by C J Schnier
“Wow, you’re the only person I’ve ever met who even knew what she was, much less how many were made. Are you sure you’re a yard foreman and not a broker?” I asked, impressed.
“Hardly, but I do see a lot of boats come and go,” he replied dismissively.
“Well, to answer your question, no, she is not a Bill Garden design. Though he is inaccurately credited as the designer. I went so far as to contact the venerable Robert Perry about it when I researched her history. I figured since he designed yachts for the same yards and was good friends with Garden that he might know the real story. According to him, in the earlier days of the Taiwan boat building boom, a lot of designs were done under Bill Garden’s name without his knowledge. She was designed by one of the Chen brothers at Ta Chiao, most likely ST Chen, but there’s no way to be sure. She is almost certainly a modified version of Bill Garden’s Walloon design. So she does at least have a good pedigree.”
“I’d say you know your boat, and she is certainly a beaut. Why don’t you guys step into my office and we’ll talk about what you want to get done,” he said motioning us ashore.
“Sure thing,” I said and hopped onto the dock, Kelly right behind me.
“This dude is super gross, he gives me the creeps,” she whispered to me as we followed Frank towards the trailer.
“Yeah I know, but he seems to know his stuff, and we don’t have any other options,” I reminded her.
Frank Hertz led us up the stairs and into the small run down trailer that acted as his office. It was nearly as unimpressive as the rest of the yard. Fake wood paneling covered the walls, making the already small space even more claustrophobic. Several boat renderings hung on the walls, encased in plain metal frames, and a large topless swimsuit calendar dominated the area right behind his desk.
Frank motioned to a couple of chairs and bid us to sit. The studded and worn faux leather chairs slid uneasily back on the dingy brown carpet. For a moment I considered standing instead of sitting. Everything about the room just oozed a stench of low-rent sleaze.
“Now, what can we do for you two? You said on the phone that you were in a hurry to get some work done?” he asked, moving bits of paper that were strewn across his desk from one pile to another.
“Yeah, the old girl needs attention. First of all, she definitely needs a bottom job, it hasn’t been done in four years. And she’s going to need both of her backstays replaced. The alternator either needs to be replaced or rebuilt. Oh, and there are two or three thru-hulls that need to be replaced.”
“Alright, that’s no problem, nothing wrong with the engine?”
“No, that old Volvo has been great. Though that does remind me, can you guys clean out fuel tanks? Both of mine are in dire need of a good cleaning.” I told him.
“Of course, that won’t be a problem either, anything else?” he asked.
“Yeah, we’re going to need to stay on the boat while we’re here,” Kelly said.
“I’m afraid that just isn’t possible, nobody is allowed to stay on their boats while in the yard.”
Kelly held up two crisp one hundred dollar bills. “How about now?” she asked, staring him straight in the eye.
Frank rubbed his hands together.
“I’ll get you guys a key,” he said with a smile. “Oh, and you have proof of insurance right?”
“Three hundred and we don’t worry about the insurance,” I said with my best no-nonsense voice.
Frank stared at us, his smile fading to an evil smirk. “Four hundred.”
“You’re not a foreman, you’re a highwayman,” I scoffed.
“Hey, it’s my ass if something happens. Either pay the four hundred or come back when you have insurance, pal.”
“Fine,” Kelly said. “Four hundred.”
I cut my eyes over to her. This Frank guy was starting to get under my skin. I’d met professional criminals that I had liked better than him.
“Alright, now that that is settled. Let me see, we should be able to have all that done in about a week, but it’s going to cost you,” he warned.
“Just get it done,” I said, getting up from my seat.
“Yes sir, you’re the boss. Now let me find that key for you,” he said with a plastic grin, rifling through overstuffed drawers in his desk. “It’s around here somewhere.”
“Oh yeah, and Frank, one last thing. We’d like to keep a low profile if you know what I mean,” I added.
“I’ve never seen you before in my life. Never heard of no Chase Hawkins.”
