My Water Path

by Timothy Joseph

  The two of them told me all about the engine and the tug, and I had a million questions. When I left the docks, they told me to come back in a day or two and they would see if they could find me a rowboat.

  I stopped at a grocery store and soon realized there was a limit to the shopping because I didn’t remember to bring my empty backpack. With the top of one bag wrapped around each handlebar grip, I headed to the cave.

  Just as I got my bedding set up and a fire going, darkness settled in. I cut a long, narrow stick, sharpened it, and speared a hotdog in the middle. I tried to rotate it over the fire, but it quickly swung back to where it started out. Turning the stick again, the hotdog insisted on not turning, and only one side was being cooked. I sighed, slipped it off the stick, and stuck the stick in the end of the dog, pushing it about halfway—it worked. I roasted three hotdogs, ate nearly the whole bag of chips, half the cookies, and drank half the milk. Sitting sideways to the fire so it would light up my notebook, I caught up on my journal. I watched the fire burn down, but I was asleep before the last of the flames went out.

  15

  Captain

  BAD WEATHER KEPT ME AT THE CLIFF for two days, but I had plenty of provisions to eat and plenty to read and do. In my notebook, I sketched out how to construct braces for the tarp cover I would build for the rowboat I might get. I was anxious to find a boat so I would have a place of my own, rather than have to worry about someone coming upon my cliff home. It was nice enough, and if I could be assured of staying hidden, I would just make a permanent wall with the tarp and poles and add some stuff to my hideout, but I just didn’t feel I could stay here without being discovered.

  With a boat, I could move if I wanted to, and everything would be with me all the time. To cook and stay warm, I would put a few inches of sand on the bottom of the boat, surround it with rocks, and I could have a flame on top of the sand. I wouldn’t need much of a fire since the area under the tarp would be small. A flap in the tarp would let the smoke out the bow end, which would be the highest place. Surely, Huckleberry Finn and Jim would have done something like this if they had had a boat instead of a raft.

  When I arrived at the dock, I headed to where I had met Jacob and Max, hoping I would find them again. There was a larger tug at the dock, so I pedaled over but saw no one. I got off my bike and walked to the tug, noticing the doors to the cabin were open. Hearing some activity inside, I sat on edge of the dock and waited. Max came out the door, and I shouted, “Hi!”

  He turned and smiled. “Well, howdy. Was wondering if you’d be comin’ by.”

  “What’s wrong with this engine?” I asked.

  “Ain’t rightly figured it out, but Jacob be working on it. He’s down there a talking real sweet to this big momma. You wanna see them engines on this tug? They’s be a whole bunch different from the little’un we fixed last time.”

  “You bet. I’d love to see them.”

  “She gots two engines. This is a really big momma. Fits her name.”

  I didn’t know what he meant until I saw the name, Big Momma.

  “I don’t see the open compartment.”

  “She’s gots a big engine room. Come, follow me.”

  He picked up some tools from a huge toolbox on deck.

  “Can I help?” I ventured.

  Smiling, he handed me some sort of gauge with a rubber hose connected to it and a couple of screwdrivers. He picked up two open-end wrenches, a tube full of some liquid, and a few rags. I followed him through the door and down a set of steps. He turned and headed toward the stern, going through what looked like a kitchen, past some tables and chairs, bunk beds, and through another door. We took three steps down and we were in the engine room.

  “Jacob, talk sweet now. Your good luck is back.”

  Jacob was sitting on an upside-down bucket next to an engine the size of a pickup truck. He looked at me. “Well, good you could come by. Oh, I need the vacuum gauge.” He reached out and I handed him the gauge with the rubber hose. “Thanks. What was your name again?”

  “Jory.”

  “Thanks, Jory.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I think the diaphragm in the vacuum pump is likely shot. This will tell me.” He hooked the black hose of the gauge to a nipple he twisted into a hole left by a bolt he removed. “Now if this needle doesn’t move at least halfway up, it means the diaphragm is a goner. Max, crank her over.”

