As his kids took off running for the beach he followed the path to the garden and the cow pasture. There seemingly wreathed by her beloved irises stood Mary. he thought of the old nursery rhyme every time he saw her in the garden. He could never bring himself to think of her as ‘quite contrary’. He unlatched the gate to the cow pasture and grabbed the wheelbarrow and shovel alongside of the fence. Regardless of all of the old wives tales about how to make your garden grow, he had always stuck to his own adage of ‘feed the cows well, and they will make great fertilizer’. As he went about the enclosure shoveling one cow paddy after the next into the wheelbarrow he hummed the old sea shanty about the Black Ball Ferry Line. He pushed the now half full wheelbarrow out of the gate and to the edge of the garden, still humming along. Mary turned around at him, smiled, and opened the garden gate.
“Coast Guard will be here tomorrow” he said, watching her smile fade.
“I am going to hand our guest over to them when they get here” he added.
She looked at him, silent for what felt like an eternity and said “you really ought to talk to him”
“Hmpfh” he grunted in response as he tipped the wheelbarrow, spilling its contents upon the compost pile.
That night during dinner he sat at the head of the table watching his family eat, and there opposite him, eating his wifes’ cooking from his plates with his silverware sat Jules. An interloper to their nightly ritual. he started cutting into his steak watching his knife slide back and forth across the tender meat and said “Nice to see you feeling better”.
“Thanks only to your lovely wife” Jules replied as he smiled at Mary. Was that a wink he just gave her, did she just blush he thought to himself. The once delicious food quickly tasted of bile, but he continued to chew the piece of meat. He would not allow this intruder to affect him so. After swallowing the offensive piece of food he looked across the table at Jules and asked “Exactly why are you here?”
Jules set down his silverware and proceeded to tell him how the Coast Guard hospital supply ships were being routinely attacked by opium smugglers and stealing the morphine supplies on board. In an effort to assure the safe delivery of the much needed medicine, the Coast Guard had hired several trusted fishboat captains to deliver the supplies. he finished his story by saying “Some of the bastards caught up with me just outside of Vancouver and shot up my boat. I was able to slink away in the night, but one of their bullets passed through my leg and a terrible infection set in. A few days later I drifted up on your shores and the Angels of Mercy smiled upon me”.
He had sat there silent, listening and thinking through Jules story, and he slowly felt his anger ebbing away. The smugglers and the pirates in this area had become particularly brutal and his story did seem to have a ring of truth about it.
“The Coast Guard cutter will be here tomorrow and we will sort this whole mess out” he said as he stood up pushing his chair back. The adults left the table for the children to tidy up and headed off to their respective parts of the house.
The next morning after a silent breakfast, the family dropped what they were doing at the sound of a long blast from a horn. As was tradition the family ran to the dock to greet the incoming cutter. Although they were only supposed to bring replenishment supplies for the lighthouse, they often brought over much needed supplies for the family and treats for the kids. Before the family could issue their customary greeting, Jules came limping down the dock, his footsteps shuddering the planks before he came tot he gangplank and disappeared onboard the cutter. Mary turned to her husband and shrugged with a smile before walking towards the sailors at the first bollard. He followed her a few steps behind and walked to the gangplank in preparation for receiving the captain. As he stood there waiting Mary moved to the next batch of sailors and offered them cookies and fresh coffee from her basket.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Leaving Patos
I am leaving Patos this am on the water taxi. Chateau de odo'r and all of its contents have been packed away and I am sitting here watching the waves once more. It's like leaving a lover and boarding a plane. I say to my lover I will write and try to visit, but it does little to curb the hurt deep within us both.
Tomorrow I will drive to Omak so I can do ... you guessed it... more camping, with my Mom and Jeff in Idaho.
Here is a map of today and tomorrows travel. The straight line on the far left is the water taxi, where as the squiggly line will be the actual driving to Omak.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Chapter 4
Upon entry into the kitchen he was greeted by the smiling faces of his children happily occupied by their sandwiches, and a plate already laid out for him.
“Where is your mother” he asked his children.
“With Jules” his daughter replied through a mouthful of bread.
“Who?”
“The man you rescued” his son piped in.
