Dreamcast 3, page 9
I dove to the very bottom to test the silky smoothness of the sand. I swam along the deep, touching things until I got nicked by a sharp edge of coral and had to pinch my finger to stem the seeping blood, not to attract a shark with the offer of an easy meal. I rose to the surface, blew the water out of my breathing tube and strained to catch up with the rest, motoring along easily with their flippers. We climbed back on board the skiff, exclaiming happily about what we saw. The tour had been magical, and it alone was worth the whole trip, the flight, the heat and the infestation of sand fleas and insects.
The Captain passed around sweet lime juice to take the taste of salt out of our mouths. I didn’t know when I had anything more refreshing. Miles glowed about a few shiny rocks he’d collected, but the color faded quickly as they dried.
“Why didn’t you get some coral?” Cindy asked.
“Because it’s illegal, that’s why. Coral is protected by law,” Miles informed her firmly.
The Captain spent a good 5, 10 minutes trying to start the engine, the whole time praying or swearing under his breath. On the verge of a heart attack, on the hundredth pull, the small engine finally spluttered to life. We putt-putted back to the dock and tipped him generously.
We had lunch, conch soup in the fishing shack perched at the edge of the wooden pier, drank sweet fruit juice that passed for pop and bantered with the owner/waiter who thought he could speak English.
Afterwards Amanda and the kids went to visit the museum while I looked around for a place to change money. American dollars were welcome everywhere at a ruinous rate of exchange. There were no banks on the island, no international businesses, just a combination post office, municipal registry, newsstand and drug store. Still the owner gave me a decent exchange, almost at the international rate. I changed 50 dollars American, which ought to last for two days. I didn’t want to exchange more, so as not to tempt my kids to spend it on something that would eventually end up in a box in the garage. A guy beside me was trying to get the owner to send a fax to the mainland. Looking at me, he asked, “American?” I nodded, knowing from his southern drawl that he was.
“Me too,” he said, flipping through a pile of postcards that showed the few sights around the island. “Stuck here with engine trouble. How about you, enjoying it?”
“Except for the heat. Yesterday was brutal.”
He laughed. “Sure was. With the engine down, we had to turn the air-conditioning off to conserve battery power.” Air-conditioning? That sounded mighty nice. “Look, we’ve been getting hot air from the mainland, but that’ll pass once the wind from the sea comes up. It’s quite unusual to have this hot air mass stalled over us.” I must have looked skeptical because he laughed. “It’s all a question of highs and lows driving the weather patterns. On a boat it pays to know these things. It’ll change soon. In fact it’s already cooler today.” Thank God. He paid and we left together.
Outside he turned to me. “Want to get a drink?” I looked him over more closely. He was my age, in good shape, dressed in good leisure clothes.
Amanda and the kids were still off, so I said, “Why not?”
Seeming to know the island, he led us into a side street and into an unpromising wooden shack that was built around a tree.
“Not much, I admit, but it serves the best drinks on the island.” In fluent Spanish he ordered bourbon. I had the same. “On the rocks,” I insisted. We sat down at a side table with a view to the street. “By the way, my name’s Doug,” he offered with a friendly grin.
“Travis.” And we shook hands.
“Not many Americans here, mostly Europeans. Not much to do here. I wouldn’t stay here ten minutes if my engines were OK.” He lifted his glass and took a sip. Cautiously I sampled mine, finding it a quality drink, smooth and strong as a bourbon ought to be.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“Pensacola, Florida. I just sold a string of hardware stores and retired. The wife and I were planning to see the rest of the world, hence the cruise.” Geez, freedom 40, I had to admire the guy. “And you?” he pointed at me with his glass.
“The Gulf Coast, Westchester?”
“No!” he exclaimed, slamming his glass down on the table. “I was born and raised there.” He peered at me intently. “Where did you go to school?”
“Nathaniel Forest High?”
“You’re kidding me!” He was bowled over with astonishment. “Me too.”
It took us five minutes to match the year, and though we couldn’t recall each other, we knew the same people. We spent ten more minutes revisiting our high school years, prompting each other with memories in an animated back and forth. We had another drink and continued talking. Had we run into each other back at home, it wouldn’t have mattered so much, but here in foreign lands, the convergence seemed extraordinary.
“Look, I hate to break this up but I have to find my wife and kids,” I said, finishing my drink and getting up.
“Let me go with you, and afterwards all of you can come and visit my boat. My wife just has to meet you.” Sounded good to me. It would offer a novel diversion for my family. Doug paid for the drinks and we left.
Chapter 9
In the main (and only) square we met up with Amanda and the rest, already waiting around the fountain, searching for me. I introduced Doug and explained the connection. Amanda didn’t seem all that surprised but Cindy thought it was cool.
“You have to visit us on the boat. With the electricity cut back, the satellite shut down, my wife’s dying of the heat and boredom. You must come. We can still cook on the gas stove, but out of cans only, the fridge is on low.” He seemed really eager.
“Well, OK,” I said. “When would be a good time?”
“Right now, if you like.” Amanda and I exchanged quick looks, and she nodded her head. As we walked along the stone quay past sailboats and cruisers, I tried to guess at our destination. I was surprised when Doug stopped by Christine and motioned us to the gangway.
“Wow! This is quite a rig.”
“87 feet custom made.” He led us by the side rail toward the back. “I’m the second owner, got it for a good price.”
We rounded the corner to come upon a woman lounging in the shadow of the rear overhead. She looked up at us, surprised.
“Look, Honey, what I’ve found. Travis here and I went to the same high school. What do you think of that?”
“That’s wonderful,” Suzy said with a southern twang, rose and shook hands with us. “Welcome, welcome.”
We found seats and arranged ourselves on the back deck. I ended up on soft plastic cushions that in two minutes started sweating from my body heat. Our hosts served us drinks as we went through the introductory chitchat to establish our credentials and why we ended up on this island. “Amanda wanted something genuine, not prepackaged for mass consumption.”
“You have to go farther inland to find that. Even this small backwater lives off the tourists passing through. Boats heading south on the inner track have to pass by here. There’s nothing really authentic here,” Doug explained. I threw Amanda a triumphant look: see, I told you so. She just smiled sweetly back at me.
“We had to divert to this God forsaken place,” Suzy explained. “We were heading further south. There’s nothing to do here.”
“There’s good sport fishing on the other side of the reef.”
“For men,” she said, dismissing it.
“This is where Jacques Cousteau got stuck with his boat, nearly sinking it,” I commented, trying to display my vast store of knowledge.
“Actually, that was further north, at the Blue Hole of Belize,” Doug corrected me. OK, good to know.
The women left to rustle up some food. Miles wandered around, peering at the translucent water off the side of the boat. Cindy was sorting through Suzy’s pile of fashion magazines.
Doug and I tried to figure out where our classmates had ended up. He brought up Jenny, remembering how vivacious she was. How much he regretted her death. Abruptly he stopped, his eyes popping. “Now I remember you! You were accused of her murder, weren’t you?”
“Yeah. That was a long time ago.” Still my heart fluttered in my chest. Poor Jenny.
“I know you helped the police solve the case, but at the time I thought you were guilty as hell.” His face changed to a sympathetic expression. “That had to be rough on you.”
“It was. But I met Amanda because of it and look where we are now.” He nodded his head in concert.
Just then the women came back and served us salad with bread and cold cuts.
“Dear, you have to turn the fridge up a little. The things are getting soft in the freezer.”
“I need the power for the weather fax and the GPS.”
“Can’t lose all that meat,” she argued. “We wouldn’t be able to replace it until we hit a bigger city. I don’t trust the local butchers. They might be able to cope with their microbes, but my body isn’t used to them. How long will it take to get the part?”
“The charter will fly it in tomorrow morning from the mainland. We only have to survive the night.”
“Good,” she said in a determined tone. Obviously she had her share of power in the relationship. Then she became a perfect hostess, looking after our comfort and entertaining us with surprisingly intelligent prattle. To her credit she included the kids.
We spent a good two hours on board, enjoying the comforts of a luxury motor yacht even on reduced power. Even moored, the ship looked sexy, all 87 feet of her gleaming, polished and pampered.
It was getting dark before we could tear ourselves away from our generous hosts.
“Thank God we found each other,” Suzy exclaimed on parting. “It’s been so boring without decent conversation. You must come back tomorrow. By midday we should have the engine fixed and be on full power again. There are showers and a Jacuzzi below, and a state of the art entertainment system above for the kids. I need my fix of the news. It’s amazing how quickly one loses contact with the world while traveling.” We promised to come again.
“Goodbye, goodbye,” Suzy waved as we left the gangplank.
In the deepening darkness there were few electric lights on the street to lead us and just a window alight here and there. We stumbled along the uneven way. The church bell rang and automatically I checked the luminous face of my watch, 10:58. Either I was slow or the bell was early. Given that I wore an expensive Swiss watch, a birthday present from Amanda, I had to be right.
“They were very eager to host us,” I remarked to Amanda.
“Yes. With the heat and the trouble with the generator, they were slowly getting on each other’s nerves. We were a welcome diversion. While we were preparing food, she confessed that the early retirement was a difficult transition for Doug, all of a sudden to have nothing vital to do. At sea, he has to steer, navigate, check the weather, but at anchor he feels lost.”
“I wouldn’t have such trouble,” I said.
“You’re an artist, you can always draw and paint, working or retired. Which reminds me, why haven’t you painted something on this trip?”
“I tried to draw but was swamped by a host of kids, jabbering away. That broke my concentration.”
“You have to do it when everyone is indoors.”
“During siesta it’s too hot,” I reminded her. We arrived back at our compound, found our cabana and quickly went to bed. I felt pleased; it had been a good day. First there was the scuba diving along the reef, then meeting the Dawsons and being invited on their cruiser. I’d always been fascinated by boats. A house on land could have many flaws but still be a home. A ship upon the ocean was a study of optimization, a mix of user-friendly functionality, efficiency, durability, safety and not the least, comfort and style for it had to survive in a sometimes very hostile environment. Feeling a pang of envy toward Doug for having achieved that degree of financial freedom, I looked forward to the next day, finally reconciled with this holiday.
Chapter 10
As we walked into the restaurant for breakfast, I was surprised to see Doug there, beckoning us over to him. We trooped to the table and took seats.
“Good news, the part arrived with the early flight. I installed it, got the engine running and we have full electricity again. Can you believe that a 15 dollar part can paralyze a million dollar boat? Of course with transport it cost me near 200 bucks, but I got two, one as a spare. When I get back stateside I’ll have another generator installed for backup.” He poured himself a fresh cup of coffee while the waitress took our orders.
“Anyway, we’re breaking out soon, heading south.” Disappointment washed through me. An odd expression crossed his face and I knew something was coming. “You guys are staying for more than eight days right?” He looked around at us; I nodded. “How’d you like to come along with us for a short run down the coast? Have you back in good time for your return flight.” The proposal floored me.
“For how long?” I asked to get a handle on the offer.
“Maybe five days, or whatever fits your itinerary.” He seemed so childishly eager to have us join him. “Frankly, we need company. Suzy is complaining that we don’t speak the same language.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if to say can you believe that?
“She probably means not the same emotional language.” Amanda softened the accusation. “That happens often between husbands and wives.”
“It’s true. I’m more of a nuts-and-bolts, numbers kind of guy. I don’t waste much time gossiping... She says that I’m not a good traveling companion. So you see, you’d do me a huge favor by coming along.”
