New River Breeze

by Ed Robinson

  “I’ll call for a truck,” my cabbie said. “Cost you another, fifty.”

  “Do it.”

  Charlie dragged the chosen dinghy to a gate in the back fence. I picked up the Yamaha. It was heavier than I expected. I struggled to get a good grip before carrying it over and setting it down next to the dink. Frederick tossed an empty gas can in the boat.

  “Truck is on its way,” he said.

  “Can I get gas down at the docks?”

  “Too late tonight,” Charlie said.

  “I need to get out to a boat tonight,” I told him.

  “Plenty of little boats with gas tanks down there,” he said. “You’ll figure something out.”

  “Or wait until morning,” Frederick added.

  I wasn’t going to wait all night for the gas dock to open. That was out of the question. We all heard the truck pull up, and we worked quickly to load my new boat and motor. Frederick didn’t want anyone to see what was going on. I gave him a quick handshake and hopped in the passenger side of the truck. I waved to Frederick. My driver was a white man, much to my surprise. I guess a white man would be the only person on the island to own a pickup truck.

  “The name’s Breeze,” I told him.

  “I only care about the money,” he said.

  I handed him the fifty bucks.

  “I can’t put you in near the main charter docks,” he said. “We’ll slide this boat in the water in a dark place. You’re on your own after that.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any gasoline you could sell me, would you?”

  “No, I do not,” he said. “I’m just the freight hauler.”

  “Is there security around the charter fleet?”

  “Moorings has a guard on the docks all night,” he said. “Sun Sail has a guard too, but he likes to take a nap after he makes his rounds.”

  “What time is that?”

  “Usually about ten,” he said. “Stays in his shack for a couple hours.”

  “Will there be customers milling about?”

  “Very few,” he said. “They don’t normally let them on the boat until morning. Makes them pay for a room the night before. A few more dollars to go around.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I think I can handle it.”

  “Where is your boat?”

  “It’s a friend’s,” I said. “Nanny Cay, near the yacht club.”

  “Can you find it in the dark?”

  “I know the boat well,” I said. “But not the water between here and there.”

  “It’s a long ride in a dinghy,” he said. “Especially in the dark. Hug the shore on your right as you exit the harbor. First big bay is Sea Cow Bay. That’s not it. Second bay is for Nanny. The boats there are anchored off the resort. The Yacht Club is just a little further in. Nice protected anchorage.”

  “I appreciate it,” I said.

  “No problem,” he said. “Good luck to you.”

  We pulled up to a seawall behind a warehouse. There were no lights. We worked together to carry the little boat down to the wall and slid it gently into the water. I tied it off and climbed down in it. My truck driving friend handed the motor down to me, and I secured it on the transom. He tossed me the gas can and untied me from the wall.

  “Charter docks are that way,” he said, pointing to the inner harbor.

  Before I could get the oars situated, he was gone. I was on my own, just like he had said. I was back on the water, but not in a way that I would ever expect. I sat there in a little rubber boat, with no gas, in a foreign country. It was dark, and I wasn’t sure where I was going. I started rowing in the direction he had pointed. I went slowly, trying to be quiet. As soon as I rounded a corner in the seawall, the sky lit up in front of me. A huge cruise ship was docked on the opposite side of the harbor. Hundreds of vessels were docked on my side. I remembered that the Moorings docks were first. Sun Sail had a few rows of docks further in on the same side. I rowed smoothly past the Moorings boats and stopped rowing as I approached the Sun Sail docks.

  I looked for movement around the boats, but it was a ghost town. This part of the harbor was protected from the street. They had to keep the high-paying clientele separated from the realities of Road Town. I coasted along until I stopped. I floated, listening, and watching. There were indeed plenty of small boats like mine, but I needed to find one with a Yamaha so the gas connections would match. I eased up to a row of sailboats until I found what I needed. I quickly disconnected a gas tank from the motor and hoisted it into my boat. I replaced it with the one Charlie had provided, tucking a twenty under the handle to cover the cost of the gas I had just stolen. I took a quick look around again before making my escape.

