Category: A Very Short Story

From the Short Story Vault

Departure

An excerpt from my next book. In draft:

At 12:30 pm, Wednesday, January 30, 1974 we departed. We said our goodbyes all day and the night before. Ted had organized a small farewell party for us at the yacht club. Everyone in our circle was there. Nigel was a no show. No matter. He was not the most affable of guys around here. No one liked him but it was his own fault. He was distant and unfriendly, having an arrogant superiority about him to most of the people that he came in contact with. Many of whom I became acquainted with. For no good reason. I do not understand why he acted in the way that he did.

Big ole Sven, our Swedish yacht buddy, drinking mate, and one of Nigel’s rare buds, came by to say so long and to let our lines go for us. It was a surreal feeling knowing that you will never see these guys, and gals ever again. And I haven’t.

There occurred one incident before we left that had a profound effect on me. It happened just before New Years – that week between the holidays – when nothing of importance is really going on. Akaru-Hime was berthed on the breakwater, bow in and facing the shore, the stern secured to some hard point on the stone breakwater. On one side of me was Skip. On the other was some dude named Peter who I barely knew. He seemed to be out of his depth, nerdy looking, about thirty I would expect. We never really hit it off as friends or neighbours. He kept to himself most of the time other than the odd hello, good morning and small chit chat like that. But one evening he asked if I would accompany him to a meeting in Waikiki. This I did.

He took me down to a small building located on a short side street that bore north off of Kalakaua Avenue down in the Waikiki district of Oahu. There in an upstairs room we met up with about twelve people all of whom appeared to be close associates of Peter. It turned out that Peter was a born again Christian and part of the Jesus movement here in the Hawaiian Islands. This was not surprising to me as the Jesus movement was huge in the early 1970s. I witnessed it first hand in my home town of Toronto where many of the young people I knew, many of whom were juvenile gangsters, petty criminals, drug dealers and users, converted to the movement and became fanatical in their beliefs and their personal conversions. They wanted to share their enlightenment with a non suspecting public with their own personal road to Damascus.  There were many a Saturday night in the parking lot of the local pool hall where I was caught up in their rhetoric and preaching with no escape route in sight. That is not to say I was not a Christian or a believer. No, I was just more subtle with my faith. I was not an in your face kind of guy when it came to spirituality and the supernatural. My relationship with God was a personal one.

Nevertheless, I spent the evening with Peter and his friends singing Psalms and praising the Lord. I was more of an observer than an active participant but I did admire their commitment and tried to be seen as among them as an active colleague of the Lord. I was impressed with their devotion, especially those young men and women, who were not yet worldly or experienced in life. Living on blind faith alone brought them all a sense of peace and wonderment, fulfilment, happiness. My only hope for them was that the burdens of life, of living, of making a living does not undermine their spiritual contentment and positivity with the aura of cynicism and despair that life’s challenges can deliver.

Peter and I left the meeting with a renewed sense of revival, at least for him as I had always been a believer. It seemed to me that these people had to justify their spiritual beliefs, their existential existence in a secular world that shunned them for their beliefs and their faith overtly. The revival meetings became their lifeline from the real danger of backsliding into a world of pleasure and deception. It was that world that many of them knew so well and were keenly frightened of.

We got back to our boats and said goodnight. Nothing more was said. I fell asleep mindful of the evening events. A sense of peace enveloped me. I was content. I was out for the count.

The next morning Peter stopped me before I could leave for my morning routine of coffee, smokes, and “S” square times two.

“Jim…Jim, I hope you enjoyed the meeting last night. I hope we weren’t too presumptuous in our faithful exuberance with you.”

“I did Peter…and no you weren’t. Thank you very much for inviting me.”

“Just one thing Jim.” Peter went on. I had a hard time falling asleep last night so I came back topside for a short spell to clear my mind, rationalize my thoughts.”

I nodded to him

“The strangest thing occurred to me Jim. And I hope you don’t feel ill with me for telling you this as I know how this sounds. But it is the truth, so help me God”

He had my undivided interest now.

“Yeah, go on.”

“While I was sitting there in reflection of the night’s events, a vision enveloped my senses. It came over me, smothered me but more importantly it came over Akaru-Hime. Your boat lit up like a beacon of light. There in the pulpit of your sailboat sat an angel. It or she or he was resplendent in white: a blinding brilliance of righteousness and holiness. It was a guardian angel Jim. I know how this sounds but I swear it to be the truth. I had to tell you.”

