Game of the Blues

by Kenn C. Kincaid

  “We’re the Follert bunch,” Gary informed him.

  “Eye, welcome aboard mates, I’m Fletch. Most call me ‘Fletch’ ‘cause it’s m’ name.”

  “Right captain.”

  “I’m not ye captain. He’s below. I’m the stores mate. Do most the fetchin’ for the charters along this pier.”

  “Permission to board,” Gary asked.

  “Go ahead, he’s expectin’ ye.”

  Gary stepped aboard. As Dan followed, as a passing boat’s wake caught him straddling deck to pier. He clumsily seesawed aboard. They heard a slam as Rick swung his leg on board and a head appeared in the lower cabin. The captain emerged from the galley. His round nose seemed to bounce over blond highlights of an uneven auburn walrus mustache like a sing-a-long ball. He was six feet, around two hundred, lean and muscular with skin of holster leather. His short blond hair was combed with a washcloth. His wrinkled cotton safari shirt and cargo pants were clean, with the exception of two fresh grease smudges. “You’ll be the Follert booking, I suspect. I’m Captain Skepich.”

  They introduced themselves.

  “Can’t catch fish on the dock. Ready to shove off?”

  “Let’s do it!”

  Captain Skepich climbed to the upper bridge. The engine’s rhythmic gurgle preceded his command, “Cast those moorings, mate!” Fletch debarked, released the mooring lines, tossed them aboard and waved as the boat drifted away.

  “You fellows just settle in and relax!” Skepich shouted down from the bridge as he maneuvered toward the open bay. “Feel free to raid the red cooler any time. I suggest we go for Walleye first. Open water’s thirty minutes out.” He turned his attention to piloting. The passengers relaxed on cushioned recliners.

  “Night and day compared to yesterday,” Dan said. “I could get used to this.”

  “I’ll bet we pull in bigger ones today, with just us on board,” Gary boasted.

  “This can’t help being a good time,” Rick chirped.

  Dan leaned back in the deck chair, Wow, this is peaceful! I’ll just sit here and let the fish jump in the boat.

  The motors cadence, an occasional gull’s cry and the slapping of waves silenced all conversation. Dan fed on the serenity. Time passed quickly and he didn’t notice the motor quit. It was the anchor’s splash which interrupted his mood.

  “Time to wet a line,” Skepich roared. “Sonar says the big ones are at twenty feet.”

  Skepich busied himself passing out gear, selecting fishing lures, and opening bait. They pursued the task of pulling in the big one. Rick landed the first Walleye. At twelve inches it was no prize catch.

  Dropping it overboard Captain Skepich casually remarked, “Back into the sea from which we all came.”

  “The sea from which we came?” Dan asked. “What makes you so certain, Captain?”

  “Everybody knows life began in the seas.”

  “So you’re reflecting a predominant opinion?”

  “Seems pretty well decided. It’s right there in my daughter’s fifth grade science books.”

  “Decided?” Rick asked. “Who was there to watch it?”

  “Nobody. But, science says so.”

  “GOT ONE!” Gary screeched. “This one’s gonna break the rod!” They rallied to his side. His pole flexed as Gary worked the line like a bullfighter flourishing his cape.

  “What’d you hook? A whale?” Dan asked.

  Captain Skepich had the net waiting and the fish captured as soon as it broke surface. “Twenty-one inches, first keeper of the day and the mark to beat.”

  Dan and Gary took the challenge. After forty-five minutes and two more catches, they had settled in again.

  “What scientist were you referring to earlier, Captain?” Rick asked.

  “Was what?”

  “What scientists proved life came from the seas?”

  “Just a comment. Meant nothin’ by it. Don’t talk religion with my charters.”

  “I see. I used to think science possessed an ironclad integrity, but I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Well now Professor Rick,” Dan interjected. “I’d like to know. Tell you the truth, I’m confused. Darwin’s suppose to have proved it, but I’ve studied it some. I only find evidence of natural selection. It’s like selectively breeding horses for speed, or draft, or other traits. In all the time it’s been under the microscopes, organisms have remained within their species.”

