by Bob Kranich
The Cayman Turtle Schooner, (Part 3, Excerpt 68)
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 being confronted by what was believed to be an extinct Cayman crocodile.
The Cayman Turtle Schooner
Parker hurriedly looked left and right for an escape route. It was too far back to where the trail gained elevation. In fact it was too late for him! The Cayman crocodile suddenly rushed him! In desperation Parker dropped his cutlass handle and made a full swing of his walking stick from his back and over his head. The beast was five feet in front of him, opening is teeth-filled jaws when slam! The knot on the end of Parker’s walking stick came down on the top of the crocodile's head, right between both of the beady eyes. The croc’ stopped as suddenly as it had started, and Parker followed it up with two more such blows. The reptile lay there in a quiet heap.
Parker picked up his cutlass handle and rushed around the dead pile. He ran and ran, and didn’t stop until he got in sight of his home. His grandfather was working outside under the covering next to the shed.
Parker came rushing up, “Grandfather! Grandfather! A crocodile! A crocodile! I found a cutlass! I found our tree!”
“Now just settle down, Parker. Catch your breath and tell me just what happened, slowly.”
“So you tell me there is a dead Cayman crocodile on the trail by the lagoon, and you killed it. Let’s grab a sandwich that Grandma has made for us, and go up the trail, and take a look.”
“You’re right Parker. How about that? This Cayman croc’ is at least eight feet long. You say you did him in? How?”
“Well, Grandpa he was charging at me and I just swung my walking stick. Out of self defense.”
“Sonny, It looks like the Good Lord was watching out for you. People haven’t seen one of these on this island for years. We need to go down to the village, and tell the authorities. I think they will be interested in this. First thing tomorrow you and I will go down the beach to our neighbors. John will take us with his big sail’n dugout canoe to the far end of the island. There at Channel Bay we can inform whoever we should.”
“There he lays.” Grandpa pointed out the crocodile to the two men, Peter and Daniel, who had sailed back in John’s boat with Grandpa and Parker.
“He is a big un’,” Daniel said. “We’ll sketch, and measure him up. Keep your eyes peeled for any more. Parker, if you should come across any more, try not to kill them.”
“Yes, Sir,” Parker answered.
They all laughed. Parker looked confused.
Grandpa said, “They're just jesting Parker. You had to defend yourself.”
On the way back to the beach Grandpa told John, “I mean to bring in a fair-sized mahogany log. Goin’ to build us a dugout canoe. It'll be somewhat smaller than yours, John.”
“You need some help getting that log out? Let me know when,” John offered.
“In a couple of weeks,” Grandpa said. “We’ve got to get the tree cut down, the log sized, and then we’ll give you a call. Maybe that mule of your’n can pull it back to the beach for us.”
“He sure can, Gramps. Dynamite can do it! We’ll be seeing you then,”
John said.
“Thanks a’ lot for the information, Gramps,” Peter and Daniel said as John’s dugout put out from the beach with Grandpa and Parker pushing it into the surf.
“What we goin’ to do next, Grandpa?” Parker asked.
“Well, fearless hunter, tomorrow morning we’re going to skin a croc! The hide should be worth something. Someone in town will buy it after we cure it.”
“Parker, here’s the overall plan. We can only do a few of the steps at this time. First, we’re going to flip it over. Get your knife out. We will cut it from the chin to the end of the tail. There now we’ll remove the head and feet. Next we will clean out bones and all, and leave the hide.”
“Wow Grandpa, this is a lot of messy work.”
“Don’t fret. We will take this hide, and head back to the shed.”
“Grandpa, how did you learn to do this?”
“My father taught me how. But it’s been a long time.”
“What you going to do with the head, Grandpa?”
“We’re going to nail it to that far tree. Where grandma won’t see it.”
“Parker, help me take this salt I’ve been saving and sprinkle it on the inside of the hide. Next we’ll roll the hide, and put it in this tub. Now you fill this tub up with salt water from the beach until it covers the hide. We’ll let it soak there for a week.”*
“Now Parker, that finishes the gator project temporarily. Tomorrow morning we’ll take our ax and go and take a look at that tree you found. You say it’s just a little ways past the gator fight?”
“Yes Grandpa, I think you will like it. Not too high, but the exact distance around.”
“How’s that green turtle coming along? What‘s his name?”
“Sebastian, Grandpa. He’s gotten bigger. About the size of one of grandma's pots,” Parker said excitedly.
“When he gets about one-half bigger, I think we’ll have to build a turtle crawl. He will out grow that big tub he is in very soon.”
“What’s a turtle crawl, Grandpa?”
“Oh, you will see when you help me build it. But basically it’s a sea-side pen your turtle can grow up in. We’ll use some of the branches of the mahogany log we’re going to bring in.”
Mahogany trees can grow over one hundred feet tall. In fact they can live more than three hundred years!”
“Thanks, Grandpa. Look, right there is where I found the sword handle,”
Parker pointed.
“Oh yes. I can see where you dug it out. Now let’s get on with this tree felling. It looks like the tree grew up a good size, and then a big part of the top came out. Must've been from a big storm. After that it kind of stopped growing higher. What we need to do first is plan our cut. I mean which way to make it fall. We need an escape route. Because when the tree starts to fall, sometimes it will jump off the stump.”
“You know a lot, Grandpa.”
“Well not everything, but my job is to teach you everything I know. Then you can be smarter than me someday.”
“I don’t know if that will ever happen, Grandpa.”
“It will, Sonny. It will!”
“Ok, I’m going to make it fall that way, downhill towards the trail going home. We’ll just have to clear some brush and small saplings. Our emergency escape route is along the path we came in on.”
They cleared both ways, for the tree to land and the escape route. They were in luck, because there wasn’t too much in the way, and that was because Grandpa had planned well.
“Let’s take a break. I’m tired and we haven’t even started on the tree. Pass me some water and a snack from that sack, young’un.”
“Now that we’re rested, I’m going to let you start on the felling direction. Here is where we will cut a large “V” into the tree over half the way in. Give me the ax. Now stand over there, on the opposite of me. Watch as I chop. Watch my stand, my swing and the pull out.”
Chop! Chop! Chop! “There now you try.”
“Ok Grandpa. Like this?” Chip. Chip. Chip.
“Parker, that’s a good start. You’re through the bark.”
They took turns. Soon there was a large “V” about one half to two thirds of the way into the tree trunk about a foot off the ground.
“Ok Parker, you need to get over to the trail on the escape route. You never know just when she will go.”
Grandpa went to the other side of the tree opposite the large “V” cut. The tree was starting to lean, the correct way, towards the lower trail and their cleared area. Grandfather cautiously cut a small “V” on the opposite side of the tree from the large “V.”
“Stay back, and keep a watch,” he said as he swung a hard Chop!
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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