A Fiction: Part VIII

V

The interior of the sub is bathed intermittently with deep red and pitch black. It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings and pull myself up off the floor. The sub floor is slanted towards the back and I struggle to get to the front screen – black as well. Either the screen is damaged or the outside lighting is off. Fuck. I shake my head and take a minute to fully assess the situation. I hear the whirring of fans blowing fresh air from the oxygen converters – that’s good. We at least have emergency power… we... STUART! His body rolled beneath the console on impact and is still there. I sit on the floor next to him, wrap my arms around his torso and drag him out into the main aisle. He was knocked cold – not good. I stand and shut off the emergency systems. The main power comes back up and all the equipment comes to life. Then I pull open the first aid cabinet on the wall. What do I need? A blanket, some bandages for his head, a cold pack…

“Solemn chain flower cold?” I turn and see Stuart sitting up, his hands on his knees. He looks at me curiously. “Flower cold?”

“Stuart, lay down. I don’t know what kind of injuries you have.” Stuart stares hard at me, rolls to one side and lies down. He is shivering. I cover him with the blanket and start to check him for injuries. I gasp as I check his head. The back of his skull is soft and bloody. There is fluid oozing from his ears and his eyes dart back and forth. Oh, Stuart, my friend. It’s not looking good. I need to get help. I stand and move to the instrument panels.

“Fear column lines patsy…” Stuart offers behind me without rising.

“Thanks for the advice, Stu, but I need to try the radio first.” Stuart grunts in what I think is approval. The radio lights up and I hear familiar static. “Angel’s Head, this is Ether. We have an emergency. Please respond…” Static. “Angel’s Head, this is Ether. Please respond. We have an emergency.” Nothing.

I walk over to the SONAR display and watch a full rotation, then another. “Stuart, what am I doing wrong here? I don’t see anything.” Stuart pulls himself up and crawls over to the display before I notice. “Jesus, Stuart. Lie back down! You’re in no shape to…” Stuart puts his hand to my mouth and leans into the display.

“Cage my pollen stone…” he says quietly. He closes his eyes and moves back to the floor.

He may not have said the right words, but Stuart was clear as day: Angel’s Head is gone. We are alone.

A Fiction: Part XII

III

Once I got the hang of it, piloting the sub was fairly easy. You certainly had to predict your stops and turns, but the little sub was more reactive than I expected. Hawthorne was pleased with my progress and even let me pilot the sub to the surface once Stuart was complete with his equipment diagnostics and calibrations. He took over as we approached Angel’s Head, presumably in fear that I would crash into the side, but once we were out and standing on deck, he patted me on the back and said, “Gentlemen, meet your new sub pilot. I’m retired.”

Now, back in my room and thinking back on the day, I smile to myself and lean back in satisfaction on the bed. I wonder what all the secrecy is about. Lost treasure I suppose – afraid that the crew will mutiny to get their hands on the booty. Well, being on the front lines, I guess I’ll know before anyone else what’s going on. A submersible pilot – who would’ve guessed? Angel’s Head is starting to feel like a grand adventure. We’re nearly a month out and I don’t want the trip to end.

Having been turned away from a search for Hawthorne, I make an attempt for the latest headlines.

FORBIDDEN INFORMATION – NOT ALLOWED

What the fuck? I search for entertainment news.

FORBIDDEN INFORMATION – NOT ALLOWED

Music.

FORBIDDEN INFORMATION – NOT ALLOWED

Insects.

FORBIDDEN INFORMATION – NOT ALLOWED

Must be temporarily down, I think to myself. I’ll ask Roderick in the morning.

I turn on the vid screen and choose a classic pirate film. I recall a man swinging from one ship to the next before I drift off to sleep… For the first time in my recent memory, I do not dream.

IV

The next two weeks pass in a blur. Every morning following the Roderick inspection, I stay behind to train with Hawthorne. We are fast becoming good friends (at least in my estimation) and I have grown to trust him more than I’ve trusted another person in quite some time. I am fully functional now as a sub pilot and Hawthorne has been accompanying Stuart and me for the last few days more as a final check of aptitude than to provide any new information. Today, Hawthorne has slipped out for a dive as Stuart collects sea floor samples and I pilot the sub looking for unique specimens. As usual, I have no idea what Stuart is actually looking for or if what he is collecting is just for practice. Most days, he releases all he has collected before we head back up.

“Move us over by that rock formation, Cole. I see something.” I’ve gotten very good at precise movements underwater and we smoothly slide over to where Stuart has directed. “Perfect. Thank you.”

