Twilight III

III

Katy opened the marina bar and restaurant, The World’s End, for business every weekday, promptly at eleven o’clock. The establishment had a long history on the island amongst the sailing enthusiasts and was the center of activity for the Gibson Island Yacht Club. The World’s End was generously adorned with nautical décor, paneled walls painted bright white with varnished mahogany trim, and plush burgundy carpet throughout. Katy’s station was at the bar itself, tending to the needs of her patrons and anyone ordering drinks in the adjoining restaurant.  Although the establishment could accommodate a decent-sized crowd requiring more than a lone bartender, her workload at this time of day was generally light. Throughout the week, the sparse lunchtime crowd was mostly composed of retirees stopping in for a bite to eat and a little chitchat, along with a couple of rounds, followed by a day of sailing out on the bay.

Katy stood behind the bar busying herself with the daily routine of setting everything up. It was still early, and although she was confident she’d be ready by eleven, she felt pressed for time with the added work of cleaning up the mess left behind by the night crew. It was an irritating way to start the shift, and she would have let it get to her if not for the arrival of her favorite customer, Carl Weiss. 

Carl crossed the dining room with large, quick strides, and flashed a big grin as soon as he saw her. As per their own tradition, she stopped what she was doing, stood at attention, and gave the large brass bell hanging behind the bar two sharp claps as he crossed the threshold into the restaurant. The ceremony was only to be enjoyed by the club’s reigning commodore upon entering the bar, but if it was just the two of them, she could never resist the opportunity to make his day. As per his own routine, he took up residence on the stool at the farthest end of the bar against the wall while Katy made the first of his two daily Bloody Marys. The doors to establishment remained closed until eleven o’clock—that is, to all but Carl Weis; he didn’t like crowds nearly as much as he loved the flattery of being treated like a king by a pretty girl young enough to be his granddaughter. Since Katy first started working behind the bar, she had grown quite fond of Mr. Weiss’s patronage and felt he deserved a little better treatment than anyone else. Only Mr. Weiss would ever be allowed an early seating at her bar.

“Good morning, my dear,” Carl purred.

“Hi, Mr. Weiss. The usual?”

“Like you have to ask.”

“I would never presume anything with you, sir.”

“I would forgive you of anything, my dear. Now let me have a smile—one that’ll last me all day.”

Katy gave him a broad grin.

“Ah, that was lovely, as are you, hon.”

“And you’re shameless.”

“It’s what keeps me so young at heart.”

As Katy prepared his Bloody Mary, Mr. Weiss turned himself sideways in his chair to face the windows looking out onto the marina. The sun was high and bright, and there was a gentle breeze blowing across all of the moored yachts. As was the case with most weekdays, little was happening. Marina employees were busy with the daily chores of maintaining a fleet of luxury vessels, collectively worth a large fortune. Katy’s father directed the members of his young staff to the yachts that required washing, waxing, and maintenance, while at the far end of the dock a large powerful sloop was being readied for its voyage.

“Katy, that boat at the end, is that the one your brother was working on?”

Katy placed the finished drink on the bar, complete with a blossoming stick of celery. “Yeah. Pretty, isn’t she?”

“She is a beaut’. A boat like that was meant for bigger places than the Chesapeake. A boat like that was meant to see the world—the whole world…” He trailed off as he stared off at a horizon a thousand miles away.

“You heading out today, Mr. Weiss? You have that look about you.”

“There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t want to be out sailing, my dear.” He picked up the glass and took a long, slow draw at its contents “But that won’t be today. That big beauty down at the end is taking out the only available deckhands. No… as for today, I think I’ll just have to settle at trying to win my money back from Mr. Gardner at backgammon.”

Katy continued to busy herself behind the bar. Glasses washed were rinsed, glasses rinsed were dried, and glasses dried were hung in the rack over the bar. She was industrious by nature and filled her shift with plenty of busywork. She was a natural at maintaining the inventory and upkeep of the business and would, without any doubt in anyone’s mind, one day be the restaurant and bar manager. After finishing with the last of the glasses, she began to take stock of the liquor and beer supply.

“Katy,” he asked, commencing with his cross examination from behind his raised glass, “have I told you that I love you?” 

He took another sip, placed the glass on the bar, and removed the celery stalk. The stalk rested on the rim of the glass, shedding itself of tomato juice. Now turning his attention away from the glass to Katy, he cocked his head and raised an eyebrow in anticipation of her response. Katy’s attention was still in the beer cooler counting Miller Lites.

“Yes, Mr. Weiss,” she said without looking up from her task, “you have.”

