The Rogue Wave
© Christina Murphy

Duffy prided himself on being able to talk with anyone, but not this fellow. Every night he came in, had a dark beer, a handful or two of pretzels, and another dark beer. Never said a word. Never even looked at Duffy. Duffy had tried: Where you from? What brings you here? Are you off The Eclipse—most of the other guys here are?

But nothing. Pretty soon Duffy gave up trying. But that didn’t keep him from watching the fellow. He had sad eyes, and seemed like he wasn’t looking at anything in particular. Lost in his own world, Duffy thought as he popped open the bottle of dark beer.

Duffy had worked in this bar for almost nine years. End of the Rainbow—supposedly the best bar in town for beer for fifty cents. They certainly had a large selection of beers, and he had never had anyone come in all those years and order a kind of beer the bar didn’t have. This guy had rather ordinary tastes—a dark lager—and never deviated. From the guy’s gnarled hands, pea jacket, and wizened skin, Duffy figured he was definitely from the boats, like most of the guys who came in here. Looked like a lifelong sailor who had been at it awhile. Duffy tried to imagine the kind of life the guy had, but nothing all that unusual came to mind. He was more like a giant puzzle or a big cipher—there was nothing about him that Duffy could figure out with certainty.

Just as he was about to give up, the guy had to reach farther down the bar for the pretzel dish, and that was when Duffy saw it. A rainbow tattooed on the guy’s right arm, just above his wrist.

A rainbow, Duffy thought. Makes sense as to why he might come in here. Duffy considered asking the guy about his tattoo, but let it pass. He wouldn’t tell him anything—not that guy.

As he wiped the bar and served other customers, Duffy thought about why a guy like that would get a rainbow tattoo. Wasn’t that supposed to be some sign of hope or something? The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and all that? Was this guy looking for something, or did the tattoo come from a happier time in his life?

Duffy drew a beer on tap for a customer and then looked to see if the guy wanted another beer, but he was gone. Leaves just like he comes, Duffy thought. Just appears and disappears.

That night at home, Duffy put on a pot of coffee and turned on the TV. He sipped his coffee, the hot, bitter taste going down smoothly and waking him up a bit. He was amazed that he could not get the guy off his mind. It was ridiculous—why was he so interested in him? Obsessed almost? He knew that was his way—he tended to get something on his mind and then not be able to shake it off. But why this guy? What was so special about him? Duffy just couldn’t figure it out.

Duffy wondered what boat the guy might be on. He knew The Eclipse was in town for the longest, followed by The Harbinger. Maybe one of those was his boat—or maybe he was a sailor once but no more. Maybe he was reliving his glory days by hanging out at a bar near the docks that was filled with sailors and their talk of the sea.

Why do I care? Duffy asked himself, but he just couldn’t shake his thoughts.

The next day was his day off and he found himself walking down to the docks. He was hoping he might catch sight of the guy working or just hanging around the harbor.

At first he thought he might have sighted him on a boat named The Conquest, but as he got closer, he realized the man did not have the right physique or toughness. He walked past the other boats, but the guy wasn’t there. It had started to rain, and he decided to go into a restaurant nearby and have a sandwich.

He placed his order for a ham and cheese and looked around. In many ways, the place reminded him of his own bar, what with the same type of men and the same type of talk going on about how tough life on the boats was. He bit into his sandwich, and a wild idea came to him. Maybe one of these men might know the guy. He looked at the man sitting next to him at the counter.

Why not? Duffy thought.

“Excuse me,” Duffy said to the man, who looked at him with cautious curiosity. “I’m trying to find a friend of mine, and I wonder if you might know him.” Duffy described the guy and mentioned the rainbow tattoo on his wrist.

“No, I don’t know him,” the man said.

“You know anything about a tattoo like that, maybe?”

“No. Lots of guys have all kinds of tattoos around here.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Might be related to a boat he’s been on, though.”

Duffy’s face lit up. “Yeah, that’s a great idea,” he said. “Thanks.”

Duffy paid for his lunch and headed back to the docks. On the way, he bought a newspaper from a stand and searched through the list of boats that had docked that month and the ones coming in next week.

“Rainbow, rainbow,” he said to himself as he ran his finger down the list.

“Nothing,” he said. “Damn it.”

He thought how this could be a wild goose chase as the tattoo could relate to a boat that had docked here years ago, or maybe never docked here at all. He decided it was hopeless and began walking home.

Along the way, he decided maybe he could do some research and maybe he just might get lucky and find something. He changed direction and headed to the main library, about a fifteen-minute walk.