“You should see me parallel park,” I say in my driest tone. Stuart smirks and continues peering into his scope. I watch as the robotic claw rocks back and forth, sweeping away silt from an object half buried in the sea floor. I hear Stuart gasp.

“I’ll need to blind the main screen,” he says and I quickly try to get a look through the cloudy water before the screen goes black. It is a rounded object, about 7 feet across and a foot tall. The surface is grooved or marked with symbols or etched writing. The robotic claw grasps the object and starts to flip it up from the floor as the screen dims. “Sorry, about that. Just following orders,” Stuart says, almost genuinely apologetic. I hear a THUD below my feet as the object is loaded into the hold. A second THUD confirms it has been brought aboard and is secure.

The sea floor once again appears before me and I take a good look at the hole where the object had been. It’s deep - as though the object was moving at high speed and impacted with the sea floor as opposed to softly settling into place. Stuart continues reading his instruments and typing data.

Suddenly he jumps up. “I don’t see Hawthorne on my scope! Where is he?” Stuart pushes me aside to look out the front screen. “Turn the sub around, Cole. He may be lost or in trouble.” I grab the controls and rotate the sub around. The sub grinds across the sea floor. I am shaken and lean forward, driving the nose of the sub down. Both Stuart and I are thrown to the floor as we impact.

A Fiction: Part XI

II

I was introduced to the man named Stuart as I climbed into the submersible for the first time. Hawthorne, Stuart and I were to head down below, and Hawthorne would give me a few lessons in submarine operations and protocol while Stuart performed calibrations on the equipment. I took the co-pilots seat and watched as Hawthorne walked me through the power ups.

“This switch is main power. This one: communications. Here is the CG enhancement display and this one: the turbines.” I looked through the glass wall in front of me and noticed all the solid objects on the deck of the ship were outlined with a faint blue haze. I paid close attention assuming there would be a test later on. Stuart flipped on a light over his seat and began switching on equipment in the back. “Stuart has the robotics controls and the emergency systems.”

Stuart looked up and continued where Hawthorne left off. “Here’s a rundown of the emergency systems: first, we have the solar flotation balloon. Pushing this button releases the balloon and it rises to the surface, collecting sunlight and maintaining power – or at least enough to maintain air pressure and a few other critical systems. The balloon also broadcasts a distress signal. In these cases are three fully functional S.C.U.B.A. systems. This hatch in the floor opens, and as long as the sub is within 10 degrees of upright, the internal air pressure keeps the water out. You essentially just drop in. There’s a week of dry rations here, first aid here, defibrillator…” My mind had begun to wander as I looked around the interior of the sub. I imagined being below the surface and the discoveries to be made. I looked at Hawthorne, my curiosity growing as to what his purpose was. “… SONAR display is here. Got it?”

“I think I have most of it, yes. No quizzes yet, OK?”

Stuart smiled. “The tests come later. Today, you’re just here for the ride.”

As if on cue, the sub was lifted into the air. I held the arms of my seat tightly as we swayed above the deck. We were moved out over the water and quickly lowered to the surface. Soon we were moving away from the ship and heading out to open water.

“This lever is for forward motion. This line is dead stop. This direction moves you forward, this direction, back. The wheel is for steering. Left, right, just like a car. Push the steering column forward to nose down, back to nose up. You also have these two pedals for hard side-to-side. Left goes left, right goes right. Easy enough.” He turned to Stuart. “Ready to submerge?”

“Ready,” Stuart answered.

“This dial is for the ballasts. Turn this way to release air, this way to pump them for buoyancy. Would you like to do the honors?” Hawthorne was giddy. Clearly he was enjoying showing off his toy. I carefully turned the dial and with a loud hiss, we slowly sank beneath the waves.

Of course I have seen the docu-vids of sea life and ocean exploration, but nothing prepared me for the sheer beauty I beheld. The early morning sun filtered through the ocean surface on beams of shimmering light; the schools of fishes darting here then there, then here again lit up like pinpoint bulbs. Once settled below, Hawthorne edged us forward and down to the depths below. My stomach caught in my throat as the darkness filled the glass before me; the once clear and shining sea life now highlighted with artificial blue haze on the screen. Something large skirted the edge of our view and momentarily filled the height of the left side – then it darted away, never to be identified.