  As I rowed away from the charter docks, I couldn’t help but think that it had been too easy. I was waiting for the blue lights to start flashing. The cops would arrive and arrest me, not only for stealing gas but for being in possession of a stolen boat and motor. That didn’t happen. I felt that I was far enough away, and I was tired of rowing. I connected my new full gas tank, fiddled with the motor controls, and pulled the starter cord. It did not start on the first pull. I engaged the choke and tried again with no luck. I pulled that cord another dozen times before realizing that I hadn’t put the kill switch on the motor. It was a stupid mistake, but not the first time I’d ever done it. After I got that right, the little motor fired right up. I killed the choke and gave it just enough gas to keep it running while it warmed up. I was in business, except for the lack of running lights. I was about to venture out into unfamiliar territory in the dark, with no lights. It was the exact same thing that Holly had done to get into trouble in the first place.

  There was no turning back now. I gunned the motor and headed out to sea in a ten-foot rubber boat, in the dark, with no lights. I was a pirate again, foolishly running at speed in the British Virgin Islands like I knew where I was. I followed the shoreline to my right as the truck driver had instructed until I came to the first big bay. The water was rough across the entrance, so I slowed down. I kept my head on a swivel, looking for other vessels that might run me down. No one was running about in the dark but me, which was a blessing.

  I came to the second inlet and hung a right. The water calmed, and I slowed to a speed that just barely kept me on a plane. There was a grouping of boats ahead, and I aimed for them. All of them showed anchor lights except one. I had found Another Adventure. I pulled alongside her, tied off, and climbed aboard. Before I got a chance to check on anything, two young men came zooming over in their dinghies.

  “That’s not your boat, asshole,” one of them yelled.

  “Beat it, jerkoff,” the other one said.

  “This is Holly Freeman’s boat,” I said. “She’s in the hospital. I just came from visiting her. She asked me to take care of things out here. Call her if you want. I’ve got her number if you need it.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Breeze,” I said. “An old friend of hers. Trust me on that one.”

  “Hard to trust someone who boards our friend’s boat in the dark with no running lights,” the bigger one said. “You can see why we’d be suspicious.”

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket, found Holly’s number, and handed it to him.

  “Check it out,” I said. “Ask her if it’s okay for Breeze to be here.”

  He pulled his own phone out and compared the numbers.

  “He’s got the right number,” he said to his buddy. “What do you think?”

  “Why are you so late getting out here,” the smaller one asked.

  “Look, I flew here from North Carolina on short notice,” I said. “I went to see Holly then I had to round up a boat, get it in the water, steal some gas, and here I am. Got here as fast as I could.”

  “Okay,” he said. “We were just concerned.”

  “You weren’t concerned enough to close up her hatches,” I said. “I’m going to be here a day or two. I’ll take care of things since you didn’t.”

&
nbsp; “Get some lights for that dinghy,” the bigger one said.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Apparently satisfied that I was legit, they retreated back to their vessels. I was relieved. I was in no shape to fight them off, and I needed a place to sleep. I went below and turned on some lights, including the anchor light. I checked the battery bank, which was okay. I’d take a look at the actual batteries in the daylight. I grabbed a flashlight and went forward to the bow. She had the anchor chain snubbed off on a bow cleat. I released it and fed out the rest of the chain and fifty more feet of rope. I started digging around for chaffing gear. Down in the anchor locker, I found some old fire hose that I’d given her many years ago. I laid it under the rope in the bow roller and tied it off with some string. I remembered giving her that hose one day in Andros. The night before she had anchored on the banks in a big storm. Her anchor rode broke while she and her crew slept. They didn’t even realize it until they went to retrieve the anchor in the morning. Thankfully, they were many miles from any point of land. They drifted harmlessly instead of hitting a reef or running aground.

