We have our tug and have slowed way down: Honolulu’s right before us, and it’s a gorgeous, brilliant, sunny day. Everything gleams. Planes are taking off and zooming right above us. In comparison to our usual muted dawn arrivals, this one looks, well, American, though our pre-port briefing last night made clear how distinct and important is Hawaii’s history. We are not—except perhaps for the four Hawaiian students who were at the center of that wonderful briefing—home yet.
I just stood and watched our arrival at the spot on Deck 5, just around the corner from my office, where the red-tailed tropic bird sat for a day or two this week. It turned up there, an astonishingly beautiful creature, one morning, a long, pointed, red tail and a sharp red beak book-ending feathers that my wife properly identified as just like angels’ in Renaissance paintings. Why was it there? Prof. Doughty, who knows, said it was “puffed,” needed a rest, and he and a student with some animal rescue experience set about trying to feed it a bit of fish and water. The crew cordoned off the area—we could see the bird either from a distance on the deck or close up through a window, and every time I went in or out of my office someone was there, speculating on its state. And then one day at around 3 PM, an hour or so after its most recent feeding, it was gone. It had flown off after its hitch, ready, Prof. Doughty thinks, to move on. It advertised itself so obviously as a metaphor or symbol for something about our voyage that I can hardly believe it was real—maybe that’s what it’s a symbol of—but I suspect I’ll figure it out at home some time.
We must stay on the ship today during our refueling here, and then we’ll all get off for one last round of adventures in Hilo tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment