Jets Over the Andaman Sea

Just after lunch, two jets came in fast from the west. They passed above and to starboard, then climbed away until they were points. The movement was so abrupt and purposeful that it seemed to belong to a different scale of travel altogether. Our passage through the Andaman Sea had not previously felt slow. Suddenly it looked positively reflective.

The sound arrived like torn metal and made the whole accommodation block vibrate. It was not merely loud. It seemed to occupy the air around my ribs, turning a perfectly ordinary stretch of deck into somewhere I had briefly failed to understand. I watched the points diminish, feeling that my expression had probably been less composed than I would prefer recorded.

On the bridge they were identified as United States Air Force aircraft transiting the area. That is a sensible description, and I have no reason to improve upon it. Buzzed is probably an exaggeration. From the deck it did not feel like one. The difference between a routine transit and an alarming interruption can apparently depend quite heavily on where one is standing.

Container vanished under a bench. Ten minutes later she emerged pretending nothing had happened, with the careful unconcern of a creature determined not to discuss her earlier tactical withdrawal. I admired the technique. There was no apology, no glance towards the sky, simply a resumption of ordinary dignity. I could have used something similar myself. Instead I remained rather conscious that the cat had found cover while I had merely stood there.