The Great Paddleboard Race

by Mike Hershman

  Walt’s mom made us some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches --we kept trying to calm her down. She was very worried about Walt’s brother Gus, one of the contestants – suddenly there was a knock on the door and Mrs. Jenkins jumped up with a real nervous look on her face. It was only Elmer, the iceman, with their usual 25 lb block balanced on his shoulder.

  “Walt could you check the icebox for me and make sure it’s ready? I’m running a little late – had to watch the start.”

  “Sure – have you heard anything?” Walt said as he opened the top of the icebox. “It’s ready.”

  “Thanks, nah, not yet, the leaders are probably an hour out – course the fog will slow ‘em down a bit.”

  “I sure hope those boys are OK out there,” Mrs. Jenkins said.

  “Don’t worry Wendy – they’ll be OK – they’ve all got chase boats.” Elmer said as he lowered the ice into the compartment.

  “But you can’t see ten feet in front of you Elmer.”

  “Well, they can shout at each other – if it gets too bad they’ll just quit.”

  “I know my Gus, and if the other boys are anything like him, they aren’t about to quit.”

  “Well you’re probably right about that—they’ll be fine,” Elmer said. “ The results will be posted down at the newspaper office as soon as they come in. Stuart’s over at the finish line.”

  Stuart Apple, a part time reporter for the Hamilton Island News, phoned results in to the paper from the mainland. The contestants were to round a buoy by the Pleasure Pier -- then finish on the beach in Long Beach.

  “They get really big surf there sometimes,” I said.

  Walt looked at me like he was going to kill me. It suddenly dawned on me that his mom was worried enough without me chirping in with a surf report.

  “Not this time of year, though,” I added, “it’s tiny right now – only in the winter time.”

  “You’re all set Wendy – please don’t worry – just sent these two hoodlums down to the newspaper office. They can give you a report as soon as it comes in.”

  “That’s a great idea Elmer, thanks.” She managed a smile and then turned to us, “hurry up and finish those sandwiches and get down to the newspaper office.”

  “Mom, you heard him, the leader won’t be in for an hour or so and Gus is the youngest – he won’t be the leader.”

  “I don’t care Walter Jenkins. I want your fanny parked in front of that office until the results come in, and have a little more faith in your brother’s abilities – get going.”

  We gulped down our sandwiches and headed down to the newspaper office. There was already quite a crowd gathered discussing the race.

  “I heard they called it all off.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Can’t remember.”

  “Those boys are after a $500 first price, you can buy yourself a nice car for $500 bucks.”

  “Dang right – you can buy mine.”

  “Your car ain’t worth $200!”

  “Look at the fog -- I can’t see the dress shop,” Mrs. Carpenter said.

  “Well, that’s a blessing Mildred,” said Mr. Carpenter.

  Everyone laughed, but you could tell they were concerned.

  It was 2:00 and, in normal weather, the winner would have finished or at least been in sight. I peered in the window of the Hamilton City News. Mr. Nelson, the owner, was sitting at the receptionist’s desk. He saw me and shook his head. No news yet.

  6.

  Walt and I left the newspaper office for a minute to grab a coke at the pharmacy. Mr. Ulman asked if we’d heard anything. He glanced up from counting out pills with what looked like a butter knife.

  “Just take ‘em boys – you can pay me next time you’re in. I gotta get this prescription filled.”

  We thanked him and headed back up the street. Just as we got back to the newspaper office, Mr. Nelson walked out of the door with a piece of paper and some tape. He taped the sheet up near the front door.

  “I’ll be damned!” One man said.

  “That’s gonna cost somebody a lot of money.” Rusty Sanchez said.

  I snuck under a couple of people – there are some advantages in being small, not many, but some. I couldn’t believe what I saw.

  First place had gone to Jellyfish Johnson, 2nd Place to Cuda, 3rd to a guy from Santa Monica, and fourth place to Gus Jenkins.

  “Wow Walt, your brother finished fourth in his first race!”

  “I gotta go tell Mom right now, but I just can’t believe Jellyfish beat Cuda.”