  Lots of Holly memories flooded back into my mind. We had shared so much over the years, most of it good. We’d seen more adventure than most will see in a lifetime. We’d had our close calls too. We were trying to get this very boat from Grand Cayman back to Florida when a wicked storm snapped her mast. A piece of rigging slashed a big gash in my back. I lost a lot of blood, but Holly got me to the hospital in Marathon before it was too late. The wound later got infected, and I was nursed by a large, black Bahamian woman on Great Harbor Cay.

  We traveled together on my boat all through the Bahamas. Later we returned with both boats and made it all the way to Luperon in the Dominican Republic. That’s where we first parted ways, only to reunite later back in Florida. The cruising community is a small world. We made our mark on it both individually and as a couple. Now I was a landlubber while she was still out there doing it. Considering her predicament, I was almost glad to be a dirt dweller these days, although I did miss the sea.

  I closed and dogged down her port lights before looking to see what she might have to eat onboard. It was slim pickings. I kept digging until I found the canned goods stash. Amongst the soup and vegetables, I found several cans of Dinty Moore Beef Stew. I’d loaded her up with that and Dinty’s chicken and dumplings the last time I’d seen her in person, about three years earlier. They were well past their sell-by date, but I figured it was still good. I dug around for a can opener and a clean pan to warm it in. I’d eaten this crap a thousand times when I was broke. It was heavy on salt and preservatives, but it stuck to the ribs well enough.

  I longed for a beer to wash it down with, but there were no beers in the fridge. I poked around looking for a bottle of rum or any kind of booze, but found nothing. Holly had given up the hooch. I went out on deck and took a quick survey. She had a five-gallon gas can about half full, which would come in handy. A handful of loose items were scattered here and there. I took them down below in case a storm blew up. Her diesel jugs were empty.

  The beef stew was nowhere near as edible as I’d remembered it. I dumped the last of it overboard and rinsed out the pan with saltwater. As I put it in the sink, I looked around inside the boat. It wasn’t particularly neat or clean. I had nothing else to do with my time, so I started straightening up. There was a drawer under the chart table that I wanted to put a few things in. When I opened it the first thing I saw was a note that I had written her before we left Luperon. It was a goodbye letter. I followed her out of the harbor’s channel and stayed behind her for a while before veering off and setting a course back to Florida. There was a moment there where I didn’t know what to do. I sat alone out in the ocean with three choices. I could stay with Holly, return to Luperon and spend my life with an old lover from my past, or go it alone. I chose the solitude of self. I was the one person that I could count on no matter what. Holly and I were never going to make it long-term. That pretty woman who wanted me in Luperon had never been able to hold me. There was no reason not to choose either, other than keeping my autonomy. That was all before I’d met Brody. She changed my calculations. She chose me even though I wasn’t the wisest choice. She gave up her previous life to be with me in the world that I had chosen. Once I knew that she was truly the one for me, I gave up that life to please her.

  Those thoughts made me miss Brody badly. We were seldom apart, but now I was half a world away, coming to the rescue of an old love. I could not bring myself to regret the decision to help Holly, but suddenly I wanted to be done with it and go back home.

  Six

  I couldn’t sleep that night. There was not one drop of alcohol to drink, and I was in a strange place. A log cabin in the woods had become a true home for me. Brody and Red were my life these days, not messing about in boats. I had made my peace about leaving the cruising life behind. Now, lying awake on Holly’s boat, I started to think about it again. There were constant chores to manage when you live on a boat. Maintenance and repair never seemed to end. Locating and hauling fresh water was a constant struggle. Every supply had to be carried across the water in a dinghy, or a dock had to be located and paid for. Trash had to be disposed of. Wind and waves could ruin your day. Thunderstorms were a threat to life and property. Bugs could make you miserable, even in paradise.

