9
Dawn came, and I opened my eyes. We were still floating. I looked to my left and Forest was squinting. We stared awkwardly at each other for a few seconds. I noticed the crust in his eyes and perhaps he noticed mine. “Where the hell is Becca?” he asked.
“No idea. I just woke up.” My mouth felt like a desert in Africa and could feel a headache coming on strong.
Forest jumped out of the V berth, stumbled through the cabin, and popped his head out of the open hatch. He stepped out on deck, and I followed behind. There was a sucky crick in my neck that I tried to rub while I walked.
Cool, salt air rushed onto my face. I turned to the bow. I was speechless. Becca was sitting at the very tip of the boat, holding onto the rail with her feet dangling over the side. In front of her the sun, almost halfway exposed, caused a gold glow in her hair and shades of orange, pink, and blue projected across the sky. The water was calm with a gentle breeze out of the north. I didn’t even want to blink, the scene was so damn beautiful.
The silence was broken. “Becca,” said Forest. “Where’s my coffee and sausage biscuit?”
She turned around and gave him a ‘what the hell did you just say to me’ look. Forest threw his head back and laughed. It was strange hearing Forest laugh like that when it was so calm and quiet. The echo across the water must have scared every bird around for miles.
“Think it’s time you lifted up that big ass pole boys,” said Becca without taking her eyes off the sunrise.
I let out a deep breath, “Yeaep.”
Forest and I started stretching.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Let’s do this.”
We braced ourselves under the pole, got it to about chest high, and struggled to lift it over our heads. Becca ran to us to help give it an extra push.
“Once we get it upright, Becca run to the front and latch that cable back on,” said Forest.
She got in front of me and started pushing up with her legs. Instinctively I stared at her butt and caught myself in a flash, then turned my attention to the sunrise. I had to shake this. The dude shot some guy in the face. I didn’t think we were going to get it up, but Becca added just the amount of extra push we needed.
“Shit! We’re never lowering this pole again.” shouted Forest.
The mast went upright, and Becca ran to the front to secure the cable that attached it to the deck.
“Got it!” she shouted. We secured the other cables and admired the fact that we managed to get that huge mast back up, and in place.
I hoisted the sail and watched it fill with the wind coming out of the north.
“Forest, see the rope right there attached to that winch?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Pull it until I tell you to stop.”
Forest slowly pulled the rope that trimmed the sail so that it was almost parallel to north. We immediately picked up speed and started slicing through the calm water.
“Oh,” said Forest. “I get it.”
“Yeah. It’s pretty cool,” I replied.
“I can steer,” said Forest.
“Alright. Just point us at the sun.” I double checked the boom vang while we sailed along at what was probably four miles per hour. There were no boats on the horizon for as far as I could see in any direction. We were so alone, but it was a good alone. The kind of alone that reminded me that there was no one there to control us anymore. Freedom.
“Did you guys get water yet?” asked Becca.
“No,” I replied. “I hope we see an island up ahead soon or we’ll be dead.”
Becca pointed to the back.
“Oh yeah! Did it work?” I asked.
Forest had forgotten too and quickly opened the bench seat.
“Hell yes!” he shouted.
I looked down and couldn’t believe it. There was at least ten gallons of clear, fresh water in a sail made reservoir under the starboard bench seat.
“Becca you are bad ass!” I shouted.
I reached down with both hands and formed a bowl. It was the best water I had ever tasted in my life. I could feel the cold water splash all the way to my stomach. Forest reached for his bag and pulled out the glob of dough. It was even more unsightly than yesterday and now hard on the edges and crumbly.
“We’re gonna make it,” he said, chewing.
It looked like half of the glob was gone, maybe more.
“That’s not going to last long,” said Becca. I shook my head.
“Who wants to start fishing?” asked Forest while he held the tiller tight and kept us pointed to the right of the rising sun.
Becca looked at me.
“I guess I will,” I said.
I wasn’t looking forward to fishing and knew I would look like a total ass. The first time I had ever held a fishing pole was the day before when that old man handed me one. Becca pulled out one of the fishing poles and gave it to me. I reviewed the machine like part of the pole that held the line. It was a little intimidating. I turned with my back facing Forest and Becca so I could study it some more without looking like a dumbass in front of them. I kind of understood how it worked.
