II
With the rise of the sun came a rise in the wind blustering out of the north. The Anna Mae, now finished for the day, worked against the building chop on her way back into the Magothy River. Jimmy busied himself with the chores of securing the back deck and buttoning up the bushel baskets to be taken to market. Jack kept a firm grip on the helm and strained to see through the water-streaked windshield as he started into the entrance of the river. Another few minutes and things would settle down as the vessel came into the lee of Gibson Island.
Like Jimmy, Jack treasured the days the two of them spent out on the boat. For him, it wasn’t just another means of income; in it, he experienced the deepest connection to his past. Jack had come from a long line of fishermen from the remote community of Tangier Island in the Virginia waters of the southern Chesapeake. For Jack, the transition from his old life to that of the civilized Western shore was akin to the flight from Eden. There was a beautiful simplicity to those early years—one he desperately missed. His father had helped him buy his first boat, the very one that he now skippered. Jack promptly named it after the first love of his life, his wife. Anna dutifully kept their home and raised their children while Jack plied the bay for eels in the spring, crabs in the summer, and oysters in the winter. The bay had always provided for them and ensured their treasured isolation from the rest of the world.
In Anna, however, there lay in wait a recessive gene responsible for the systemic spread of cancer from her pancreas. By the time their family doctor had adequately identified the source of her chronic pain and malaise, it was too late. Jack watched helplessly as the cancer consumed his Anna’s life during the ensuing weeks, and he later held her hand as the light finally faded from her eyes. The doctors in nearby Salisbury told him that if they had only caught it sooner, she might have had a chance; but there was no solace in those words for him—only an accusation that their chosen way of life was in some part responsible for her death. He had never recovered from the experience and never forgave himself for being unable to foresee the cancer in his wife. When his daughter Katy was identified as being in the ‘high-risk’ category, he wasted no time in moving his remaining family off the island and into civilization.
For the first few years, Jack worked as a security guard and managed to save enough money to make a down payment on a small waterfront cottage just off of the Magothy River in Pasadena, right outside Baltimore. Fathers, brothers, and cousins alike all came up the bay to deliver his boat and help him build his dock. Between crabbing on the bay in the early hours before daybreak and guarding the offices and banks under contract with his employer, Jack was able to provide a life for his children. The house was cramped compared to what he had back on Tangier, but it was sufficient, and together the three of them made it work.
Jack might still be a security guard if not for a chance encounter at one of his job sites. The Mikello Company was a medium-sized machine shop in the outskirts of Baltimore city. In earlier years, it was a prosperous company, supporting much of the community that surrounded it. However, with a downturn in the economy and some irresponsible fiscal management, the Mikello Company was soon out of business and at the mercy of local law firm tasked with its liquidation. The whole process took about three weeks, starting with all of the equipment in the shop and the items in the stockrooms. Eventually, the last two people to occupy the business were a lawyer and Jack the security guard. Through those final days of selling off the last of the Mikello Company furniture, the two men talked at length of their shared interests in sailing and living on Chesapeake Bay. Whether the new job of Gibson Island Harbor Master really was available or created just for Jack’s benefit will never be known, but the job saved him from the darkness that had enveloped his soul. It had been a difficult transition from performing in the theater of the Chesapeake to being good ole’ Jack the guard, and a job that had even a modicum of connection with boats was a most welcomed change. Since his final day as a security guard, Jack has always kept Brian Lynch in his prayers.
The jagged rip-rap of the jetties and shoreline disappeared behind them as they turned off the main river into Cornfield Creek. Already, boats were being readied at the marina for their day out on the bay. After finishing with the crabs, Jimmy took a smoke break and looked over at the sloop he’d be taking out later. God, she’s a sexy boat… long classic lines, a beautiful, slender form to steal the gaze of any enthusiast who happens upon her. Jimmy had always felt that with his sails, a little piece of him lived on in the boat, and he couldn’t deny that every boat he had ever worked on had stuck with him. He knew them all and looked forward to seeing them return to the marina, like absent friends stopping in town for a visit. He never tired of the stories the yacht skippers told of their adventures in the Caribbean, the hidden coves of Maine, or the brilliant sunsets on the Mediterranean. His only connection to these places and events were through his work, and by this, he could cope with the fact that he would never leave the confines of the Chesapeake.
The Anna Mae slowed her speed of advance so as to minimize her wake through the channel that began to restrict at the narrows and on into the upper reaches of the creek. She was typical of the many crab boats that routinely worked the bay and could throw off a decent wake with too much throttle.
As she came down off her speed, she ghosted into the shade of the shoreline. The newly emerged leaves of the season brought a coolness and stillness to the area. The long, lofty bows of the trees that overhung the water along the shoreline provided a shady canopy from the sun, and the growth along the water’s edge established a dense barrier between the land and the creek. The Anna Mae’s progress was observed by an Osprey perched amidst the branches above the creek as he waited for the intrusive craft to pass so the water might return to its glasslike presence where he might better spy his next meal swimming below. Through a break in the bushes, a doe timidly poked her head out and warily watched the vessel idle by.
In a moment, they would be at the dock at the back of their house. After unloading the day’s harvest, Jack and Jimmy would continue on with their busy day, but for now, these blissful moments belonged to father and son.
***
His senses were always alive in the days preceding battle. Every fiber of his being was tensed for the pending attack, and he couldn’t wait. Moments like this served to remind him of what being alive was truly all about. He lived for the chance to prove his medal on the field of battle and to lead his men to ultimate victory. What force in the world stood a chance against the great Captain Henry Morgan and his fierce fighting force? The fortifications surrounding the city of Portobello were substantial—even daunting—and the taking of this city would require all of his guile and wit. It was likely that his men might sustain many casualties, so leaving nothing to chance, he would conduct a lengthy reconnaissance this day and lay out his plans for a surprise attack the following night.
The city wouldn’t be much further now. The element of surprise would be everything, so it was imperative that the Spanish know nothing of his presence. He crept along the broken trail, keeping low and encouraging his men onward toward the city. The underbrush was getting thicker now, and he could hear men’s voices coming from a boat out on the river beyond.
“Get down, men!” he hissed over his shoulder. “It’s a river patrol.”
***
“Hey, Pop, did you just see that over there?” asked Jimmy, now standing next to his father in the pilot house.
“I wasn’t lookin’. What’d you see?”
“I only caught it out of the corner of my eye, but it looked like a fella with no shirt on, ducking down behind those bushes right over there.”
The two men scanned the shoreline for any movement but saw none.
“Oh, forget it, Jimmy. It’s probably just some dog rootin’ around.”
“Hmm. It weren’t no dog.”
The Anna Mae continued on her course into Cornfield Creek. The sun was bright, and the day was still young. The world around them had already begun to move as the machine of society slowly came to life. People everywhere were going about their day, delivering mail, attending meetings, selling hamburgers, driving trucks, mending potholes, bringing their fresh catch to market, or contemplating the assault of the fortified city of Portobello.
Return to Table of Contents
No comments:
Post a Comment