  Max pushed a large red button on a beam, and the huge engine spun as Jacob and I watched the gauge. The needle shot way past the middle. He waved and Max let up on the button. “Nope, not the diaphragm.”

  “What do you think it might be?” I asked.

  “Well, a diesel ain’t got many things to go wrong, actually. Let’s check the fuel solenoid.” He told Max to disconnect the hot line to the starter motor and let him know.

  A few moments later, Max shouted, “Done!”

  “Hit the switch,” he called.

  Max pushed the red button again, and a chattering of clicks screamed out. Jacob hit it with the wooden handle of a big screwdriver and the clicks repeated. “Let loose!” he shouted, and Max let up on the switch. “Think I found it,” he said, disconnecting a nut from a connector on the solenoid holding a large wire. He disconnected another nut and shouted to Max to toss him a jumper. He connected the wire, which had a ring at each end, to the two connectors, replaced the nuts, and told Max to reconnect the starter.

  Max complied, and returned to the switch. Jacob patted the engine. “Okay, Sweet Momma, sing to Daddy Jacob. Hit it, Max.”

  When Max pushed the button, Jacob looked at me and pointed to his ears, so I put a finger in each one, as did he. The engine spun. It fired and clanged so loud it scared me. As it picked up speed, the noise lessened, but was still way too loud for me to remove my fingers.

  “Yes! Sweet Momma! Sing, sweetheart!”

  Jacob looked at Max and used his finger to make a slit-your-throat motion. Max hit a kill switch and the engine stopped.

  “She needs a new solenoid,” he said, “and we’ll replace the one on the other engine. It’s just as old.”

  “I can’t believe an engine can be this big. And there’s two of them”

  “These two sweethearts pump out more than three thousand horses. Big Momma here can push a battleship around with her two bassoons. I mean, engines. We’ll get us the solenoids this afternoon and replace them tomorrow. Let’s change Momma’s oil.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Sure can.”

  We drained what seemed like a bathtub full of thick, black oil from the engines, replaced dirty oil filters, and put gallons of fresh oil back in. It was a messy job, but it was fun working with Jacob and Max. When finished, we carried the dirty oil to the deck. I washed up in the bathroom on the tug, which was really neat; it even had a shower.

  I walked through the kitchen area where both men were sitting. “Oh,” Max said. “Thinks maybe Jacob here just might done found you a nice rowboat.”

  “You did?”

  Jacob nodded. “You see, I’ve been fixing old Harper’s diesel in his little cabin cruiser for a long time, and ain’t never charged him a penny. I guess he’s some kin of mine, some uncle of some cousin or some other dumbass relation. Hell, I don’t know. He has a fish house and gives us fish now and then.”

  Max added, “And them cigars you get, he wraps them himself. And you gots to know what yous doing to wrap a decent cigar, or you best be smoking horse manure.”

  “Yeah, I know, he’s a nice guy,” Jacob said. “I like the old man if’n he’d stop talking once in a while. Don’t know how to stop his jaw from flapping.”

  “Where’s the boat?” I asked. “Do you know how much he wants for it?”

  “Wanted too much: fifty bucks. But I reminded him he owes me big time for keeping his old diesel running, and I’d give him ten bucks, not a penny more. He don’t need it no more than I needs another wart, for he’s got two other boats. It used to be a
runabout, even has a little front deck, but it has oarlocks and two good oars. It’s pretty good size for a young’un like you to be rowing, maybe too big. But if you get an old motor to put on, you’d have a fine boat.”

  “How much does a motor cost?”

  Max shook it head. “More than the boat, lessen you can get something that don’t work and Jacob here can fix it.”

  Jacob nodded. “Shoot, finding an old motor should be easy. Lots of junks around. We’ll be working on finding you a motor if’n you get the boat. If you like it, you tell him I gave you the money for the boat and don’t pay him a penny more than ten, you hear?”

  “Yes, sir. When can I see it?”