  “Yeah, that’s going to be a long boat ride home for Sharon.”

  Nobody could believe it – Jellyfish was good but no one thought he’d beat Cuda.

  Mr. Nelson came out again. This time he made an announcement.

  “There are contestants coming ashore as far north as San Pedro and a far south as Huntington Beach. At the present time we have three contestants unaccounted for. All of the island’s participants are ashore.”

  A quick cheer went up from the crowd. They were happy, of course, that all the island’s boys were safe, but worried about the missing paddlers.

  I ran back to Walt’s house with the news. Mrs. Jenkins sat at the kitchen table crying.

  “Walt got fourth place Mrs. Jenkins, aren’t you happy?”

  “I’m so happy George Bailey –that’s why I’m crying – Walt’s in his room.”

  I smiled -- I guess women are different than men. At least they’re different than me.

  I never cry when I’m happy.

  7.

  The next day I rode my bike down to the pier to see if Sharon’s boat was there yet. I saw the steamship coming in and quickly pedaled over to watch the passengers unloading. The steamship company offered a free ride back to any island paddler. They would also transport his paddleboard. I waved to Gus who stood on the dock next to the steamship, in a group that included Jellyfish Johnson. They waited for their paddleboards to be offloaded. I saw Mrs. Jenkins and Walt and pushed my bike over towards them.

  “Does Gus need any help carrying his paddleboard?” I asked.

  “Nah, he’s got a bunch of his pals to help.” Walt said.

  Mrs. Jenkins kept waving -- trying to catch Gus’ eye. He finally saw her, smiled and waved back.

  The first paddleboard off the boat was Jellyfish Johnson’s bright red board followed by Gus’ green one. There were a couple of other boards including the white one belonging to Cuda.

  “Hey Gus –where’s Cuda?” I yelled.

  “He came back with his parents and Sharon.” Gus said, “I’ll bet you’re more interested in where she is, George Bailey.”

  Mrs. Jenkins looked at me and tried to frown, but I saw her smile just a little.

  “Can you and Walt take Cuda’s paddleboard up to his house for him?” Gus asked.

  “Yeah, but I got my bike.”

  “Let’s just bring the paddleboard up here to the grass,” Walt said, “you can run back and hook your trailer up to the bike, come back and we’ll load it on. I’ll watch the paddleboard.”

  So that’s what we did.

  When I got back with the trailer, we loaded Cuda’s big white board on the trailer and headed up to his house. I had Walt pedal the bike cause he’s bigger and stronger than I am. Course just about everybody my age is. I walked alongside.

  “Man, this thing is heavy,” Walt said.

  “Let’s just put it by the side of his house – then drop the trailer off. I want to get back down to the pier.”

  “Gosh, I wonder why.” Walt said.

  Walt went home after we finished and I headed down to the pier. I walked out by the shoreboat just as Riley came in with Mr. and Mrs. Tyler, Sharon and Cuda.

  “Hi George Bailey, we thought maybe you’d meet us with your dinghy.” Sharon said.

  “No, I’m sorry, Walt and I took Cuda’s board up to the house. We just got done.”

  “Thanks – that would be a haul for you guys,�
� Cuda said.

  “Not bad, we took our trailer,” I said, I was a little embarrassed, I didn’t quite know what to say to Cuda, “ congratulations on second place.”

  “Thanks,” he said, “I knew half-way across I’d finish second – only not to Jellyfish Johnson.”

  “Huh?”

  “Four Eyes” Carson was way ahead of me and Jellyfish was just as far behind when the fog came in.

  “Four Eyes?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Tyler said sadly, “he’s the only one still missing, the other two came ashore late yesterday afternoon – near Palos Verdes.”

  We walked up the street towards Cuda’s house. I carried Mrs. Tyler’s suitcase.

  Sharon was real quiet. I could tell she was thinking about something.

  8.

  Sharon said she had a tough time sleeping in the strange hotel bed and Mrs. Tyler kept snoring. Mrs. Tyler had warned Sharon that she snored, and told her to just shake her if she started again but Sharon didn’t want to.

