by Foster, Ron
“We should be seeing some sort of a fishing pier coming up soon, oh there it is. Looks like a hurricane or something got a hold of it pretty good.” Crick said eying the heavily damaged wood and concrete structure.
“Something sure has put a good whooping on it. That thing is tore up!” Morgan declared looking at the sight of the barnacle encrusted half collapsing piers.
“That must be the boat ramp off over there.’ Randal said pointing far down the shore past what appeared to be a relatively undamaged gazebo.
“Yeah, that’s got to be it. Heads up guys, guns at the ready! I guess we’ll have everybody on deck for this little encounter.” Hobe said reaching for his binoculars as everybody that had a pair did the same.
“I see what looks like one old guy fishing off the dock but I can’t see inland.” Crick said wondering how many others they might encounter.
“What the hell is that thing going across the water over there you reckon?” Morgan asked pointing towards what evidently a surfboard or something was being paddled by a man standing on it with his dog riding in front, who was apparently intent on going across to the far side of the lagoon on that rickety and most likely very shaky craft.
“Let’s sail over there, check him out and talk to him some before we go on further up into the boat ramp. Maybe he can tell us a bit more about that place before we go fully exposing ourselves. “Hobe said steering the boat in his direction.
The man seemed pretty much nonplussed about their approach but what still and all they couldn’t imagine was what was he going to do anyway being caught on a flat board paddling in the middle of the lagoon?
“Hey there, buddy, you got a minute?” Hobe called out as they got closer.
“Sure what do you want?” the man said halting his paddling efforts.
“Just to talk. That’s kind of an odd contraption you got to be out here riding on this choppy water. You seem to be making out alright though, you and that dog look pretty practiced at it.” Hobe said as his crew lowered the sail and the boat kind of just drifted in his direction.
“Well it gets me by. And this old Sheba dog of mine kind of likes to go for ride along anywhere I go anyway.” The deeply tanned man said with a disarming smile and a loud “WOOF!” from the sea dog who acknowledged the fact that it liked everything about his masters spoken phrase of “Go for a ride”!
“We’re just out exploring today and trying to get the lay of the land a little bit. We just stopped for a few minutes after seeing you and wanted to ask you a couple of questions if you didn’t mind about the park. Did you happen just leave from there?” Hobe questioned.
“Yea I sure did. I’m going across the lagoon to visit some friends but ya’ll can go on in there by the ramp if you want to. Ain’t no rules or regulations to keep you out but we still got park rangers to keep things civil but they pretty much unofficial.” The man said sitting down on his board which was becoming even more unsteady in the waters chop.
“That’s kind of odd: I wouldn’t imagine any official presence would still be hanging around, let alone be wearing uniforms.” Crick said.
“Well I guess you might say they are not actually official but we sort of re-elected them to keep performing the same tasks they were used to. Got several of them living over there and calling it home now.” The man said trying to calm his dog down so it wouldn’t jump off and try to hitch a ride on the bigger sailboat in its excitement of greeting the new strangers.
“Don’t see too many dogs out nowadays.” Randal said looking over at the big Labrador and Chesapeake Bay retriever mix.
“No, you don’t. Isn’t that a sorry crying shame? Just too hard to provide for them but this here mutt is the fishing-est and Clam diving dog you’ll ever see and kind of provides for himself some and me too.” The man said reaching down to scratch the dog’s neck in praise.
Introductions were soon in order and the boat and the man that introduced himself as Bart just kind of floated and chatted and drifted about the lagoon while they had a bit of conversation.
“Who actually runs the park now the grid is down? Is it your private Park Service or does the State or the City got something to do with it?” Crick asked.
“Well, nobody officially recognized actually runs it, it is organized pretty loosely by the community that lives here and I would say Donald is sort of the unofficial spokesperson for everybody. That’s that Robison Crusoe looking guy with the frond hat you see over there on the dock pretending to be fishing. He is sort of our emergency manger trade negotiator and general go-to guy if you want dealings with the place.” Bart said before telling them he had to get on his way before the tide started moving again.
“Well thank you sir, we appreciate the info and have a great day. We’ll let you hurry up and get on your way so you don’t have to fight the tide. We’ll tell Donald that you said it was alright for us to come in there. Now are you for sure them law enforcement types won’t have a problem with us trespassing or something?” Hobe asked regarding Bart for any kind of hesitation in his answer.
“No like I said before, unless you’re up to some mischief you won’t have a problem. We’re kind of a friendly group living day to day but don’t get me wrong we have had our problems and strangers get closely watched. Guns are allowed as long as they are slung or holstered and if for some reason you are asked to leave the park by anyone then you dang sure best do it because there is a lot of firepower to back that request up on that little beach.” Bart responded with a caution.
“Well good day to you. Thanks for the info. Randal you get ready to make sail as soon as Bart gets that little rig of his away from the boat some.” Hobe said walking over and manning the boat’s wheel and Crick and Morgan got into their potions in the ships well.