  No, I couldn’t see myself going back. I’d come to enjoy the simple pleasures, like turning on a faucet and having unlimited water or taking long hot showers. Storms didn’t bother me anymore. My house wouldn’t drag its anchor and run aground. I was happy living on land, as happy as I’d ever been. This was only a temporary situation. I needed to be here to help a friend. As soon as she was able to fend for herself, I’d run back home as fast as possible.

  I took some cushions out on deck and tried to get comfortable while watching the stars. I dozed briefly from time to time, but never really did experience any deep sleep. The rising sun put a stop to that. Holly had no bacon or eggs or anything much else to eat for breakfast. I took the newly acquired dinghy to the Nanny Cay Resort to see if I could get some grub. I found a laid-back establishment that didn’t care that I’d arrived by dinghy or that I hadn’t showered in two days, but no breakfast. I soon learned that several places would open for lunch at eleven. Island folk are not early risers. I found myself at Peg Leg’s, where I ordered a Mahi sandwich and a Caribe beer. It was early for beer, but I was alcohol deficient. It was cold and tasty, so I had another. I felt ready to tackle the world after two beers and a fish sandwich, so I headed back to Another Adventure to see what needed to be done.

  I checked the oil and anti-freeze as well as the belt tension. The battery fluid levels were fine. They looked brand new as a matter of fact. The battery compartment and the engine space were neat and clean. Holly was more concerned about the mechanics of her vessel than the aesthetics. I tidied up the cabin some more before readying myself for the ride back to Road Town Harbor and another trip to the hospital. I went directly to the closest store to buy locks and cable, so my stolen dinghy wouldn’t get stolen again. I secured it well and went to the front of the Mooring compound to catch a cab. I got a new driver this time, but he was happy to take me to the hospital. It wasn’t one of his regular stops.

  “I mostly go back and forth from the airport,” he told me. “This will be a nice change of pace.”

  “You want to come back for me in an hour, or is that too much trouble?”

  “I’ll wait at the Moorings,” he said. “If I don’t pick up a fare I’ll be available. Pay both ways, though.”

  He handed me his number, and I stuck it in my pocket.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll try you when I’m done here.”

  I’d forgotten Holly’s request for something decent to eat. I walked a few blocks north until I found Dove Restaurant. I paid forty-two bucks for an Angus beef dinner with sides. It was still warm when I returned to the hospital. The smell of it filled the elevator and made me hungry
again. I carried it to Holly’s room and presented it to her like a maître de.

  “You are an angel,” she said. “Don’t mind me while I’m stuffing my face with this goodness.”

  “Your boat is secure,” I said. “I put out a bunch more rode and started the engine today and backed down on your anchor. She’s stuck good.”

  “It’s not a bad spot to be in,” she said. “I should be out of here in a day or two.”

  “Some of your neighbors gave me a hard time last night,” I said. “But I was able to keep them from kicking my ass.”

  “Good intentions,” she said. “Nice to know they were keeping an eye on things.”

  “What are the doctors telling you?”

  “They refer to my collapsed lung as a pneumothorax,” she said. “It might be two weeks until it resolves itself, but if no fluid collects, I can get this tube out and get out of here soon.”

  “You are going to have to be careful and take it easy for a while,” I said. “Don’t push it if you want things to heal properly.”

  “My frigging ribs bother me the most,” she said. “Every movement is like a knife stabbing me.”

  “Remember when that shark busted my ribs?”

  “You’re lucky you weren’t lunch,” she said.

  “I don’t think they ever did heal properly,” I said. “I reinjured them several times, even years later.”

  “Gee, that’s good news,” she said.

  “You’re young and strong,” I said. “You’ll be fine as long as you don’t overdo it before they are healed.”

  “I need to get back to work,” she said. “Climbing masts and diving bottoms.”

  “You’re working down here?”

  “In St. Thomas,” she said. “For a charter company.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want to tell you.”

  “Do you need the money?” I asked. “What happened to what you made working with Tommy Thompson?”

  “I blew some,” she said. “Lost the rest. Long story.”