  “If apes evolved into humans, how come there are still apes around?” Gary chided.

  “That’s one of the common misunderstandings applied to Darwin,” the Professor instructed. “He only proposed a common ancestor between apes and humans; the infamous ‘missing link’.”

  “Hold that thought. I got a ‘Wallee’!” Gary shouted as he began frantically working the reel.

  The captain’s net captured it. The fish measured eighteen inches. “Record holds!” He said placing it in the wet well. Rising up he addressed Gary, “Telling humans they’re cousin to apes isn’t popular. Most don’t like the inference. People are mighty stuck on being special regardless how they act. We feel better thinking there’s a god taking care of us, but out here there’s only one god, Mother Nature; and one law, Survival of the Fittest.” He walked back to the cabin murmuring, “I don’t talk religion on charters.”

  “Getting back to your question, Dan,” Rick said. “Darwin just proposed a theory. Latter a philosopher named Spencer labeled it ‘Survival of the Fittest.’ Darwin pursued it observing white moths were easier for their predators to see than black ones. Thus, more black survived to breed, and the color trait was passed on. More white moths were eaten, thus fewer offspring. He observed a natural selection process for survival. However, it was within the specific genetic structures. No evolving to a higher organism.”

  “Is that all there was to it?”

  “Oh, it’s more complex than we have time to discus. For instance, later mutations were observed but not fully understood. Nevertheless, it was concluded as part of the adaptive process and applied to species evolution. It was supposed to account for progressive forms of life originating from a single cell. The theory was soon discovered to have big holes. The first plug used was limitless time.”

  “He just suggests millions of years, and since it fits, everybody accepts it?” Dan asked.

  “It wasn’t just Darwin’s doing. The scientific community of the 1800s trusted influentials like Spencer, Huxley, and Russel. What they suggested carried weight.”

  “But what proof did they have?” Dan asked.

  “It seemed to fit!” Rick said. “Darwin, being an agnostic, discounted creation on the basis there was no-one to create it. He and his bunch proposed the observable universe exhibited the properties expected if there was no design, no purpose, nothing but pitiless indifference as found in random events. Common people found it hard to argue. But, his observations did not exclude other possible causes.”

  “If nothing is proven, why’s it in all the text books?” Dan asked.

  “People looking for answers expected science to provide them. Darwin and his contemporaries formulated a theory which seemed apropos. Enough people believed it. Religion compromised, formal education took up the banner, and the theoretic nature was overlooked.”

  “I remember some university lab creating life in a test tube; some kind of ameba thing. That’s not so theoretical!” Dan said. “It’s confusing! “So what’s with this ameba?”

  “You’re probably thinking of Stanley Miller or Sidney Fox from the early fifties. Miller formed amino acids by combining simple chemicals. But, and a big but, even though amino acids are the building blocks of life, the experiment had major failings! His amino bonded in random structures. Neither experiment produced specific peptide-bonds required for a living cell.”

  “See there!” Skepich interjected. “That’s scientific evidence; them one cell am-e-ba things. Created ’em didn’t they. Give ’em time they’ll find the peptos.”

  �
�Peptide, Captain. But keep in mind, they hedged. Fox started with existing amino acids and forced a bonding, and Miller used pure chemicals,”

  “Suits me. Given time they’ll do it to suit you.”

  “Does seem significant,” Dan agreed. I’ll bring this line in and change baits while we chat. “Why don’t you buy it, Rick?”

  “It’s tainted, because they manipulated the outcome. They assured a non-hostile environment and used pure elements. Nature is extremely hostile, and pure elements do not exist outside the lab. Agreed, it’s an interesting experiment, but flawed proving nothing.”

  Reeling his line in Dan was surprised to discover a catch, “Get the net Cap’in!” Dan shouted, “It’s a keeper!” Dan’s catch met little resistance and broke the water limp.

  “It’s just your bait dragging,” Gary taunted.

  “Don’t lose that minnow, mate.” Skepich chuckled.