Hobe and crew sailed a short distance to the dock and saw why Bart said the grizzled old character that rose from his chair at their approach looked like Robinson Crusoe. Faded out cut off blue jeans, a t-shirt full of holes and some kind of odd looking hand woven hat made out of palmettos topping a head and beard full of gray hair painted the picture.
“Hey there, ok to land?” Crick called out after coming out of the well and standing on the bow ready to cast his line to the man who evidently by his demeanor and friendly wave was ready to receive it in spite of the gleaming Mossberg Mariner model shotgun leaning against his chair that said he could have meant business if he wanted to.
“Hello friends! What brings ya’ll over here this fine sunny day?” Donald said catching the line that Crick heaved to him and securing it with a sailors knot to a divot.
“Oh we’re just out visiting and exploring, thought we’d come over here and get a little info on what’s going on at where the marina used to be and the rest of the lagoon.” Crick replied.
“Didn’t think you were from around here, just passing by you say?” Donald asked studying them a bit more intently as he took in the amount of firepower Hobe and crew were carrying as they got off the boat.
“Yeah, that’s all we’re doing. Just out sailing. We came down from Alabama way and got blown off course a little bit from that storm we had about a week ago and remembered this place and wanted to see just what all what was going on with it. Friend of ours who used to camp over this way told us about it.” Hobe said shaking the man’s hand and introducing his crew.
“Well it is nice to meet you boys, not too many people pass by this way as you can well imagine. We got us kind of a tradition around here or I guess you could say a security measure. Let me announce you to the rest of the campers living here and you can sit in the shade over here under one of these umbrella tables and can meet a few folks here in a minute or two.” Donald said walking over to the big ship’s bell next to the flagpole and ringing it several times.
“You see we don’t mind strangers coming by, we just like to know their intentions. We’ve had some come by before with not so good intentions and we just like to meet anyone new now all together.”Donald said looking ou
t from under the brim of that ridiculous looking hat he was wearing.
“No, we would love to meet some new folks, the more the merrier! Hard to find nice friendly folks to talk to talk to these days!” Crick said watching all the approaches to the dock carefully and intently for any danger or subterfuge even though the man seemed sincere.
“I got to go pee. Excuse me please.” Randal said and walked over towards the bushes at the end of the dock.
“Me too!” Morgan said looking like he had to go too and wandered off in a similar direction.
Actually what they were doing was trying to space themselves out a bit and get a bit of forewarning of the people approaching that Donald said would soon be there and if they were actually going to be as friendly as he suggested.
“I see got the game warden’s car parked over there. Your friend Bart said they were still representing law and order over here I assume in an unofficial nongovernmental capacity?” Hobe asked.
“Well, I guess you might call them sort of official; they hardly ever wear their uniforms anymore these days except when expecting trouble or meeting new strangers. They all kind of stayed on after the storm, I’ll tell you about that later. But as for any trouble around here, it’s sort of been our policy they are officially elected by everybody staying over here as our law and order.” Donald said squinting at him with certain meaning or from the sun’s glare, Hobe couldn’t tell which.
“I must say all of you are looking healthy and hale for somebody who just said they got blown off course in a storm.” Donald said scrutinizing them a bit more closely.
“Oh yeah, we hugged the coast coming in and the barometer said a storm was coming so we managed to ride it out pretty good but we kind of overshot where we were heading. We just sailed back from Port St. Joe and figured we would have us a little look-see around this place.” Crick said
“That’s kind of a far piece sailing, I guess not all that far for that rig you got. How are things over that way anyway?” Donald asked.
“Folks are still getting by. Run into some tongers and brought some oysters back with us if you have a mind to trade for some.” Hobe said watching the man’s eyes light up at the possibility of some fresh seafood not normally found in any quantity around that area.
“Now some oysters would be just fine. I haven’t had a whole lot of luck getting them but the bottom of the waters around here. The lagoon’s just not set up for them on this end.” Donald said wondering just how many they might have.
“Well like I said we met us some oyster tongers over that way and kind of got ourselves set up with a mess of them. We got two bushel sacks for trade on ice if you have a mind to do some exchanges. I like the hell out of them things but after three days eating them every kind of which way, we are sort of in the mood for pretty much anything else right at this moment.” Crick said.
“Aw hell, that’s a lost art that oyster tonging thing is. I’ve tried it myself a couple of times with a little bit of success but you see I wasn’t using real oyster tongs, just a rig I made up out of a couple of iron garden rakes. That’s them there sitting in my skiff.” Donald said pointing down at a pair in the bottom of his old wooden boat he had acquired just cause it washed up on the beach one day. Beachcombing was part of what he did everyday and he was known to say that if he waited long enough he would have enough lumber to build his own dock!
Apparently, what he had done with his improvised oyster tongs was manage to drill a hole through both handles and run a bolt through it and use it like a pair of giant scissors.