“Good man.”
Chapter Four
Within minutes of leaving Frank’s office, his yard hands had moved the mammoth travel lift into position over Paramour. Its giant tractor tires were just wide enough to barely fit onto the concrete boat slip. Once positioned over the boat, the yard hands hooked thick nylon webbing slings to the large electric winches on each side. A diver fished the straps under the hull of Paramour, and attached them to the other side, positioning them for the most even lift possible.
Once the crew was confident that they had everything correct they started raising the slings. It is a nerve-wracking experience to watch your home and dream be lifted out of the water by two pieces of nylon. The winches groaned as they took the strain, but the lift had no trouble lifting our nine-ton vessel. Once she was high enough that the keel would clear the ground the crew backed the lift off the slip. They then maneuvered Paramour into an empty spot in the lot while another worker pressure washed the marine growth and old paint off of the hull.
Suspending her in the air, the crew rushed to place several adjustable stands under Paramour, as well as a few large blocks of wood for her keel to rest on. The whole operation from attaching the slings to putting her down took less than thirty minutes, but I didn’t take an easy breath until they had disconnected the slings and she was resting securely on the stands. This yard might have looked run down, but the crew was skilled and well practiced in their jobs.
Despite our tenuous start and his sleazy persona, Frank turned out to be an asset for us. Not only did he find us a key to allow us unfettered access to the yard, he even provided us a car. The vehicle was a beat-to-hell metallic sky blue 1990 Buick LeSabre. The interior, pale blue cloth and fake wood trim was not only gag inducing but had also long ago been trashed. Foam sprouted out of any of the multiple slashes and cigarette burns that covered nearly every surface. Outside wasn’t much better. The LeSabre’s body was beginning to rust away, and the brakes squealed and shuttered when you applied them, but the old jalopy did have one saving grace. The engine ran just fine.
Kelly and I used it to run all of our errands on the island, and with its gigantic trunk and oversized backseat, our provisioning runs were a snap. Getting the groceries up the ladder and into Paramour, however, was another story. Carrying heavy bags of groceries up a ladder was a disaster waiting to happen and we tired of the chore.
Kelly, however, had an idea to make this backbreaking chore easier. She suggested that we use the mizzen boom as a sort of crane. We unhooked its sheet’s final block from the mizzen traveler track that was attached on the stern and then lowered the whole tackle down to the ground. Once lowered, we would shackle the handles of as many bags as we could fit on it before hoisting the entire lot of groceries aboard. It worked perfectly. That woman is worth her weight in gold on a boat.
With most of our provisioning done we turned our attention to one last errand before waiting on the yard to finish the work, finding a new dinghy. Frank recommended buying a new boat and motor from a dealer he knew up in Key Largo, but Kelly and I wanted to check the used market first. A move that might save us thousands of dollars.
We knew we wanted a fiberglass or aluminum bottomed inflatable boat with at least a 9.9 horsepower outboard. My little fiberglass dinghy was heavy, slow, and far from stable. We wanted to be able to use the boat to zip from spot to spot while leaving the big boat anchored in the Bahamas.
Kelly spent twenty minutes bro
wsing the classifieds on the internet and checking Craigslist before she found what looked to be a winner. It was an almost brand new Hypalon RIB with a new Honda 9.9 horsepower outboard. It was only nine feet long, which would fit well on Paramour’s narrow davits. She called the seller, and they agreed on meeting at a waterfront bar and restaurant called Castaways around noon.
Castaways was a neat joint located right on a canal in Marathon. It isn’t just off the main road though and is in fact hidden behind a trailer park. I had been there once before on a road trip that I had taken years ago, but we ended up having to rely on the GPS from Kelly’s phone to find the place. I didn’t even have a phone anymore.
We walked in and told the hostess that we just wanted a seat at the bar. The place wasn’t crowded, but I still kept looking over my shoulder for any suspicious people that may have been looking for us. My paranoia had been mounting since we had arrived in town. It seemed that there was no place to hide on this little rock. Luckily it appeared that the clientele was mostly local drunks this morning. We decided to have a seat at the outdoor bar and wait.