Inside the library, he went to the Reference Desk and told the librarian what he was looking for—information on a sailing vessel that had “rainbow’ in its name.

The librarian smiled. “That’s a tall order,” he said. “Do you have a year in mind or the name of a shipping company?”

“No,” Duffy said, feeling embarrassed.

“Okay,” the librarian said, seeing Duffy’s discomfort and wanting to help him. “If you’ve got some time, let’s try this historically.”

“Oh, I’ve got the time,” Duffy said, brightening up and appreciating the help.

The librarian led him to some shelves near the back.

“This is an encyclopedia on ships, primarily commercial vessels,” he said, pointing to a set of black leather volumes. “The easiest thing to do is to check the indexes in the back of the books, which will give you an alphabetical listing of the sailing vessels. This is a five-volume set. You may want to start in the present and work your way back, or vice versa, starting with the colonial era.”

“Okay,” Duffy said. “I can do that. “Thanks.”

Duffy selected the first volume and sat down at a table. He checked the “R’s” and found nothing. Then he realized his foolishness as the boat could have “rainbow” anywhere in its title, and so it would not be listed under the “R’s” if it was named something like New England Rainbow . . . or, and then Duffy was amazed by his idea, End of the Rainbow.

That’s it! Duffy was thinking to himself. That’s what might keep bringing him into the bar.

Hurriedly, Duffy flipped open the volume again and looked for “End of the Rainbow.” Nothing. He grabbed the second volume and checked. Again nothing. In the third volume, he found it. His hand shaking, he put his finger under the name End of the Rainbow, a cargo vessel carrying iron ore that sank in 1941 off the coast of Durban, South Africa with no survivors.

Duffy’s heart was pounding and he had to refocus his eyes to take in the meaning of the words before him: no survivors. He was stunned. He could not believe he had found a vessel with that name. Did this guy work on that boat at some time? Was it possible he was on that boat when it sank, and he survived and no one knows about it?

Duffy tried to process the information he had, and then he stopped himself short. Maybe the guy or his girlfriend likes rainbows and he has a tattoo, plain and simple, no extra meaning attached to it. Maybe he just . . . Duffy’s head hurt, and he slammed the book shut with such intensity that the noise startled the people near him. He looked around apologetically and started thinking again. He would confront the guy and ask him. Then he thought, Ask him what? Did you go down with the End of the Rainbow when it sank in 1941? He shook his head. Jesus, Duffy, get a hold of yourself.

He sat for a long time, his eyes closed, thoughts running through his mind. Then he realized he wanted to know everything he could find out about the ship and how it sank. He went up to the Reference Desk again and had the librarian help him. Rather quickly, the librarian had him set up with books, newspapers on file, and microfilm.

The wreck of the End of the Rainbow drew substantial attention in 1941 due to the fact that it disappeared without a trace. No distress signals were sent by the vessel, and no debris from it was ever found. The loss of the End of the Rainbow was attributed to tremendously high seas at the time and the appearance of a rogue wave that overpowered the vessel and most likely flipped it over and down to the bottom of the sea. An investigation was conducted, and there was some discussion of weak cargo hold locks that might have caused the ship to take on water slowly for several days until the cargo hold itself began to fill with water. When hit by the enormous rogue wave, the ship likely could not right itself due to the extra weight of the water in the hold. The loss of lives was quite high—231 passengers and crew. No survivors.

Duffy read on about the search efforts undertaken to locate the ship or some sign of it, but all three major searches over two months were abandoned. An inquiry into the shipwreck determined that the most likely cause was a series of three waves that rocked the ship with the third and largest wave, known as the rogue wave, finally tipping the ship over. Duffy read that there was much superstition surrounding the three waves that culminated in the deadly rogue wave, and that sailors called this series of waves “The Three Sisters.”

In the late afternoon as the sunset began to form, Duffy made his way home, his mind still alive with thoughts about what he had discovered and what it all might mean. He came into the dim light of his apartment. When he flipped the light switch, his eyes were blinded for a second, and then it came to him what he would do.

He walked into the “End of the Rainbow” and looked around. There the guy was, sitting at the bar just like every night, staring straight ahead and eating pretzels one-by-one from his hand.
Duffy saw an empty seat near the guy and sat down. “Mind if I join you?” he said.

The guy turned to look at him and then stared at him until slowly he realized who Duffy was.
The guy turned his attention back to his pretzels and his beer.

Duffy signaled to Phil the bartender for a beer. Phil brought it over and smiled at Duffy. “On your tab, or do you want to pay me?”

“Tab. Catch you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “Heard that one before.”