“Really?” was about all I could say. I didn’t know what to think.

“I know…I know…I know Jim. I know this sounds crazy but it happened. As God is my witness. He paused for a brief moment to collect his thoughts and then continued. “Then the angel looked directly at me Jim, and smiled, and then looked over your boat. It spread its wings out and then in as if to signal to all of the world…to me…protection. Don’t you see Jim? You and Nigel have nothing to worry about. Akaru-Hime has the protection of the Lord. You will be safe.”

I didn’t know what to say to Peter. All I could do was offer a grin of questionable understanding and acceptance for what he said. It was an uncomfortable moment: for Peter to tell me this and for me to acknowledge his supernatural experience.

“Thanks for that Peter. It is reassuring for sure.”

I looked forward to the pulpit. There was nothing there but the stainless steel guardrails or the pulpit and the boats beyond. Nevertheless, I smiled, nodded my head to whoever may be there unseen except in the spiritual domain.

A sense of security did come over me and I felt extremely happy.

Thank you Peter.

SJ…Out

 

Dumbing Down

More leftist insanity:

(Rex Murphy…NP) The Vancouver School Board is cutting all sports programs and all sports competitions because, the school district says, “they do not comply with the equity and inclusion goal of ensuring that all students can participate in every aspect of the curriculum.”

Gall darnit anyway. If we have one person in a class that is dumb then gall darnit anyway…everyone will be dumb as well.

For the same reason they will also end all coaching services for those students who show special skills at hockey, track and field, wrestling and ping pong. “Sports competitions are an especial plague,” said one staff member who demanded to be kept anonymous since everyone would think (he/she) is a total moron, (and he/she is) “because in every one of them two or three participants always end up in the winner’s circle, while others are either left in shame at the back of the pack, or worse still, have to sit them out in the bleachers cheering on their ‘superiors.’ “

Loserrrrrrrssss.

If one person in our school sucks at sports then everyone at the school will suck as well. So, blow on this will ya.

Oh this is rich: I hear that the Klu Klux Klan wants to become more diverse and inclusive.

“If we want to survive as a racist organization and compete with BLM, Antifa and the Federal Governments of the USA and Canada, then we have to attract and recruit more pricks… ”

The International Olympic Committee is very worried that its higher, faster, stronger mantra is being undermined. There are winners and losers in all competitions but in our new world order of things everyone will be a loser because that bar is the easiest bar to strive for, for equality and divershity.

Loserrrrrrssss.

Hey, you made the rules:

Now live with them. Would you want to be friends with her?

And their (the left’s) grammar sucks as well.

I kid you not: Justin Trudeau is looking for a contractor to re-educate middle-aged Canadian white people about how racist they are.

See the source image

Sounds racist (good) to me!

Even babies are racist in this new world order. Five signs that your new born may be racist….(Babylon Bee).

New World

SJ…Out

The More Things Change….

Designated non vaccinated seating area. And, if you are a person of colour…,standing room only at the back of the boat.

And here I thought that we as a society have come a long way since the 1960’s civil rights movement…guess not.

And the left are not crazy??

According to the Biden administration women are “birth givers” and men are “penis havers” Insanity and bad English go hand in hand with the penis havers – and the Biden administration.

Need a manicure? There’s now a robot for that.

In under 10 minutes and for less than $10, you can get a “Clockwork Minicure” — the perfect manicure, done by a robot.

PHOTO: All Clockwork services are performed by a robot rather than a human.

And after that a Clockwork Orange hairdo:

See the source image

And another one bites the dust. Canada’s founding father:

Sir John A. Macdonald statue removed from Kingston’s City Park

a person standing next to a treeHe was Conservative

But…but…What about Laurier? Nope, he is a liberal and the spiritual icon of the Liberal Party of Canada. Saint Laurier was responsible for the Chinese Head Tax and an ardent supporter of Residential Schools. And what about Pierre Trudeau? In 1970 he said this in a speech given in Vancouver with respect to the government’s “White Paper” on indigenous matters: “We can’t recognize aboriginal rights because no society can be built on historical ‘might-have-beens.'”

But Macdonald is the racist of the woodpile.

Cancel Canada Day in Victoria, BC. Soon to be cancelled: British Columbia, Victoria, Vancouver. Wait for it. It is coming. Under our current PM there is a real danger Canada will no longer exist as a unified country. The USA is toast as well. All because of leftist policies….sad.

