Ms. Anna

by Bill Lockwood

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Also by Bill Lockwood

  Ms. Anna

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Author and Historical Notes

  Quote

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Anna had a reputation as the best pilot in the fleet. Running in the daytime or at night didn’t phase her one little bit. At the top of the windshield Anna had hung a little plastic Jesus, the Virgin Mary, and a similar statue of Ganesha, the Hindu god reputed to remove obstacles. She would tell anyone that asked that she piloted with the help of the saints, Hindu and other gods, and a little bit of Puerto Rican Santería as well. She was also totally skilled in the use of her compass, radar, and other instruments, too.

  Captain Bob, who was actually the captain of the boat, stood behind his daughter. He was in his sixties. He wore a T-shirt and cut-off jeans with a captain’s cap atop his white hair. He had a worried look on his weathered face.

  “I don’t like running in the dark, even for the money Señor Cofresí pays us,” he said.

  “I keep telling you something’s not right with all this,” Anna replied.

  Her father shrugged.

  “I know we need the money, but why is he meeting these guys out on the high seas at night?”

  “He’s conducting business with them,” her father said with a sigh that said the fact should certainly be obvious.

  Anna rolled her eyes. “Why can’t he just call them on the phone in the afternoon?”

  Also by Bill Lockwood

  and available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  BURIED GOLD

  A box of ten-dollar gold coins was buried on Long Island during Prohibition. Evie and her teenaged daughter stay just a step or two ahead of the competition for her grandfather’s treasure, but their search is complicated when an old-timer is murdered. Getting rich is not easy.

  ~*~

  “Lockwood writes with authority and keeps the reader rooted in the eighties with references to famous people, music, and more. He does not miss a single beat in BURIED GOLD whose main characters are Baby Boomers and Gen-Xers.”

  ~Shelley Carpenter, Candle-Ends: Reviews,

  Toasted Cheese Literary Journal

  ~*~

  MEGAN OF THE MISTS

  During “the troubles” in Northern Ireland during the 1970s, Megan helps run contraband over the border for the illegal Irish Republican Army, trusting the ancient fairies of the mounds along the way to see her safely home. She resists being drawn farther into rebel plots, but how far must she run to escape the influence of the IRA? If only her fairies would save her…

  ~*~

  “Lockwood’s writing is superb. He sets up the reader with historical fact and then grounds the reader in the setting with description and character movement that is clear and succinct. The dialogue is spot on.”

  ~Shelley Carpenter, Candle-Ends: Reviews,

  Toasted Cheese Literary Journal

  Ms. Anna

  by

  Bill Lockwood

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Ms. Anna

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 by William B. Lockwood

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Kristian Norris

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Vintage Rose Edition, 2018

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1966-7

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1967-4

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To all the saints and gods that watch over the boats

  that fly the stars and stripes of the USA

  Author and Historical Notes

  To the tourists in the 1990s, the Caribbean was a Jimmy Buffet world of easy drinking and long, lazy afternoons. Mayaguez, Puerto Rico, was, however, a working port city on the west coast of the island, the opposite end from upscale shops and restaurants of Old San Juan.

  Puerto Rico:

  Christopher Columbus discovered Puerto Rico on his second voyage to the New World in 1493. All the Western Hemisphere had been granted that same year to Spain by Pope Alexander VI, overriding any claim to the island by the Tanino Indians who were already living there. In 1898, the US won the Spanish-American War, and Puerto Rico became a US Territory. By 1900, Puerto Ricans had been granted US citizenship, so, unlike the rest of the Caribbean except the US Virgin Islands, it is not a foreign country. But unlike the Territories of Hawaii and Alaska that became states, Puerto Rico has not. Political movements for both independence and statehood have come and gone, and territorial status has remained. The island has a definite Caribbean culture and dominant Spanish language, but the citizens have Medicare and use the same blue mailboxes we have on the street corners in New York City or in our smallest Midwestern towns. There are old ex-patriots from the mainland in the bars here and there. They and the locals may well both be spending Social Security money. In the fall of 2017, Hurricane Maria wreaked havoc on the island. The future is uncertain, but in many ways it will not be the same.

  Cuba:

  Along with Puerto Rico, Cuba became one of the main centers of Spanish colonization, but Cuba was granted autonomy as a result of the Spanish-American War in 1898, and it became a nation of its own. Its capital city, Havana, became a favorite spot for tourists, and it was known for its music and laissez-faire culture. In 1959, there was a political revolution that resulted in the creation of a Communist government aligned with the Soviet Union. Trade, travel, and communication embargos were imposed by the US. A number of Cubans fled the island, rum distillers to Puerto Rico and cigar makers to Key West, along with many more. Following the fall of the Berlin Wall in November 1989, many Eastern European countries rejected Communism, and there were drastic changes in the Soviet Union as well. President Reagan’s “Evil Empire” seemed to be no more. However, Cuba remained staunchly Communist and as hostile to the US as ever, and the US embargos and restrictions did not change.