Amanda and I exchanged looks. I read agreement in her eyes; why not? Seize the opportunity. This vacation was turning into a real adventure. “OK, it’s a deal,” I said and foolishly stuck out my hand. We shook on it as if I’d just bought a new car.
“Great!” He seemed genuinely pleased. “I’ll take you deep-sea fishing. Just wait till you have a two hundred pound sailfish fighting on the end of your line. Better than ... you know ... sex. And we can get the watercrafts out for the young ones to play with, in one of the more sheltered coves. Land someplace, go sightseeing, climb up to the rim of a volcano. There are hundreds of things to do... but not here.” He looked around the place deprecatingly. “Think of it, blue ocean, the sun overhead, the breeze in your face.”
I was warming even more to the idea when it occurred to me to ask, “What’ll the weather be like?”
“Excellent. A tropical high moved in, so we can count on ideal cruising. I promise you’ll hardly feel the motion of the boat. And if it gets too hot, there’s air-conditioning, which you don’t have here.”
I could see the kids were eager to go. “Alright then, let’s get packing.” The kids jumped up and were gone, Amanda after them.
“Tell you what, get what you need, meet me on the dock and we’ll be on our way,” Doug said, rising.
I went to the front desk and wrote a note to say where we were going, with whom and for how long. By the time I got back to our cabana Amanda and the kids were ready. “We don’t need to take everything,” she announced. We started for the village, each of us with a modest backpack. I was trying to calculate if I had everything I’d need. I thought maybe an extra... but then, it was too late to go back for it. Halfway, a donkey cart took on our packs so it was much easier walking.
Suzy welcomed us on board and showed us to separate staterooms. Amanda and I had one to ourselves, Cindy and Miles had their own. The ventilation buzzed quietly. What luxury.
We collected on the fly bridge up top as Doug fired up the engines. “We’ll let them run a moment,” Doug informed us with a mixture of pride and affection. The engines hardly made a sound, but the vibration promised plenty of power. Five minutes later Suzy hopped ashore to release the mooring lines. She jumped back and with a rush from the bow thrusters we edged away from the quay. Slowly we moved around the other boats and through the entrance then left the breakwater behind. Doug spun the wheel, pushed the throttle forward and the ship half rose out of the water, the prow cutting through the light swell. Past the reef the sea was calm and we hardly felt the difference. Doug checked our bearing, set the autopilot, then eased back in his Captain’s chair. I was up beside him, keeping a watch on the horizon. Far off to the right a sailing boat was beating into the light wind. I grinned foolishly. Yes, this was the life; this was how it was meant to be lived. Each minute took us farther from insects, from the bad smell of septic overflow, and the odor of mediocre food.
The ladies went into the salon below while Cindy found herself a comfortable place to read on the back deck and Miles perched up at the very front, fascinated by the rush of water being parted by the prow.
Doug was at the controls, lovingly caressing the steering wheel. I was trying to make sense of the dials and the multicolored displays in front of me on the console. Doug reached down, and took two imported beers from a fridge tucked into the sidebar. Yes this was the life. I leaned back and sipped the ice-cold brew. After the second beer Doug became talkative. “I made some money in house repair after Hurricane Andrew. Roofs mostly. There was a lot of work and few real craftsmen to do all that needed fixing. Construction material was in short supply, prices were high. Everybody was gouging everyone else. As a small operator I couldn’t get a discount from the wholesalers. I’d made just enough money to open a hardware store of my own and join the gold rush. Within five years I bought another, then shortly after still another. In fifteen years I had a chain of nine outlets in northern Florida. But the industry was changing, the mega discount stores moved in and I bailed out after getting a pretty good price for my investment. Now I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to start another business again. Family suggested politics but I have no inclination that way. All I knew was I didn’t want to be sitting at home. Then I bought this boat and traveled the Intercoastal Waterways for a year. This is our first foray this far south into deep waters. Everything was going great till the genset broke down.”
