Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
“That's very sweet of you Liz,” I said. “I guess your friend was rather jealous of us or
something.”
“My ex-friend,” she said softly. “I told him I did not think that was very cool what he did
and left shortly afterward.”
“Have you had any of this soup?” I asked, changing the subject and thrilled to bits with this
bit of medicine news.
“No, I was hoping you would invite me to dinner.”
“And I suppose you would be wanting a glass of cheap and nasty wine with that?” asked
Gavin, grinning broadly.
“You betcha, Gavin,” she said, accepting the cushion I offered her. She looked fleetingly
into my eyes, wondering if the night before had altered our newfound friendship. I returned
a “still love you” look.
We had a superb evening in her charming company. Both Gavin and I vied for her attention
which she enjoyed immensely. She was from Canada and was working on a green card.
She had spent three years at Keehi Lagoon; the first two had been spent hammering rust off
an old tug in the holds below. We were impressed. She could single-hand her sailboat and
knew her way around most nautical terms as well as a lot of navigation. She was sincere,
upright, and had a terrific sense of humor. She had also stolen my heart; she knew it, and I
knew I would suffer because of it.
I had not forgotten Armchair Steve or his threat with the knife, and I did not take it lightly.
I do not like being threatened, and I harbored a deep anger towards him. He had made me
look weak and stupid. A better man than I would have dragged him outside and whipped
his sorry arse. I would get even with him though and awaited an opportunity.
Gavin and I completed our boat demolition task in two and a half days. We had removed
all the interior furniture apart from the main bulkheads, the entire superstructure along with
the decks, cockpit, etc. All that remained was a rather wobbly hull with an engine. We
had even removed the controls. Yard carpenters came aboard and fitted stiffening braces
athwartships, and the hull was dry-docked and spirited away into a warehouse where res-
toration would begin. We never did see the old sampan again.
“All right boat-busters, now it's time for you to change your name to dock busters, grinned
the ever pleasant John Anderton.
“Come and take a look over here,” he called us over to the splintery, old dock where we
had worked on the sampan. The whole pile of scrap wood had been removed by the sullen
Mexican. He had brought a dumpster around with the yard forklift and had noisily filled
