Pau Hana.

My last day was good, too. As usual, nothing went quite as expected: while setting out for the afternoon's battle sail with the Lady Washington, we saw waves crashing over the top of the breakwater, nudged one another and said "That'll be interesting." Things did indeed become interesting, in a rollercoastery kind of way, as we rounded the breakwater: lots of green choppiness, and the boat plunging up and down madly, and things tumbling around below decks (yes, we stowed for sea, but there are degrees of stowing for sea, and we hadn't expected to need quite this much). The line between scary-fun and scary-not-fun is often a fine one for me at sea; we stayed out right to the near edge of that line before turning around and telling the passengers to come back tomorrow instead.

So then we actually had time to rig the lights (yes, rope lights in the rigging) before the evening's sail, which wasn't actually a sail so much as a motor through the marina for the lighted boat parade. This was much better than having to rig them underway. The lighted boat parade was cold and rainy, and the passengers lost enthusiasm after the first two hours, so we got to come back early from that too. But in the meantime I didn't feel the cold, because I was busy helping the new gunner clean the guns (and touching off a few as well (whee!)). The lighted boat parade was an exercise in jaw-dropping tackiness, with giant glowing snowmen and blaring music of the "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" variety, and it became apparent relatively quickly that our captain's strategy was to fire on the all most obnoxious vessels. I was fine with that, personally. And so, apparently, was my loyal friend Janellie, who braved traffic and weather to join me for my last outing on the Chieftain and to take me out to Pinkberry afterward.

* * *

And then a night, and a morning, and pau hana: work is finished, time to go home.

* * *

Every time I leave that damn boat, I leave another chunk of my heart behind. I was so careful when I packed up my things, not one object forgotten to be lamented over later. But my heart, it seeped into the bilge and twined around the yards and I couldn't untangle it, had to feel it tearing (ow ow oww) as I walked away with a smile on my face and the voices of the crew in my ears:

Safe and sound at home again,
Let the waters roar, Jack.
Long we've tossed on the rolling main,
Now we're safe ashore, Jack.
Don't forget your old shipmates,
Folly-rolly-rolly-rolly-rye-oh!