As we walked up to grab ourselves a seat, I spotted a familiar sight. At the end of the bar, slouched in the stool and buried in his phone was a man in a red Nautica hat, laugh lines around his eyes, and a can of Miller Lite in his hand. He was my age and had the unmistakable demeanor of a sailor. A demeanor I knew too well.
“What the hell are you doing in Marathon Will?” I asked genuinely surprised.
The man looked up, and after a second realized who I was.
“Holy shit! Chase! Hey man! What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Small world I guess.”
“You’re damn right!” He motioned for the stool next to him. “Sit down, I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Yeah, it’s been way too long. Will, I’d like you to meet Kelly. Kelly, this is one of my oldest friends, Will.” I said, introducing the two.
“A pleasure to meet you, Will. So how do you two know each other?” she asked, taking a seat on the nearest bar stool.
“We went to college together actually. I taught this motherfucker everything he knows about sailing.” Will said jovially, punching me in my arm.
“Well I don’t know about everything, but we used to sail together all the time,” I replied.
“Yeah, we did. Remember sailing the Hobie Cat from Eckerd College to the Skyway Bridge and back?”
“Yeah, I think it took us about forty-five minutes round trip. I also remember you leaving the sails up for a week and letting it capsize onto the school’s floating docks,” I reminded him.
“What? The halyard was stuck, I couldn’t take them down,” he said.
“Uh huh,” I said shaking my head.
“I’m going to go get you two a beer. Miller Lite for you Will? And you Chase?”
“You better get us a bucket if they sell them here, this jackass can drink Miller Lite like water. He’s their unofficial mascot,” I said.
“Fuck you!” Will said with a smirk.
“So how have you been, man? Do you still have that Catalina 30 up in St. Pete?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, it’s still there. It’s been good man, I got my captain’s license, and I’m doing some deliveries now too,” he said.
“So you’re not just sailing around that same buoy outside of the marina anymore? What was it? Number 3?” I asked.
“Ahh, screw you, Chase. So what the hell brings you down here? You still on Paramour?”
“Yep, she’s getting some work done in the yard right now, and we’re here to meet a man about a new dinghy. After that we’re off to go cruising,” I said smiling.
“That’s great, man, I wish I could do that. But you know how it is,” he said with genuine longing in his voice.
“You’ll get to one day, man. You’ve got your captain’s license now,” I reminded him, “at least you can get paid to sail for others in the meantime.”
Kelly came back and plopped a galvanized bucket of ice and Miller Lite in front of us. I passed Will a new beer and Kelly and I each took one. Popping the top, we touched our beers together and took a swig. As we were reminiscing of the fun we had in the past, a brand new Flexboat brand inflatable came sliding up to the restaurant’s dock and tied off.
“I think that’s our guy,” I told Will, nodding my head towards the dock. “It was really good catching up with you man.”
“Alright man, go get you a new boat! It was fuckin’ good to see you too. Take care,” he said. “Keep this pirate in line Kelly. Somebody has to.”
“Enjoy the rest of the beers, Will,” she said with a smile before heading towards the dock.
The dinghy was exactly as advertised and even had that new boat shine to it. As far as I could tell no leaks were coming from the pontoons and the engine worked. We went back and forth on the price for a while and finally settled on $2500. The seller had brought the title and signed it over to us immediately after we handed him a stack of one hundred dollar bills. With the transaction complete we let him buy us another beer to celebrate.
Once the beers were empty, and it was time to go I looked around for Will one last time. He was already gone, and I realized with a sinking feeling that once we went cruising, I might never see him again.
We offered the seller a ride back home, but he decided just to call a cab when he was ready to leave. Both Kelly and I wanted to take the dinghy over to the boatyard, but one of us needed to drive the borrowed jalopy back as well. After back-to-back decisive wins of rock-paper-scissors, Kelly hopped in the dinghy, fired up the motor and looked back at me as she threw off the dock line.