Duffy sipped his beer and tried to get his courage up. He knew what he wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat. His mouth was so dry he felt as if he could not swallow. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned to the guy.

“I know who you are,” Duffy said, amazed at how strong his voice sounded.

The guy continued staring ahead.

“I know who you are,” Duffy said again.

The guy turned his head slightly and looked into Duffy’s eyes.

“I do,” Duffy said, his voice even stronger. “I know what your tattoo means—that one there on your wrist.” He was moving his hand to point at the tattoo when the guy grabbed Duffy’s hand and bent his fingers back.

The pain shot through Duffy and tears formed in his eyes. He was sure the guy would break his fingers, then the guy let go.

Duffy rubbed his hand, then took a sip of his beer.

“1941,” Duffy said. “A shipwreck.”

Duffy watched a vein pulse in the guy’s neck. Then the guy reached over and spilled Duffy’s beer on the bar.

“You’re done,” he said.

The man looked at Duffy—a deep, dark stare that made Duffy know the guy was no stranger to violence.

“You leaving?” the man said.

Duffy got up from the bar stool and walked toward the door. He looked back one time and saw the man watching him in the mirror above the bar.

Duffy’s hands were trembling as he stood on the street. He shoved them in his pockets and tried to think of what he wanted to do next. He was thinking of just going home and letting the whole thing go when the door to the bar opened. In a flash, he caught sight of the guy coming out, and he jumped into an alley way. He was pretty sure the guy had not seen him, but he stayed in the alley way a good while before venturing out to see where the guy was. No one was in sight, and so he went back out on the street to go home.

The guy grunted as he grabbed Duffy by the throat and threw him against a wall. “You don’t learn, do you?”

The guy was choking him, and Duffy struggled for air and to get free. He scratched at the guy’s hand and tried to kick him, but the guy laughed and just held on tighter as he stepped back from Duffy.

“I could kill you now,” he said.

Duffy felt things going black around him and his head spinning. The guy let go and slapped Duffy across the face.

Duffy was bent over, gasping for breath, when the guy punched him in the stomach and he collapsed on his knees.

“Get up!” the guy shouted.

“I can’t,” Duffy said weakly as he tasted blood forming in his mouth.

The guy grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up. Quickly he had Duffy walking in front of him, a gun barrel poking into Duffy’s back.

Duffy knew where they were headed—down to the docks. He felt hopeless and terrified, certain that he would be shot and his body tossed into the harbor.

“Take a right here,” the guy said. “That one there.”

Duffy looked up and saw a maroon and white cabin cruiser. He followed the guy’s instructions and boarded.

“Sit down,” the guy said, pointing to a chair.

Duffy did as he was told, and then he saw it. Right in front of him, over the doorway to the cabin, was a wooden plaque that said “End of the Rainbow.”

Duffy’s fear gripped him and he began to shake. The guy laughed. “You gonna pee or throw up?” he said.

Duffy lowered his head and tried to get control of himself.

“You know, you’re right,” the guy said as he took of his jacket. “I am dead,” he said. “If you know so much about the shipwreck, you know there were no survivors.”

Duffy looked up at him, and a piercing red light came from the man’s eyes and almost blinded Duffy.

“You get some strange powers when you’ve been at the bottom of the ocean for thirty years,” the man said.

Duffy put his hands in front of his face to block the red light. The guy slapped his hands away.

“Look at me!” he shouted.

Duffy felt a scream welling up inside of him. The man’s skin was peeling from his face and falling in layers at Duffy’s feet.

The man put his hands on his face and the peeling stopped. Then his face returned to normal.

“Let me tell you something,” he said, bending down in front of Duffy, his face only inches away. “If you’re drowning and you know you’re going to die, exhale quickly. Let all the air out. No point in prolonging your suffering. That’s what I did.”

Duffy was screaming now, and the man grabbed his throat.

“I’ll kill you. I swear to God!”

Duffy stopped screaming but he tried to run. The man grabbed the chair and hit Duffy’s head. Duffy could feel himself buckling to his knees and falling to the floor. His last image was of the man standing over him and laughing.

                                                                            * * *

Duffy tried to focus his eyes and take in what was happening. He was on a bunk bed, and the man was standing beside him.

“That’s a nasty welt you got there,” the man said. “Too much to drink.”

Duffy tried to touch his face
.
“Let it be,” the man said, moving Duffy’s hand away. “You hit the edge of the table when you fell.”
Duffy felt his stomach tighten and fear begin to move through him. “I know what happened,” he said.

“Do you now?” the man said.

“I didn’t fall. You hit me with a chair.”

“You’re hallucinating,” the man said. “Too much liquor and a bad fall.”