  Dan dropped the fish on board and it lay motionless. “I snagged a dead one.”

  It was a notable catch, however. Not from its size, failing “keeper” length, but for dual dorsal fins. “What kind of fish is it?” Rick asked Skepich.

  “Looks like a Wallee.”

  “None of the others have double fins,” Dan noted.

  “I’ve seen extra fins here an’ there. Could be a sign it’s evolving. You might have something. When we get back we’ll get pictures for the record keepers.”

  “Hey, it’s half way to sproutin’ wings? Dan you’ll be as famous as Darwin!” Gary kidded.

  “I think it more likely a genetic mutation,” Rick responded. “Either way it was created Walleye and Cap’in says it’s still a ‘Walleye’.”

  “Don’t talk religion,” Skepish insisted. “I’m a charter captain not a priest.”

  “Sir, the creation-evolution debate is not about religion, but pursuing unbiased scientific evidence to an understanding of the universe’s origin.”

  “People come out here expecting God to take care of ’em. I’ve had ’em, pair shaped blowfish, gold dangling from their necks beseeching God, ‘give us our limit’. What do they need of it, their wallets full, their bellies bloated!” He walked away, then paused, “But, bein’ its science,” he said turning back. “You saying them fins have nothing to do with evolution?”

  “Look for yourself. You think that half dead creature is a good specimen to champion a case for genetic advancement?”

  “Reckon not, scientific speakin’, that is.”

  “Granted that’s the way it’s supposed to happen,” Rick agreed. “But, if you look close, it’s definitely a fin and not structured anything like a wing. Mutations in species are common, but they don’t create new species. They’re degenerating. Mutated dogs remain dogs and cats never become birds.”

  “Well now, it’s possible though, speakin’ scientific.”

  “There’s big differences in possible, plausible, and probable. Besides, a slow process of change would result in extinction. Consider it, Captain, how would it breathe halfway between lungs and gills? It couldn’t breathe in or out of water. Add to that, fins half turned to wings, couldn’t fly nor swim. You know the lake better ’an me, what’d happen to it?”

  “Ummm, must happ’n some other way.”

  “Must, if at all, but science has never been able to observe the process.”

  “They’ve got enough fossils in museums to know it’s happenin’.”

  “That puzzle’s not too clear, since more than half their pieces are still missing. And remember, unless we’re talking religion, only unbiased scientific evidence counts.”

  “Ummph! Sure ’nough a puzzlin’?”

  “Anyway you stack it, neither view can be proven, the two theories compete. Few people take time to research the truth for themselves. Thus, considerable misinformation is propagated. We pick what seems to fit us, cite its authorities, and beat their drums.”

  “Incoming! Flying fish!” Gary shouted yanking his pole firmly. The force sent the fish high in the air before thudding to the deck.

  “Seven inches. Record smallest catch!” Rick laughed.

  “I’ll throw this one back ’til it grows,” Gary said tossing it overboard.

  “Professor, what’s your take on this DNA stuff. There’s a lot of excitement over it,” Dan asked. “Does it support evolution?”

  “It’s not doing evolution any favors. The more we learn of it, the less probable evolution appears. Cambridge College, in ’58, constructed a DNA model demonstrating our genetic structure is extremely complex.”

  “Are we still talkin’ scientific?” Skepish asked.

  “It’s an observable fact, so it couldn’t be religious, right?”

  “Okay, what are you getting at?”

  “Say you’re walking the shoreline and see scribbled in the sand an arrow and heart with John and Sue written inside. How’d you figure it got there?”

  “Reckon, I’d assume lovers drew it?”

  “If you come across some irregular line patterns in the sand what might you expect caused them?”

  “That’s not hard, either. Waves rippling in or a wake wash.”

  “Why didn’t you think the heart was wave action?”

  “Everybody knows waves don’t draw hearts and write words.” Skepich chided.

  “How is it you’re so sure?” Rick continued.

  Skepich slid his hat to the side as he scratched. “It just don’t happen that a way.”