“Hmmm” he grunted as he bit in to his sandwich. He loved the way the lettuce crunched and how the mayonnaise tasted. No matter what meat or bread she used that day, mary always put the right amount of Mayo and the crispiest hearts of lettuce on his sandwich. He finished off the last scraps of his meal and left the table.
“Come with me” he said to his son. Father and son walked out of the kitchen leaving the cleaning to his daughter as today it was her chore to do so. They walked down the hall in silence and upon reaching the spare room, they heard voices drifting through the door. He watched as his son continued on down the hall, then he placed his hand on the door knob. He leaned in to open the door and caught himself as he heard Mary say “I am sure he will believe you, you are a good guy and I can see it”
“I enjoy having someone to talk to, its been so lonely on the boat, for so long, I started talking to the seagulls on my long runs. Nobody could know what I was doing, so any stops I made were straight forward and to the point. A lot of ‘yes sir here is the cash, I need this much gas now, yes sir, 9 am, yes sir a gale coming in, yes sir pirates sighted in the straits.”
“Why did they pick you” she asked.
“ I owed them” he replied. At this he yawned and Mary tucked the blankets up about his chin. She moved around the room picking up the leftover dishes and the soiled bandages and was shocked to find her husband standing outside the door when she opened it.
“Oh” she gasped “how long have you been here?”
“Long enough to hear him sucker you in with that story of his” he said curtly.
“If only you had really listened you wouldn’t feel that way” she spat back at him vehemently, as she turned on her heel to walk down the hall. The anger in her footsteps was evident as the dishes rattled about with each fall of her foot. He turned to the still open door and saw Jules looking back at him clearly awake.
“I know you heard all of that, and I will not pass judgement on you, that is for the Coast Guard to decide.”
“How soon will they be here, I need to speak with the Captain” Jules said, now sitting upright, returning the stare.
“Soon enough” he said as he shut the door to ‘Jules’ room. How odd, he thought, that a criminal would want to see the Coast Guard. He put the thoughts in the back of his mind and continued down the hallway to the front porch where his son had been waiting for him. He walked to where the boy was sitting on the steps, and standing next to him gazed out across the property. From here he could see the gardens and the barn, and farther down the slope, just beyond view was the shore. The sound of the unseen waves reached up to him, and he followed along as the wave crashed on the shore. He stepped off the porch, his son quietly falling into step behind him. It was Wednesday, therefore it was the day to polish all of the bright-work in the lighthouse. It didn’t need to be done every week, but he took pride in knowing that it was. The two of them walked into the beacon house and headed for the tower. There underneath the stairs was a built in cabinet that stored all of his polishing gear. He handed a rag and a can of polish to his son, and grabbed some for himself. In silence they both set off to different areas and started on their task at hand. Each knew his place and where he was expected to clean. To the son, all of the detailed parts and hand railings, for his fingers were still small enough to polish the smallest of cracks. To the father, the area around the lens and the 6 foot foghorn. Areas that could be quite dangerous, and therefore not suited for his child. Neither stopped till the brass-work was shiny enough that one could inspect their wrinkles in its reflection. It was a valuable lesson he was trying to teach his son. Work hard, and you will have a bright future. Only once had his son complained. After sustaining a nasty fall in the rose thicket, he had a 2 inch scratch across his palm. That afternoon they were polishing, and after an hour his son came to him with tears in his eyes and said “Papa, my hand hurts”
His father unwrapped the cloth from around his sons palm to find the polish had seeped into the wound and was forcing it to bleed. He was proud of his son that day, he had shown him that he could work through the pain, he would make a fine man when he grew up.
As they neared the completion of their task, he looked out the beacon windows and saw his daughter come skipping down the path. In her hand swinging ferociously back and forth was an old flour sack weighted down with something. He made it to the bottom of the stairs at the same tim e she came in the door singing an unknown tune in an unknown language known only to her.
“Where you off to” he asked as she danced circles around the room.
“I came to get Billy so we can get some muscles” she said as she made a fantastic impression of flexing her arms. He sat down on a stool in the main engine room and she climbed up on to his lap, “well” he said “what’s in the bag”.
“Muscles”
“What?” he said with a puzzled look on his face. He reached for the bag and opened it up to find a pound of fresh blue mussels.
