The Young Man and the Sea: Chapter Two

Forty-seven applications and no bites.

The marlin remains elusive.

But I am not dissuaded in my search.

At night, the gulls awheeling over the still white sails, I sense it. It glides, sleek and secret, below the keel of the boat.

Soon, soon it will worry the bright lure I trail in the loamy moonlit waters behind me. Soon, I will land the hook deep in its cheek and wrestle the beautiful beast to the gunwale. Soon, its dark eye will glint with my reflection and then it will know I am its master.

I kneel on the aft deck and patiently polish my lures. The adrift boat whispers against the gentle currents as clouds sail before the moon. They are in no hurry, the clouds. It is in no hurry, my boat. It is in no hurry, the big fish. Neither am I, big fish.