“I know what happened.”

Duffy saw a flash of irritation cross the man’s face. “Think whatever you want,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter a bit to me.”

“What about the shipwreck?” Duffy said. “The End of the Rainbow that sank off the coast of Africa. You died in that wreck.”

“I died?” the man said, laughing.

For a moment, Duffy saw the absurdity of what he was saying, but he knew the truth.

“Yes,” Duffy said. “You died. You exhaled. Remember?”

“You’re really crazy, you know,” the man said. “Nobody will believe anything you say.”

The man stood up and smiled at Duffy.

Duffy felt he could not breathe. Flames burst from the man’s face, peeling the skin away. Duffy saw through the flames and burning flesh and stared at the man’s skull. The man put his hands on his face and put out the flames, and when he dropped his hands, Duffy was looking at himself. The man had Duffy’s face!

“Oh my God!” Duffy screamed.

“He won’t be any help to you either,” the man said. He reached into a drawer on the night stand by the bunk bed and took out a mirror. He held it in front of Duffy, who saw with horror and anguish that he had the man’s face. Screams burst from Duffy, and he shook violently.

“Scream all you want,” the man said. “The cops will find you soon. Be sure you tell them your story. They’ll get a good laugh out of that before they lock you up.”

The man stared at Duffy. “Of course, you could decide to end it all before that happens,” the man said. He put the gun down on the bed stand.

He watched Duffy as he looked at the gun and took in what the man was saying.

“No, not that. Not that easy,” the man said as he picked the gun up. “Come with me,” he said.

Duffy was trembling, but he managed to stand up from the bed.

The man stuck the gun into Duffy’s chest and told him to walk.

They entered the boat’s cockpit, and the man had Duffy sit in a chair near him, then tied his hands and feet. He held the gun in one hand as he started up the engine, and kept the gun trained on Duffy as he unmoored the boat, which rocked gently as the engine idled.

In a few moments, the man was back, and he steered the boat from its slip and into the harbor.

The movement of the waves added to Duffy’s dizziness and nausea. His mind was racing as he tried to think of a way he could free himself, but it was hopeless. He wouldn’t be able to overpower the man. If he even tried, he knew he would be shot.

“Not too much farther,” the man said, looking at Duffy as he eased the boat through the mouth of the harbor and headed out to sea.

Duffy’s mouth was dry and his head was pounding when the man slowed the boat and finally brought it to a stop. It rocked in the waves as the man untied the ropes holding Duffy’s hands and feet. “Get up,” he said.

Duffy tried to stand, but his knees where shaking. The man laughed and poked the gun into Duffy’s ribs. “Stand up,” he said.

Duffy pulled himself up.

“It won’t be hard,” the man said. “I’ve been through it. Just exhale, like I told you. And then make your pact on the way down as you’re sinking. And right when you drown, you’ll find out what it means to be dead, but not dead.”

“My pact?” Duffy asked in a whisper, his lips barely able to form the words.

“You’ll figure it out,” the man said. Then Duffy felt a tremendous pain in the back of his head as the gun butt cracked his skull. The man stuck his boot into Duffy’s chest and Duffy fell backwards over the side of the boat and into the freezing water. He could feel himself sinking, twisting in small circles, and going down slowly to the bottom. His chest ached and felt like it would split apart. He knew he was drowning. Then he remembered and exhaled, pushing all the air out of his lungs until there was no more air left and his head fell down on his chest.

The horror of what he had done tore through him. He was going to die! He didn’t want to die! Then he understood what the man had meant and made his pact. Anything to live, he screamed in his mind. Anything!

He was sinking faster now, falling and falling. He was filled with fear, and he fought for some way to scream. But he had no voice, no power to move, only this deep, sickening terror and a sense that everything was disappearing into a black void around him.

He sank for what seemed like hours and then, through the blur of the dark, black water, he saw something approaching him. He tried to see, to focus on the apparition. And then he realized it was a swirl of bodies in a huge wave coming toward him. The bodies tossed and rolled in the wave, and he saw the faces as the wave came closer. The faces had no eyes, only deep sockets that were filled with red light, twisting like flames. In an instant, Duffy was grabbed by the speed of the wave and pulled down into colder and colder water. The bodies swirled around him, their eyes lighting the area nearby, and their hands grabbing Duffy’s head and forcing him to look down. Duffy could see his body and the man’s body lying side by side on the ocean floor. The man’s body opened its arms and reached out toward him, and in that moment Duffy knew the truth. His pact had saved him and condemned him—leaving him here dead, but not dead on the ocean’s freezing floor, to be trapped in the man’s heartless body forever.