  “I’m going to take a nap George Bailey, it was pretty rough coming over today. “You couldn’t believe how foggy it was yesterday.”

  “Should I stop by your house later?” I asked.

  “Why don’t we meet around 4:00 at Sally’s for a coke – I think we may have another case.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it at Sally’s,” she yawned.

  I couldn’t figure out what she was talking about. It was only two o’clock and I couldn’t wait to find out what she meant.

  I stopped by Walt’s. Gus had left already to celebrate with some of his friends. I went back into Walt and Gus’ room.

  “Gus said it was so foggy out there for a while that he had to keep yelling or he’d lose the chase boat. On the steamship ride today, Jellyfish just sat by himself and wouldn’t really talk to the other guys.”

  “Did Gus know the missing guy?”

  “Four Eyes? Yeah, he’s a guy from the Venice Beach club. They call him “Four Eyes,” cause he’s real blind without his glasses -- squints all the time. They say he rides really huge waves and isn’t scared cause he can’t see how big they are. He made a new paddleboard for the race out of balsa wood with redwood stringers. It was painted blue and was really light and fast.”

  “I saw Cuda when I picked up Sharon at the shoreboat dock. He said Four Eyes was way out in front when the fog came in and there was no way he could have caught him,”

  “What did she say about the fog?”

  “Not much – she was really tired --Mrs. Tyler kept snoring.”

  “She should have just punched her in the back, that’s what I do to Gus.”

  “You punch Gus in the back – you’re nuts.”

  “He’s so tired he doesn’t know what hit him, but he sure stops snoring.

  “Did Sharon say anything?”

  “Yeah, she said we have a case.”

  9.

  I met Sharon at Sally’s Diner - had my usual Coke with French fries and Sharon had a chocolate malt. After we sat down in the booth, Sharon took out writing tablet and a pen from her purse. She told me all about her trip over on the day of the race.

  “It got so foggy, George Bailey, that Mr. Tyler made me go up on the bow as a look out. You could only see about to that wall.” She pointed to the opposite wall in the restaurant, about 20 feet away. “We slowed down to a crawl. Mr. Tyler steered a course south of the racers. He didn’t want to run in to anyone. We traveled for a long time when I suddenly saw the stern of a boat called ‘Crocodile.’ It was right in front of us. I screamed for Mr. Tyler to turn. There were two men on the boat who seemed really surprised to see us. One man quickly started pulling in a rope which was attached to the stern.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want you to run over the rope.” I said.

  “It was all bunched up on the swimstep – it wasn’t draggin in the water. When he pulled it all the way in, I noticed it had a handle on it – like they use on aquaplanes.”

  “Aquaplanes?” Why would somebody want to aquaplane in the fog?”

  “Well anyway,” she said, I could tell she wasn’t pleased with my interruptions, “we came alongside and Mr. Tyler asked the driver if they were OK. The driver was that man who works for Mr. Neves – the redheaded man.”

  “Mr. Sullivan.”

  “Yes, Mr. Sullivan, well he sort of scowled at Mr. Tyler -- said they were a chase boat in a paddleboard race and that Mr. Tyler should stay further south of him. Mr. Tyler asked ‘Which paddler?’ and Sullivan said ‘None of your business.’ He was very rude. Mr. Tyler called him a bad name and took off. Not too long after that we had to turn again really quick.”

  “What happened?”

  “I saw a little girl building a sandcastle on the beach. Mr. Tyler turned just in time or we would have run aground. He figured we must be at Long Beach so he turned north to get inside the breakwater. A little later it cleared up enough and we motored over to a guest dock near our hotel.”

  “You were lucky there wasn’t a lot of surf that day – it can get pretty big there.”

  “That’s what Mr. Tyler said.”

  “Well, I don’t understand,” I said, “How do we have a case?”

  “George Bailey, you’ve got to let me finish my story,” She took a sip of her malt and sort of stared at me for a minute. “Remember, my cousin told us that before the fog came in he was ahead of Jellyfish and there was another paddler, the one from Venice, ahead of him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well Crocodile was the chase boat for Jellyfish.” She said triumphantly.