  16

  Jacob’s Angel

  A BIT OF HAGGLING WITH THE CHATTERBOX MR. HARPER and a few busy days later, I had myself a refurbished rowboat. In high spirits, I went to find Jacob and Max, who were working on another tugboat much smaller than the monster Big Momma they had repaired during my last visit. They were sitting on a box eating their lunches from brown paper bags. Smiling, I walked up the plank.

  “Well, did you go see the boat?” Jacob asked.

  “Yup! And she’s now mine. I’ve already been fixing her up so I can stay on her all the time.” It immediately occurred to me they had no idea about my running away. “Uh, when I want to camp out, and stuff. She’s a really fine boat. Thanks so much for finding her for me.”

  Max smiled, “Guess Angel Jacob just did his thing. Twern’t Jacob some sort of angel in the Bible?”

  Jacob looked at Max as if he was about to smack him good. “T’ain’t no Angel Jacob in the Bible, you imbecile. That was Angel Gabriel. You don’t know squat about the Bible, do you?”

  Max replied, “I knows plenty.”

  “Okay, who wrote the damn thing? Tell me that.”

  “You done be top the heap, dumbass. Why, God done wrote it, of course.”

  Jacob shook his head slowly and gave me a look. “Ha. See? Case closed. Mr. Bible Expert here done explained it all. I rest my case.”

  Max replied proudly, “I’ll say yous best rest your case.”

  “You hear that, Jory? God wrote the Bible. You remember that for Sunday school, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Jacob asked, “Well, when do we get to see the boat? Row her up here.”

  “Well, I’d sure like to, but I don’t know if I would be able to row so far upstream. She’s pretty big. I can row her okay, but if the current is fast I’d be going mighty slow, and it’s a long way to row against the current.”

  “Tell you what. We need to deliver this tug about ten miles upstream tomorrow. We’ll come to you. You be watching for this lady mid-morning, and when you sees us, you row out. We’ll tie you up, head upstream with your boat, and you can ride with us a while. We’ll let you off and you can go downstream with the current. How’d you like that?”

  “Really? You’d take me with you?”

  “Why, you’re our partner, ain’t that right? Sure we’ll take you along.”

  * * *

  Grocery shopping done, everything was unpacked and stored in its place on the boat. Pulling the bow on shore, I took my knife out and opened a can of red paint. The paintbrush I’d gotten along with it was too big, so I cut most of the bristles off. Sitting in the sand trying to think of a name for the boat, I remembered what Max had said about the Bible. Carefully I painted Jacob’s Angel on one side of the bow, moved to the other side and painted it again. I couldn’t wait for Jacob and Max to see it.

  After a can of chicken and rice soup and a glass of milk for breakfast, I rolled the tarp to the back of the boat and laid it across my bike. Pushing off shore and rowing a little ways out into the river, I watched for the tug as I floated downstream. I heard the diesels before the tug came into view. My heart pounded, ready to board, as I rowed with all my might toward the middle of the river. It was getting closer and closer, so I aimed the bow upstream and grabbed my bowline. About twenty feet from the tug, the roar of the diesels idled down to a purr. Max waved and shouted to me from the front deck. Jacob was in the pilothouse, leaning out.

  “Well, howdy, Jory. Toss me the line.”

  I threw it as hard as I could and he caught it in one hand and tied it to a cleat. He reached down for my hand. “Here you go,” he said, and yanked me up. My other hand grabbed the rail, and I tossed my legs over and onto the deck. “Well, will you look there, will you? Look at the name of your boat.”

  Max slapped the gunnel. “If I ain’t no ole grease-gun. Jacob’s Angel. I done don’t believe it.”

  Jacob headed the tug upstream at an idle and came down from the pilothouse. “Let’s see your boat,” he said, peering over the side.

  “Didn’t I tell you Jacob was an angel?” Max said.

  “Well, I’ll be a grease monkey’s uncle.”

  “Do you like her?” I asked.

  Jacob gave her a once over. “Looks like you got her fixed up really great. I see how you made the cover for her to sleep in. Good job. Yup, I like her. You got yourself a fine boat. And with a name like that, I figure she ain’t ever going to let you down. No way. No angel ever let anyone down. Jacob’s Angel, I swear I never would’ve believed it.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have ever gotten her if it hadn’t been for you, Jacob. Thanks.”

