The wind

On a ship, there are really only two elements worth mentioning; water and wind. In their infinite combinations you have what we call weather. The wind however seems the stronger of the two and deserves the true respect. It was atop the kingpost that I met true wind for the first time in my life. Wind that tore at my body whipped the hair around my head sending it biting at my face like a thousand tiny flails. I held fast to the railing as I made my way athwartships high above the deck towards the ships whistle whose steam hose had broken loose in the early morning storm. All around me, the thrashing wind bayed. I looked above me with eyes watering from the bitter air and saw only the racing clouds tearing the scud from the heavens and throwing them hard torn across the darkening sky. Far below me was the freighter. From where I was braced for my dear life, the ship deck was only a hundred feet, yet I felt as distant from my warm cabin as I felt from the land I had last seen 29 days ago. Stretching from the ship in all directions the mad sea seethed. A frothy white and black beast fighting to keep itself against the wind that tore at its surface. The battle below me raged and I could taste the wind's victory as salt on my stinging lips. Drawing close to the whistle, I brought the hose clamp and screwdriver carefully out of my pockets all the time fighting against the hundreds of forces sparring to throw me from my roost. Wedged between the railing and the whistle body I grappled with the broken hose with raw fingers. As the last turn of the screw was made all the world seemed to turn from under me as I lost my footing atop the precipice slipping out and over the railing where I was wedged. I dangled with my hands clinging numbly to the cold metal. I held myself above the gray deck while the wind was wrestling to free my grip. It seems to me that I paused for a moment to surmise the sheer terror of the situation, but only a moment. Pulling myself with all my might to the kingpost platform, I slowly regained my footing sturdy again against the wind. In rage, I let forth a yell so loud above the howling wind that only I could hear it inside my head. There are times when I sit at this desk responding to voice mail and shuffling papers that I remember what true exhilaration is and long for even a puff of wind to come and challenge my paperweight.