SS Pacifica

by Coleinger, Ronnie

  When I brought up the fishing equipment, Becky looked at me with those puppy dog eyes and I handed her the pole and the small bottle of bacon strip bait. She smiled and said, “You do love me, don’t you?” I kissed her hard on the lips and reminded her that I loved her yesterday, I loved her today and I would love her tomorrow. Nevertheless, I would love her best if she caught a fish for supper. She giggled and dropped the baited hook over the starboard side of the Pacifica. She put the handle of the pole into the rod holder we had created on the main sail mast and then she carefully set the drag. She sat back down in the deck chair and returned her attention to her coffee. I had about given up hope that there were any fish around us, but I decided to turn on the sonar unit to see if I could see any fish under the Pacifica. I realized that the fish were about sixty feet below the hull and swimming along with us in a small school. I went up on deck and told Becky what I had found. She reeled in her line and added another lead weight to try to get the bait down where the fish were swimming. She walked up to the bow, and cast the line out in front of the Pacifica. I watched the line move along side of our vessel and then begin moving out ahead of us again. Becky set the hook and began reeling in line. When she had the fish up close to the deck, she said, “I caught a California Yellowtail. They are very good to eat.” This fish probably would weigh in at eight pounds, and would feed us for three meals. Becky commented that she knew some fishing boat captains who took paying customer out into the Pacific to fish and the yellowtails they caught were huge, upwards of fifty pounds.

  When we had filleted the fish, we ended up with two large strips of meat an inch thick. While I cleaned the fillet knife and put the fish into plastic bags, Becky helped me put them into the mesh bags and tie them to the swim ladder. I brought up the camp stove and lanterns and filled them all with white gas, and then let them set on the deck to insure there were no leaks. Then I lit the camp stove and got the fish cooking.

  Becky began working on the coconut I had found to see if it was edible. I watched carefully and learned the tricks her father had taught her in the art of husking a coconut. The outer shell is very tough and fibrous. She removed this husk with a screwdriver, and some hard work. The husk eventually peeled off as she worked on it, revealing the coconut inside. Once Becky got down to the coconut, it looked like one I might purchase at the grocery store, only ours was a light color, and the ones from the store have dried and are usually brown in color. Becky used the screwdriver to drill holes in two of the holes that she called the mouth and eye of the monkey’s face, and then poured out the clear coconut water from within. She looked at me and said, “If the water in the center of the coconut is clear, you can drink it. If it is milky in color, it is bad, and if you drink the liquid from a bad coconut, you will soon discover that it is a very strong laxative.” Then she rolled the coconut around in her hands and found a ridge that ran around the coconut. She held the nut in her hand and hit the coconut three times with the flat side of the hammer, and then twisted the coconut into two halves. I stood in amazement at how easily she managed to split the nut open. Then she used her heavy knife and cut the meat out from the inside of the coconut, tasted a piece, and then handed some to me. The white meat was very sweat and tasty.

  As we sat eating our supper, the sun began to set in the western sky. About twenty minutes later, it was getting dark and I lit one of the lanterns and placed it near the stern hatch. Once we had cleaned up the deck and prepared ourselves for sailing at night, I turned off the lantern and took it down into the safety of the cabin. As we sat in the deck chairs and talked, we realized that the sky was lighter towards the south west of our current position, and it looked like the lights of a city far off in the distance. Then Becky spoke and said, “We are close to shore my friend. I can see two lighthouses many miles off to our west.” I followed her finger as she pointed and then realized I could also see the lights, but I would have figured they were radio antenna lights, not lighthouses. The blinking lights alerted Becky to their true nature.

  I went down into the cabin and turned on the GPS. While it locked onto satellites and gathered the information about our current location, I found the address for Becky’s Uncle Pica’s beach house on Oahu. I entered the address and pressed the, go, button. The displayed showed that it was 212 miles to Pica’s home. I went back up on deck and told Becky how far it was to her Uncle’s place, and then commented that I was shocked we could see the lighthouses so far away. Becky said that the lighthouses used lenses to concentrate the light so mariners could see them from many miles away, but he was surprised that the dull glow of lights over the island was so bright. I told her that out here in the total black we were sitting in, any light at all looked like a lot.

