The next day we left from the job in
Key West. When we arrived back at the house, Andy decided we were going
fishing. It wasn’t a choice for me to go along because he needed me to help man
the boat. As we loaded it with gear I pointed out that the water line on the
canal was ten inches lower than it had been, as indicated by the wetness on the
coral. Though I am a novice when it comes to the ocean, it sure looked to me
like the tide was out, which meant we couldn’t get out of the canal, past the
coral flats that separated us from the ocean. Andy rudely said that we were
fine, and that I didn’t know what I was talking about.
Well, maybe I didn’t but it was a big boat with a draft that barely passed through the flats when tide was in. We only had one route to take that was marked by flags that were not very easily seen. Even though I knew it was a mistake, I got on the boat and he raced to get us to open water. As we raced across the reef, we kicked up a hell of a cloud of muck, leaving a grey and yellowish trail ten feet wide and spreading as we sped along.
Well, maybe I didn’t but it was a big boat with a draft that barely passed through the flats when tide was in. We only had one route to take that was marked by flags that were not very easily seen. Even though I knew it was a mistake, I got on the boat and he raced to get us to open water. As we raced across the reef, we kicked up a hell of a cloud of muck, leaving a grey and yellowish trail ten feet wide and spreading as we sped along.
Thoughts of the last time we had been
out, and how I was working the bow, keeping at the ready for anchor duty, were
running through my head. A sense of pride filled me as I held me eyes steady on
the horizon that day, letting my knees bend in response to the waves moving the
boat as it rose and fell beneath me.
When I weighed anchor at his command, to move to a different spot, the turnbuckle had worked itself loose by the boat tugging in the rough waves. The pin had backed itself out completely, so we lost the anchor. It surprised me when I pulled only a line out of the water. I instantly sensed that there must be some kind of nautical folklore about it- perhaps an Omen or a superstition regarding some kind of doom. It was shameful of me to not have inspected the fastenings but then again, it was HIS boat, he should have said to do it. HE was the Captain, and I was in his care. That’s all there is to it. Filled with pride for having adapted to being on a boat in the ocean, I never revealed my thoughts or my willingness to foolishly accept responsibility for Andy’s boat and anchor.
When I weighed anchor at his command, to move to a different spot, the turnbuckle had worked itself loose by the boat tugging in the rough waves. The pin had backed itself out completely, so we lost the anchor. It surprised me when I pulled only a line out of the water. I instantly sensed that there must be some kind of nautical folklore about it- perhaps an Omen or a superstition regarding some kind of doom. It was shameful of me to not have inspected the fastenings but then again, it was HIS boat, he should have said to do it. HE was the Captain, and I was in his care. That’s all there is to it. Filled with pride for having adapted to being on a boat in the ocean, I never revealed my thoughts or my willingness to foolishly accept responsibility for Andy’s boat and anchor.
We ended up cutting the fishing short
because we were taking on water, as indicated by the lights on the dash that
said the bilge pumps were not shutting off. We raced back to the house.
The next day, we awoke to find the boat
sunk where she slept. Seawater was two feet over the water line, which meant
that the bilge pump couldn’t keep up with the leaking. The battery had become
shorted out when the water reached the terminals. The entire Pentax Diesel
engine was under water- under SALTWATER.
Andy became agitated and in a panic, while scratching a hole in his thick skull as he tried to awaken what was left of his brain in order to come up with an idea. So badly, I wanted to say that I tried telling him not to take it out when we did but I kept quiet as his rat ran on the wheel in his head, chasing cheese it would never get. We unloaded the boat in a mad scramble.
Andy became agitated and in a panic, while scratching a hole in his thick skull as he tried to awaken what was left of his brain in order to come up with an idea. So badly, I wanted to say that I tried telling him not to take it out when we did but I kept quiet as his rat ran on the wheel in his head, chasing cheese it would never get. We unloaded the boat in a mad scramble.
After the boat was emptied, I asked him
if we could use the boat winches mounted on the seawall where she was tied up.
They looked like they were used for lifting boats out of the water, to me. They
were rated for fifteen tons each according to the stamped information on them but,
of course, one didn’t work. The winch at the stern did work, which I explained
is where all the weight is at, and most likely, the leak. He said that wasn’t
what they were for, and that I didn’t know what I was talking about. His genius
idea was that he was going to run to Home Depot-a two hour round trip, to buy
treated lumber, so WE could build a dry dock to put it on, while making the
repairs.
After remaining quiet and biting my
tongue, I asked him, “How would we get the boat on it, if we could possibly
build such a thing?” A long back and forth argument ensued, trying to get him
to listen to me. We had the crane system, the winches or one at least. All we
needed to do was attach it to the stern, take the weight off so it would stay
afloat, letting the water run back out of the leak to sea level- at least. Then
He could get under it to inspect the hole and possibly repair it, with some
type of marine product for underwater emergency repairs, long enough to get her
to a place where it could be tended to properly by a competent marine mechanic.
He kept dismissing me- even though I was a highly skilled carpenter with a
builder’s license, and all the expertise to help solve the problem at hand.
Andy insisted that I was to bow to his supreme knowledge- even though he knew
that I knew he could barley sling paint.
What was going on in his head? I can
only intuitively speculate. He must have started feeling a range of worries and
emotions that were a result of his own insecurities. Everything came to a head
while on our way to Marathon to get supplies for building a failure.
Despite my assistance, he insisted on
building this, so-called “Dry-Dock”. God only knows what he thought he was
going to build. Every time he asked me something, my explanation or idea only
conveyed to him that he was clueless, to which he’d say that I didn’t know what
I was talking about.
Finally, it sinks in that Andy and I
are not, nor had we ever been, friends. He had been jealous of Danny and I
since we met him in 2000. He had ruined expensive equipment at Prospect Studio,
bringing Cocaine, Heroine and dirty skanks with him. Andy had stolen from us,
and ripped us off for over fourteen hundred dollars when we worked for him on a
Crystal Springs project in Grand Rapids. What was I thinking? Here I was, over
twenty five hundred miles from home, trying to salvage my reputation with the
court, win my kids love and admiration back, while trying to piece my life back
together- all while working for someone who has never treated me right or even
deserved any of my time. Holy crap! Had I made a mistake or what? Even though I
am realizing I am being abused, it doesn’t really sink in until the phone rang.
Andy happened to pull into a Tom Thumb
convenience store, so he could buy a pack of Camels and some Sparks, when Julie
called me. Andy then say’s, “You better not be talking to your ol’ lady when I
get back”. As he gets these words across my ears, I see a claw hammer on the
floor between the seats in my peripheral vision. Instantly, I saw myself bury
the claws into the right side of his skull, ripping a large piece of bone from
it, killing him. I imagined how I would spend my life in prison for losing
control of myself, which frightened the hell out of me. Andy wasn’t worth that.
What Julie and I said to each other, exactly, I cannot recall but as soon as he
was out of the van and into the store, I jumped from the van and dashed across
the highway to a marina Tiki-bar.
Coincidence or irony, I am not sure,
but I immediately called my friend Dennis Smith who explained that he was in
the Keys working with a roofing crew. I quickly explained that my distress was
presently in the Keys, where it looked as though I might be stranded. Quickly,
I became pleasantly astonished that my very good friend was also in the keys. And
he was not just in the keys but right across the street from where I had ran to
hide! How could it be that so many people that I knew, were here?
Escaping The Despondent Sea is available on Amazon Kindle Unlimited, and is receiving 5 star reviews on Goodreads.com