  “Ah-----.”

  “I think they towed him with the rope ahead of the other two –that’s how Jellyfish Johnson won.”

  “But the race is over now. It’s not against the law to tow somebody with an aquaplane rope.”

  “Well it’s against the rules of the race. We can present evidence and have Jellyfish disqualified. There’s another thing too.”

  “What.”

  “I saw a red mark by the waterline on the side of the boat.”

  “Ah.” I didn’t want Sharon to think I was dumb, but it was pretty hard not to show it.

  “George Bailey -- Jellyfish Johnson’s paddleboard was red.”

  “OK, you’re right it was red – I saw that at the start of the race.”

  “According to the rules of the race, which I happen to have a copy of right here,” She said proudly showing of a folded up typed paper, “it’s against the rules for any paddleboard to touch the chase boat.”

  “Maybe they hit the side when they lowered it on, or maybe they hit a red buoy two months ago.”

  Sharon frowned when I said the red buoy part. I could tell she hadn’t thought of that.

  “Jellyfish Johnson painted his paddleboard red on the island two days before the race. When they brought it over it was white just like my cousin’s. Cuda saw him buy the paint at Mel’s Hardware.”

  “Sharon you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I think we have a case.” I tried to look as confident as I could, but if we had a case – it sure wasn’t a great one.

  10.

  “They found the board,” Walt said.”

  “Huh?”

  “The missing paddleboard, you know, the guy from Venice – the fast board.”

  “Where?”

  “A boater picked it up on the way over this morning --Riley brought it in on the shoreboat. It’s out on the pier.”

  We ran down to the pier where a small crowd was gathered. Officer Keyes was standing over the board examining it. It was a real shiny blue, newly painted -- with just some smudge marks on one side.

  “Hey George Bailey, do me a favor,” Officer Keyes said, “bring this paddleboard up to the station, we’ll put it along the jail cell hallway. I’ll call the parents and see what they want me to do with it. The boy is still missing.”

  Walt grabbed the bow and I lifted up the stern.

  “
Man, this thing is really light, it must weigh half as much as Cuda’s board.” Walt said.

  “No wonder he was in the lead, I think I could have won the race with this thing.”

  “Hell, it ain’t that light, George Bailey.”

  I didn’t want to tell him it was isn’t not ain’t –that’s Sharon’s job. We put the board along the wall in the jail area. The jail was empty. Walt had never been back in the jail area before and scraped the board along the wall.

  “Careful, the guy will get pissed that we scratched up his nice board.”

  “I’m afraid Four Eyes is never going to see this board again with or without his glasses.” Walt said.

  I knew he was right.

  11.

  “Four Eyes” Carson’s parents called Officer Keyes and asked if he could send the paddleboard over on the next steamship. Walt and I were recruited to take the board down to the steamship terminal on my bamboo trailer. We discussed the case as we took the board out to the landing.

  “I don’t get it,” Walt said as he pedaled along Oceanfront Walk, “Sharon thinks they towed Jellyfish ahead of everybody just ‘cause there was a rope with a handle on it. Maybe they like to aquaplane.”

  “Walt, on an aquaplane the rope with the handle is attached to the aquaplane – not the tow rope. This was a rope with a handle on it. What would you ever use that for?”

  “I heard about a guy in Minnesota or someplace who has these water skis, like snow skis only wider and he holds onto the rope.” Walt said.

  “I’ve never seen anybody do that here Walt. Crocodile is a fishing boat, not a speedboat – you couldn’t even Aquaplane behind it – it’s too slow.”

  “How do you know so much about that boat,” Walt said, puffing hard now up an incline near the steamship terminal.

  “Mainly because I’m looking at it right now,” I said.

  Walt stopped and looked out at the harbor. “Crocodile’ was on a mooring out by the entrance. I could just make out the name on the stern of the boat.

  “Let’s go get our dinghy and motor out there as soon as we drop this off.” Walt said.