times,seabirdsrestedonme.I oftensawships,butafter
a while,theywerenotthe tall-mastedsailingshipsI
once knew.These hadsmellysmokestacksandcuta
noisy,straightpathinthewater,regardlessofwindor
tide. Theytooknonoticeofa pieceofflotsambobbing
in theswells.
Andthen,whenI hadnearlyforgottenpeople,I
was caughtina fishingnet.Onthedeckofthe boat
we weredumped:tuna,mackerel,seaturtles,strandsof
green kelp,andme.A bearded,suntannedmanpicked
me up.
“Aha!”hesaid.“I’mgladI camealonginsteadof
going beachcombing.”Helookedmeoverandsaid
to his friends,“Thiswillworkoutgreat.It’sa realold
one. Thisrustyplacemusthavebeena hugehook.And
look here!DoesthiscarvedspotsayHarbison?Andthis
one—isthatDolphin?”
Hetookmetohisworkshoponshoreandsoon
cut andpolishedme.OncemoreI thoughtit wasthe
end. Butwhenhewassatisfied,hesetmeoutdoors
with chunksofoldcypressandcedar.Hepattedme.
“You probablycamefromthisOregoncoastinthefirst
place,”hesaid.
Peoplewanderedbyandsaid,“Lookat thegreat
driftwood!Thisonelooksjustlikea dolphin.Isn’tit
perfect?”
Thebeachcombersaid,“Thatone’snotforsale.I’m
savingit formyfriendHarbison.He’sfromanoldsail-
ing familyandhe’sbuilta sailboathecallstheDolphin.
I carvedthisfigureheadfortheprow.”
Andthat’swhereI amnow.Wegoout
often ontotheblueoceanandrunbeforethe
wind. Iaminthefront,whereI canchasethe
waves andsmellthesprayandsmile
up at theternsandgulls.I am
home again.
FLOTSAM IS THE FLOATING
WRECKAGE OF A SHIP.39