True pirates, part 2

August 2023

By David Roper

If you read last month’s column, you know we were soon to be headed out into the Bermuda Triangle on a delivery from Rhode Island to St. Thomas on an untested vessel, and leaving late in the year in weather that could turn very bad. But that was minor compared to the potential storm to come from the damaged psyches of two of my crew, Mark and Artie, a pair of modern day pirates with a hidden agenda. I had found Mark on a bar stool in a run-down joint on the New Bedford waterfront. He was the best I could come up with for a celestial navigator (it was before the days of GPS and I was no good at celestial). I needed a crew of four, and had no choice but to accept him, as time was running out. But Mark came with baggage: that being Artie, his friend and watch mate, whom Mark described as “kind of down-and-out with maybe a bit of a drinking problem.” Hobie, my fourth crew member, was a trusted Mississippi River pilot friend who had zero ocean or even sailing experience, but was truly “the finest kind” in a tough spot.

After picking up Hobie at the airport the next afternoon, and back at the boat’s marina in Rhode Island, we hurried to finish the usual endless list of preparations, while waiting for Mark and Artie to arrive. As the hours went by with no sign of them, I began to give up hope for the crew I needed (and even the trip itself), until the sound of crashing metal by the marina office made me jerk my head around. There was commotion in the parking lot. Hobie and I ran down the dock and up the gangway to find the large soft drink machine on its side with a tall, disheveled man pinned under it. Matt was crouched down trying to lift it off. Between the three of us, we were finally able to free the man, who stood, dusted himself off, and smiled as if in victory. He was holding a Coke can. Remarkably, he didn’t seem any worse for wear.

“This is Artie,” Matt said.

Artie popped the top and drained half the can. “An old trick for a free one,” he said, brushing his dirty long blond hair away from his face, and gesturing down at the fallen seven-foot machine by his feet. “The trick is to bang and tilt at the same time.” He shook his head. “Must have tilted too much this time.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said to Artie, reaching for a handshake I never got. I looked around him. “Where’s your gear?”

He held up a very expensive looking camera. Then he reached down and picked up his stained, once-white baseball cap with “Disco Sucks” emblazoned on the front. “This is it . . . all I need,” he quipped, as if I’d asked the stupidest question in history. He gave me a skeptical and questioning look. “So you’re the captain of this Landfill that’s taking us to sea?” he said. “Well, you got more things to worry about than my sailing attire. I mean, we’re headed south, right? It’ll warm up quick enough once we’re in the Stream.” Then he looked down and surveyed himself and his camera, nodding with full approval. “Yeah, all I need is right here.”

Matt smirked. “Yeah, all you own is right here.”

Then my friend Hobie, who was one of the most fearless men I’d ever met, raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. He looked skeptical at first. And then nervous. He began to whistle “Rolling on the River.” I’d been with him in the pilothouse when he’d whistled this in tense moments of rare uncertainty, such as while steering 400 feet of gasoline barges through a tight metal bridge span on a black night in a downtown river city. Yup, the whistling was the part that really shook me. Because when Hobie whistled, I got terrified.

The early signs of pirate behavior prior to departure were relatively minor: e.g.: my mother dropped off a batch of chocolate chip cookies for the trip; I put them below and found the box empty a few hours later; when I gave Mark and Artie $50 cash and sent them in my car to buy four whistles for us to wear when offshore, they returned with a large bottle of rum, two nice brass whistles for themselves, two cheap plastic ones for Hobie and me, and no change.

Then we headed out, only to stop in Newport for the night to wait for a weather window. The strategy was to wait for the west winds accompanying a cold front moving off the U.S. coast and then ride the clocking winds on a course that is to the east of the southeast rhumbline.

That night in Newport the early pirate signs got more ominous: Matt and Artie went ashore and didn’t return until just before dawn, while Hobie and I finished some tasks and stayed aboard to get a good night’s rest. The next morning, it was clear that we would be taking the first watch due to the passed-out conditions of the other two. Hobie cast off the mooring pennant. As he worked his way aft I noticed a quizzical look on his face. “Hey, Cap, did this boat ever have one of those spinnaker pole things?” he asked. I shook my head. “And what about a life raft?”

“No to that also. I tried to get them from the charter company but no luck.”

Hobie nodded and gave me a half smile. “Well, we have them now!”

When we were about 20 miles at sea, Matt and Artie appeared on deck, and I confronted them about our new equipment. Artie just shrugged and rubbed his head.

“I told you yesterday we needed this stuff for this unseaworthy tub,” Matt said. He leaned around the dodger and looked forward. “Huh. Well, I’ll be damned. I guess we got it now.”

“Did you guys steal this?”

Matt shrugged. “Beats me how it got there, Cap. Anyway, gimme the course and me and Artie can take over.”

As Hobie and I went below, I looked aft. The sea state was changing, and with it came a stomach-churning roll, plus the wind was rising. I was already exhausted, mostly from stress, and hoped I could fall asleep before the queasiness in my stomach turned into full blown seasickness.

At least Hobie seemed fine.

But then, as we headed below, he began to whistle “Rolling on the River.”

David Roper’s upcoming novel, “The Ghosts of Gadus Island,” is scheduled for publication this year. Dave is the author of the three-time bestseller “Watching for Mermaids,” as well as the sequel “Beyond Mermaids” and the novel “Rounding the Bend.” All are available through Amazon.com or roperbooks.com.