The Bent Page

On the southeast tip of the island of Aruba, there stands a giant anchor, serving as a memorial to all the sailors who ventured to sea. My friend Charlie Brouns, Jr. had the anchor placed there. Upon Charlie’s death, his dear friend Mr. Speiziale had the anchor repainted bright red, Charlie’s color of choice. Here’s a photo taken early on a hazy morning:

As much as sailors love the sea, they still long for the comfort of terra firma, especially after a particularly long or arduous voyage. And then there are those who die in the clutches of the ocean, lost forever to the deep. A character in my novel, An Island Away, finds himself adrift in the Caribbean after his tugboat sinks at the edge of a storm. He comes within sight of this spot and is nearly cast upon the rocks by the driving waves. Salvation seemed to be at hand, only to be snatched away. Ultimately, he makes it to a beach some distance from this spot, but he’s nearly dead.

Many of us may not realize the risks taken by people such as members of the merchant marine. Even in this modern day, the sea claims its share of casualties. Products ranging from crude oil, to fruit, to automobiles, to computers are all transported aboard ships before they reach our homes. And there are still pirates out there, cut-throat misanthropes willing to kill for profit instead of earning an honest living. Now there’s an idea for a story: someone attacked or kidnapped by these recent additions to the shameful list of pirates. The plot could be one of violent intrigue surrounding a valuable cargo that must be recovered for some important reason. Hmmmm…. have any ideas?