental, in the most flattering sense of the term, loose leaves sunken in the bottom of the ceramic, hints of lavender and patchouli extrapolated outwards to odd digressions of sensation she hadn’t considered before. She took care not to contemplate it too much at this point, lest her mind go wandering all dreamy-like on the mere fact of each little speck of plant life.

The keeper came back from the spiral staircase, carrying the tray of teabiscuits up from the basement, setting it down on the navigation table between them. The chart contained had seemingly no relation to any known body of water or land or shore, though it was certainly concretely mapping something, exactly drawn arrows of trajectory and current across an space with no relation to land, little vortices and curves notched with marks in an unknown language somewhat resembling Voynichese.

“Back in the days o’ my mem’ry, there’d be this cerem’ny we’d do after yer first time crossing the equat’r. They called it King Neptune’s Court. Y’know about this?” He said.

“I’ve heard of it.” Cecilia replied.

“Not in the true form.” The keeper set his tea down, crunching a dry biscuit. “Not its real means. You know jokes, hazin’s, what kids do in their iron ships to pass’t time. Not th’real one.”

“Real one?”

He quickened an eye-nod at her. “A real one. These days, Neptune won’t even come out if y’call. You can’t see ‘im on a dreadnought - not natural. I was there when I sunk that Titanic, the first of ‘em, but goddamn, they kept comin’ after that. All iron and steam, no respect for the domain of the waves. Neptune won’t come out if yer just tramplin’ all over his vision, Neptune rules the waves by rulin’ the wind over ‘em, y’understand?”

Cecilia took a deeper gulp of her cooling tea, some small leafs trapping themselves onto her teeth. “I thought the Titanic was hit by an iceberg.”

“You can sail an iceberg, Cissy. Ice floats, so do sail ships, galleons and sloops, rowboats - now there’s a challenge, whalers, ya gotta watch out for them. But all of ‘em, y’got something common. The waves, the wind, they all gotta be ridden. You speak Neptune’s language, he blows the breeze and sets the tides and y’gotta follow along, learn to dance with the sea. That’s when Neptune comes out for’y in the court.”

“So what happens in the real court?”

“It’s a court’a’love, beautiful sight y’ve never seen. Can’t now anyways. Sailors all lined up, calm waters past the equator, floatin’ in doldrums border’side of a tropic. Close y’eyes, then y’see her. Open y’eyes, there she is. Captain brought out a gem, big blue, pearl like but big, size-ofa, ah, ah, fist let’s say. Starts glowin’. Open y’eyes, mermaids floatin’ in air. They teach y’Neptune’s language. Now y’can sail.”

“So what happened on the Titanic?”

“Set sail from the North. Neptune makes his castles up North outta frozen brine. Gonna pay respects to those who pay’nt respects not to the King of the Sea. Sunk it two and a half, maybe three. Still at the bottom, all arrogance and wood rotten.”