“Well,” he continued, holding the celery as if he were about to make a point “have I told you today?” He bit down on the stalk and slowly, carefully chewed on the celery awaiting her response.

“No, Mr. Weiss, not today.” She turned her back to him and started examining the liquor bottles.

“Aha!” he cried out, punctuating the declaration with a flourish of his celery stalk, and after taking another long draw on his drink, he returned his glass to the bar. “Well then, Katy Parks, let the record show that I love you—or more to the point, that I am in love with you.” He replaced the celery back into its glass and then sat back into his stool with arms folded, wearing an expression of smug self-confidence.

“We’ve been through this, Mr. Weiss,” she said, still counting and replacing liquor bottles without directly addressing him. “You’re not in love with me. You’re only in love with my Bloody Marys.”

“Hmm…” he replied, considering her reply. “Yes, but that is only half true—that is to say, half inaccurate. It is true that no finer a libation exists in all of creation, but don’t let that diminish the truth that my adoration of you knows no rival. Yes, let the record show I am in love with you now, more than any other.”

Katy smiled to herself as she continued her count of the liquor. 

“Therefore, if it pleases the court, I recommend that Ms. Parks should relieve herself of her responsibility to this establishment and pack a suitcase to run away with Mr. Weiss at a time no later than this evening. Given the advanced age of Mr. Weiss, I also recommend that we dispense with the traditional bodily removal of Ms. Parks through her bedroom window and down a ladder at the customary hour of midnight, in lieu of a more civilized time of eight p.m. through the front door, for Mr. Weiss has difficulty staying up past ten o’clock. Only by running away to romantic destinations unknown, under these circumstances, will Mr. Weiss be able to adequately convey the depth of his love for Ms. Parks.”

Having made his summation, he sat back and awaited Katy’s rebuttal. His years of litigating may have been over, but his skills were still as sharp as ever.

“I can’t run away with you, Mr. Weiss. If I did, who would run The World’s End?”

“Point well taken.” He considered this for a moment over the last of his Bloody Mary. “Alright then, you can run away with me for a period not to exceed your days off. After such time, you can return to your place of employment, where you may continue to serve Mr. Weiss the world’s greatest Bloody Marys.”

Katy stopped her inventory and turned to face Mr. Weiss with as stern a look as she could muster without grinning. He retreated behind the safety of his empty high ball glass.

“Mr. Weis—”

“Call me Carl, dear,” he interrupted as he peered around the glass in his hand.

“Mr. Weiss,” she continued, now with her hands on her hips, “if you had to decide between your boat and me, which would you choose?”

He put the glass back down on the bar and stared into the ice cubes for enlightenment. “Well,” he said, pausing at length, “that is some dirty pool. Would I at least be able to have visitation rights with the boat?”

“Your glass looks empty, Mr. Weiss. Can I get you another drink?”

“To console me in my hour of defeat? Yes, I suppose so.”

Katy flashed the smile she always saved just for him and took his empty glass to refresh it with a new drink.

“It was unfair bringing the boat into this. Blindsided, I was. I’m glad I never had to go up against you in court.”

“Maybe I missed my calling, huh?”

“Never, my dear. There is no higher calling than tending to the delicate needs of an old fool like me. The world is in critically short supply of your kind.”

“Here you go, Mr. Weiss.” She placed the new Bloody Mary on a fresh napkin on the bar in front of him. “The extra celery is because you’re my special fella.”

“I can settle for being your special fella… and I can always use the extra ruffage. Oh, you didn’t need to hear that.”

Katy laughed and looked up in time to see her brother Jimmy coming through the doors at the far end of the empty restaurant. He always stopped by the bar at least once a day to check in on her.

“Hey, sis, you breaking hearts again?”

“I should say she is,” interrupted Mr. Weiss. “It’s absolutely criminal the way she spurns my advances. She did give me the extra celery though. I guess that’s something.”

“Okay, Mr. Weiss. Hey, are you getting your boat underway this weekend?”

“Yes. I’m taking some friends down to Annapolis Saturday and maybe Sunday.”

“Do you need any crew?”

“Well, I sure could use a deckhand.”

“I’ll talk to my dad and get it set up. What time are you casting off?

“Eight o’clock sharp. Could you have him there by seven thirty?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. Well, I gotta go. I’m already late” he said as he headed for the marina side entrance.

“You going out today, Jimmy?” Katy called after him.

“Yeah. I’m taking out the RxCelsior for a shakedown.”

“Are you taking me home or is Pop?”

“Don’t count on me. I might end up getting back late. Better catch a ride with Pop.”