  We checked the local time in Oahu and set all of our clocks accordingly. Becky mentioned that she would like to drop anchor a few miles off shore in shallow water where we could fish and relax for a day or so before she contacted her uncle. She told me that her Uncle Pika had told her that he was retired and that she could visit anytime she arrived in Oahu. He had given her his home phone and his cell phone numbers and had emailed her a map of where he lived and where she could anchor in the harbor a few hundred yards off his beach house front door. He had sent the exact GPS coordinates for a shallow area where the Pacifica would have thirty feet of water under her while anchored.

  As we sailed through the darkness, we realized that there were other vessels in the area. We saw a few large oil tankers moving along and some of them were incredibly large. Becky went down into the cabin and found the United States flags that she had purchased to fly on the Pacifica. The rule was that the flag should be one-inch for every foot of vessels length. The flag only had to be twenty-seven inches long, but Becky ordered thirty-six inch flags. She had ordered the flags mounted on 5/8 inch diameter three-foot tall fiberglass poles. She had the boom-to-mast flanges manufactured with an appropriate hole in them, where the flagpole would mount. Becky, put one of the flags at the bottom of the hatch ladder, and told me she would hoist the flag at sunrise on the stern mast. I asked how I was supposed to secure the flagpole to the flange. She pulled a three-foot long piece of nylon cord from her pocket and said, “With a rope and proper sailing knots.” I chuckled and said, “Well that leaves me out. I can tie knots with no problem, but the task of removing the menagerie after I tie it is a task best suited for a Buck Pocketknife.” Beck began to laugh. Then I saw her walk over to the stern toe-kick board, drop her pants, and pee over the edge into the ocean. When she returned, she put her hands around my neck and said, “Don’t make me laugh when I have to pee.” I thought a second, and asked how in the hell I was supposed to know when she had to pee. She rolled her eyes at me and said, “Men, you seem unable to grasp even the most obvious concepts of the female anatomy.” I opened my mouth to protest her words, but quickly decided I had no idea what she was talking about, or how to argue the point, so I simply closed my mouth and headed to the cabin for more coffee.

  ***

  As the sun began rising behind us, I could feel the sunshine warming my back. I waited until half past six and lowered the mainsail to place the ensign on the top. I slid the flagpole into the hole on the boom-to-mast flange, but the pole slid freely inside the hole and I saw no obvious way to secure it. Becky came up on deck to the assist me and giggled. She took the short rope from her pocket and tied a clove hitch knot around the flagpole above the flange, and then did the same thing on the bottom side of the flange. I looked the woman in the eyes and held the locked eye contact. She giggled and said, “Let’s get the mainsail back up and set. Later, I will show you how to tie the knot, and then you can practice on a spare flange and flagpole.” She hugged me and said, “Relax my friend, my father spent years teaching me how to tie knots and sail a vessel, you are at a disadvantage until you have had time to learn the skills you need to live at sea. Be patient, you are doing just fine.”

  Once the mainsail was set, we began the task of bathing and brushing o
ur teeth. We had taken turns fastening a two-inch wide nylon belt around our waists and securing ourselves to the dive ladder with a six-foot long safety line. We tried to remain discreet with our nudity during bath time, since there were other boats in the area. Once we were clean, we began cooking breakfast. We fried the last of the Yellowtail fish that we had caught yesterday. Becky opened up some of the fruit from the pantry and handed me a spoon. When we purchased the food items for the Pacifica, we had decided upon plastic tubs instead of metal cans whenever they were available, since we could burn the plastic in our tiny wood burning stove when necessary. The stove had worked out well for burning such things as tampons, plastic food containers, and other products that we could not dispose of at sea. We had to wash and store empty metal cans and foil tuna packages onboard until we could dispose of them on land.

  Once we had finished with our baths and had dressed, I made pancakes with the mix we had purchased and some rainwater. Becky had purchased maple syrup in tiny jugs that we poured over the pancakes to make them edible. I thought they were horrible things, but Becky ate six of them, so they must not have been too horrible.

