When I saw that the prompt for this week was the word “berth,” I was reminded of this.
He and I got on a ship in Bergen, Norway. It had been a wonderful trip across Scandinavia, ending in this beautiful city with all the fjords. Now we were on our way to the British Isles. That meant crossing the North Sea, always rough and always an adventure. Our ship was big enough, but not too big.
We set off on our journey to northern Scotland. It was an overnight adventure. In the salon, we had assigned seats, but otherwise, we could wander through the ship. During our wandering, we found a large room with lots of seating, gambling tables, food, and a group of elderly ladies. They invited us to join them. We talked with them, played some blackjack.
The captain of the ship came into the room and invited us up on the deck. He had something he wanted us to see. He warned us that the seas were rough that night. We already knew that. We climbed the stairs to the deck. When we got to the top of the stairs, the Captain pointed toward the sky.
“Look,” he said. We did. There was a sparkly glow against the dark. We went on up to the deck and leaned on the railing so we wouldn’t fall with the roll of the ship. Out of the water lept these fish. They glowed. In the sky, they sparkled and glowed and, amazingly, they were flying. The Captain explained their species of phosphorescence flying fish. It was a sight I never expect to see again.
Later in the evening, after drinking too much creme de menthe with the elderly ladies, we retired to our berth in the ship. The next morning, those fish seemed like a dream. My hangover from the creme de menthe was not a dream. I’ve never drank it again.
The Write Scribe 