Jimmy shouldered his way out the door, out onto the sidewalk that led over to the marina. He picked up his pace as he neared the latticework of piers and slips that comprised the marina and continued down the main dock. A seagull trying to eke out an existence along the dock scuttled out of his way as he now jogged toward the RxCelsior. Jack was just putting away the hose at the fueling station halfway to the end of the pier and was startled by his son’s approach.

“You’re late.”

“Yeah, Pop, I know,” replied Jimmy, coming to a stop. “I got held up at the market over the price of this morning’s catch. I swear they charge the most to their customers and pay out the least to the fisherman.”

“What was the loss?”

“Nothing, Pop. I told ‘em it’d be worth the time and effort to start taking ‘em up to Aberdeen for a better price and that maybe the rest of the fellas around here would be better off taking their catch to market up there too.”

“Good bluff, son.”

“What bluff? There’s a place out on 301 I talked to last week that’ll do us better than those assholes over ‘n Pasadena. Hell, I might even invest in a refrigerated truck and do a little roadside vending.”

“Like you got enough time for another business! Speaking of which, that fancy fella over on yer yacht’s been checking his watch a lot.”

“He’ll keep. Did the compass adjuster get here yet?”

“Waiting for you on the boat. You’re the only one holding up the parade.”

“Yeah, how ‘bout that? Hey listen, Weiss needs a deckhand seven thirty on Saturday.”

“Sure. Is he still in there pestering your sister?”

“Like you have to ask,” replied Jimmy in his best Carl Weiss voice. “Alright then, let me get outta here,” he finished as he started back down the pier. “Oh, check on Katy. She’ll need a ride today.”

“You getting back late?”

“With a little luck. How often does a dumb kid like me get a chance to skipper a beauty like that?”

“Yeah, well, you be careful, kid. That toy over there cost more n’ you could make in a decade.”

“See ya, Pop.”

Boats had always been a part of Jimmy’s life. For as long as he could remember, he had worked with his father aboard his boat. At the age of five, Jack stood him atop a stack of overturned bushel baskets and taught him how to hold a course, just the same way that his father had done for him. By age ten, he’d completed his waterman experience by decking on a relative’s skipjack out of the Choptank. That winter, he learned what real sailing was all about, dredging for oysters within the country’s last remaining sail fishing fleet. While working the bay out of his father’s boat would always be an important part of his life, he could not deny the fact that sailing had infected him like a virus. When Jack started running the marina, Jimmy jumped at every chance to work as a deckhand aboard the yachts of Maryland’s elite. As any good skipper would, he learned the job from the bottom up. Before he was even old enough to drink, Jimmy was entrusted with multi-million-dollar craft, going out for day and weekend trips on the Chesapeake.

As Jimmy closed on the RxCelsior, he called out for the two deckhands to cast off the mooring lines.  The engine was already running at idle, for it had been started by the owner who sat in the cockpit with the compass adjuster.  He cried out, “Hey, Jimmy, been waiting on you.  Let's get out of here while there is still some wind"

"Sorry I'm late, Mr. Hill,” he apologized, stepping aboard into the cockpit.

"No problem, son. I've got nowhere to be today but out there."

"Then let's not waste any more time."

Jimmy engaged the throttle astern and slowly began to back out of the RxCelsier's berth.  The majestic craft drifted out of her slip without so much as a ripple to disturb the surface of the water.  He brought the throttle back to neutral and let the momentum carry her out the rest of the way, then clutched the engine forward and put the helm hard over.  The rudder swung, and her bow answered immediately; she was a large but very well-behaved vessel. 

Once they reached the more open water of the river, they remained on motor control and proceeded to perform a series of maneuvers for the benefit of the compass adjuster.  Jimmy had recently installed some equipment on the mast and jib to ease in the deployment and retrieval of sails.  The extra metal, along with a suite of new electronics for open-ocean voyaging, had changed the magnetic field of the vessel; thus, it had changed how the vessel’s magnetic compass responded to Earth's magnetic influence. The adjustments were minimal, and before long, they were motoring out of the Magothy River and into the Chesapeake Bay beyond.  As the vessel continued on out through the jetties, the compass adjuster settled into a comfortable position within the cockpit, while Jimmy held the course and gave instructions to his deckhands in preparation of raising the sails. The deckhands took up their stations forward and waited for the captain’s next order

First, Jimmy explained the mechanics of the new sail apparatus, and then he coached Mr. Hill as they went through the actual process of spreading the jib and main. As the material unfurled, a slight wind caught the sails and filled them quickly.  The new fabric Jimmy had stitched together for the sails noisily stretched out to their designed limits. The vessel gently heeled over as it gathered its momentum through the water and into the oncoming swell of the bay.  As if to applaud its new spread of sail, the flare at the bow cut down sharply and clapped a spray of water off each side of its stem. Jimmy cut the engine off and took in those blissful opening moments when wind, sail, and hull all came together to perform for an audience of one. He felt her buck in the helm under his tight grip, watched how the running rigging tightened and eased with each gust, and listened to the wind utter its secret whispers through the stays that supported the mast. When a vessel yields to the power of the wind, it fills one with an overwhelming sense of awe—a sense that man and boat are, in fact, only a small part of something far more vast and powerful than they themselves. 