  Just before lunchtime, we saw a large freighter ahead of us that would cross our path within a few minutes time. It was on a southerly course, and one of us would have to give way or we would collide. Becky said we were the smaller vessel and could easily tack to starboard and sail behind the stern of the larger vessel. As we changed course towards the northwest, I began to realize how large the freighter really was. We passed six hundred yards behind the vessel. When I looked up, the freighter loomed high over our heads. As we cleared the wake of the huge vessel, we changed our tack back to port and adjusted the rudder until both sails had full wind.

  When the GPS said we were within ninety-seven miles of Uncle Pika’s beach house, Becky went down into the cabin and returned with her cell phone. She dialed the house phone number and got no answer. She tried the cell phone number and her uncle answered on the second ring. I could hear the high-pitched voice of a woman talking to Becky and then heard Becky begin to giggle. She told the woman that we should arrive in the harbor late Friday night and that we would spend the night on the Pacifica. Becky intended to anchor in the harbor a few hundred yards from the beach house, and then go ashore before lunchtime of Saturday. Again, I heard the high-pitched female voice as the two women talked. Just as Becky was ready to hang up, I heard her giggle again and say, “Uncle Pika. How are you doing?” Then I heard Becky say, “Uncle Pika, I no longer go by the name Miss Becky, it is now Mrs. Becky, I have married an incredible man who loves to sail as much as I do. Okay then, we will see you on Saturday at eleven o’clock. Good bye.”

  When Becky hung up the cell phone, she slid it into her pocket and walked up to me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and said, “Uncle Pika’s wife is named Elizabeth. She is very excited we are about to arrive at their beach house. They plan to come out to meet us on the Pacifica on Saturday. They have insisted that we stay with them so we can get our sea legs and sleep in their air-conditioned beach house. You will love both of them as soon as you meet them, but Uncle Pika might try to get you to drink more beer than you wish to drink. I will come to your rescue if I see you are in need of it.” I chuckled and said, “I should warn you in advance. More than three beers will produce the same effect on my body as cold water.” Becky giggled and moved her hand to front of my shorts. She rubbed gently and said, “These fingers can always warm you and revive your manhood from the effects of cold water, but I doubt that these fingers can revive you after you have drank too much alcohol”

  Chapter 14 - Oahu, Hawaii

  The sun had set and it was getting dark by the time our GPS showed we had arrived at the coordinates that Uncle Pika had given Becky. We were in fifty feet of water, so we dropped both anchors; quickly securing the Pacifica to the sea floor. Uncle Pika said there were no coral reefs here that our anchors would harm, only miles of sand. The night air was very warm, and the water felt more like warm bath water than the cold Pacific Ocean water we had become accustomed. Once we had the sails and masts stowed, we decided to slip into the water and have a bath. We both laughed at how the soapsuds floated on the surface of the water. Out in deeper waters of our journey, the waves seemed to dissipate the soap quickly; here in the calm water, the soap seemed to circle the Pacifica. For the first time in many weeks, we had swum without our lifelines and swim rings to keep us tethered to the Pacifica. Tonight, we swam together and soon found ourselves back up on the deck washing each other. Then we jumped back into the water to rinse off.

  When we had dried off and put on clean clothes, we decided to try fishing for our supper. I checked the fish finder and soon realized that there were thousands of small fish swimming around below us in a cold layer of water about forty feet down. We brought a fishing pole up from the cabin and baited the hook with more of our bacon rind. Fish seemed intrigued by the smell of bacon. Within a minute or two, Becky had a foot long mullet fish on the deck. We had no idea what we had caught and had to quickly research the fish in our book to make certain it was edible and not some endangered species. As we fried the fish in a pan on the camp stove, we perked coffee and opened some plastic containers of fruit. As we sat eating by the light of the lantern, we could see the lights from hundreds of other boats. As we talked, a small fishing boat dropped anchor three or four hundred feet from us and soon we heard their laughter as they swam and enjoyed the warm water. As we cleaned up the dishes and stowed the camp stove in the cabin, we could see the stars overhead. A few minutes later, a full moon rose and lit up the sky. I went down into the cabin and returned with my small transistor radio. When I turned it on, it was only moments until I found several radio stations, but only one played Hawaiian music. Soon Becky and I were dancing on the deck and giggling like two school kids.

  We decided to check out our new dinghy and get it into the water. It was very lightweight, and other than having some salt residue from dried seawater, it was in very good shape. We tied the dinghy to the starboard swim ladder with a ten-foot rope so it floated out away from the Pacifica and would not bang on the hull during the night. We sat and talked for a few more minutes, and then decided to go to bed for a few hours until sunrise. It was three o’clock Friday morning, and we would use the dinghy to go ashore and visit Uncle Pika during the day on Saturday. Uncle Pika had said he would pick us up, but we were not certain that would actually happen. Until then, we would spend our time enjoying the scenery and maybe rowing the dinghy to the beach and walking for a few hours to see the sights. We put the screens over both hatch doors and let the night air filter down into the cabin.

  Around two in the morning, a clap of thunder echoed off the water so loud that Becky and I both sat upright in bed. It only took us a moment to realize that it had started to storm and the rain was coming down in buckets. I said, “The dinghy, it will sink with all this rain water.” We both climbed up on the deck and began pulling the partially submerged dinghy towards the Pacifica. It was very heavy, but once we pulled the front end up a little onto the Pacifica’s hull, the water ran out the back and we were able to pull it up onto the deck and lash it down with ropes. Then we quickly climbed down into the cabin and got the rainwater collection system set up and working. I opened the bow hatch and placed the ring with the trash bag over the hatch door. Within a few seconds, the deluge of water coming down from the sky began filling our potable water jugs. Within another twenty minutes, all four five-gallon jugs were full. I quickly got the hatch closed up and stood looking at Becky. I began to laugh at her and told her she looked like a drowned rat. We heard another clap of thunder and this one was very close. I decided to put more water in the ballast tanks to settle the Pacifica down lower into the sea. The lower she was in the water, the less likely she was to draw a lightning bolt from the sky. I had no idea what a direct lightning strike on the hull would do to us, or the vessel, but I hoped not to find out.

  I found two of our large beac
h towels from the bow overhead cabinet and laid them on the bed. As we stripped off our soaking wet clothes, I saw Becky begin to shiver. Once all the wet clothes were off, we quickly toweled dry and I wrapped her in another dry towel so she could get warm. When we had our hair dry, Becky crawled under the bed covers and I turned off the lantern and joined her. As we snuggled to get warm, we could hear the sounds of heavy rain hitting the hull of the Pacifica, and the sounds of thunder rolled across the ocean for what seemed like hundreds of miles. Soon, we began to feel the slow methodical roll of the Pacifica as she rode the rolling waves that the storm had produced in the shallow water.

  I pressed the light button on my watch and realized it was eight-thirty Friday morning. I turned on the small light over our bed and carefully climbed over Becky to get my feet on the floor. Becky opened her eyes, smiled, and said, “Is that for me?” I laughed and said, “I cannot share it right now, I have to pee something awful.” I heard her giggling as I went up the ladder and opened the hatch. The sunlight invaded the cabin and I saw Becky reach up and turn off the bed light to save the batteries. I stuck my head up and looked around to see if any other vessels were nearby. There was no one within a mile of the Pacifica, so I climbed down the dive ladder and had a swim. The fish did not mind, as they used the same toilet as I did.

  As I enjoyed the warm water for a couple of minutes, I saw Becky poke her head up out of the hatch. She looked around, and then she climbed down the swim ladder and joined me for a swim. While she swam for a few minutes, I went down into the cabin and brought up our two bars of soap on a rope. As I lathered up on the deck and scrubbed my body, I realized that Becky was watching me intently. I jumped into the water and began rinsing the soap off as she swam up close to me. As we swam, she wrapped her legs around my waist. It was then that I realized her intention. Once we had joined our bodies in the water, I kissed her lips. Her body was warm. Then she began to breathe faster, faster and then she tensed in my arms. She remained in my arms long enough for me to enjoy her little morning love session, and then she kissed me hard on the lips and said, “Thanks, I really needed that.” I saluted her and said, “Aye, aye, Captain.” She giggled as she climbed up the swim ladder and began washing her body with the bar of soap I had left on the deck for her.