"It wasn't the sea that drowned me, but that kiss of hers"
who left me to live half-heartedly, bound by her silence."
These are the only words I remember with absolute precision, from that meeting I had many years ago on a barren island in our Archipelago, with a naval veteran of the squadron and the sea.
It was one of those evenings when you can't make plans on the barren dry island, as there are no options! So the steps led me to the only tavern in the incredibly picturesque Aegean port!
The meltemi had died down, but the sea was still holding its breath heavily, like a sailor on deck exhausted by the "weather". From the outside, the shop looked half-eaten by the waves and time! Inside, it smelled of old wood soaked in cigarette butts and stale alcohol.
At the tables were a few patrons, all locals, seafarers. In a corner, between the door and the small window overlooking the harbor, sat an old man, a veteran of the navy. You could recognize him from his movements, his well-built frame under the dark blue sailor's coat and his face hollowed out by the salt. He had a half-full glass of raki in front of him and a flat pack of cigarettes, which he nervously opened and closed as if he was hesitating to light the next cigarette. In his other hand he held a small penknife and was carving something on the wooden table.
I sat at the next table and tried in vain to start a conversation with him. He seemed to be in his own world and not communicating with the environment. However, a little later, without turning to look at me, he said to me: "You are a stranger to the sea. It can be seen from your gaze. You haven't really set sail yet."
I smiled. I told him that I had only been a passenger in my life, never a sailor. Then he raised his glass in greeting and said to me: "Better this way, because the sea takes more than it gives"!
Then his tongue loosened. He began to speak softly, as if he were afraid of awakening something that had been sleeping inside him for years. He told me that as a young man he had proudly sailed on trucks, on liners, on rotten barges and on barges. He had crossed channels and passages, he had fought with waves that drove your mind crazy and with storms that broke the masts.
He lowered his gaze.
"And then came that afternoon, he continued! It was when I went for a walk on the ship before setting sail. To get some air, to take a look at the harbor, to greet the land."
He looked up and looked deep into my eyes as if he wanted to weigh me up.
"I saw her by the waterfront," he said, emphasizing each word. She stood there, slender, in a dress the color of the sea, just like her eyes. We looked at each other, we didn't need to say anything, the sea itself was our broker, our matchmaker. We walked together on the waterfront and in the dream. She told me about her longing, about a life that no longer fit in this place. I told her about the journeys on the vast sea, about the ports, the endless nights on the bridge with the company of the stars and the stars. She listened to me, speechless, for I don't know for how long, as I told stories. At one point she held my arm and rested her head on my shoulder. At that moment it seemed to me that we had opened up together to the sea, we had become one! It was the first time in my life that the thought crossed my mind that I could tie up somewhere. To make landfall! To drop anchor!
He took a cigarette out of the pack and lit it. He took the first drag as deep as he could, squinted his eyes as if he wanted to remember something else, and continued!
"She found us hugging each other in the morning! It was Saturday morning when the time came to part. The ship of the line that had reserved a place blew its whistle again and again. That ship took with it the most precious thing that had ever happened in my life. She kissed me quickly as if she was afraid she might change her mind and lightly stepped off the raft. I didn't even have time to tell her my full name, nor did she hers.
He stubbed out his cigarette butt in the metal ashtray, wiped the splinters from the table's groove with his fingertips, and took a deep breath before continuing.
"Her journey never ended! She spent a long time at Cavo D'oro, at a point where even the old, even the most experienced sailors, spend it with a cross in their mouths. I don't know what happened, maybe the waves took her along with some others, maybe not! But my heart drifted to the bottom, tied with a thick boat rope."
"I never loved another woman. I always went back alone to sailors' hangouts, to harbors, to taverns like this. There I met other veterans, people who had left their pieces in legends and in starbursts. The saltiness gave me a lot, travels, passions, hugs. But in the end, fate wiped me out on this passage, along with my nightmares."
For a moment he hesitated. Outside, the harbor was now silent. Only the ropes from the tied boats could be heard creaking eerily.
He turned and looked me straight in the eye.
"If you ever hear a sigh coming from the sea, he told me, know that... a sailor didn't make it, and left what he loved on land."
Knowing that sailors usually exaggerate and magnify things and situations, I was not prepared to take his words seriously.
However, the next day, the footsteps brought me back to the tavern. His chair was empty. I asked the patrons and the bartender if they knew him and what his name was. They looked at me in surprise. None of them knew him, nor had they seen him in this place before!
"We didn't see anyone, but don't pay too much attention," one of the patrons finally told me. "They're the shadows of the sea! Stories of old sailors that haunt ports like this."
I turned to leave, don't let them think I'm a light-hearted person...
And then my eye fell on the table where the old sailor was sitting! I bent down out of curiosity to see if there was anything engraved on it! And yet, there was a couplet written in the same place:
"It wasn't the sea that drowned me, but that kiss of hers"
who left me to live half-heartedly, bound by her silence."
I got goosebumps! "They are the shadows of the sea", I repeated unconsciously and walked away, taking this memory with me.
photo Greek Radio FL
