Take off your hat, I want to stand up.

Chapter 24: Where is the Boat?

Chapter 24: Where is the Boat?

When Grandpa Blair passed on he left a small inheritance for his children. The various family members questioned the value of the estate at the time of Grandpa's passing. The story of the kidnapping of Jessie settled the issue. The money Grandad paid was a substantial part of his personal holdings. However, his estate was amicably settled and his children received their inheritance. The reason I am explaining this situation is to highlight the fact that Ev had some money to spend. She went shopping for a boat.

It was a crisp day for early May, we went down to the Regina Beach Yacht Club to view the boat our mom just bought with money Grandpa Blair had left her. We searched the likely candidates, an old wooden Peterborough with a heavy Johnson motor. There in the distance was a dark green Starcraft outfitted with an eighty Mercury Marine outboard. None of the boats appeared to fit the description Ev had about the boat she had purchased over the phone sight unseen.

We went back up to the cabin to read the ad once more. Fifteen and a half foot with a forty horse Gale brand motor. I had never heard of a Gale motor, then again I was not much aware of motor boats, we normally used canoes or sailboats. We backtracked to the Yacht Club we spotted the boat. It was a yellow boat with a black and white Gale, low slung windscreen and front bench seats, complete with two more in the back. It looked good. We tramped down to the dock. Ev had the keys, let's take it for a spin, she smiled, nodded her head and off we went.

The 82 year old Yacht Club steward, Mr. George, rowed us out to the buoy , we rattled around the bow, grabbed the side and threw a leg over. Once in the boat we splayed ourselves onto the deck of our new boat. It was not the most graceful entry. It took us a couple of beats to gain our sea legs so to speak.

We examined the fuel tanks, checked out the steering wheel, dry hoisted the controls, slipped the key into the ignition. I said to my mom I should drive, she said she bought it , she would drive. It was her boat after all, she wanted to be the first to drive, seemed reasonable at the time.

Jackie, go up on the bow and unhook us from the buoy, she directed. See if it starts first otherwise we are drift wood. She cranked it over and the motor roared to life, puffing oil laden smoke out of its ports, rumbling the water and spitting all at the same time. I reached over the bow, I unclipped the set hook from the buoy, and back into the seat. Ev smirked, her eyes twinkled, ready?

We grunted away from the mooring place. Surveyed the existing surroundings, things appear different from the lake side to the shore. Slowly at first, she pushed the selector gear into drive. In the time it takes to say wait, it was too late, she then hammered the throttle down full bore and then some.

The old yellow Vanguard with the forty horse Gale motor sprang to life, reared on its hind legs, pointed straight up in the air and almost took off into outer space. At the same time Ev had the wheel cranked fully to the left.

The combination of pinning the throttle and turning the wheel had the effect of pushing the boat to the limits of control in an instant. I grabbed for the side rail just to avoid being catapulted out of the boat, almost like you would flick a raisin off a towel, snap and it is gone.

Ev was screaming, shouting and calling for divine intervention. What should I do? she shouted, what should I do? I did not answer right away. I was screaming louder, so I only witnessed her mouth moving, but I could not comprehend what was being said.

Turn off the key Ev, reach down and shut it down. She hesitated as we crazed past several boats moored in the marina. Our wake swamped a canoe, exceeded the slow zone speed limit by twenty-five miles per hour and yet we cruised onward. This took place all within the span of twenty-five seconds of consecutive boat ownership. Truly we were so proud.

Well, what do you think, should we keep it? She lite a smoke and exhaled with a sense of satisfaction and triumph. I always wanted a boat, she added for effect.

I thought, you already own it. Then I thought of the puppy she had returned.

Yes, if this is the worst torture test the boat would have to endure, it definitely was a keeper. What else could go wrong?

The second week of our proud ownership, we went to the Yacht club to check on the boat. Three days prior to this day, it had rained. It was not a light sprinkle of a misty rain, rather it was one of the hellfire and brimstone lake storms that crept down the lake. Complete with explosive lightning shattering the living sky cloud bank. Thunderous crashes that shook the cabin. The raging wind mounted waves that raced and rolled down the length of the lake. Today, the lake was like smooth velvet what a contrast.

In the distance we looked down the railway track we could not pick out our boat on the buoy. We just saw the header rope pulling hard to the right, odd. We walked to the edge of the pier, looked hard into the rippling water, and spied our boat, it had sunk.

Mr. George remarked, looks like your boat sunk. True up on that partner, welcome to the wonderful world of boat ownership.