“Oh” he said trying not to laugh, “Mussels darling”. He lifted her up off his knee and shooed her out of the engine room, “alright you two get along now” he said as he sent them out the door and locked it.
“Where is your mother” he asked his children.
“With Jules” his daughter replied through a mouthful of bread.
“Who?”
“The man you rescued” his son piped in.
“Hmmm” he grunted as he bit in to his sandwich. He loved the way the lettuce crunched and how the mayonnaise tasted. No matter what meat or bread she used that day, mary always put the right amount of Mayo and the crispiest hearts of lettuce on his sandwich. He finished off the last scraps of his meal and left the table.
“Come with me” he said to his son. Father and son walked out of the kitchen leaving the cleaning to his daughter as today it was her chore to do so. They walked down the hall in silence and upon reaching the spare room, they heard voices drifting through the door. He watched as his son continued on down the hall, then he placed his hand on the door knob. He leaned in to open the door and caught himself as he heard Mary say “I am sure he will believe you, you are a good guy and I can see it”
“I enjoy having someone to talk to, its been so lonely on the boat, for so long, I started talking to the seagulls on my long runs. Nobody could know what I was doing, so any stops I made were straight forward and to the point. A lot of ‘yes sir here is the cash, I need this much gas now, yes sir, 9 am, yes sir a gale coming in, yes sir pirates sighted in the straits.”
“Why did they pick you” she asked.
“ I owed them” he replied. At this he yawned and Mary tucked the blankets up about his chin. She moved around the room picking up the leftover dishes and the soiled bandages and was shocked to find her husband standing outside the door when she opened it.
“Oh” she gasped “how long have you been here?”
“Long enough to hear him sucker you in with that story of his” he said curtly.
“If only you had really listened you wouldn’t feel that way” she spat back at him vehemently, as she turned on her heel to walk down the hall. The anger in her footsteps was evident as the dishes rattled about with each fall of her foot. He turned to the still open door and saw Jules looking back at him clearly awake.
“I know you heard all of that, and I will not pass judgement on you, that is for the Coast Guard to decide.”
“How soon will they be here, I need to speak with the Captain” Jules said, now sitting upright, returning the stare.
“Soon enough” he said as he shut the door to ‘Jules’ room. How odd, he thought, that a criminal would want to see the Coast Guard. He put the thoughts in the back of his mind and continued down the hallway to the front porch where his son had been waiting for him. He walked to where the boy was sitting on the steps, and standing next to him gazed out across the property. From here he could see the gardens and the barn, and farther down the slope, just beyond view was the shore. The sound of the unseen waves reached up to him, and he followed along as the wave crashed on the shore. He stepped off the porch, his son quietly falling into step behind him. It was Wednesday, therefore it was the day to polish all of the bright-work in the lighthouse. It didn’t need to be done every week, but he took pride in knowing that it was. The two of them walked into the beacon house and headed for the tower. There underneath the stairs was a built in cabinet that stored all of his polishing gear. He handed a rag and a can of polish to his son, and grabbed some for himself. In silence they both set off to different areas and started on their task at hand. Each knew his place and where he was expected to clean. To the son, all of the detailed parts and hand railings, for his fingers were still small enough to polish the smallest of cracks. To the father, the area around the lens and the 6 foot foghorn. Areas that could be quite dangerous, and therefore not suited for his child. Neither stopped till the brass-work was shiny enough that one could inspect their wrinkles in its reflection. It was a valuable lesson he was trying to teach his son. Work hard, and you will have a bright future. Only once had his son complained. After sustaining a nasty fall in the rose thicket, he had a 2 inch scratch across his palm. That afternoon they were polishing, and after an hour his son came to him with tears in his eyes and said “Papa, my hand hurts”
His father unwrapped the cloth from around his sons palm to find the polish had seeped into the wound and was forcing it to bleed. He was proud of his son that day, he had shown him that he could work through the pain, he would make a fine man when he grew up.
As they neared the completion of their task, he looked out the beacon windows and saw his daughter come skipping down the path. In her hand swinging ferociously back and forth was an old flour sack weighted down with something. He made it to the bottom of the stairs at the same tim e she came in the door singing an unknown tune in an unknown language known only to her.
“Where you off to” he asked as she danced circles around the room.