  “Harper try to get you to pay more for her?”

  “Yup, but I told him exactly what you told me to say, and he let me have her for ten dollars.”

  “I knowed sure well he’d be trying for more. Glad you held your ground.”

  “’Bout time we head upstream to deliver this here lady,” said Max. “Let’s tie Jacob’s Angel off the stern and let out all the rope yous got.”

  We tied a long rope to my bowline so Jacob’s Angel sat far behind. I followed Jacob up to the pilothouse, and he sat me in the captain’s chair. He told me how to give it throttle, and said to give three quick tugs on the horn rope to signal Max we were about to get under way. I yanked three times and three low, rumbling honks filled the river. Max gave us a thumbs-up, and Jacob told me to turn the tiller half a revolution and give her some throttle. The tug rumbled under my feet and slowly picked up speed. He told me to head directly upstream. There I was, the pilot of a big tug, my dream come true. If I worked things out right and became a captain, life on the river would be just perfect.

  Max came up to the pilothouse. He took one look at me. “Well, Captain Jory, how does this compare to rowing Jacob’s Angel?”

  “Why, there ain’t no comparison,” I said, grinning.

  Max smiled, “Jacob, I just ain’t thinkin’ Captain Jory here is enjoying himself too awful much, do you?”

  “I kinda think he’s having a good time, lessen he runs this gal aground.”

  It wasn’t long before I saw my tree and pointed to it. “That’s the tree I tie up to, Jacob, over there.”

  “A tree? That’s where you keep your boat? I don’t see no house nowhere.”

  Why did I say that? “Well, you see, I’m only there while camping out.”

  Jacob looked at Max, who also had an inquisitive look on his face.

  “Oh, I see,” Jacob said. He didn’t sound convinced.

  “You decide how far upstream yous wants to go with us, okay?” Max said. “Not too far, ’cuz yous got to row back.”

  Steering the powerful tug, I said, “I’ll let you know.”

  “You’re the captain,” Jacob said. He then looked at Max. “Since Captain Jory here has her under control, let’s you and me go check out the engines while she’s full-out.”

  Max cocked his head. “But we just…oh, uh, sure, let’s check her out since we’s gots another good captain.”

  Jacob pointed to the blips on the radar screen, explaining that the radar antenna scanning the horizon created the yellow line moving slowly in a circle around the screen. The direction we were traveling was always straight up on the screen, and if a blip was on that line, it meant another boat or objec
t was in front of us, and I should pull back on the throttles to slow down and determine what it was. If it was a tug pushing a barge, I should steer to starboard and let it pass to port. It if was a small boat or tug without a barge, it was their responsibility to get out of our way.

  Jacob said, “Okay, Captain, keep her on course, watch that radar screen, and give this here gal three-quarters throttle whiles us two goes and checks them engines under a heavy load.”

  The smile on my face nearly split me in half. Placing my hand on the dual chrome throttle handles and pushing them forward with my other hand on the wheel, it was a thrill of a lifetime. Black smoke belched out of the stacks as she picked up speed. Without a word, Jacob, with an equally big smile, patted Max on the shoulder and they left the bridge. I was scared, thrilled, and in tugboat heaven.

  Alone on the bridge, I truly was her Captain, the only one in control. My hands gripped the wooden wheel spokes so hard I was sure my fingers left permanent indentations. I concentrated on staying in the middle of the river and closely watching the radar for blips. All I could think about was a huge barge coming downriver toward me. I grabbed the throttle knobs with my right hand, just in case, thinking, If only Dad could see me now.

  A while later, Max and Jacob returned. Jacob said, “Super job, Captain Jory.”

  Max smiled. “And you ain’t run her aground either.”

  I pulled back on the throttles and idled the tug down so it sat nearly stationary in the current. Max took the helm while Jacob and I went to the stern and pulled Jacob’s Angel to the side of the tug. Jacob held the rope tight while I climbed down into the boat. He looked at me.