Coming out of the channel behind them was a forty-two-foot Hatteras cabin cruiser. Its throbbing engines could be felt as much as heard as it chugged by. The owner cried from its Flying Bridge, "I hope you aren’t in any hurry!" With this, he slammed his throttles forward, bringing the powerful diesel engines into a loud, roaring life.  A hideous cloud of exhaust erupted from its stern as it squatted down and tore apart the water in its haste to get to where it was going. 

"Some guys just don't get it, do they fellas?  What do you say we head down to the Bay Bridge and back Jimmy?"

"I'm already on my way, Mr. Hill, and I can safely say I ain’t in no hurry."

“My sentiments exactly.” 

Mr. Hill went down below into the cabin and returned with a bottle and three glasses. "Gentlemen, I do hope you’ll join me in toasting the new vessel. I've been saving this rare old bottle of Scotch for just such an occasion, and I hate to drink alone." 

He passed out the glasses and promptly filled each with two fingers of the precious liquor. Then he filled his own, and promptly poured it over the side. "For King Neptune," he explained and then filled his own in earnest.  "Gentleman, to the Sailing Yacht RxCelsior. Long may she live." 

The three men clinked glasses and joined King Neptune in a taste of the ancient liquor. 

"Where’re you taking her, Mr. Hill?" asked Jimmy. 

"I’m sailing down to West Palm with a friend first. We’ll hang out there for a little while until she has to return to Europe, and then I’m off to St. Thomas in time for the Regattas."

"When do you take off?"

"Since you’ve finished so soon, I can move the schedule up to tomorrow."

"Yeah, my dad mentioned you’d be leaving pretty soon. Are you doing the St. Thomas transit single-handed?"

"No. I’ll be hiring a couple of guys to crew her down there, and then I’ll single-hand her back.”

"Sounds like a great trip.  How much time you taking off from work?" 

"This trip serves as the beginning of my semi-retirement.  When I come back at the end of the summer, I'll just be doing some minor consulting work for a couple of months out of the year. " 

"What do you do, Mr. Hill?" 

"Pharmaceuticals, Jimmy, my boy.  The world just can't live without them anymore. " 

"By the looks of this boat, I can see they must have treated you pretty well." 

"You have no idea son," he replied, looking around at the grand vessel that surrounded all of them, "but, say, she'd be nothing without all of these improvements you’ve worked so hard on. You did a fantastic job on her, Jimmy. The sails, did you have to outsource them?" 

"No, sir. I have a sail loft over in Pasadena." 

"Amazing.  With these sheets I could go around the world. " 

"Yes, sir, and I’ll guarantee them every inch of the way. Now about the new standing rigging" 

"Yes?" 

"When you get down to West Palm, you might want to have a rigger come down and tighten them up a little. Cable stretch on new rigging isn't at all unusual." 

"Of course. Thank you."

“Also, Unlimited Radio finished the installation of your INMARSAT system, but you’ll have to set up the registration yourself before you can log into the system. Make sure you take care of that or you won’t have any comms once you get offshore. I left the instruction manual on the chart table down below. It’s pretty easy to follow”

“Thanks, Jimmy. I’ll get right on it tomorrow.”

The three men continued their little journey throughout the course of the afternoon and into the early evening.  The day was perfect; the sun shone brilliantly against an impossibly blue sky with a fresh fifteen-knot wind out of the west.  Upon reaching the Bay Bridge, they turned about and headed for home.  The sun’s slow arc across the sky marked the progress of their final, purposefully slow return leg up the bay. As they neared Baltimore Light, Mr. Hill drained the last of the Scotch into the three glasses, and the unlikely trio enjoyed the last of their voyage in reverent silence.  Upon their approach to the Magothy, Jimmy fired up the engine and coached Mr. Hill on stowing the sails with the new apparatus.

There's a feeling of disappointment when the engine is turned over after a good sail, like stepping out of a soul reviving church experience onto the busy, hate-filled, sullied streets of the world outside.  The start of the engine marked the end of the reverie and a return to normalcy. Within thirty minutes, the three men who once existed together outside of the real world were in each of their own vehicles, heading in the very different directions that took them back to their very separate lives.

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