“I came to get Billy so we can get some muscles” she said as she made a fantastic impression of flexing her arms. He sat down on a stool in the main engine room and she climbed up on to his lap, “well” he said “what’s in the bag”.
“Muscles”
“What?” he said with a puzzled look on his face. He reached for the bag and opened it up to find a pound of fresh blue mussels.
“Oh” he said trying not to laugh, “Mussels darling”. He lifted her up off his knee and shooed her out of the engine room, “alright you two get along now” he said as he sent them out the door and locked it.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Chapter 3 Lighthouse story
Ok this isn't really chapter 3, but it is the 3rd installment. here goes:
He proceeded to the kitchen and found the beef stew from last night still in the pot on the stove. As he was heating it up, he helped himself to a few spoonfuls. ‘Mmmm’ he thought, as good as it was last night. his wife could make a gourmet meal out of a few potatoes, an onion and a piece of shoe leather.
“A watched pot never boils” he said to the empty kitchen. So he stepped outside, habitually gave a short ‘come here’ whistle, and started down the walk to the beacon. Not three feet rom the steps he came upon his old dog Pilotis, and the two of them trotted of together, Owner and Best Friend. Upon assurance that everything was in working order at the beacon he returned to the house, his faithful sidekick returning to his spot on the back door porch. He did as he was asked and ladled two steaming spoonfuls of stew into a bowl and grabbed a bits of bacon and bread. he was careful to leave a few of the tastiest morsels for Pilotis.
The kids were perched outside the door to the spare bedroom, intent on listening to whatever tidbits of conversation floated their way. So enthralled were they by the quiet murmurs from the other room that they didn’t notice him till he was standing behind them.
“Well, make yourselves useful and open the door why don’t chya” he said.
His son promptly lept to his feet and turned the knob, pushing the door open as he scooted back into the hall with his sister. Whatever it was that happened to the man inside, they knew he was trouble and wanted to stay just far enough away to still fuel their curiosity.
“I brought you some grub” he said as he placed the tray of food down on the bed.
“Eat up, my wife and I have duties to attend to and we will return shortly”
He guided his wife out into the hall and sent the kids once again scurrying into the shadows. With a worried face he looked at her and said “This man is no good, I think that was opium he was smuggling in his boat, as soon as he is well, I am taking him to the officials on the mainland and they can deal with him”
“He seemed like a good man, albeit one who lost his way” she replied.
“Regardless, I will not let him stay here and endanger my family, anyways, if the Coast Guard or the Borders and Customs finds him here and I haven’t reported his arrest, it's my ass on the line Mary, and its a charge like-amount to treason” at this he turned back towards the kitchen, grabbed the last bit of food he was saving for Pilotis and walked out to where the day lay on the porch.
“Here you go boy” he said as he fed him a few pieces of bacon. After a few good scritches behind the ears he stood up, dusted off his jeans and walked out to the carpenter shop. There was a project he had been working on for some time. A wooden box for their upcoming anniversary. A few months back he had eyed a large madrona tree that had fallen over at the edge of the cove. He walked out there with a saw and after several hours of cutting away at this dense log, he removed a sizeable chunk and rolled it back to the shop. Mary would never think to look in here for her gift, but just in case, he had hid the pieces behind the workbench. Today was a special day, after countless hours of sanding, cutting, and planing, today was the day he was going to start the detailed carving on the lid. He needed no drawing, the image was seared in his brain. He picked up a large chisel and started to chip out an outline of the lighthouse. He could think of nothing better to represent their happiness, then the shining beacon of their paradise.
He loved the way the wood curled up, and the feeling in his left hand every time he tapped the chisel with the mallet. Things quickly fell into a rhythm as he worked around the face of the box. Tap, tap, tap, brush the hand across the wood, tap, tap, tap, brush, tap tap tap. It continued on till he had outlined the lighthouse structure and cleaned up the frame of the carving. He could hear footsteps outside the shop, so he placed the piece behind some tools on the workbench. Mary, opened the door, the light of the sun set her hair all aglow. Instantly he was taken by her beauty and when her lips parted, the angel said “Lunch is ready”
“Right away dear, let me hang my tools up” He replied.
She turned and shut the door, and he pulled out the carving, was this good enough for her. He placed the gift back in its hiding place behind the workbench and straightened up his tools before heading towards the house.