“Race you home!” She yelled as she opened the throttle up and sped away.
“Cheater!” I yelled back at her. I watched her to the end of the canal, her dark hair flying behind her, before jogging out of Castaways for the Buick. Slamming the key into the ignition, I fired it up and squealed the tires as I tore out of the parking lot. It might not be a fair race, but a race is still a race, and I always play to win.
Chapter Five
“Chase my boy!” Frank hailed me, striding towards me on his stubby legs. “We’re just about all done, all that is left is for you to pay your bill and us to put Paramour back in the water.”
“That’s great news Frank, what are the damages?” I asked.
“Seven grand, a paltry sum for all that we’ve done for you,” he said, his eyes lighting up green with greed.
“Paltry?” I balked.
“Paltry,” he confirmed. “I didn’t even charge you for some of the labor.”
“Well aren’t you just a swell guy,” I said. “Let me make sure everything is right, and I’ll grab my money.”
“Sounds good, I’ll be in my office if you need me,” he said before turning and slithering back towards the run-down trailer.
Once he was gone, I looked over all the work that had been done on Paramour. Her bottom was clean and fair, covered in fresh black anti-fouling paint. The propeller was clean and painted with new zinc-based paint to help prevent electrolysis in the water from eating away at it. The four new thru-hull fittings were in and secure.
Happy with everything below the waterline I climbed the ladder into the cockpit. The riggers had replaced the two backstays. Brand new stainless steel wires ran from the top of the main mast down to the deck, terminating in new turnbuckles. The riggers had also checked the rest of the wires holding the masts up and given them all the thumbs up.
Inside the cabin I checked the valves on the thru-hulls, making sure that they opened and closed easily and that each one had the appropriate hose connected to it. Both settees had been taken apart to access and clean the diesel tanks. I unbolted the inspection hatch on both tanks to visually confirm that they were indeed clean. Satisfied with all the work I asked Kelly to grab the money and get ready to get out of here.
She dove into the v-berth and shut the door, a moment later she emerged with a fist full of cash that she han
ded over to me. I stuffed the seven grand in my back pocket, aware that I had never before had that much money on my person.
“Are you about ready to blow this popsicle stand?” Kelly asked.
“The sooner I get away from that slimy bastard the happier I’ll be.”
“Hey! He’s been good to us while we were here and the yard did a great job,” she reminded me.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m just getting paranoid, we’ve been here too long, and you can’t exactly hide in a place like Marathon.”
“I know what you mean, I keep looking over my shoulder, but I don’t think anyone knows we’re here,” she agreed.
“Maybe not, but the sooner we get clear and find a nice empty Bahamian beach, the better.”
“Oh? And what are you going to do on that empty beach?“ she asked, cutting her green eyes at me.
“Oh I can think of a few things,” I said giving her a wink.
“Like what ?“ she insisted, stepping close to me.
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” I teased, and then kissed her fully.
“I don’t want to wait,” she mewled, leaning into me harder.
“No?” I teased, while my hands sought the hem of her tank top.
I pulled her top off, tossing it aside. She did the same with my shirt, whipping it over my head. Our mouths found each other again, practically dripping with passion. I pressed her backward, down the two steps into the v-berth as our hands both fumbled with the other’s shorts. Both pairs succumbed to our manipulations and fell to the floor. I picked her up and tossed her back onto the mattress before yanking her panties off and climbing on top of her.
“I can’t wait to get to that beach,” she said in between gasps of passion.
“Me either,” I growled.
And then I took her.
***
“What took you two so long?” Frank asked looking up from his desk.
“Sorry about that Frank, we got a little, well, distracted,” Kelly said.
“Distracted? It looks like you two got a little more than distracted. Chase, you old dog you. I should charge you two hourly rent! This ain’t no love shack!“ he roared, unable to contain himself and laughing at his own joke.