“The sub can withstand a depth of 5,000 meters,” Hawthorne said as I fought nausea. “Any deeper and we crumple like a tin can. The sea floor here is only 1,500 meters, so no worries. It’ll take about an hour to get all the way down there, so sit back and relax. Once there, I’ll let you take the wheel and we can do a little ‘joy riding’.”

I leaned my head back in my seat and closed my eyes to settle my stomach. Soon I lost the thread of my thoughts and slipped into dream. I dreamed of birds floating through the sky, weightless. I had no body and land was nowhere to be seen – just birds and sky…

A Fiction: Part X

Chapter 2: Into the Ether

I

FORBIDDEN INFORMATION – NOT ALLOWED

So much for a web search for Elijah Hawthorne, I think as I prepare for sleep. Today was an interesting day and I am becoming more and more curious what the goal of this ‘research’ is. We’ve been heading due south for nearly two weeks without so much as a decrease in speed. The intensity of the labor I am required to do has made the time pass quickly. Today, as the men were gathered on the deck for the morning inspection, the ship was brought to a standstill. Roderick came down as he always does, but today had a dejected look I’ve not seen before.

“Gentlemen, our guests have requested you all spend the day below deck. A few of you may be asked to come up if extra hands are required at any point, but primarily you will stay below. I have drawn up a list of tasks for you to do both in teams and individually.” He sighed, “I hope this is not indicative of what we are to expect of the next few weeks. I can only imagine the state of the ship if we are not allowed access to maintain her over days or weeks. The filth…” He swept his eyes around the deck and ran his hand down the brass rail behind him, looking longingly at the sparkling sheen. “That is all. Have a safe day.” Roderick slowly turned and began to walk in the direction of the control room, his head slightly bowed as if defeated.

Before he reached the stairs, he was stopped by Nelson, who requested to have a word. They walked together out of earshot of the rest of the crew and had what appeared to be a rather animated discussion. At one point they stopped and looked back at the crew, who were now going over the task list and creating a plan for the day’s work. The schedule created, the men started filing below deck for the day below.

“Mr. Cole?” I heard Roderick call behind me. “Please return to the deck.” Hendricks shot me a look of concern as I turned to walk back. Roderick and Nelson stood together at the foot of the stairway waiting for me.

“Mr. Cole, Nelson tells me you have been getting on quite well on Angel’s Head.”

“I feel lucky to be aboard, sir. That is true. I hope I have met your expectations, sir.” Nelson nodded in approval of my tone.

“Mr. Cole, you have exceeded them. As reward for your efforts, Nelson has nominated you to stay on deck today and work with our guests. I hope this opportunity meets your approval?”

“Yes, sir. I appreciate the recognition. But surely there are men below with more experience who may be more deserving.”

“Your inexperience is part of why you have been chosen, Mr. Cole. You have not yet acquired any bad habits from what I can tell. Nelson will bring you to Dr. Sawyer to give you a once over. The physical requirements of the tasks ahead could be dangerous if you have any unforeseen physical weaknesses. A precaution we must take. Surely you understand.”

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir” With that, Roderick climbed up to the control room and went inside leaving me in the care of Nelson, who directed me to the back deck and the office of Dr. Sawyer. The office was what you would expect of a ship’s doctor: an exam table, a folded X-ray machine strapped to the wall, all the tools of the trade either screwed down or held with Velcro, presumably in case of rough seas.

Dr. Sawyer was seated at a small desk in the corner, head in hands reading through papers. He spun around as we entered and said, “What is it? What do you want?” He appeared distressed in some way and I was momentarily concerned he may become violent. Nelson wasn’t phased.

“And a ‘good morning’ to you Dr. Sawyer. Our Mr. Cole here has been selected to work with our guests in their scientific endeavors,” Nelson said calmly. It appeared he knew what to expect from the good doctor and had learned how to handle him as well. Dr. Sawyer smiled and stood, extending a hand.

“Of course, of course. Do sit down,” he said as he motioned me to the exam table. “Thank you, Nelson. I will send him after you once we have completed.” Nelson bowed his head, gave me a wink and stepped out the door.

It was a surprisingly thorough exam: lifting limits, spirometry, stress tests. He even included a psychological analysis which consisted of him saying a short statement while looking into my eyes with a magnified scope presumably to watch for pupil dilation. A few I remember:

A fish jumps to the shore and is trapped in the sun

A woman is taken against her will by three men

An astronaut discovers a leak in his helmet during a space walk

A man stands outside a burning house,his family trapped inside

That sort of thing. I was distracted throughout the exam by the odor of Dr. Sawyer. I gathered that his unkempt appearance extended beyond his clothes and shaving discipline. His sessions of bathing are few and far between. He can’t have much experience in close quarters, I thought to myself. “Have you been on many voyages, doctor?”