He proceeded to the kitchen and found the beef stew from last night still in the pot on the stove. As he was heating it up, he helped himself to a few spoonfuls. ‘Mmmm’ he thought, as good as it was last night. his wife could make a gourmet meal out of a few potatoes, an onion and a piece of shoe leather.
“A watched pot never boils” he said to the empty kitchen. So he stepped outside, habitually gave a short ‘come here’ whistle, and started down the walk to the beacon. Not three feet rom the steps he came upon his old dog Pilotis, and the two of them trotted of together, Owner and Best Friend. Upon assurance that everything was in working order at the beacon he returned to the house, his faithful sidekick returning to his spot on the back door porch. He did as he was asked and ladled two steaming spoonfuls of stew into a bowl and grabbed a bits of bacon and bread. he was careful to leave a few of the tastiest morsels for Pilotis.
The kids were perched outside the door to the spare bedroom, intent on listening to whatever tidbits of conversation floated their way. So enthralled were they by the quiet murmurs from the other room that they didn’t notice him till he was standing behind them.
“Well, make yourselves useful and open the door why don’t chya” he said.
His son promptly lept to his feet and turned the knob, pushing the door open as he scooted back into the hall with his sister. Whatever it was that happened to the man inside, they knew he was trouble and wanted to stay just far enough away to still fuel their curiosity.
“I brought you some grub” he said as he placed the tray of food down on the bed.
“Eat up, my wife and I have duties to attend to and we will return shortly”
He guided his wife out into the hall and sent the kids once again scurrying into the shadows. With a worried face he looked at her and said “This man is no good, I think that was opium he was smuggling in his boat, as soon as he is well, I am taking him to the officials on the mainland and they can deal with him”
“He seemed like a good man, albeit one who lost his way” she replied.
“Regardless, I will not let him stay here and endanger my family, anyways, if the Coast Guard or the Borders and Customs finds him here and I haven’t reported his arrest, it's my ass on the line Mary, and its a charge like-amount to treason” at this he turned back towards the kitchen, grabbed the last bit of food he was saving for Pilotis and walked out to where the day lay on the porch.
“Here you go boy” he said as he fed him a few pieces of bacon. After a few good scritches behind the ears he stood up, dusted off his jeans and walked out to the carpenter shop. There was a project he had been working on for some time. A wooden box for their upcoming anniversary. A few months back he had eyed a large madrona tree that had fallen over at the edge of the cove. He walked out there with a saw and after several hours of cutting away at this dense log, he removed a sizeable chunk and rolled it back to the shop. Mary would never think to look in here for her gift, but just in case, he had hid the pieces behind the workbench. Today was a special day, after countless hours of sanding, cutting, and planing, today was the day he was going to start the detailed carving on the lid. He needed no drawing, the image was seared in his brain. He picked up a large chisel and started to chip out an outline of the lighthouse. He could think of nothing better to represent their happiness, then the shining beacon of their paradise.
He loved the way the wood curled up, and the feeling in his left hand every time he tapped the chisel with the mallet. Things quickly fell into a rhythm as he worked around the face of the box. Tap, tap, tap, brush the hand across the wood, tap, tap, tap, brush, tap tap tap. It continued on till he had outlined the lighthouse structure and cleaned up the frame of the carving. He could hear footsteps outside the shop, so he placed the piece behind some tools on the workbench. Mary, opened the door, the light of the sun set her hair all aglow. Instantly he was taken by her beauty and when her lips parted, the angel said “Lunch is ready”
“Right away dear, let me hang my tools up” He replied.
She turned and shut the door, and he pulled out the carving, was this good enough for her. He placed the gift back in its hiding place behind the workbench and straightened up his tools before heading towards the house.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Back On Patos
It's been beautiful here on Patos. Then again, when is it not. Even on stormy days this island has something to offer. I wanted to share some more photos with you all.
After the Orcas Island Fired Dept came out last time I was out here, they made myself and Nick (BLM guy) official members of the Patos Island Fire Dept. I love the T-shirt, freaking sweet.
Here I am writing yet more into my journal. It's an addiction I know. I can't help it.
and of course I am going to leave you with yet another beautiful sunset. More from the now edited lighthouse story will follow shortly. I have yet to finish typing it all out.
