The Assassin

Captain Ranzy

Chapter 2

Captain Ranzy

     Captain of the Seaward

Our dad owned the Seaward. It was a forty-two-foot charter boat that was docked at Hatteras. Our dad was a large man with strong hands. His skin was beaten by years on the water.

He always wore a cap with the name Seaward embroidered on it, and a replica of the Seaward appeared directly below its name. He was only thirty-nine years old when Royce and I began fishing with him, but we already thought of him as an old man.

The sea had done that to him. He was born at Hatteras, but he left home when he was only sixteen years old and joined the Merchant Marines. From there he went to the navy. He retired when he was only thirty-eight.

Our dad was reared during an era when his own father had paid very little attention to him and had virtually no personal interaction with him.

He had simply been the mate on our grandfather's charter boat. Nothing more. Nothing less. And so it was that he too paid little attention to his own twin sons. Neither Royce nor me. We were just his mates on the Seaward. His interaction with us was that of captain and mates.

We were just members of his crew. Except that we weren't paid. But because we were still students, we could only work during the summer months and on Saturdays. We didn't fish on Sundays.

Our dad never engaged in recreational activities with either of us. He had never been to a school function or athletic event with either of us. He had little or no interest in what was happening at school.

He knew that we were members of the basketball and baseball teams, but didn't know what positions we played. He would simply ask us upon our return, "How did the game go? Did you win?" I don't think he ever even heard the answer.

He didn't know where we were or what we were doing when we weren't on board the Seaward. He hadn't been fortunate enough to have a father of his own who taught him the joys of being friends with his own children.

And so he had never learned the skills that came with being a loving father. He saw himself as the breadwinner of the family, and he worked from four in the morning until six in the afternoon seven days a week to provide us with our meager living. Six of those days were spent on board the Seaward. Every Sunday was spent repairing it.

I can still hear him say, "Dinner tonight will be something that we catch. If it wasn't for that, we would probably not eat at all."

Our dad had no other role, and he didn't want one. He worked all of the time. He wasn't an emotional man. No one had ever seen him cry. He always told us, "Crying is a sign of weakness. You don't hear me cry when things don't go well. I don't expect to hear it from either of you."

He had served in the navy until he retired. He then returned to Hatteras and never left again during the remaining forty-three years of his life. He returned to Hatteras to become a charter boat captain, and that was what he intended to be.

The rough seas of the Atlantic had long since worn out his father's own charter boat. Our dad needed a new boat of his own. He told us, "I'll build it myself." He told us that he had watched his own father build his own charter boat many years ago. "I know how to do it too."

He carefully carved the first piece of wood that was to become the centerpiece of the boat's hull. It had to be meticulously shaped so that the rest of the boat could be properly built around it.

"Watch carefully as I carve away the parts that I don't need. You'll be doing the same thing yourselves one day. You need to know how it's done."

The cabin then had to be perfectly balanced so that the boat wouldn't flip over in rough seas. "It has to be safe and secure. The party crowds into the cabin during rough weather. I don't want the boat to capsize."

Every piece of the Seaward had to fit together to produce the charter boat that our dad wanted. So he shaped and reshaped the Seaward until every piece fit perfectly.

It took him more than a year to get it just right. He did it in our backyard. When he finished, he told us, "I want you to see what can be done when you work hard and set your minds to something. You can accomplish anything."

And then he painted the name on both the port and starboard sides of the bow: Seaward. He painted Hatteras across the stern. Hatteras would always be its homeport. "I don't want anyone to ever believe that the Seaward came from anyplace else."

Our dad spent his entire life on ships and charter boats. The daily activities were strenuous but kept him strong. His time on the water had taken its toll. He was tough.

The conditions under which he had lived his life were harsh. He always told us, "There are worse ways to make a living. You could end up spending your life doing something that you don't like."

And so it is with fishermen. They grow old before their time. They dedicate their lives to the sea. It always calls to them, and they answer the call. It's the life they choose to live. No one makes them choose it.

It was exciting for these men to hear the sound of the fishing line screaming off the reel when a Blue Marlin struck the bait. Seeing the huge fish leaping from the sea in an attempt to shake the hook from its mouth was beautiful. Every fisherman who had ever seen it happen wanted to see it again. And so they kept coming back.

Our dad was like that too. He wouldn't give up hope that another Blue Marlin would strike one day. Shouts to the member of the party who happened to be in the fighting chair when the strike occurred could never be forgotten.

"Look at him jump!! Let him run!! Let him run!! Let him wear himself out!! Don't try to bring him back to the boat until he gets tired. Pump and reel!! Pump and reel!! "

And after hours of the give and take by man and fish, crew and fishermen alike waited to hear the words.

"He's almost to the boat. Get ready to grab the leader. We're going to bring him on board. Be careful. Don't try to bring him on green. He may still want to fight even after we get him on the deck. Don't let him slap you with his tail."

The excitement was almost too much for any fisherman to bear. It was what kept the members of the party coming back year after year. They hoped

that they would see it again, or if they have never seen it, they hoped to see it for the first time. They had heard the stories.

Our dad made sure that their experience was one that they would want to repeat the following year. I heard him say many times, "A successful charter boat captain is a successful businessman. You catch fish, and your parties keep coming back. Year after year after year. Just take them to the fish. It's good for business."

Our dad was doing what he wanted to do with his life. He was Captain Ranzy. He was the captain of a charter boat at Hatteras. It was what he also wanted for his two sons.