“This is my first,” he answered shortly. Clearly not open to further discussion. “I hereby declare you fit to serve in the name of SCIENCE!” he shouted and raised his hands above his head. I caught a fleeting hint of a smile. “Now go. GO and do not come back unless you are dying.” He attempted a faux German accent. I guess this is what Dr. Sawyer considers humor. I gathered my things, put back on my black belt and coat and headed out the door.

The research team was on the front deck when I made my way forward. Hawthorne was manning a mechanical hoist that lifted the submersible out of the water and over the deck. I could feel Roderick’s eyes from the control room as the sub was lowered to two U-shaped stands, his concern for the condition of the ship. But despite a slow swaying of the sub, Hawthorne expertly lowered it gently to rest.

The sub looks like a large, blue egg with robotic arms extending from beneath and a turbine on each side. The access hatch extends from the top of the sub and there are storage boxes inlayed along the sides. I helped secure the sub to the stands and help attach the ladder to the side so the team can go in. Hawthorne barked a few orders to his team and they quickly began loading the sub with tools and equipment. Then, to my surprise, Hawthorne walked over to me.

“I hear you are joining our team, Mr. Cole,” he said. “Welcome.”

“I’m just here to help. Anything you need, sir.” He put a hand on my shoulder.

“Nonsense,” he said. “You’re coming with us. I am the only one who can pilot the sub on the ship. The rest of my team are lacking in the instincts to learn – scientists – you know. So I have asked the captain to provide me with a member of the crew to become my backup. They named you.”

I was stunned. “I’ve never been in a submersible, sir. Are you sure I’m qualified?”

“Have you ever driven a car? It’s a talent becoming rare these days. Well, have you?”

“Yes, sir. I had a car until just a few months back.”

“Then clearly you are my man,” he said with a large grin on his face.

A Fiction: Part IX

V

At promptly 2:59am, the last rope is untied from the dock, and the Angel’s Head is away. At first we only seem to drift off and I wonder if something may be wrong. But suddenly the engines burst to life, and we quickly reach cruising speed as we draw away from land. With the exception of the captain and the executive officers in the control room, the entire population of Angel’s Head is on deck to say our last goodbyes to land for God knows how long.

I lean over the back rail by myself sipping from a bottled water I found in the small chiller in my room. I reach into my shirt pocket and pull out the earth filled cellophane I had collected on shore. Careful not to lose it in the breeze, I empty the contents into my cupped right palm. In my left, I tip my open water bottle until a thin stream pours into the earth. I stare transfixed as the earth is washed away into the endless ocean below, until finally there is nothing but cool clean water in my hand. I raise it up over my head and let it fall into my hair and down my face; a quick refreshment before the long days work ahead.

I hear footsteps approach behind me. I turn to see Hawthorne lean on the rail beside me.

“I haven’t properly introduced myself. Elijah Hawthorne is the name.” He extends his hand.

“Pleased to meet you, sir. I’m Cole, sir,” I say and shake his hand.

“No ‘sirs’, Cole. Please just call me ‘Hawthorne’. So are you ready for the long trip?” he asks.

“Not 100% sure what to expect to be frank, Mr. Hawthorne. They haven’t told me much.”

“And they won’t. My work is of the utmost… delicacy, Mr. Cole. I’m sure you understand. But I expect things will be a bit clearer as we go along. Can’t be helped.” He pats me on the back and steps away towards the front of the ship. Delicacy. A curious word, I think to myself. I walk to the front deck of the ship and spot Hendricks and soon we are down below for a long day of labor.

A Fiction: Part VIII

IV

Sitting on the end of the bed, I rub my new room key between my fingers. I still can’t believe it – full-size bed, satellite entertainment system, on-screen internet, an above water port hole and a door. My own door! The shared lavatory down the hall has five toilet stalls and eight shower stands. No waiting. If the paid help has amenities such as these, I can only imagine the luxury on the guest deck. I stretch my sore body as I recall the previous two day’s events.

Today the ship sets out, but I’ve stayed on board since Wednesday – no reason to leave. Wednesday night, after an hour to unpack my things, Nelson collected me to give me the grand tour. And grand it was: the gourmet kitchen - fully staffed and stocked, the exercise room with only the best equipment. I was introduced to the rest of the Angel’s Head crew and a few members of the scientific team at Wednesday meal time. I met three of the five team members. Mum’s the word on their mission from what I can gather. All-in-all, everyone seemed pleasant enough.