I opened the small plastic box that Mr. Bones had given us. An array of bright, flashy feathers surprised me. Inside was what looked like small toys in the shapes of fish and other sea creatures that had hooks attached to them. I picked out an octopus looking thing that had a bunch of bright red feathers and two large hooks
“Why that one?” asked Becca.
I looked down at the odd bunch of feathers and hooks in my hands.
“This is a quaza bait. They work good in the ocean.”
Forest looked at me like I was an idiot and Becca wasn’t amused.
I smiled, “Shit, I don’t know. But it’s red. So it must look like it’s bleeding. That should be good.”
I strung the thick line through a series of small hoops in the pole. At the top of the red octopus was an eyelet that I assumed I was supposed to tie the line onto. I tied on a big knot, looping the string back and through ten times.
“Looks ready,” said Forest.
“The old man said to throw it behind the boat,” said Becca.
I tossed the plastic red octopus overboard and grabbed the pole. Everything seemed to be working. I watched line rapidly leaving the reel and wondered when it would stop.
“All your line’s gone. Shit Joey, all your line’s gone!” shouted Forest.
I couldn’t believe it. “That’s such bullshit. It never stopped,” I replied.
“Well there goes our only quaza,” said Becca.
We both looked at her.
“Let’s hold the line with our hands instead,” she said. That appealed to me and seemed way less complicated. I started taking the line off of the other fishing rod. I wrapped it loosely around my arm like a spool.
Becca picked out a similar looking bait that had a silver head and purple feathers.
“Try this,” she said.
She tied it on and tossed it overboard. As soon as it touched the water I noticed streaks of light reflecting from the sun hitting the bait.
I pointed my arm straight out and let it go about 100 feet behind the boat. I held onto the line with my hand and had the rest of it wrapped around my arm. There was some heavy pressure just from dragging the large bait in the water.
“I might tie the line to the rail,” I said.
“I’ll take a turn when you’re tired,” said Forest.
Becca stood on the port side of the boat holding onto one of the cables and admiring the ocean. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. The light behind her made her glow like some kind of a damn sun goddess or something. It was torture. I stared. It was impossible not to.
“What do you think the Bahamas will be like?” she said.
I watched her infectious smile.
“Beautiful,” I replied just slow enough to make it awkward. Damn it.
She quickly looked away and Forest turned toward me.
Oh
shit, she wasn’t even talking to me.
Smash!
My face rammed straight into the back rail, and I almost fell overboard. I was suddenly being squeezed under the rail and was preparing myself to swim. Forest grabbed onto my legs.
“What the hell!” he shouted.
My left arm was fully extended, and it felt like it was about to be pulled off.
“Fish!” I yelled.
“Let some of the line go.” yelled Becca. Of course. I couldn’t think.
I straightened my arm to let the line reel off and ease the tension, “Ugh, damn this hurts.” The line made a strange high pitch sound while it scraped across my forearm. Small drops of blood began to appear as it cut into my skin. In the distance we saw a large silver fish leap into the air with our plastic purple octopus thing in its mouth.
“He’s pissed,” said Forest.
The fish looked easily five feet long. The line was peeling out of my hands so fast it caused cuts to form on my palms. “Lower the sail and someone give me a shirt.”
Forest whipped off his old smelly t-shirt and handed it to me. I used it like a pair of gloves to hold onto the line. Becca quickly got to work bringing the sail down.
Over the next few minutes I got a crash course in fighting a big fish. It would take line out and I would bring some in, over and over. Gradually it came closer to the boat.
“That fish almost drowned you,” said Forest.
“From now on,” said Becca. “No one is wrapping any line around their hand. Cut that shit out.”
“It’s getting closer, man hang on,” said Forest.
I could feel the big fish tiring. There was no way to tell time, but I was sure that I had been fighting the fish for at least thirty minutes. He made one last jump about ten feet from the boat.
“Whoa!” said Becca.
It was dead tired now, floating on the surface.
“C’mon help me pull him in the boat.”
I grabbed the line tightly. Forest held onto my shoulders.
“One, two, three!” We all went backwards, and the big silver fish came over the side.
“Yeah!” shouted Forest and we gave each other high fives.
“Shit! Teeth!” I screamed, and we flew out of the cockpit and onto the center deck. The fish flopped around like a wild freak, snapping its mouth, causing complete havoc.
“My rolls!” shouted Forest as we watched the fish kick what was left of the glob into the water.
“It bit me,” said Becca.
“What?” Forest and I were in a bit of a daze and looked at her.
