O'Malley's Alley 2
Within an hour they were coming down through the
outer channel getting ready to enter the inner channel. As they
turned the point at the end of the island children jumped to their
feet on the beach and waved. The crew was busy and dreaming of weed
and beer and whiskey, only Paul noticed the cute little tikes running
down the beach, waving at them. Stuttering Paul shouted, "Ga ga
god daa daamned ta ta tourists!"
The boat's engine and the whooshing of the breaking waves spared the children from the garbled harangue.
The Captain, "Mighty" Jack Smalle was nearly fifty years old but his sea-worn face doubled that number. He should have been pleased by his boat's success but he was infamous for his irritability. Jack had even spurned the tradition of naming his boat after a lady just to piss off the locals and avoid the annual blessing of the fleet. "Pains in the ass! They want you to dress up the goddamned boat and let a bunch of dignitaries' come aboard. This is a working boat so stay the fuck off!? Bullshit is all it is," he was quoted on many occasions.
Despite being the most ornery, cranky and rude individual around, he followed Coast Guard regulations when he ran his vessel. He'd learned not to piss off the 'Coasties'. The last time he did, he almost lost his boat. So he slowed the boat's speed, albeit grudgingly, when he passed a large sign at the north end of the island that warned of no-wake and idle speed for Manatee protection. "Run the god damned Manatees over and be done with them for good," the skipper shouted out the open pilothouse door.
"Fuck 'em all," muttered Wyoming Bill. "Ga ga g…." Paul tried to say but stopped as Wyoming Bill glared at him.
"Mighty" Jack looked passed the Manatee
signs to see a pleasure boat wandering down the middle of the
channel. The skipper of the approaching vessel was on the fly bridge
with a group of friends surrounding him. His back was to the wheel
and oncoming traffic. Captain Smales knew he was on the correct side
of the channel but he altered his course after a brief sound of his
powerful horn. As he spun the wheel clockwise to miss the errant
vessel he shouted through the cabin door to his crew on the back
deck. "Look at this stupid bastard coming!"
The music and laughter coming from the outbound forty-foot pleasure boat stopped the crew’s work. Bill and Paul leaned over the rail to see the oncoming boat. It was a momentary diversion from wanting to get unloaded and get loaded as quickly as possible. Watching a boat pass wouldn't delay them much.
The pleasure craft was polished, shining white all over except for a blue stripe near the gunnels and the blue canvas covering the flying bridge. The whiteness of the boat reflected the bright sun and magnified the glare. The pleasure boat was so clean that it hurt the shrimper's eyes but like a moth to a flame, the Shrimp boat's crew leered at the nattily clad senior citizen men and the slightly younger; swimsuit clad woman.
The women returned the gaze with a mild look of scorn and indifference. One prune faced woman looked at the scruffy shrimpers like they were invading aliens. Their male companions ignored the shrimp boat entirely. No one waved, as is the custom for passing pleasure boats and everyone returned to their duties as soon as they passed.
The Skipper of the pleasure boat shouted to his guests, "Hold on," as he throttled up the twin diesels. The smoke and water churned from under the stern. He was out of the Manatee restriction zone and making a statement to the shrimpers, "Eat my wake!".
"I could almost taste the beer that bitch was drinkin'," said Wyoming Bill as he coiled a line. "Ye ye ye aaaah" said Paul
"Only a few hours left 'till O'Malley's," shouted the Captain, "get your mind back on the work!"
The passing was evidence of their return to civilization and the deep division between the old and new Estuary Beach. Even the Captain could hardly remember the old days when there were empty lots on the beach and people were civil to one another. Most of the old time residents had died or given up and moved farther south. The ones that remained knew their time was running out.
It didn't matter to Stuttering Paul and Wyoming Bill because they were newcomers, too! They went back to work as they licked their lips in anticipation of drinking and smoking their share of a good catch. Even Paul, a lowly back deck crewman's share would bring between three thousand and thirty five hundred dollars in cash. Paul smiled as he swabbed the decks and daydreamed of walking into O'Malley's Alley, 'Shrimper Rich!' He'd pay off his entire bar bill and then buy all of his friends and a lot of strangers' drinks.
It would be a grand old time. He would get so drunk that he wouldn't stutter. The only other time he didn't stutter was when he sang Karaoke. His friends would tell him the next day about how eloquently he slurred his words. Paul would be broke in little more than a week. Then he would seek another boat.
Stuttering Paul worked hard the entire trip and the Captain never had to tell him what to do. Wyoming Bill nagged at him constantly and Paul suspected Bill liked the back-deck crewman they had to leave behind better. Paul was an experienced hand but the only reason he got a berth on the Pukin’ Pelican was he was standing on the dock in the quay when the 'The Puking' Pelican's back deck man didn't show for the trip. Captain Smale's reputation ensured a no-show now and again but crew was a huge problem for all shrimp boats because the work was so hard and long.