  Key West:

  Key West is an island off the southern tip of Florida, the southernmost point in the US, at the end of US Route One. It is ninety-four statute miles from the nearest point in Cuba. Today Key West is connected to the mainland by a system of bridges and causeways that carry US One. Juan Ponce de Leon claimed it for Spain in 1521. It became a strategic point on the deep shipping lane between the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico. In colonial days, many made their fortunes off salvage from shipwrecks off shore. In 1822, Lt. Commander Matthew C. Perry of the US Navy claimed Key West and the rest of the Florida Keys for the US, and Florida became a state in 1845. In 1912, Henry Flagler’s Florida’s East Coast Railway built
the bridges and causeways connecting Key West to the mainland. Key West then grew into a resort destination for the rich and famous, till the Great Depression ruined the railroad in 1935. Eventually the highway connection of today replaced the rails, in 1938, making it again a tourist center of Florida sunshine, good times, and crowded bars. Artists and writers like Hemingway and Tennessee Williams are associated with Key West. It is a place of free spirits, where even the chickens run free. From the early days chickens were allowed to run free on the streets of Key West, as they do in parts of Puerto Rico. It was thought a protection for the birds in the old days from the voodoo practice of animal sacrifice. The outlawing of cock fighting and a 1967 law protecting chickens from harm and entrapment has only increased the number on the streets. A tourist favorite today is to watch the street performers, feed the wandering chickens, and view the sunset on the Gulf side from Mallory Square. In 2017 Key West was hit by Hurricane Irene, a different hurricane than the one that ravaged Puerto Rico. The poor chickens may well have been blown out to sea. But here the recovery has been much better.

  And:

  A special thanks to the author’s niece, Michelle Januzzi, who served as nautical consultant for this book, and to my wife, Jeanie Levesque, for acting as my Spanish culture and language consultant.

  “When all is said and done, life is first and foremost salt fish.”

  ~Halldor Laxnes, Icelandic author

  Chapter 1

  Anna was at the wheel piloting her father’s fifty-foot commercial fishing boat, the Señorita Anna—sometimes called the Ms. Anna—out of the harbor of the old port city of Mayaguez on Puerto Rico’s west coast. A fishing fleet of similar boats was based in the city that proclaimed itself “the tuna canning capital of the world.” But darkness had just fallen, and Anna was intent on her instruments. Beyond the windshield in front of her it was too dark to see much ahead. She had purposely turned off the boat’s running lights as soon as they cleared the harbor.

  Age twenty-two, Anna was a recent graduate in the class of 1991 of the Recinto Universitario de Mayaguez. She had on the school’s maroon T-shirt with the bold gold letters “RUM” across the front. That shirt, or others similar, and a bikini bathing suit bottom was all she usually wore for either of her two part-time jobs. It was the tropics. It was hot all the time. The other job was tending bar three afternoons a week at the La Salida bar in downtown Mayaguez. Anna had long dark hair, but she was not Puerto Rican. She and her father were ex-patriots from the mainland who had come to the island about five years ago. Still, Anna spoke Spanish with the locals and English with the tourists equally well. Everyone called her father Captain Bob. He had bought the fishing boat and named it the Señorita Anna after her.

  Anna had a reputation as the best pilot in the fleet. Running in the daytime or at night didn’t phase her one little bit. At the top of the windshield Anna had hung a little plastic Jesus, the Virgin Mary, and a similar statue of Ganesha, the Hindu god reputed to remove obstacles. She would tell anyone that asked that she piloted with the help of the saints, Hindu and other gods, and a little bit of Puerto Rican Santería as well. She was also totally skilled in the use of her compass, radar, and other instruments.

  Captain Bob, who was actually the captain of the boat, stood behind his daughter. He was in his sixties. He wore a T-shirt and cut-off jeans with a captain’s cap atop his white hair. He had a worried look on his weathered face.

  “I don’t like running in the dark, even for the money Señor Cofresí pays us,” he said.

  “I keep telling you something’s not right with all this,” Anna replied.

  Her father shrugged.

  “I know we need the money, but why is he meeting these guys out on the high seas at night?”

  “He’s conducting business with them,” her father said with a sigh that said the fact should certainly be obvious.

  Anna rolled her eyes. “Why can’t he just call them on the phone in the afternoon?”

  “They’re Cubans. The government doesn’t let us do business with Cubans. What if he calls them, and the FBI is listening in?”

  Anna shook her head. “I know we need the money, since we’re not doing as much fishing these days—”

  Her father cut her off. “Times’ll get better,” he reassured her.

  Anna did not respond.

  “Well, I’d better get down to the galley,” her father said. “Señor Cofresí is expecting a fast game of cards with the crew while you get us to our rendezvous point.”

  “Crew?” Anna asked. “You, me, and Captain Jim are the whole crew.”

  “Captain Jim’s not really crew.”

  “Right, he’s really your drinking buddy.”

  “No, he’s a captain too. He just doesn’t have a boat right now.”

  “Right, ’cause he wasn’t paying attention and ran the last one he had aground.”

  Captain Bob shrugged. “He needed work. I signed him on.”

  “He knows his stuff,” Anna agreed. “He’s better ’n all those young guys you’ve had, pretending to be real sailors, who always end up hitting on me.”

  “Good help is hard to find,” her father said. “Anyway Señor Cofresí, who is paying us well for this little nighttime trip, wants to play cards till we meet up with his friends from Cuba.”

  “Daddy, I understand.”

  “And Señor Cofresí told me that if this meeting has a favorable business outcome, he will have an even bigger job for us in a few days.”

  “I will pray to my saints and gods for that.” Anna smiled. “And I’ll also pray that you don’t gamble away the fee we’re getting for tonight’s job, in your damn game.”

  “I will be careful,” her father promised. “Besides, with your saints and gods on my side, I might just win. They always help you steer us through just fine.”

  Anna did not respond immediately. She was focused on her radar screen, compass, and other instruments.

  “I can see you need to concentrate,” her father said. “God only helps those who help themselves. Isn’t that what they all say? I’d better get down to the galley.”

  “Yes.” Then after a pause Anna added, “There’s something I’d better tell you about all this later, maybe tomorrow after work, because I know we’re going to get back to port pretty late tonight.”

  ****

  The next afternoon Anna finished her shift at the La Salida bar at four in the afternoon. Her father and the rest of their crew, Captain Jim, had arrived at about three and taken a table, where they drank some of the local Medallion beer and waited for her to join them.

  The La Salida bar was decked out with ropes, life preservers, and anchors on the walls in an eclectic attempt at a nautical theme. Salsa music filled the room constantly from speakers over the bar. Large floor-to-ceiling windows that were only closed for violent storms let in what breeze prevailed, along with street noise that competed with the music in the room. It was a place that attracted a mix of tourists, locals, and ex-pat regulars. The daytime crowd was mostly retirees or those nearing that age. The crew of the Señorita Anna fit right in. At night it was more a place for tourists and the business and professional class of the town. If Hemingway had hung out in Puerto Rico rather than Cuba and Key West, he too would have fit right in.

  Anna yielded the bar to the night bartender, Juan, a native Puerto Rican and cousin of the owner. Juan worked the shifts with the bigger crowds and better tips. He was much older. He had seniority. Anna had only been able to bartend since she had turned twenty-one. She made herself a strong, dark Puerto Rican coffee and joined the two captains at their table. They both had white hair and captain’s caps. They looked like twins.

  Anna set her coffee down on the table and the backpack she carried everywhere on the floor by her chair. She had her wad of tip money in her hand. Almost before saying “hello” she leaned over and secured the money in her pack.

  “Good shift today?” her father asked.

  “Daddy, it’s ti
me for me to move on.”

  Captain Bob’s eyes narrowed a bit. “Is that what you wanted to talk about when you said there was something you’d better tell me about when we were headed out last night?”

  “Partly yes, and partly no.”

  “That sounds complicated,” Captain Jim said. “We’d both better get another beer.”

  “Maybe we’d better get one for Anna too,” her father suggested.

  “No, thanks,” Anna declined.

  Captain Jim got up. He reached into his pocket and came up empty-handed. He looked back at Anna. “Can you lend me a little of that tip money till Señor Cofresí drops by with our pay for last night’s run?”

  Anna laughed. “Liquid funds?”

  Captain Jim smiled. “See, I can talk just like those economists you studied under.”

  Anna reached down into her backpack and produced some bills. “Okay, but just one of these strong coffees is enough for me at the end of the day. And get us a plate of mofongo, too. I fried a batch up just before I got off. The treat for them’s on me.”

  “Ah, good Puerto Rican bar food,” her father said. “I love those little fried banana balls.”

  “They’re plantains, not bananas,” Anna corrected.

  Her father shrugged. “Just big greener bananas. Either way, those things are really good…and get us a plate of chicharrones, too. I love those little fried pork rinds even more.”

  Captain Jim nodded and went over to the bar.

  Anna looked at her father. “Where was I?” she asked. “I know. I was going to say, it’s time that I finally got a job commensurate with my education. You know I’ve said that before.”

  “Commensurate?” her father repeated, and he rolled his eyes. “Anna, you’re the best pilot this whole west side of the island. We don’t make enough money to pay you what a pilot of your skill and reputation should be making, but I need you badly. I named the boat after you…”

  “And you sent me to college on the life insurance money you got when my mother died, after you spent the rest of it to buy that damn boat.” Anna finished the thought for him. “We’ve been through all this before. I graduated college last spring. It’s now almost Thanksgiving, and I still haven’t gotten an executive job in some business, like I studied to do. Here I am still tending bar part time and working on a stinky old fishing boat, which I live on, as well. I want to have my own apartment, dress in good clothes, and work in a clean office every day.”