After the Orcas Island Fired Dept came out last time I was out here, they made myself and Nick (BLM guy) official members of the Patos Island Fire Dept. I love the T-shirt, freaking sweet.
Here I am writing yet more into my journal. It's an addiction I know. I can't help it.
and of course I am going to leave you with yet another beautiful sunset. More from the now edited lighthouse story will follow shortly. I have yet to finish typing it all out.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Back on Patos
Well folks, I am back out at 'Paradise' aka Patos. Tom and the crew were surprised to see me come off the boat, as they thought that I would be on Stuart Island by now. The little Patos family greeted me with hugs and smiles all around, it was like coming home. Patos waved to me as we pulled up, and.... I brought sunshine with me, the whole time I am here it is supposed to be nice and sunny!
Nic
Nic
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Patos Island Lighthouse pictures and story continued
For those of you that dont know I am planning on making a book of all my stuff this summer, so I wont be posting all of my stuff on here. I will give copies to friends and family, but I am also planning on gathering a few copies together, publishing them myself, and possibly selling them at some of the local bookstores. My intention is to have all of the profits go to the historical preservation of the settlers families in the San Juan Islands..... i.e. photo archiving, interviewing, and capturing the stories of the last children of the pioneers that are still alive, and keeping that way of life alive for future generations.
On that note what follows is the second installment of my 'lighthouse story' along with another Picture from Patos island. Oh yes, and the schedule for this summer, since several people have been asking me, is
June 11-18th back to Patos Island
June 20th Head to Omak and then Idaho
June 29th Return to Orcas,
----- prepare, possibly head to Stuart for minor work -----
July 4th weekend Stuart Island
July 17th-22nd - Orcas Island for family reunion
July 23rd Stuart Island
Aug 16th, Patos Island for 100 year anniversary birthday bash
Aug 22nd, leave Orcas and head back to Boulder.
All my love to everyone
Chapter 2.
The next morning as they were all sitting down for breakfast they heard the dog barking erratically and the distant sounds of a boat pulling ashore. Instinctively the father checked his revolver and grabbed his oilskin coat from the hook in the hall as he dashed outside. People only pulled up on his shores if they were the Coast Guard cutter, in need of help or opium smugglers. As he ran to greet the boat, he noticed that instead of pulling to the wharf, they had run aground and were listing dangerously to the side. A hole the size of a mans head was quickly filling with sea water, it would be a matter of minutes before the boat would capsize and become unrecoverable.
“H’lo, is anybody hurt?” he cried out as he approached the point.
“Yes” a man yelled from deep within the boat.
“Come out and I will help you”
“I can’t, I can’t move.... my legs.... oh Lord the pain” came the panicked voice from inside the wreck.
“Alright, no funny stuff or my men will shoot you” he yelled hoping the intruder wouldn’t call his bluff.
He made fast of his footwork and threw lines aboard the foundered vessel, in the hopes that tying it to the rocks might prevent it from slipping away while he was on board. As he sloshed through the water now knee deep in the cabin of the boat, he thought to himself ‘light keeper drowns at lighthouse’ sprawled across tomorrows headlines. What a morbidly ironic way for him to die. He laughed inside and pushed a floating cushion and some strange bags of white powder.
“Where are you” he called out into the pitch black interior.
“A few feet in front of you, in the forward hold” the invalid said as he slapped his hand on the water a few times for emphasis.
He found the injured man laying in the forward berth, a white ghastly face gazed back at him in the glow of the lantern.
“Alright, lets get you out of here” he said as he reached down placing his hands underneath the wraith of a man. After what felt like an eternity he laid the man down in the grass above the beach.
“Mary” he cried out, “bring the medical kit and some blankets”. She ran down to where the man lay, desperately trying to hold on to her composure, however the small gasp that escaped her lips upon her first sight of the man was unavoidable. The smell of rotting flesh reached her nostrils as she knelt down unfolding the first blanket.
“Jesus, where did you fish this one out of” she said as she pulled out the bottle of morphine.
“His ship ran aground on that seal rock, help me get him inside.” They fashioned a stretcher out of two pieces of driftwood and the remaining blankets, and afterwards with her at the head and him at the rear they proceeded to make their way to the house.
