A Wider Sort of Blue

We are out of the narrow water and into a blue so wide it looks newly invented. The Gulf of Aden has dispensed with the useful framing supplied by land and replaced it with distance in every direction. I went outside expecting a view and found something closer to an argument against the importance of the individual.

The sea is calm and the engines steady. Their low vibration comes through the soles of my shoes until it feels less like machinery than a condition of existence. Behind us, the wake points towards a continent that disappeared before lunch. It is an excellent directional aid provided you have no immediate need to see the destination it indicates.

Container joined me for two complete circuits of the walkway. She walked beside me with her tail carrying rather more purpose than my entire exercise programme. The air was warm, the deck bright, and the repeated corners gave our expedition a reassuring administrative simplicity. We had been everywhere already, but apparently it required checking twice.

Then she sat down and demanded to be carried. No words were necessary. The posture contained all the relevant correspondence, including an implied complaint about service standards. I declined, with the firmness of a man whose authority is secure only when exercised against a seated cat. After a pause she followed anyway. I am recording this as a victory, although her expression suggested she was merely allowing the voyage to continue.