The Cayman Turtle Schooner, (Part 2, Excerpt 67)
This is a story, titled The Cayman Turtle Schooner. This story will tell about the forming and history of the Cayman Islands, the green sea turtle’s habits and life style, the building of a dugout canoe, and then a schooner, and lastly about the historic two-masted turtle schooner, A. M. Adams. Our main human character, Parker, is about to embark on an adventure.
The Cayman Turtle Schooner
“Come on in here you two! Quit gibbering! It’s time for lunch,” Grandma yelled from the house.
“What are you going to call your turtle, young fella?” Grandma asked as she was cleaning up after lunch.
“Well Grandma, remember Uncle Sebastian? You know he likes the water. He is a sailor. I’m going to call him Sebastian!”
“You know if that rambler ever gets back to shore, he’ll be proud.”
“Grandma, I’m going out to the shed and see what Grandpa is doing.”
“What are you working on, Grandpa?”
“I’m sharpening up all my saws, axes, and tools for cutting wood.”
“Do you need some help?”
“I want you to just watch, and I’ll show you how each tool gets sharpened with different files, grinders, and sharpening stones. Then you can give it a try. Also I’ve got a job for you early tomorrow.”
“What’s that Grandpa?”
“We are going to build a Cayman dugout canoe. It’s not going to be like the original Cayman dugouts. In fact, some of those were twenty-five to fifty feet long. No, we two couldn’t handle one of those. Ours is going to be around fourteen feet. What I need for you to do is head up to the highland behind the house...take the trail. Then look for a mahogan tree, not too tall, real straight, and this diameter. Go get your walking staff, and I’ll put a mark on it. You can also use the walking stick for estimating the length. It will be about four times its length.”
“Sonny, if you don’t find anything, we’ll both try the other trail the next day,” Grandpa said.
Bright and early the next morning Parker went out to the covering close to the shed. Sebastian was nestled in his sea grass. Parker was sure he was growing some. He had placed some minnows in the tank to keep Sebastian company.
“Now you be careful Parker...and be back in time for lunch,” Grandma hollered as he started down the trail.
“Pa, do you think it’s safe for him to go alone?” Grandma asked.
“Sure, what can hurt him? He has already been beach combing and turning turtles for me! This is just up the trail to the woods. Besides he and I have been there many times before.”
“Ok, dear,” she said. “I guess he needs to grow and learn.”
The trail left the costal mangroves and went past the edge of a small salt water lagoon. There were a few sea birds about. Parker liked to watch the long-legged ones. They would stand in the water, spear fish with their beak, and then gulp them down whole.
Next, the trail wound along a marsh fringed by bushes and small trees, kind of jungle-like. There were orchids attached to many of the branches and tree trunks.
Parker had come this way many times before with his grandpa. He was hoping he would find a tree along the trail as it slowly wound its way up toward the highlands.
This island, Cayman Brac was the highest of all three islands. At one hundred and forty-four feet it was one hundred feet higher than Little Cayman, and Grand Cayman was lower still. This island was flat on top, like a plateau. It dropped down from the east end to the sea on the west.
He passed a small well which was near a place called Pirates Cave. There were lots of caves along the perimeter of the island and in the hardwood forest. Some said they had been used by pirates to hide their booty and loot. However, so far no one had reported finding any treasure.
The wells were useful. In fact he and Grandpa had drunk from this one many times. There were no permanent streams or rivers on the islands because the soil was so porous. Consequently, there was no runoff. That made the waters very clear around the beaches.
Parker came to a switchback* in the trail. It was a flat spot that made an abrupt 180 degree turn to the right. He stopped briefly to rest and then spotted, off to the left about fifteen yards, a tree that appeared to meet his Grandpa’s measurements.
“I need to get over there to check the diameter,” he said out loud.
The brush was very thick along the trail. He pushed himself through, receiving a few scratches in the process. Once past this natural barrier, he suddenly realized the ground did not slope off sharply but was a level, overgrown, old trail. Of course there were bushes and vines growing on it. But it was much easier than walking along a sloping mountain side.
He took his bearings and headed towards his mahogany target. He got up to it and laid his walking stick alongside to check the diameter. It was exact! He looked up, and the tree top was strange. Something like lightening or a hurricane must have broken or blown off the major part of the top. A few limbs had been left, and they were still growing. The tree had a thick straight trunk but it was unusually short.
Parker could see the straight part of the tree was just long enough, at least eighteen feet. He made a sudden turn to return to the trail, and caught his foot on something. He came crashing to the ground. His knee was hurting a bit when he got up.
But he said to himself again out loud, “I’m glad no one saw me perform that foolish maneuver! What tripped me?”
He looked down. There was a strange rusted metal loop about the size of a man’s hand sticking out of the ground. It was protruding about three inches above the earth. He bent down and touched it. Parker pulled out the knife his grandfather had given him at his last birthday and began to dig around this object. It was the handle of a cutlass with only a short stub of a rusty blade attached.
“Wow!” he said, “Grandpa will be interested in this!”
He made his way back to the trail and down the path. As he approached the lagoon, he stopped. There across the trail was what appeared to be a large log.
“That wasn’t there before,” he said.
Parker approached slowly. As he got closer he realized, this dark thing didn’t look like a log. Then he saw what appeared to be green scales. Suddenly there was a sharp crack! He had stepped on a dry stick. Part of the thing turned, and Parker realized that he was looking at the snout of a Cayman crocodile! The crocodile raised up on its legs, turned towards Parker and started moving towards him. He had never seen one of these before, only the fossil remains of a skull. In fact, they were thought to have been extinct! At one time the island swarmed with them, and then stranded mariners supposedly ate them all.
From the Author:
My second full-length book , Florida Keys’ Watercolor Kapers is composed of 336 pages. There are 12 stories running from 6 pages to as many as 72 pages. It is fully illustrated with 88 watercolors and sketches. The watercolors I made roaming around Key West after I finished my 750 mile hike from Georgia to Key West. (See book or Don Browne’s SouthWest Florida Online News records, A Walk Across Florida.) As you read these stories you will experience Key West, the Keys, and the Caribbean. These stories span the time of the early 1800’s to 1969. bkranich.wixsite.com/bobkranich
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