Read Online Down to a Soundless Sea by Thomas Steinbeck - Free Book Online

experienced dreams of flight. There hadn’t been many, three or four in a lifetime, but he had cherished every fraction of those dreams and could recall them for comfort at any unhappy moment. He had also experienced several dreams that found him underwater without the necessity of breathing, a slow-motion sensation of gliding through emerald shafts of light piercing deep into the sea. He had enjoyed those dreams and always hoped for further visitations. But this particular dream, though seemingly a combination of both original elements, was, in its expression, totally different.
    In his dream Chapel stood near the toe of a freshly built pier. He could even smell the fresh-hewn timbers. The pier showed not the least-soiled hint that ship or gull had ever visited the site. The fresh construction jutted out into an empty and tranquil bay. When he looked over the edge into the depths, Chapel could see all the way to the sandy bottom. The fish winged through the clear waters like darting birds. Then suddenly Chapel felt a broad, irresistible pressure thrusting him forward. He had no course but to allow himself to be propelled off the end of the pier and into the bay. There he bobbed for a few moments like a buoy, never sinking below his waist or touching bottom.
    Then the invisible source of pressure reinstated its will and began to drive Chapel forward, at first slowly, then gaining speed. With the lower half of his body submerged and the upper half slicing through the waves, Chapel moved forward through the breakwater out into the wide, green ocean.
    He moved effortlessly through rolling swells. One moment he was abreast of the surge and the next, rising so high thathe looked down on the bottlenose dolphins gamboling in the bow wave his body created. But no matter how he strained to see what propelled his motion forward, Chapel’s field of vision was limited to what lay ahead or aside. It might have been the broad head of a sperm whale for all he knew. This was not to say that Chapel didn’t find the whole sensation exhilarating, because he did. In fact, Chapel couldn’t remember having had so much fun in his whole life.
    After a short while he totally immersed himself in the exotic sensation. He felt like a winged statue he had once seen in a park, arms swept back, the cresting froth of seafoam dashing against his frame as he cut through the swells.
    In this manner Chapel’s dream conducted him through many oceans and alien ports. But in every case, no matter how fascinating or wondrous, Chapel fled from the busy harbors to the safety of the open sea. There he felt kin to important natural forces like tides, currents, and the vast swarms of ocean life dashing all about beneath him. Only when he was free from the bondage of the shore did the flying fish and dolphins delight in his company.
    In this guise Chapel sailed on until he became aware that he viewed the world from the perspective of a ship’s figurehead. Indeed, he felt as though he had become a ship himself, and this wonderful realization pleased him immeasurably.
    It all made perfect sense in his dream, and Chapel basked in the simple magic of the answer. He saw that some men were born to the plow or the anvil and some to the loom, but it was destiny’s resolve that Chapel Lodge should find his mission as a great ship. Nothing could have been more logical, to Chapel’s way of thinking.
    The dream ended abruptly when a sooty Filipino stokernamed Cricket gently shook his arm and indicated a change of watch was at hand.
    Chapel pulled on his boots and grabbed a mug of thick coffee from the galley on his way to the engine room. Mr. Page, the second engineering officer, was still on duty awaiting Mr. Gladis to relieve him. Chapel took his counterpart’s place with Mr. Page’s permission and perused the engine-room logs from the last watch.
    Seaman Chapel followed his normal routine with best efforts, and certainly no one on his watch would have guessed he was