Stuttering Paul might be too hung-over to make the next trip on any boat especially the Puking' Pelican. Paul was sure that the 'other' crewman was surely sober after a month on shore and he would need the money. After Paul went broke, he would join the boat-less men waiting on the docks looking for a berth. In the mean time, Stuttering Paul would work as a construction laborer to survive. The money wasn't bad but he would still wait in line for a boat when he could.
Wyoming Bill paced nervously as Captain Smales skillfully maneuvered the single engine vessel around in tight quarters so he could raft up against the other boats. It was tough going with only the single engine but Smales had done it a hundred times. All the crew could do was wait until they tossed their lines to the companion boat crew.
Once secure, Bill jumped off and hopped like a bunny from one boat to the next shouting, "Where's "little Bob? Have you seen "little Bob?" Bill had credit with the Pot selling, one-armed pusher and with the entire fleet in port or heading in because of the full moon the pot would be in short supply soon.
Captain Smalle's die-hard attitude made his boat one of the last to enter port. When the other boats were unloading the price per pound for shrimp dropped but by the time the Pelican unloaded, the price would rebound.
The atmosphere around the shrimp docks took on the same air of the old Kansas cow towns when a herd came through. Shrimpers and a lot of the fishermen would be in the same places at the same time and that always spelled money and a little trouble. The first night, the crew would stay with the boat until they unloaded in the morning. They partied on and around the boats because the shrimp was too valuable to leave.
Most Captains would advance a portion of the share to the boat-bound crew to buy their loyalty. An unattended boat might get raided and a few hundred pounds of Shrimp might go missing.
Stuttering Paul finished stowing the boat gear and cleaned the drains of the shrimp coolers so the ice water wouldn't back up and spoil the Shrimp. As he climbed out of the hold, Captain Smales stood next to the hatch. "You're staying aboard tonight, right," Smales growled.
When Paul nodded the Captain said, "Here's a hundred to get you a whore and some booze or whatever. I'll be back in a couple of hours, (he lied) make sure you're here!" Paul smiled but it wasn't returned. The Captain spun around and climbed onto the next Shrimp boat and then the next and so on until he disappeared behind the forest of rigging.
Shortly thereafter a crippled fisherman named Teddy came aboard. He was selling dope and a cohort was carrying a case of the cheapest beer. Paul bought the beer, which included a ten-dollar delivery charge. It was warm and Paul almost choked on the first gulp. While he drank the first beer, he stowed the rest in with the iced Shrimp. He was happy because he was a rich man and no place to spend most of it until tomorrow night.
This blog/column is meant for educational purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Void where prohibited. Some assembly required. Do not read while operating a vehicle or heavy machinery. Keep sending those great questions and comments! (Contact) boatguied@aol.com
The boat's engine and the whooshing of the breaking waves spared the children from the garbled harangue.
The Captain, "Mighty" Jack Smalle was nearly fifty years old but his sea-worn face doubled that number. He should have been pleased by his boat's success but he was infamous for his irritability. Jack had even spurned the tradition of naming his boat after a lady just to piss off the locals and avoid the annual blessing of the fleet. "Pains in the ass! They want you to dress up the goddamned boat and let a bunch of dignitaries' come aboard. This is a working boat so stay the fuck off!? Bullshit is all it is," he was quoted on many occasions.
Despite being the most ornery, cranky and rude individual around, he followed Coast Guard regulations when he ran his vessel. He'd learned not to piss off the 'Coasties'. The last time he did, he almost lost his boat. So he slowed the boat's speed, albeit grudgingly, when he passed a large sign at the north end of the island that warned of no-wake and idle speed for Manatee protection. "Run the god damned Manatees over and be done with them for good," the skipper shouted out the open pilothouse door.
"Fuck 'em all," muttered Wyoming Bill. "Ga ga g…." Paul tried to say but stopped as Wyoming Bill glared at him.
The music and laughter coming from the outbound forty-foot pleasure boat stopped the crew’s work. Bill and Paul leaned over the rail to see the oncoming boat. It was a momentary diversion from wanting to get unloaded and get loaded as quickly as possible. Watching a boat pass wouldn't delay them much.
The pleasure craft was polished, shining white all over except for a blue stripe near the gunnels and the blue canvas covering the flying bridge. The whiteness of the boat reflected the bright sun and magnified the glare. The pleasure boat was so clean that it hurt the shrimper's eyes but like a moth to a flame, the Shrimp boat's crew leered at the nattily clad senior citizen men and the slightly younger; swimsuit clad woman.
The women returned the gaze with a mild look of scorn and indifference. One prune faced woman looked at the scruffy shrimpers like they were invading aliens. Their male companions ignored the shrimp boat entirely. No one waved, as is the custom for passing pleasure boats and everyone returned to their duties as soon as they passed.
