The Cayman Turtle Schooner, (Part 8, Excerpt 73)
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 two main characters Grandpa and Parker are now sailing their dugout canoe.
The Cayman Turtle Schooner
Grandpa, look, he sure has gotten big! He is about the size of grandma’s frying pan,” Parker exclaimed.
“It looks like we made that turtle crawl none-too-soon. Let me grab him by the sides of his shell and we’ll take him to
his new home.”
“Grandpa, look at Sebastian’s shell. I just noticed that it’s kind of heart shaped.”
“That’s right, Sonny.”
“Grandpa, look at the many colors. They are brown, dark green, some grey and black. But look there in the middle there is also some yellow. It looks like a cross!”
“So it is, Parker. We may have a holy turtle!
“Oh, Grandpa, I don’t know about that, but he sure is special.”
“Here we are, Sebastian. Let’s see if you like the turtle crawl,” Grandpa said as Parker opened the shore gate.
They waded in and Grandpa set Sebastian in the water. There was a sudden splash as the turtle’s flippers grabbed the water and he dived. Grandpa and Parker went out, closed the gate and sat down on an old knurled driftwood log. They watched Sebastian. He would come back up to the top and with a single explosive breath expel all the old air. He would then do a rapid inhalation which replaced the air in his lungs and then dive down again.
“I never heard him do that before, Grandpa.”
“He couldn’t dive very far in that tub he was in, so he didn’t have to take a fast breath, hold it, and come back up for air. Now that we’ve got Sebastian taken care of, tomorrow we’re going turtle hunting.”
Parker said, “I’m ready.”
They were a little over a quarter mile out from their house, which was about an eighth of a mile past the coral reefs. They had been turtling and fishing whenever time had allowed them this last year. Every now and then they would find a turtle but the fishing was good! The water out here was deep blue, and deep it was! The Cayman islands lay adjacent to the Cayman Trench. The Cayman Trench was very deep water, over four miles deep, and for that reason Grandpa did not venture too far out.
“There’s one, Grandpa! Over to the right.”
“I see it,” Grandpa said, as he dipped his paddle and headed towards it. Drop the sail and grab your paddle. Just like before, we’ll ease up to him, drop the weighted rope over his head, catch his flippers, and pull him in.”
The turtle dived.
“We'll have to guess where he’ll come up.”
They paddled along on their present trajectory. The turtle came up, blew out, breathed in, and started to dive. Parker looped the rope over the turtle, and it sank over in front of its head.
“I’ve got him!” Parker yelled.
Grandpa and Parker both pulled hard on the rope. It was hooked around both flippers. The turtle rolled up and over the sides of the dugout canoe and bounced upside down in the bottom, all four flippers moving wildly in the air.
“Leave him on his back. It’s the best way to transfer him,” Grandpa said. “Let’s head in, Parker. Up sail! It looks like Sebastian will have another friend to keep him company. That will make two extra turtles in the crawl.”
“Grandma, tomorrow Parker and I will sail down to Channel Bay to sell those two turtles. We should be back by evening. Can you please pack us a lunch?”
“Sure can. Anything for my two best men.”
They had about eight miles to sail to the west. They were paralleling the shore. The wind was at their back, blowing east to west. They would have to tack* going back. They reached the end of the island and had to swing to the south. When they got to the lee side, they headed in towards the bluff. There were a few houses, a pier, and a few sails in the mere hint of a harbor. They approached the pier, and right next to some local dugout canoes, there was a sloop. As they got close, someone hailed them.
“Ahoy, I’m Captain James Green of the sloop Mable Jane. Who be you?”
They came along side. “I’m Grandpa and this is Parker, my grandson.”
“Tie up and come aboard. Are those turtles for sale?”
Grandpa threw James the line. “Yes,” he said.
“I’ll give ye wholesale for them,” the captain offered.
“Wholesale and ten percent,” Grandpa answered.
“Deal it is then!” Captain James replied, “My first mate will bring them aboard. Come with me.”
“This is Richard, my first mate. Richard, we’ve got a couple of turtles. Have the hands stow them.”
They all shook hands.
James took them down inside the boat to a room with a table, “I’ll be right back. Smith, get these men, a drink, and a biscuit.”
A fellow, more-than-likely the Captain’s steward, appeared wearing a coarse sailcloth apron and bearing some punch and some pastries.
Thank ye kindly, Sir,” Grandpa said.
“You’re more-n welcome. Made them fresh this mar’n.”
“Here’s your pay, Grandpa.” Captain James came back into the cabin.
“Parker said, “Mr. James, Captain, Sir, can we look around at your ship?”
“Why yes, you can. Come along. She is a sloop. Single-masted. We can put up four sails if need be. We usually use the two you see. She is sixty-two feet and the fastest sloop, I’ll bet, in the Caribbean. We just stopped here to take on some water. We were told that the base of that limestone bluff has a sweet spring, and it sure has.”
“We’re headed to Cuba, to’ther side, to Havana harbor. Going to pick up some pineapples and then make a run to Key West.”
“Wow!” Parker exclaimed.
“As you can see, this here is where we steer our sloop,” Captain James continued. “That there, in the middle, is our long boat. It has long oars for six men. It’s pretty heavy, but we can launch it with that davit tackle right here.”
“Look, Grandpa. This boat is not made of a log, it’s all boards.”
“They're called planks, young fella, lot easier to build with ‘em,” Captain James said.
Parker looked all over the long boat. It intrigued him.
“That youngster is inquisitive,” Captain James said to Grandpa.
“Yes, Sir he is a bright boy. He helped me build that dugout canoe.”
“And a fine boat it is, Sir. I watched you two come around the tip there. A fine bit of seamanship.”
“Thank you, Captain James,” Grandpa said. “Come on, Parker, we’d best be on our way.”
Back in their dugout, Captain James threw them their line and waved as they paddled away from the sloop.
“We already sold our turtles. We go’n home, Grandpa?”
“Not so fast, Sonny. We’ve got some money. Let’s go to the little store on shore there. We’ll get some coffee, some sugar for Grandma, and they might even have a treat for you!”
“Let’s go. Thanks, Gramps.”
After some shopping they paddled away from the small dock, put up their sail, and left Channel Bay fast disappearing in the distance behind them. As soon as they rounded the end of Cayman Brac, the wind hit them.
“Now, Parker, you’re going to learn how to tack,” Grandpa hollered. “We’ll have to stay little farther offshore because we have to go side-ways left and then side-ways right against the wind. That way the sail will catch the wind, and we’ll be able to move forward against it.”
They were tacking back and forth and about half of the way home when the wind suddenly shifted from the northeast blowing towards the southwest to the southeast blowing strong gusts towards the northwest.
The winds have shifted, Parker. We won’t have to tack, but I don’t like it. Look over our island towards the south,” Grandpa pointed.
The sky was dark with a green tint.
“I thought it looked a little bit strange this morning,” Grandpa said. “It’s also real humid.”
“What is it, Grandpa?”
“It’s a bad storm a’comin. We got to get home!”
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
No comments:
Post a Comment