by Bob Kranich
Robert’s Best, (Part 18, Excerpt 103)
This is a new story. Robert’s Best is a sail boat. Grandfather Roberts has sailed it on the Intercostal waterway from Texas to Key West, Florida. His grandchildren and their parents have come to Key West on a visit. There will be a lot of funny happenings until the criminals from a previous story get into action. A side note is that a 1935 antique Chris-Craft Model 557 Cabin Cruiser is going to play an important part in the rest of the story. Grandfather Roberts has met Honest Dave and had a tour of his Chris-Craft. Honest Dave is going back to Homestead to check on his businesses. He will come back. Grandfather Roberts has moved into his new house on the Atlantic and the A. M. Adams Turtle Schooner will soon be in the story. The criminals are now starting their mischief.
Tom. Now just who’s this little man?”
“I’m Harold Junior,” Harold put right in. “That’s my Grandfather Roberts. Who are you?”
“Why, Harold Junior, I’m Dave, the speedboat man. I’m so glad to meet you. I’ve heard you’re a great sailor!”
“Yes, that’s right,” Harold Junior said proudly.
“Tom, let me show you my engine compartment. It’s had a makeover,” he opened the hatch. “Take a look at that!” He pointed to the engine.
“Why, it’s got three carburetors!” I exclaimed.
“Yep, got them at an auction. Triple down-draft carburetors, and there's two more things. But you can’t see them, a hot three-quarter cam and a new three blade prop with a pitch designed for speed. This ninety-five horse power Hercules KBL flathead six is now rated for one hundred and thirty-one horse power!”
“I got a great price, a real steal! I couldn’t pass it up. A marine mechanic I know needed some oak furniture I had. It was an even swap! You know, Tom, a little more horsepower and that great three-blade prop, for a boat like mine, means more torque and that equals more speed!”
“We’ll have to try it out,” I suggested.
“What you say, tomorrow morning after breakfast?” Dave suggested. “But right now I’m famished. I could use some food!”
“I figured that. So Franklin will drop us off and then will pick us up back here in a couple of hours,” I informed him. “We can walk a block or so to our favorite eating place, and then Franklin will take us home. You’re welcome to spend the evening with us or we’ll be back to see you tomorrow morning.”
"You know me, Tom, thank you for the hospitality, but I love my boat!”
“Hey, guys, when are we going to eat?” Harold Junior asked. He was sitting at the captain’s chair and turning the wheel.
They both laughed, “Come on, Harold,” Dave said, and we three headed for Sloppy Joes.
Next Morning:
“Hi, Franklin,” I said.
“Hi, Franklin, Hi Bessie,” Harold Junior said.
“He includes old Bessie. That’s a good boy you have there, Mister Tom,” Franklin stated.
“Thank you Franklin. We’re going to be out till mid-afternoon. How about looking for us about three.”
“Yes sir, Mister Tom. Me and old Bessie will be there.”
They rolled up to the Bight. Harold Junior was off running towards the two boats. Tom could see Dave up on the dock.
“She is all warmed up and ready to go. Get in, put on your life preservers, and hold on,” Dave welcomed them. “We’re going on a tour about the island. I figure we’ll go south past the Navy Yard, into the Hawk Channel, and along the entire south side of Key West. We’’ll stop at a marina for lunch at the cut between Stock Island and Key West. If you see a place to fish along the way, we’ll try our luck.”
“Can I drive? I know how. I steered our sailboat on Lake Houston!” Harold Junior put in.
Dave exclaimed, “I didn’t know that. How about as soon as we get into the Hawk Channel? First I want to go in close to the Navy breakwater. Maybe we’ll see some of those big boats.”
“This motor is purring like a kitten, Dave,” I exclaimed.
“She really pulls along. Watch, I’ll get her up on a plane,” he said as he pushed the throttle forward. The six cylinder responded; the bow came up and then leveled off, and we were moving along at a good pace.
“Look there. That Coast Guard boat in front of the Navy base harbor entrance,” I pointed. A Coast Guard boat was flashing a red light. Dave cut the motor.
“I guess they want me to stop. Oh, that’s why. Look, a sub!”
“It must be going out on patrol,” I said. “Come here, quick, Harold Junior. Look at the submarine.”
It came out past the Coast Guard boat and turned south towards the Atlantic. Then it started a slow dive. We could see it disappear as the water washed over it. The Coast Guard flashed a green light, and the three of us in the Chris-Craft waved as we went past it. Some of the Coast Guardsmen waved back.
“Wow! A submarine, Grandfather. Mister Dave, thank you for bringing us out to see it.”
“You’re welcome, Harold Junior. Now let’s get on with our tour.”
We cruised along the entire southern end of Key West, which was about four miles. We could see the Civil War Fort Zachary Taylor, the southernmost house, and the East Martello Tower which was a small supporting Civil War fort on the east end of Key West.
“I’m going to drift a minute, and, Tom, let’s bait up those rods. You two might latch on to something. Bait’s right there.”
“Ok, Dave, I’ve got it.“
“Wow! I’m going to catch a shark!” Harold Junior exclaimed.
It wasn’t a shark. But a couple of big red snappers really bent our poles. We caught them as Dave moved along trolling real slow.
“Dave, you will have to come by the house tonight for fried fish,” I invited.
We motored up between Stock Island and Key West, and Dave said, “There’s that marina with the good restaurant. How about lunch?”
“I need a hamburger, and fries, and a Coke,” Harold Junior put right in.
That afternoon, after the boat ride and fish cleaning.
“Grandfather Roberts, I’m going to swing on the front porch.”
“OK, Harold Junior, I’ll be right down.”
Harold Junior went out to the front porch, where he proceeded to put the porch swing to the ultimate test. A pickup with two guys was cruising down Whitehead Street. It stopped at the corner of United Street. From there they could see the Roberts house and the porch swing.
“Frank, it’s the kid,” the driver said.
“Yah, I see. Go make the call, and make it snappy!”
“I’m on it boss,” the driver answered as Frank jumped out, and the pickup hurried off.
Frank moved fast, then slowed down and nonchalantly walked up to the porch. He made sure he was off to one side so someone in the house looking down the hall towards the door couldn’t see him.
He stepped up on the porch, “Hey, Harold, you’re swinging pretty high!”
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