We sat down to a full formal dinner, during which the captain said a few words: “Gentlemen, in 32 hours we will set out to parts unknown on a mission of the utmost secrecy. The challenges we face are many, the questions we will answer are few. But I am assured that the goals of our guests are pure and of the best interest of man.” With this, the man introduced to me as Hawthorne raised his glass.

“Let me now introduce the newest members of the crew to you all. First, we have Mr. Steadman.” A tall, thin man with wire-rimmed glasses stood at his seat and bowed his head. “Mr. Steadman is a talented meteorologist and assures us he will keep us free from storm.” Steadman smiled, looked around the room and took his seat.

“Next, I will introduce Mr. Cole.” I held up my glass but stayed seated. “Mr. Cole comes to us from the fishing vessel San Pedro. He comes highly recommended as an honest and dependable man.” Having never mentioned my previous vessel, I was surprised by the mention. I hadn’t even filled out any paperwork. They did mention a background check on the flyer, so I guess I should’ve expected them to check me out. Guess I checked out OK.

“Lastly,” the captain said with a sigh, “let me introduce Dr. Sawyer. Having lost our previous ship’s doctor, we performed an extensive search for just the right man for our unique needs. Dr. Sawyer comes recommended by our guest Mr. Hawthorne, and I am confident he will make a great member of our crew.” Dr. Sawyer was a short, stocky man with thick dark glasses and an unkempt scruff of beard. The captain clearly didn’t approve, but seemed to tolerate the man nonetheless. My curiosity passed when the good doctor took the captain’s hand in a hearty shake. Perhaps they are friendly after all…

The meal ended soon after and with a few friendly nods from those around me, I headed off to my room for my first nights sleep aboard Angel's Head. I always dream, and that night I dreamt of the sky. I was not of body, nor was there any sign of land nor sea. Just wide open sky.

Yesterday, I was woken early by a buzz box on the wall. Nelson had told me there was one in every crewman’s quarters. It would go off at the same time for the first few weeks to synchronize the schedules of all the members of the crew. Then, once settled, the buzzer was silenced for the balance of the trip (excepting of course if someone slips out of groove, Nelson had said).

I jumped out of bed, had a quick shower (I was in first rotation. If I missed my 5 minute slot, I could not shower until after night mealtime), and put on one of the ten crisp white uniforms hanging in standing storage. I stepped out of my room and followed the yellow line painted from my door to the deck where I joined the line of crewmen standing at attention.

Roderick appeared from the control room and stepped down the stairs to the deck. He walked the length of the line, looking us up and down. “Mr. Nelson?” he said as he stood in front of me.

“Yes sir,” Nelson said as he stepped forward out of line. He kept his eyes forward.

“Have we no more black belts?”

“Sir?”

“Mr. Cole here is wearing a brown belt. Have we no more to give him?”

Without turning his gaze, Nelson said, “I was just heading into town to get him a new one, sir. The ones we have in storage are not up to your standards, sir.”

“Thank you Mr. Nelson. Please be sure to do so. And hurry up about it. We have much to do before we set out tomorrow.” Nelson stepped back into line. “Mr. Cole, you will spend the morning with Hendricks today. He will give you instructions and monitor the quality of your work. We have the highest standards on Angel’s Head Mr. Cole. Are we clear?”

“Sparkling, sir.”

Roderick smirked to himself and turned back towards the stairs. “Excellent. A safe and productive day to you all.” The group stayed in formation until Roderick climbed the stairs and closed the control room door behind him. Nelson was down the stairs back towards his room before I had the chance to breathe, presumably to leave the ship and fins an appropriate belt. I was impressed with the leadership on the ship and was feeling lucky to be part of such a crack staff.

“So you’re with me,” a gruff voice said into my ear. I turned to see a blonde haired boy of no more than twenty-five reach out his hand to shake. I took it and was taken aback by his weak grip. Hasn’t worked a hard day in his life, I thought to myself. He led me down into the third deck to a large storage area with a small, square door opened to the outside sea air. Through the door poked the end of a conveyor belt turning slowly.

“The last of the supplies are on that truck.” He pointed out the door to a box truck backed up to the other end of the conveyor. Three men stood waiting to unload. Hendricks waved and they started throwing boxes on the conveyor.