She was minding her thoughts and counting how many more feet it was to the back door, her skirt folds swishing back and forth between the two handles. One edge was infuriating her as it continued to snag ever time she stepped with her left foot. She was mulling over the impending tear in her new dress when the kids came running out of the house. They stopped midstep at the edge of the sidewalk when they saw what lay between their parents.
“Here papa, let me help” the boy said as he ran to grab the side of the stretcher.
“NO!” their parents screamed in unison.
“This man is very sick, how about you go in and put the kettle on for some hot water” Mary said to her frightened children. They carried the stretcher and its cargo into the spare room, trying their best to be gentle going up the outside stairs. After placing him on the bed she started to remove his wet clothes.
“He is done fainted away” she said, while she sorted through her medicine kit for some ammonia capsules. The capsules effect was instantaneous and the man sat upright like he was rising from the grave.
“That’s okay, lie down and rest a bit, your safe now” she said as she placed more pillows behind his head.
“Darling would you fetch me some of last nights soup and bread?”
“Sure” he replied as he turned smartly out the door.
On that note what follows is the second installment of my 'lighthouse story' along with another Picture from Patos island. Oh yes, and the schedule for this summer, since several people have been asking me, is
June 11-18th back to Patos Island
June 20th Head to Omak and then Idaho
June 29th Return to Orcas,
----- prepare, possibly head to Stuart for minor work -----
July 4th weekend Stuart Island
July 17th-22nd - Orcas Island for family reunion
July 23rd Stuart Island
Aug 16th, Patos Island for 100 year anniversary birthday bash
Aug 22nd, leave Orcas and head back to Boulder.
All my love to everyone
Chapter 2.
The next morning as they were all sitting down for breakfast they heard the dog barking erratically and the distant sounds of a boat pulling ashore. Instinctively the father checked his revolver and grabbed his oilskin coat from the hook in the hall as he dashed outside. People only pulled up on his shores if they were the Coast Guard cutter, in need of help or opium smugglers. As he ran to greet the boat, he noticed that instead of pulling to the wharf, they had run aground and were listing dangerously to the side. A hole the size of a mans head was quickly filling with sea water, it would be a matter of minutes before the boat would capsize and become unrecoverable.
“H’lo, is anybody hurt?” he cried out as he approached the point.
“Yes” a man yelled from deep within the boat.
“Come out and I will help you”
“I can’t, I can’t move.... my legs.... oh Lord the pain” came the panicked voice from inside the wreck.
“Alright, no funny stuff or my men will shoot you” he yelled hoping the intruder wouldn’t call his bluff.
He made fast of his footwork and threw lines aboard the foundered vessel, in the hopes that tying it to the rocks might prevent it from slipping away while he was on board. As he sloshed through the water now knee deep in the cabin of the boat, he thought to himself ‘light keeper drowns at lighthouse’ sprawled across tomorrows headlines. What a morbidly ironic way for him to die. He laughed inside and pushed a floating cushion and some strange bags of white powder.
“Where are you” he called out into the pitch black interior.
“A few feet in front of you, in the forward hold” the invalid said as he slapped his hand on the water a few times for emphasis.
He found the injured man laying in the forward berth, a white ghastly face gazed back at him in the glow of the lantern.
“Alright, lets get you out of here” he said as he reached down placing his hands underneath the wraith of a man. After what felt like an eternity he laid the man down in the grass above the beach.
“Mary” he cried out, “bring the medical kit and some blankets”. She ran down to where the man lay, desperately trying to hold on to her composure, however the small gasp that escaped her lips upon her first sight of the man was unavoidable. The smell of rotting flesh reached her nostrils as she knelt down unfolding the first blanket.
“Jesus, where did you fish this one out of” she said as she pulled out the bottle of morphine.
“His ship ran aground on that seal rock, help me get him inside.” They fashioned a stretcher out of two pieces of driftwood and the remaining blankets, and afterwards with her at the head and him at the rear they proceeded to make their way to the house.
She was minding her thoughts and counting how many more feet it was to the back door, her skirt folds swishing back and forth between the two handles. One edge was infuriating her as it continued to snag ever time she stepped with her left foot. She was mulling over the impending tear in her new dress when the kids came running out of the house. They stopped midstep at the edge of the sidewalk when they saw what lay between their parents.