Climate Hurricane Agnes: Wilkes-Barre Pennsylvania

a group of people walking on a city street

Climate Change 1900: The Great Galveston hurricane, known regionally as the Great Storm of 1900,was the deadliest natural disaster in United States history. Yes Virginia, worse than Katrina.

A look back at the devastating 1900 Galveston hurricane ...

Climate Change: Nothing new.

Great Canadian band of the 1970s. Big hit when I lived in Hawaii in 1973/74.

Have a nice weekend. Read ya Monday.

SJ….Out

 

 

 

Dumb and Dumber

See the source image

 

Dumbing Down:

Ontario to cancel advanced math and science programs as the advanced courses do not reflect inclusivity and equity of learning. “If there is one person in a class who is intellectually challenged then everyone will be intellectually challenged…gall darn it anyways.”

“So, what you are saying here is that our children, in math, will be taught to the lowest common denominator. In chemistry they will be taught methematics and in physics, physical deformity.

First rate edumacation me thinks and I should know as I am in advanced Engloish and Grammer.

If things couldn’t get worser: Post Covid back to normal means climate catastrophe. “How dare thee!”

Hypocrisy starts at the top: President Joe Biden will host a large Independence Day gathering on July 4 after telling states not to have celebrations and even denying some permits to hold fireworks.

Whatever happened to Government for the poeple, by the people.

Dumbest:

On Canada’s return Covid quarantine policy: “We make a passenger bound for Saskatoon fly first to Calgary, subject him to a next-to-useless testing-and-hotel regimen, then send him on his way on a domestic flight whose other passengers have neither been tested nor screened, and only then we demand he quarantine for two weeks. It’s asinine.

Yet Trudeau on his return to Canada from the Gee 7 conference, landed, was tested in situ then sent on his way after testing negative. No matter, under his own policy he and his entoruage should have been quarantined for 14 days.

“No way man. Those rules are for thee, not for mee. And besides, I am the Prime Minister of Canada and you’re not…..I am Justin Trudeau and you’re not….”

Pure arrogance of the highest order.

Hey, the KKK wants to become for inclusive. Seeking diversity within its ranks.

But hey I am off to my advanced spelling be.

It is about the only thing I believe in these days.

SJ…Out

 

 

 

 

Drummer

Another short excerpt:

 

That cold December day, or week in Paradise, Clyde, Brian and I were walking down a deserted Kalakaua Avenue turning left on to the Ala Moana Blvd, equally deserted. As we approached the Ilikai hotel we sensed that something was amiss. There, out on the rock cut breakwater of the yacht club, just to the west of the Ilikai Lagoon stood a large number of people, all looking to seaward, oblivious it seemed to us to the strong westerly wind, which was cutting and cold. Their attention was drawn to the inshore waters that were buttressed by the rock interface between sea and shore. We ran out there to see what was happening. To our amazement a large sailboat was bobbing up and down on the broad reef and shallows that were just east of the Ala Moana Yacht Club and Ala Wai marina navigation channel. This was the same water that Clyde, Brian and I often crossed on our surfboards to reach the outer reef breakers that were about one quarter of a mile offshore.

It was an amazing site to behold. The sailboat, christened the “Drummer” lay on its port side, her decks awash with the surf that was rolling in and across her decks. The white breaking, foaming water was in stark contrast to a grey sky and the dull grey colour of the water. Gone were the tropical hues of turquoise and the shades of pastel greens and indigo blues that were indicative of a tropical sun on a shallow tropical sea. It was as if the atmosphere was attuned to the tragedy of “The Drummer” as she lay there on her sides like the forlorn lady that she was.

What on earth happened? Everyone was asking of themselves and of those around them. No one seemed to know the details. Just then I saw Skip and a few others up and away from us jump off of the breakwater into the surf and make their way out to “The Drummer,” no doubt to lend a hand and to offer assistance. Clyde and I looked at each other and without saying a word jumped into the water ourselves, which was about waist deep at that point. We were able to walk out to the boat without too much difficulty. Just as we were approaching her a large wave came in and lifted the “Drummer” up and into the vertical plane, and then bringing her down hard on her opposite, starboard side. The masts came up slowly from the horizontal on the port side, rising like some sentinel of the Hawaiian water goddess Namaka, swaying back and forth in the sky above before falling again toward the sea. As the masts came down a shudder could be felt throughout the entire vessel. This occurred frequently as the larger waves rolled in, caught the “Drummer’s” bow, lifted her high and up and away, cascading water over her decks and under her keel before surging out from under the stern’s transom and then racing to the breakwater ashore. This went on from time to time and was a warning to all of us that this was indeed a very dangerous game we were playing. The crowds seem to sense this as their numbers grew on the breakwater.