“That’s pretty neat and innovative I must say!” Randal said studying the improvised tool and mentally adding garden rakes to his wish list. Those things were good for catching sand fleas for fish bait anyway.
“You don’t know the half of that. As simple as those things are, it took me some time to figure out just how to drill those two holes in them things! You don’t know what you missed unless you don’t have it they say, and what I didn’t have was anything or any electricity to drill a hole in them even if I could have found a bit. Now check this out: you want to talk about innovative, how ya’ll think I got those holes bored in them things?” Donald asked grinning and evidently very proud of his accomplishment.
“I don’t know, let me see here.” Morgan said studying them and the perfectly drilled holes more carefully and asking Donald if he could get down closer to them for an examination.
“Sure go ahead. You ain’t going to figure it out though, I guarantee that! I tell you what I got a half dozen crabs in this pot soaking down here next to the dock , against a dozen of them prime oysters you got that you can’t figure out how I managed to do it!” Donald said stroking his beard and looking full of himself at their interest in his crazy creation.
“I’ll take that bet!” Crick said before noticing three well-armed people heading their way.
“Dang story got to wait a minute. Here you go: this here’s Phyllis and her husband, Mike, and that there is Joshua. Phyllis was park ranger over here and her husband ran the trading goods store when it was open for the public. Joshua is just another camper like me, decided he’d stay over after the solar storm sort of put the kibosh on all our plans.” Donald said.
Introductions and small talk was made and several “Oh hell” looks were exchanged from the trio of regular folks living here when Donald insisted that he had to get back to telling his oyster tong story to the new strangers.
“Those folks ain’t been here probably five minutes and there you go with that dang old story again! Go ahead and get it out of the way or we won’t have any peace from you around here until you get it out!” Phyllis said chuckling as Morgan and Crick looked up from their inspection of the improvised rakes.
“Did ya’ll figure it out yet? Got any guesses? Got any thoughts? Now Josh, you hush. I got some oysters bet on this. They came in here with two bushel bags of them!” Donald began before a hub bub started of everybody asking Hobe and crew what did they want for some of them and how fresh they were they etc.
When the din and excited conversation died down, Donald once again began to resume his story after saying “no” and “Come on guess again” to the many various ways Hobe and crew tried to guess how he managed to drill a hole in the handles.
“Well you see boys, it’s like this, I studied on a bunch of them ways you were talking about doing it. Couldn’t find me the right kind of nail or rounded piece of steel to burn a hole through them with and my knife blade was too big to try to somehow carve it out so I was sitting there drinking the last of the beer that Joshua hadn’t hid or tried to overcharge me for and a brilliant notion came to me: you know them danged carpenter bees that are all the time drilling holes in your deck or picnic table? Well I got to studying them little bastards and decided I was going to put them to work! I got me a couple of jars and caught two of them and I sort of started them a hole and got the varnish off of where I wanted them on the handles and punched me a hole in them jar lids and put those bees right next to those pilot holes I started. Those bees had two choices: they could stay in the jar and die or they could drill those two holes and escape! Neat thing about them bees is they bored exactly the size of holes I needed! Now you might say I’m the official inventor of the bee drill!” Donald said with a whoop and a lot of laughter by all.
“Now that’s smarter than hell! I never would have thought of that one!” Crick said at the marvel of nature and the man’s ingenuity.
“Hell don’t blow up that man’s head up bigger than it already is or he is going to take you by the hand and show you every danged invention he has ever dreamt up or created around this place.” Mike grumbled.
“Hey now they might want to trade some more oysters for one of my inventions!” Donald complained before mentioning he at least had to show them a “Bat Belt”
“What the hell is a bat belt? What can a bat do like a bee?” Morgan questioned furrowing his forehead in contemplation.
“Wait a second, want to
do another bet?” Donald said rubbing his hands together.
“ Hold on now, you mean a belt made out of bat like it was shoe leather or something or do you mean you put a belt on a bat and can fly him around on a piece of string like a kite or something?” Crick asked confused as the home team laughed and the newcomers scratched their heads at what exactly was it they were betting against.
“Don’t be taking advantage of folks Donald! He means like the caped crusader Batman and his utility belt. You know, he had himself a side kick boy wonder named Robin and they used to throw up big signs like SPLAT! And BOOM! When they hit somebody in the comic books or TV?” Phyllis said chuckling and spoiling Donald’s fun.
“Ah hell, we got a man named Troy that makes something similar at home.” Hobe said smiling to himself that he hadn’t thought in that direction yet instead of being lured in by that bee story and trying to figure out what a leathery winged bat was good for except for eating mosquitoes. He might have been right too because Donald had taken a old bird house and converted it to a bat house for just such a purpose and had attached it to a tree next to his house using a old waist belt. Kept the blood sucking bug population around his camp down don’t you know?