The Skipper of the pleasure boat shouted to his guests, "Hold on," as he throttled up the twin diesels. The smoke and water churned from under the stern. He was out of the Manatee restriction zone and making a statement to the shrimpers, "Eat my wake!".
"I could almost taste the beer that bitch was drinkin'," said Wyoming Bill as he coiled a line. "Ye ye ye aaaah" said Paul
"Only a few hours left 'till O'Malley's," shouted the Captain, "get your mind back on the work!"
The passing was evidence of their return to civilization and the deep division between the old and new Estuary Beach. Even the Captain could hardly remember the old days when there were empty lots on the beach and people were civil to one another. Most of the old time residents had died or given up and moved farther south. The ones that remained knew their time was running out.
It didn't matter to Stuttering Paul and Wyoming Bill because they were newcomers, too! They went back to work as they licked their lips in anticipation of drinking and smoking their share of a good catch. Even Paul, a lowly back deck crewman's share would bring between three thousand and thirty five hundred dollars in cash. Paul smiled as he swabbed the decks and daydreamed of walking into O'Malley's Alley, 'Shrimper Rich!' He'd pay off his entire bar bill and then buy all of his friends and a lot of strangers' drinks.
It would be a grand old time. He would get so drunk that he wouldn't stutter. The only other time he didn't stutter was when he sang Karaoke. His friends would tell him the next day about how eloquently he slurred his words. Paul would be broke in little more than a week. Then he would seek another boat.
Stuttering Paul worked hard the entire trip and the Captain never had to tell him what to do. Wyoming Bill nagged at him constantly and Paul suspected Bill liked the back-deck crewman they had to leave behind better. Paul was an experienced hand but the only reason he got a berth on the Pukin’ Pelican was he was standing on the dock in the quay when the 'The Puking' Pelican's back deck man didn't show for the trip. Captain Smale's reputation ensured a no-show now and again but crew was a huge problem for all shrimp boats because the work was so hard and long.
Stuttering Paul might be too hung-over to make the next trip on any boat especially the Puking' Pelican. Paul was sure that the 'other' crewman was surely sober after a month on shore and he would need the money. After Paul went broke, he would join the boat-less men waiting on the docks looking for a berth. In the mean time, Stuttering Paul would work as a construction laborer to survive. The money wasn't bad but he would still wait in line for a boat when he could.
Wyoming Bill paced nervously as Captain Smales skillfully maneuvered the single engine vessel around in tight quarters so he could raft up against the other boats. It was tough going with only the single engine but Smales had done it a hundred times. All the crew could do was wait until they tossed their lines to the companion boat crew.
Once secure, Bill jumped off and hopped like a bunny from one boat to the next shouting, "Where's "little Bob? Have you seen "little Bob?" Bill had credit with the Pot selling, one-armed pusher and with the entire fleet in port or heading in because of the full moon the pot would be in short supply soon.
Captain Smalle's die-hard attitude made his boat one of the last to enter port. When the other boats were unloading the price per pound for shrimp dropped but by the time the Pelican unloaded, the price would rebound.
The atmosphere around the shrimp docks took on the same air of the old Kansas cow towns when a herd came through. Shrimpers and a lot of the fishermen would be in the same places at the same time and that always spelled money and a little trouble. The first night, the crew would stay with the boat until they unloaded in the morning. They partied on and around the boats because the shrimp was too valuable to leave.
Most Captains would advance a portion of the share to the boat-bound crew to buy their loyalty. An unattended boat might get raided and a few hundred pounds of Shrimp might go missing.
Stuttering Paul finished stowing the boat gear and cleaned the drains of the shrimp coolers so the ice water wouldn't back up and spoil the Shrimp. As he climbed out of the hold, Captain Smales stood next to the hatch. "You're staying aboard tonight, right," Smales growled.
When Paul nodded the Captain said, "Here's a hundred to get you a whore and some booze or whatever. I'll be back in a couple of hours, (he lied) make sure you're here!" Paul smiled but it wasn't returned. The Captain spun around and climbed onto the next Shrimp boat and then the next and so on until he disappeared behind the forest of rigging.
Shortly thereafter a crippled fisherman named Teddy came aboard. He was selling dope and a cohort was carrying a case of the cheapest beer. Paul bought the beer, which included a ten-dollar delivery charge. It was warm and Paul almost choked on the first gulp. While he drank the first beer, he stowed the rest in with the iced Shrimp. He was happy because he was a rich man and no place to spend most of it until tomorrow night.
This blog/column is meant for educational purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Void where prohibited. Some assembly required. Do not read while operating a vehicle or heavy machinery. Keep sending those great questions and comments! (Contact) boatguied@aol.com
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