Here's a brief piece offering my imagined insight into the mind and motivations of Captain Alexander Smollet of the Hispaniolia. 'My' Captain Smollet was inspired by his portrayal in the U.K.2012 miniseries based on Robert Louis Stevenson's, classic novel 'Treasure Island.The 2012 miniseries was produced for British Sky Broadcasting.
THE WATCH
Smollett stood on the bow of his ship at midnight, his soul taking in a silvery expanse and the moonlit cotton clouds. And Smollett remembered. For a sliver of a second he remembered a reason why he'd first wanted to go to sea. To the sea and hence to ships.
Only at sea did he have at least, moments, in the solitude of his Watch when he could escape the narrow confines of duty and human affairs. At such times Smollett didn't have to think; To plan. He could simply watch his thoughts and feelings instead – as they rose and fell with the sea. Rhythmic, methodical. Pacific one time. Wild and racing another.
The sea held all his moods and it knew them. And it was the sea which brought them before him to see, to act upon; and when no-one else could know Smollett's heart, his soul, the sea always did. The sea shared his soul and he was for a flash; a spark of time, not alone.
But a sea captain had to pay a heavy price for these elusive flashes of luminescence. That price was Duty, Command and constant vigilance over the crew on whom Smollett depended, to bring the ship to its pre-destined Port. To bring the ship to Smollett's destination.
Always a destination he was commanded to by his naval superiors. Or more frustratingly, by men of means who had commissioned his services through Smollett's naval superiors. So whilst Smollett commanded his crew, he himself was often commanded by the men of means and influence who'd engaged him for an excursion or campaign of their own ends. Men who were used to commanding servants and receiving obedience. Men to whom Smollett himself was almost as a servant.
It was a constant battle for Smollett to daily straddle his roles of Commander one minute and commanded the next. But in the quiet of the night, amidst the dead dark of a moonless sea or a wash of silver which stretched to the edges of a full moon, the faithful sea always told Smollett whom he really was and why he was really there. Fortified with this knowledge, with this remembering, Smollett could feel the darkness inure him against the indignities of being under the command of men with little knowledge of the sea and its demands. He could better bear the strain of commanding a crew that he had little part in choosing. It was a taut balance of authority and discipline and humanity, which Smollett had to engineer, to keep this ship of souls afloat and heading to its unalterable destination.
But hardest of all was Smollett's battle to keep the balance within himself. The personal balance that allowed him, even in fleeting moments, to feel the heart of the sea. And so to hear his own heart. To remember why he wanted the sea in the first place. Yet it was to remember, to feel this, that gave him the strength and a reason to carry on under a difficult command. To carry on as his own man.
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