“OK, Cole. Get ready. The red marked boxes go in that corner, the blue in the freezer back there and the green over there.” I was quickly corrected of my first impressions as Hendricks started loading in. Fucking shit, this is brutal, I thought to myself.

After an hour of stacking thirty to forty pound boxes around, I was building a pretty mean sweat, so I unbuttoned my jacket and started to pull it off. “NOOOO!!!” Hendricks yelled. “If Roderick catches you out of uniform, we’ll both be tossed overboard.” Not wanting to make a bad impression my first day, I buttoned back up my jacket and kept on.

We stopped for a quick meal in the storage area for a few minutes around mid-day, then continued on well into the evening. “We’ll finish when we’re done,” Hendricks answered when I asked how long our shift was. I’m no stranger to hard work, but I could barely climb the stairs when we were finished and headed towards the evening meal.

“Welcome to Angels’ Head,” Hendricks said after we ate and walked back towards our rooms. Waiting for me at the foot of my bed was a tightly wrapped black belt with shiny brass buckle.

A Fiction: Part VII

III

Having retrieved my bag from the shit-hole room in which I will never sleep, I make my way back towards the Angel’s Head. I wonder to myself why I was so eager to join this crew. My outburst of having no ties to the land surprised even me when the words left my mouth. But ultimately they were true. I have no love for the land or those who live on it. I’m certainly more fond of this quaint seaside town than the city where I spent my youth. But nothing keeps me here.

I walk over to a small sandwich stand and purchase a hearty lunch. I carry it over to a patch of grass next to the fence beyond which is the pier where the Angel’s Head is tied. I sit and face the sea and breathe deep its air. As I eat, bicycles pass in slow procession. This small town hardly embraced motor vehicles before they were banned this close to open water. I look down and spot the rectangular cellophane from a pack of smokes. A rarity these days to be sure, smoking is a luxury only embraced by the working class, a group to which seamen belong. I pick up the cellophane, hold it open with the thumb and forefinger of my left hand, and fill it with a handful of loose earth with my right. I fold the little package and slip it into my shirt pocket. I finish my lunch, stand, close my eyes and meditate on the ground beneath me. I open my eyes to find another pair looking straight into mine.

“What the fuck?” I say, startled.

“Easy there, Mr. Cole. It’s just me.” With a brown handled paper bag hanging from his left hand, Nelson stands before me with his wide-toothed grin blazing in the sun. “I saw you on my way back home, thought I’d bring you back with me if you’re ready.”

“Nelson… Yes, I’m ready.”

I pick up the remains of my lunch and drop them in a trash can near the pier entrance and we walk. “How long have you been on Angel’s Head, Nelson?” I ask as we slowly make our way towards the pier entrance.

“I’ve been on least forty charters… last one was much like this one. I’d say all told, nearly twenty years. Better part anyway.” His eyes gloss as he peers off into the sun. A look of near sadness crosses his face.

“What do you know of this trip?” I ask.

“Oh, not too much. A young man by name of Hargrove chartered the ship for an extended voyage. Rumor has it, for a few months. He has a group of fellas with him – five or six I guess – who have set up all kinds of crazy contraptions on the Angel. Supposed to be some kind of scientists or something. With that dive cage and sub, I’d guess they were going to deep water looking for something. Ne’er know what till they find it I suppose. Real secretive about it. Even the skipper says he don’t know.

”As for you, son, I wouldn’t worry too much. You’re young and look strong. I ‘spect you’ll learn the ropes pretty quick. Once you’ve settled in, you’ll find the Angel’s as fine a place to hang your hat as any other. A real thing of beauty she is.” Nelson trails off and gets that glazed look again.

“Tell me about the captain. What’s his story?” Nelson stops and puts his hand on the fence rail, his head down as though he is overcome. He stoops and sets his bag on the ground.

“Are you OK?” I ask.

With one hand raised to his forehead, Nelson says, “Gimme a minute, boy. Just a minute. I got a chill that swept straight through me.” Then quietly to where I can barely hear, he says, “like death.”

After a few moments, Nelson is looking better and says so. I try to help him along but he shakes me off saying, “Get the fuck off me, boy! I ain’t one of your lady friends back on shore!!” Nelson smiles and we keep walking. I don’t bother correcting him that we ARE on shore. Before long we are through the pier entrance, down the pier and face-to-face with the Angel’s Head. I block the sun with my hand and marvel at her.

“Well, let’s go see your room, son,” Nelson says as we make our way up the ramp.