“Here papa, let me help” the boy said as he ran to grab the side of the stretcher.
“NO!” their parents screamed in unison.
“This man is very sick, how about you go in and put the kettle on for some hot water” Mary said to her frightened children. They carried the stretcher and its cargo into the spare room, trying their best to be gentle going up the outside stairs. After placing him on the bed she started to remove his wet clothes.
“He is done fainted away” she said, while she sorted through her medicine kit for some ammonia capsules. The capsules effect was instantaneous and the man sat upright like he was rising from the grave.
“That’s okay, lie down and rest a bit, your safe now” she said as she placed more pillows behind his head.
“Darling would you fetch me some of last nights soup and bread?”
“Sure” he replied as he turned smartly out the door.
Saturday, June 07, 2008
Back for a mini-vacation from Patos
I came back from Patos on the 4th and I am headed back out there on the 11th. I wanted to share some of the amazing photos that I took while I was out there, along with the first installment of the story I was writing while I was out there, it is a relatively short story, but a tragic one. tell me what you think.
The story begins here:
“I am going to Shaking Rock” she said with her back turned to him. “I don’t expect you to follow and I don’t know what I will find.” He sat there staring through the rain streaked window pane, his fingers running back and forth across the brass brads on the underside of the chairs arm.
“I expect to write, but don’t count on it” her words drifted to him across the room. Merely ghostly words with little meaning passed through him like the breaks of sunlight on the edges of the clouds. “Should I take the black chiffon?”
“Sure” he mumbles, as the ice cubes in his bourbon appeared as ships in the fog. His mind was drifting back to the time spent on the island, a time of peace and quiet and hard work. he never expected to be here, now, childless and without focus. He wanted to go back to the lighthouse, to gaze once again upon the shapeless horizon full of possibility. Somewhere in the distance lurked a monster, rearing its head as it smashed its waves at the steps of the house. Kept at bay when the sky was bright and the breeze was light.
“Darling will you call for a car to pick me up in the morning” she said, her voice a whisper in the ether.
“Sure Sweetheart”
The rain on the window brought back memories of the monster knocking at the door. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, “goodnight, I love you” she said. He mumbled a barely passable “and I you”. She sat there with her hands on the arm rests and gazed at his profile. She knew deep inside that he was lost, and the apparent indifference towards her affection was because he was too involved with his own internal demons. She aslo knew that this stalemate in their marriage had made her question her love and affection for him. With one last sigh and a parting pat on his knee, she exited the room. He had barely noticed her leave but he listened intently as she climbed the stairs for the bedroom. Each footstep was like a cro-bar prying open the lid of his dreams, each creak brought back the faint memory of the sound of that one cedar split in half dancing with the douglas fir with the broken limbes. A cacophony of sounds flooded over him as he allowed himself to drift back in time.
There he was on the banks of Rosario Strait watching as the tide ripped past in a series of whirlpools and boiling water. he heard someone yelling ‘papa’ on the edges of the wind and he turned to see his wife folding the laundry off the line, and his two children running towards him. Their mother was yelling something about slowing down, but her words were lost on the children. He opened his arms and scooped his daughter into the air, giving her a big hug as she threw her arms around his neck.
“Dad guess what we found” his son said, brandishing an object wrapped in a handkerchief. The gleam in his childs’ eyes told him that whatever treasure lay within those blue checkered folds was the greatest find of his sons life. Gingerly he reached down and picked up the object, carefully unwrapping it. It felt light and fragile in his hands, and he was not surprised to find an egg tucked into the folds of the handkerchief. It was a blue egg, about the size of a chickens, with a curious mottling of brownish spots.
“Children come look closely, do you know what this is?”
“An egg!” they both chimed in together.
“But what kind of egg is it?” he asked.
“A special one” his daughter said.
“Why yes, this is a special one, it’s an Oyster Catchers egg, and it’s still warm, so you better rush back and put it back in its nest before the parents find it missing.” he said as he wrapped up the precious cargo and returned it to his sons open hands. He watched as his children ran off to the beach. This was paradise, and his wife looked like a queen. He walked up to where she was standing, swooped her up in his arms, and took her inside intent upon showing his gratitude for this magnificent woman.
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