“My shirt,” she said. She held out the bottom of her shirt and there was now a six inch log rip running down the side of it. The fish finally settled down to die on the deck of the boat, while we caught our breath. We stared at the large fish with big eyes and teeth. It looked mean as hell. There was no better way to describe it. It was a long and silver, with gray and black patches on its body.
“It’s got wolf teeth,” said Forest.
We couldn’t stop staring at the teeth. There were rows of them about two inches long, but not like shark teeth. It looked like the mouth of a dog or wolf.
“He looked almost dead when he came up to the boat,” I said.
Forest shook his head. “Not when he came into the boat. He went out guns blazing. You are one bad ass fish.”
“Now what?” asked Becca.
“We eat it. We lost the glob,” I said.
“How do we eat that?” she asked.
Good point. We paused for a bit longer, not sure exactly what to do next.
Forest opened up the cabin hatch and got his knife. He crept toward the fish and poked it a few times in the back.
“I think it’s dead,” he said.
There was hardly any wind, and the sea was calm. Becca had raised the sail again, but we were barely moving.
“If we can’t cook it, how do we eat it?” asked Becca.
“Raw,” said Forest.
“You’re insane,” she said.
“No, he’s right,” I responded. “That’s all sushi is. Raw fish. People pay a lot of money for sushi. It doesn’t get any fresher than this.”
“Yeah,” said Forest.
Becca looked really skeptical.
Forest pointed at the fish with his knife. “I’ll cut off the head and tail. The rest we can eat.”
“Alright,” I said.
Forest straddled the fish and started sawing. He cut off the large tail first and threw it into the water. It took him a bit longer to cut off the head. Then he took the giant fish carcass and held it up in the air while it rested on his biceps, “All you can eat sushi,” he said with a grin.
“Ugh,” said Becca.
“Oh shit,” I replied as blood and guts started dripping down Forest’s legs. He dropped the fish carcass immediately, and it hit the deck with a big thud.
“Someone needs to get all that shit out,” said Forest while he pointed to the bloody goop that was now dripping onto the deck of the O’Day.
“It’s your knife and you already got blood all over you,” I replied.
Forest looked agitated, “Oh really?” he said.
“And I reeled it in. You’re turn man.”
“Next time I’m reeling it in,” said Forest.
Forest poked at the fish and looked in through its chest cavity.
“One of us needs to hold it over the boat and the other one needs to cut open its stomach,” he said.
I picked the fish up by the end and let the other half hang over the remaining stern rail.
“Please don’t drop it,” said Becca.
I was hungry as hell, and evidently so was she. Those little globs of dough just didn’t go very far out there. I pressed my fingernails like a cat into that fish. I wasn’t letting go.
Forest took his knife and made a slit down the stomach. All sorts of nastiness poured out from the fish, and he helped it along with his knife and fingers. After we splashed saltwater on the carcass there was still a little blood, but what was left actually looked pretty clean. Forest took his knife and cut away three small pieces of flesh from the big silver fish carcass.
“You first, Joey,” said Forest.
“That’s fine,” I said and studied the morsel before me. The silver skin was still attached, and the meat had a dull pinkish color. There wasn’t much of a scent, and that made me think the taste would be okay. I didn’t want to look like a punk in front of Becca, so I popped the whole thing in my mouth and started chewing. Then stopped chewing almost instantly.
“Awesome?” asked Forest.
“Yaaaack! Don’t eat it, don’t eat it,” I said while coughing and spitting the pieces into the ocean. Forest just touched the tip of his tongue to it and tried to keep from wincing.
“We have to eat it though,” said Forest. I leaned over the side to rinse my mouth with saltwater.
“Maybe if we get really, really hungry,” said Becca.
I was swishing my mouth with saltwater and spittting, again and again.
“I don’t know man,” I said. “It’s really, really bad. Like oily or something. My mouth was filled with fish gases and shit.”
“Sushi is raw fish,” sad Forest. “This is raw fish. It doesn’t get any fresher. What the hell?”
“Maybe you take the skin off?” I asked. “Try just chewing a tiny piece of the skin and see for yourself.”
“Well what do we do with it now?” asked Becca.
“It will rot in a day or two. We may as well force it down,” said Forest.
“Can it cook in the sun?” asked Becca.
“Like in thin strips?” I asked.
“I guess,” she said.
“It might. Let’s try,” I replied.
“Yeah, may as well,” said Forest.
The Less Fortunates Page 9