In spite of the dangers we managed to get close. Some people emerged from the cabin aboard. It was an eerie sensation to us seeing some of the “Drummers” crew coming up from below decks out of a hatch whose aspect lay on the horizontal. On seeing us they waved us off.

“Thanks man” someone yelled above a cacophony of the sea, the wind and the groaning, moaning creaking sound of the “Drummer.” Like a baby in distress, it was a sound that I would not want to ever hear again.

“We have all the help we need.” A woman said. “Any more would just complicate things. We have everything under control. Thanks.” Skip appeared, saw me, and also waved me off.

“Jim, go ashore, to the clubhouse and see how Harry is doing. He is one of the crew who was injured in this mishap. Let us know. Perhaps you and Clyde could act as messengers for the “Drummer’s” crew here.”

“Will do Skip.” Clyde and I turned back and went to the clubhouse. It took some time to get there. When we arrived we were amazed at the level of activity going on. The lower decks of the clubhouse were set up as a temporary Command Centre to address the problem of the “Drummer.” Staff from the clubhouse had set up some tables with charts and phones spread out upon them. In time I was able to locate the club’s Commodore who was the acting “On Scene Commander” until the Coast Guard showed up, expected shortly. I introduced myself and told him that Clyde and I could be used as messengers as the need arises. I also asked him of the condition of Harry, one of the “Drummer’s” crew who had been injured. He told me that Harry had been taken to the hospital with suspected broken ribs. No other injuries of a serious nature could be ascertained….for now……

……Derek Armstrong, the owner of the “Drummer” gathered his crew together on the lawn of the yacht club.

“We have to go to our assigned berth. Down on Kilo dock. Our time here at the visitors berth is up.”

“Now?” Mary asked incredulously. “It’s blowing a gale out there Derek.” A Kona wind had come up. Kona was a Hawaiian term for a very strong dangerous wind.

We should be fine under power Mary. Harry will secure “Drummer’s” topside and man the foredeck. I want you and George to take the stern. I’ll be driving.”

“I don’t know about this.” Mary continued. “Why can’t we just wait until it calms down some? Tomorrow perhaps. “After all…” she looked at her crewmates for concurrence…”Drummer’s” a big boat and will be difficult to manage in this wind. Her freeboard is extremely high. Her sail area could be a detriment to our ability to safely maneuver her.”

“I don’t see a problem.” Derek said emphatically. Harry and George said nothing. They got up and went across the lawn to Drummer’s slip and boarded her. Mary followed, reluctantly.

In time Harry had secured the “Drummer” for their short jaunt to their new berth on “Kilo” Dock. He then singled up forward and rigged the remaining line for self slipping. Mary and George did the same aft. The forward and after springs were released.

Derek started the diesel engine and the “Drummer” came to life. Without saying a word Derek motioned George to let go astern and for Harry to ease out on the bow line. Once he was confident he had sufficient way on and clear of the slip, he motioned for Harry to let go forward. “Drummer” was underway under power. Once clear of the slips Derek manouvered the “Drummer” toward the turning basin just off of the yacht club’s main channel. Mary, George and Harry remained at their assigned stations holding on, watching.

Out in the main channel the wind was very strong. Derek was having difficulty altering course. As Mary suggested the “Drummer’s” high freeboard sail area was causing problems.

Derek yelled up above the howling wind.

“HARRY, WE HAVE TO GO OUT AND INTO THE NAVIGATION CHANNEL TO COME ABOUT AND RUN BACK INTO “K” DOCK BEFORE THE WIND.” He then paused and looked at Mary and George. Mary said nothing. She just looked about at the situation as it was unfolding. She was noncommittal in her judgement of Derek.

“HOLD ON HARRY. HERE WE GO.”