  “Right, it’s too complex to be the result of a random act of nature. Isn’t it? And human DNA is the most complex thing known. It’s more precisely ordered than words in the Encyclopedia Britannica!”

  “So much for Darwin’s universe without design,” Dan said. “SO, if we didn’t evolve, were did we come from?”

  “The sixty-five thousand dollar…,” Rick stopped short because he hooked a fish. Skepich quickly stowed the White Fish. Closed the well, and sat on the lid.

  “Back to Dan’s question,” Rick said. “Where did we come from? Only God knows!” He turned to Skepich, “Figure of speech, Captain. No offense intended.”

  “None taken. What’s it matter? We’re here. Let’s make the best of it and fish.”

  “It matters to me—a lot,” Dan said. “I’d like to know why I’m here. And, that starts with where I came from. Why I am here matters! Everything I do is based on it.” Rick’s telling me it’s impossible to know scientifically. Big help you are, Rick!

  “It don’t matter!” Skepish injected. “Our purpose is to enjoy life. Eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow cannot be known. We live for a time and die. Look around you, the whole world thinks life evolved. Can the whole world be wrong?”

  “That’s just my point,” Dan declared. “Maybe it is? It would definitely account for why it’s such a mess. Aside from that, I want to know what if anything is beyond death.”

  “Like I said, mate, it can’t be known. You got a better answer?”

  “Sure do and it makes more sense to me because it answers all the problematic questions.”

  “And now you want to talk religion? I told you fellows, I don’t talk religion!”

  “It’s a pursuit of the unknowable,” Rick responded. “The dilemma of how it all began-simply cannot be proved. It’s a choice of faith.”

  “But, that choice is significant…” Dan’s shifted his attention to reeling in a twenty-six inch Walleye.

  After stowing the catch, the captain busied himself with the equipment in the cabin, and the threesome attended to their fishing. An hour passed before the captain stuck his head out of the cabin to address them, “The Julie May is weighing anchor and offering us her place on the reef. They’ve had good luck last hour. What d’ you say? Shall we have a go at some Yellow Perch? They’re good eating.”

  “You’re the captain,” Gary said. “Go for it.”

  The engines purred and the boat swayed as the captain changed the heading. “Ain’t none of ye a-feared of ghosts are ye? ’cause if’n so, best w
e pass. It’s deemed the likely sinking spot of the General Anthony Wayne. Set out from Sandusky one night in 1850, ne’er to be seen a’more. Many a ghost guard the gold coins she took to Davey.”

  “Ne’ry yea find a mor’ fearless three,” Dan imitated. “As f’r any treasure—it’d be even splits.”

  “The crappie rigs and perch spreaders are in the aft locker. I’d go for the three hook rigs. Drop the ‘Wallee’ leaders in the yellow bucket,” Skepich instructed. Within fifteen minutes The Sandpiper.

  “As you drag ’em in keep count. The daily limit’s twenty-five per man. Use the shiners. Chubs is good too. Fish a few cranks up from the bottom; thirty feet.”

  There was a large school of perch directly under them, and they pulled in two or three at a time. At the count of fifty-three Dan made an unusual catch. “Captain, I’ve hooked an eel. What d’ I do with it!”

  “No eels in this lake. Likely a water snake,” he said stepping to the rail to look. “My-my, she’s a big ’n; don’t get much longer ’an three feet.”

  “I tried to shake it off, but can’t. Now what?”

  “Bring it aboard and release it.”

  “Rather cut the line. Not gonna chance it sinkin’ its fangs into me!”

  “Ain’t poison, ’sides don’t have fangs. Law of the lake: you catch it; you take it off the hook.”

  “Toothless snakes? You sure?”

  “Said, no fangs. They gotta nasty set of teeth; painful bite. Usually gotta cut their heads off!”

  It looked enough slithering through the water, but the idea of reeling in a ‘nasty set of teeth’ spooked Dan. He dropped it as far away as possible. It lay motionless.

  Skepich handed him a paddle, “Club it good on the head, first.”

  Inching toward it, Dan stalked the head. Raising the club to strike he exclaimed, “That ain’t no snake.”