“Drummer” headed out the navigation channel. The wind was howling and whistling through the shrouds and the rigging of not only the Drummer but in the rigging of the other vessels at the marina. As the strength of the Kona wind increased in varying degrees of gusts the whistling sounds of the rigging increased into a very high pitched squeal. It was scary. At the same time the height of the seas in the exposed channel increased dramatically. Harry was caught off-guard and found himself holding on to the standing rigging for his very life. The “Drummer” responded in kind. Like some maritime thrill ride her bow rose and fell chaotically, coming down hard into the oncoming seas and swells then rising again in a steep ascent as the next wave rolled in.  Occasionally Harry was completely immersed into the water, almost invisible with every onslaught of the crashing waves. Derek realized that he had made a grave error in judgement. But it was too late. He had committed Drummer and her crew. He had to continue.

They all saw it. A rogue wave of about eight to ten feet in height was coming down the channel, hard and fast onto them.

“HOLD ON.” Derek yelled. Harry didn’t hear him. The “Drummer’s” bow came up fast. Higher and higher and higher it rose. Then, in a moment, the bow seemed to stop in its tracks and in its relentless rise into the sky. For a few seconds respite…a great pause…as if in a calm. And then, like a roller coaster transversing the summit of the “killer” hill, “Drummer’s” bow turn downward and then crashed with its full force of potential energy in a descending motion into the oncoming wave. For a brief second Harry was completely weightless. His stomach turned over. His life was not in his hands.

Caught off guard by the sheer force of the waves and the wind, Harry’s footing gave way. His balance was compromised. He couldn’t hold on much longer. To make matters worse a second rogue wave rolled down the channel. This one was higher than the first, about twelve feet in height. The same terrifying motion occurred.  Harry was gone in an instant over the port side of the boat. Luckily for Harry Derek saw what had happened.  He immediately came hard over to port so as to clear Harry from a pounding hull and a menacingly dangerous rudder and screw. Seeing what had occurred Mary and George instinctively threw a few lifelines over the port side hoping that Harry would see them and grab one. He did. They were able to pull him over to the Jacob’s ladder and get him back onboard. He was in major pain.

Derek’s hard over to port saved Harry’s life but it stood the “Drummer” into danger. The alteration to port to avoid Harry put the “Drummer’s” aspect at a right angle to the direction of the wind and sea. The high freeboard acted like a sail area taking the “Drummer” on an uncontrolled ride. There was nothing that Derek could do to manage her. The high sea and the swell added to her distress taking her high up and over the rocks and reef that skirted the channel’s port side and onto the shallow area beyond. Drummer’s full keel lodged it self into the sand in about four feet of water. She then fell over onto her port side while the engine coughed and then quit.

Except for Harry’s injuries they were all safe but in shock. Derek called for emergency aid on VHF Ch 11 suspecting Harry suffered some broken ribs. When the situation had settled somewhat George helped Harry ashore by pulling him in a the Drummer’s punt via the breakwater and then to the medical first aid resources at the clubhouse. From there he was taken by an awaiting ambulance to the medical clinic on King Street….

….The coast guard arrived. They quickly assessed the situation and took charge. I made myself known to them and told them I had just been out to the boat. The remaining crew seemed safe and were securing what they could of the Drummer. The coast guard had a surf boat available and before long had set up direct communications with Derek and Mary, Skip and a few others that had offered to help. Other than a diesel fuel tank that had been breached all was well. The hull seemed intact. They spent the night and the next morning clearing the diesel out of the bilges. The Coast Guard provided Derek with some fuel bladders to ensure that no fuel leaked out onto the surf and sand of the immediate area around the “Drummer.”

It would take the next day’s afternoon before the tide was high enough to take “Drummer” out of the shallows. This they did and then towed her to a repair facility at Sand Island in the port of Honolulu. That was it for us. To show their gratitude Derek treated us all to a dinner at one on the local restaurants that evening. The adventure may have been over but I felt good about it…that I had had a small hand in helping out this boat in distress.

Update: It was 1981. I was standing the middle watch (midnight to 0400) in HMCS Saskatchewan, one of the training warships of the Royal Canadian Navy. We were enroute to Hawaii from Esquimalt BC, our home port. We were about half way there. Suddenly the VHF radio, Channel 16, came to life: “Securite, Securite, Securite…be on the lookout for sailing vessel “The Drummer” out of Anchorage, missing, while in transit from Honolulu to Alaska. Be on the lookout….”

I wondered if Derek, Mary, George and Harry were still with her. Had Derek made another fateful decision? I made the sign of the cross, said a short prayer of remembrance, and hope for their safety.

Presumed lost at sea. She was never heard from or seen again.

SJ….Out

Check out my other books: