Port Starbird (Storm Ketchum Adventures) (14 page)

So, he thought while he hung on the anchor line and fiddled with his buoyancy, which was always tricky business for him at shallow depths
- twenty-eight drums. And counting perhaps, if he'd continued searching. They'd been doing this for some time then, and fortunately for everyone else it appeared they'd been consistent. They were almost all the 55-gallon kind from the looks of them, but he'd noticed several drums that were bigger; they were probably 85-gallon salvage drums, which were used for transporting leaking, damaged, or otherwise non-compliant smaller drums.

He hoped none of th
ese particular drums were leaking yet, for his own sake as well as that of the environment. He hadn't observed any severe corrosion on what he could see of the ones he'd found. The conventional drums looked like they'd all had welded tops with bungholes, and the bigger ones were open-tops sealed with ring clamps.

The five minutes passed more quickly than he'd expected. See, that wasn't so bad, he told himself. He ascended to the ladder, removed his fins, climbed aboard, and geared down
. He didn't take anywhere near as much care repacking his bag as he had with the packing earlier; his main concern now was just to make sure nothing would get damaged. He didn't have that big a buffer between now and Kari's new closing time, and the dog had been alone long enough and he wanted to get going. There were still no other boats in the immediate vicinity, which he was grateful for. He took in the ladder, hoisted the anchor, and got underway.

Though anxious to get back,
and now hungry as well, he made himself take the same care in the sound as he had going out. He hadn't had lunch nor brought one with him, and as usual post-dive he was ravenous. He ate all three of the granola bars he'd been carrying around with him all day, but still found himself wishing he'd taken time to pack something more substantial. Well, he guessed he'd get his money's worth at the restaurant later, that's all.

He thought back to the phone call he'd made this morning to HatterasMann Realty. So Ti
bbleson Construction must have been the second wife's company, and it was being run by Ingram now. He found that fact extremely interesting, as it meshed perfectly with the embryonic plan that had started forming in the back of his mind last night, and which had now moved to the forefront.

Had she been declared dead, or was she still officially missing?
He didn't know, but he suspected the former since Ingram was now at the helm. Though it might not matter if it was a family-owned business, as was likely. There must not have been a pre-nup, he thought, or if there had it had been engineered in Ingram's favor. Ditto for the first wife and the realty, he imagined, since Ingram had gotten his talons into that one, too. He wondered if Ingram knew much about construction; or much about anything else, for that matter. But the question was probably irrelevant - you didn't have to be an expert to be an owner, as you'd have your 'people' to take care of the details. And you'd have your money, of course, which may not always buy happiness but can make otherwise impossible things possible.

But regardless of whatever you did or didn't do yourself, as the owner you could be held responsible for everything that happened under your purview. Legally speaking, he knew
an absence of hands-on involvement was not always a protection against prosecution. He looked forward to checking online later to see if that applied in the case of illegal ocean dumping.

When Ketch pulled up to his dock, he finally realized how tired he was.
Diving burned a lot of calories, usually more from heat loss than exertion, and he might also be a little dehydrated from saltwater immersion. He needed more food and more water and a little rest. But he couldn't slack off yet - though he still had some time to spare before he needed to be at the Sea Dog, he had to take care of the dog, tend to his gear, and get himself cleaned up. Oh, and call Kari.

And call the Captain, which he'd better do
immediately so he wouldn't forget. It was bad enough he'd put the man off this morning - to then send him on a wild goose chase with his boat would be unconscionable. Ketch had no doubt his good friend would be steaming up the sound five minutes past the deadline otherwise. He dashed off another short and otherwise uninformative message as soon as he'd tied up.

He lugged his gear back to the house and dropped it in the driveway, then picked up the mail and trudged up the
front steps. He needed a shower, though it should be a lukewarm one at best. His tissues had today absorbed more nitrogen, an inert and ordinarily harmless gas, than normal from the air in his scuba tank due to the increased pressure at depth. The pressure started at one atmosphere at the surface, and then increased by another ATM for every thirty-three feet of depth. He thus had to breathe the air from his tank at a higher pressure in order to fill his lungs. The regulator's function was to deliver air to him at the necessary pressure.

S
ince the body doesn't metabolize nitrogen the way it does the oxygen in the air, his body was working to get rid of that excess nitrogen, now that he was back at normal air pressure - a process that had begun as soon as he'd earlier started to ascend from depth. If the nitrogen remains dissolved in the blood on its way out through the lungs, no problem - but if there's too much nitrogen and the pressure decreases too rapidly, nitrogen bubbles can form in the blood and end up lodging somewhere undesirable, resulting in symptoms that can range from fatigue, skin rash, and numbness to severe joint pain, paralysis, and death. This is the bends.

Hot water can stimulate off-gassing of residual nitrogen from the body's tissues, and
getting bent after a hot shower was not unheard of. Though unlikely given the kind of diving he'd done today, Ketch again figured why take chances, especially at his age. So no hot shower, not until tomorrow.

The dog was barking inside the house
, knowing Ketch was back. He greeted Ketch with something akin to ecstasy as soon as the door opened, almost bowling him over in the process.

"Whoa boy, settle down!" Ketch admonished. "What's the matter, were you worried about me? I'm okay, it's okay now." He knelt on the deck so the dog could hug him, and he hugged the dog back.
"You're my good boy. Come on, let's go do our chores," he said, and the dog followed him down the steps.

Ketch hosed the salt water from his gear while the dog
took care of his own set of chores, which consisted of patrolling the perimeter of the yard, tracking recent interlopers, and re-marking the territory. When he was finished with the hose, Ketch hauled the gear up to the deck and spread it all out to dry, out of the direct sun. He'd bring it inside before he left for the shop, though, dry or not; he was willing to trust those few of his neighbors who were permanent residents, but not the vacationers. He stowed the tank in the capped bed of his pickup so he wouldn't forget that later, and carried his dry bag into the house.

The dog followed him in and Ketch gave him a biscuit. He
refilled the dog's water dish, then decided it was close enough to his dinnertime and filled the food dish as well. Wouldn't want to forget that either - it was bad enough he'd soon have to leave him alone again for a while. Ketch decided he was just too busy for the both of them lately. How had that happened? Well, he guessed he knew. He resolved to take the dog for a serious hike on the beach, the kind he liked, first thing tomorrow no matter what.

What next? He could call Kari, but that
might take too much of his remaining time, so he decided to just send a message saying he'd gotten hers and would be there soon. Then it was off to the shower.

He ended up making it to the shop
a few minutes before the amended closing time. Not too shabby, he thought - and he was both clean and clean-shaven, and restored and chipper after the shower, such as it had been. And hungry, and dressed for dinner in khakis and a tasteful Hawaiian shirt - if there is such a thing, some might say, but Ketch believed there was. When he carried the tank in he saw that he was again the only customer. He hoped it hadn't been that way all day, but he suspected it might have since she'd wanted to move up the closing time; though that had been this morning.

"Hey, you!" He barely had time to set the tank down before getting caught up in a quick but
warm embrace. "Done with this, huh? I tried to call you after I got your message," she said as she carried the tank into the back. "I can't wait to get out of here. Let's make like a tree and lock up!" she laughed.

"Whatever you say. I was probably in the shower," he called. "Say, do you happen to have two filled
ones back there? The Captain has a charter on Saturday."

"No," she said
. "Believe it or not, I actually had a little run on rentals on Monday and I was off yesterday, and I only have a few filled now and they're accounted for. We can do a couple more before we go if you want."

"No, let's take off before someone else comes in,"
he replied, knowing it was the right thing to say. "I can get them anytime."

"Right, you know where I live," she laughed again.
She seemed to be relaxed and in fine spirits; the money he'd given her this morning must indeed have helped with something important. She tossed him a set of keys. "Lock the front door, set the alarm, and hit the lights. I'll get my stuff and we'll go out the back. I'll chauffeur you tonight, you're probably tired from cleanin' your boat."

"Okay, but I'll
need to get my truck later," he said. It sounded like she was still planning on staying with him; that was good. As for the boat, he wasn't ready yet to tell her that if there'd been any hull cleaning done, it had been accomplished by putting the pedal to the metal in the open ocean.

"I'm jealous
of you," she said on the way to the restaurant. "Do you know how long it's been since I went divin' anywhere just for fun, without students?"

"Well, you could take my place
on Saturday if you like, and I could cover the shop. The Captain wouldn't mind," he offered.

"Thanks, but I'd rather do it with you," she demurred. "I'd rather go divin' with you too," she added with an evil grin.

"Bada boom," he said. "You should try stand-up sometime. They'd probably let you do it at the Barefoot Station."

"Yeah right, I don't think so.
We're here!" Since the Froggy Dog was again on the north end of town, it wasn't far from the dive shop. They probably could have walked - but hey, this is America, he thought, and this is how we Americans roll.

They parked and went in. "
Can we get a drink first, before we get a table?" she asked. "I love this bar, it's gorgeous!"

"Lead the way,"
he answered. Though he was starving, a beer would help. Alcohol in excess was another decompression sickness trigger to avoid immediately after diving, but one beer now and a glass of wine at dinner and water otherwise shouldn't hurt.

As it turned out, they never left the pub area. They claimed two semi-facing seats at an end corner of the bar, ordered drinks and appetizers, and then migrated to a small table nearby
when the entrees arrived. She drank most of the bottle of wine Ketch had ordered, while he himself adhered to his two-drink limit.

"
Do you mind if we stop at the gift shop on the way out?" she asked toward the end of the meal.

"Not at all,
whatever you want to do," he said with a satisfied smile. Sated at last and slightly buzzed, he might agree to just about anything right now, he thought.

"Hey,
you know what? This was our first date!" she returned with another smile. "But it's not quite over yet." She leaned forward across the table on her elbows and feigned solemnity. "Your place or yours?" she whispered with a straight face.

Ketch laughed. This had indeed been like a date. They'd had a fine dinner, enjoyed each other's company, and talked about practically everything under the sun - except anything important, of course.

He found a tee shirt he liked at the gift shop, and bought her one as well. As they drove back to the Sea Dog to get his truck, he decided that when it was time to come clean with both Kari and the Captain, he'd do it when they were all together. Weren't they after all his two best friends in the world? And it would be easier to tell both of them at the same time. Unlike the Captain, Ketch didn't enjoy repeating his stories.

Tomorrow night
; that's when he'd do it. Meanwhile, he still had a couple of things to get out of the way between now and then - the final item from last night's list, and now an additional one if he could swing it.

~  ~  ~

Ketch woke before dawn, completely refreshed and keen to dig in on his plans for the day. This wasn't an unusual occurrence when he had something to look forward to - he'd been this way all his life, though it had almost never happened on a workday like today until after he'd retired. And surprisingly, though he'd never really enjoyed sleeping all night with anyone as a rule, not even when he'd been married, he'd been sleeping quite well these last few nights. He wondered if that would last.

Kari had also stirred
when he'd awakened, so it had been a little while longer before he'd been able to start bustling about the house, which he was now doing while she slept in - if one could call sleeping until at least daybreak 'sleeping in'. The sacrifices he had to make, he thought, though not with any degree of dissatisfaction. He knew he'd be a fool to not fully enjoy this ride while it lasted.

The dog had been taken out and fed, and there was a bagel in the toaster. He'd quickly shaved and was now multitasking during the toasting cycle, restocking his backpack and filling his canteen.
Before he did anything else today, he intended to keep his promise to the dog - and a promise he'd made to himself as well when they'd first moved here, that being to spend more time watching the sun rise and set over the sea. There were fewer excuses now not to, or should be, since he was no longer a serf to the corporate warlords; and since he lived by the ocean, failing to occasionally avail himself of the restoration and rejuvenation he derived from especially a good sunrise on the beach seemed a crime.

When they were ready to leave, Ketch went into the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed, and lightly stroked her hair one time. A sleepy smile grew on her face and her eyes half-opened.
"Are you sure you don't want to go with us?" he asked.

"No thanks," she mumbled. Drifting back to sleep, she breathed something else that Ketch didn't quite catch, '
(something) you'.

He quietly led the dog out the front door, down the steps, and into the truck. He stowed his backpack and walking stick behind the seat, then tossed his tarp hat back there as well, since it was hard to drive while wearing it.

They made their way out to Route 12 and headed south toward Canadian Hole, Ketch sharing his bagel with the dog along the way. It took only a few minutes to get to the day-use parking area on the sound, where they left the truck. He kept the dog leashed until they'd crossed the road and reached the top of the primary dune line. He paused there to release the dog onto the beach, then stretched contentedly and surveyed his surroundings as the dog began his own explorations. There were already a couple of people out fishing the surf, but the dog knew to stay away from them.

There were no beach houses here, nor much of anything else that was artificial in origin. Many would consider Ketch's view from atop the dunes a barren one, but the island was far from barren to an educated observer. What you
can perceive and appreciate often depends on how much you know, he might say to the uninitiated.

The sun was beginning to rise now. Diurnal and tidal activities were cycling, and patterns seen and unseen were subtly shifting. The parts of the island in his field of vision were taking on a mottled glow, sharp patches of light alternating with deep shadows in the hint of maritime forest he knew lay a couple of miles
or so to the south toward Buxton on Cape Hatteras.

The birds were becoming more active, and nocturnal animals would be leaving the dunes and marshes to seek shelter for the day among the stunted shrubs and trees in the thickets and forest, except for some raccoons that would stay out a while longer to gather shellfish at low tide in the marsh. Also in the marsh, periwinkles that had climbed stalks of spartina to avoid drowning at high tide would be inching their way down again. The vegetation gently bending in the light wind was adapting to the new day, greedily absorbing the sun's rays as it reverted from nighttime respiration back to photosynthesis.

The sea was not yet completely illuminated, and the light from the nascent sun made the foam on the breakers appear to stand out from the surface as if the scene had been sculpted in bas-relief. Strange creatures from depths where no sunlight penetrated that had ventured closer to the surface to feed during the night would be descending again. The screeching of the gulls and terns, mostly territorial and antagonistic in origin but musical to Ketch's ear, was building as they came out to forage along the shoreline in the ebbing tide. He watched the dog playfully chase a straggling ghost crab back into its daytime refuge at the base of the dune.

Throughout this pristine p
art of the island, a diversity of indigenous life forms existed that was remarkable in its adaptations to the extremes of temperature, salinity and moisture it had to endure. The primary dune was stabilized by a variety of pioneer plants, the slender sea oat with its long and narrow leaves curled to prevent water loss being the most common. There were also stately clumps of tall panic grass, low sea elder shrubs with their bright green succulent leaves, clumped stalks of sea rocket, so named because its flowers resembled little rockets, spreading mats of seaside evening primrose with its fuzzy leaves and yellow cuplike flowers, the fragrant croton, and the flat, radiating doily-like branches of the dune spurge.

The secondary dune they'd earlier passed, a back dune partially protected from the ravages of the sea and its salt, was able to support the beach morning glory with its pink trumpet-like flowers, the prickly sandspur, catbriar, and taller species such as the broom-like broomstraw rush, salt meadow hay, and the sword-like yucca, or Spanish
bayonet, which could grow as tall as nine feet.

Between the primary and secondary dunes, in the low area called the swale, the temperature was significantly higher during the day than on the dunes themselves because the sloping sides of the dunes reflected the heat inward. The only plants that could survive there were the beach pea and the prickly pear cactus. The cactus was low-lying and could be quite painful when stepped on or nosed at, so Ketch and the dog both avoided walking in the swale whenever possible - as they largely had today,
having opted to cross the dunes at the old haulover site.

Back across the road on the sound side he could see some of
the salt marsh that defined much of the western shore of the island. Despite the wide variations in salinity that occurred there, even the marshes contained a variety of plants. Shimmering waves of cordgrass or spartina predominated, but there'd also be the sea oxeye with its yellow sunflower-like flowers, the marsh rosemary whose tiny lavender flowers would bloom later in the summer, black needle rush, cotton bush, marsh elder, salt meadow hay, wax myrtle with its distinctive bayberry aroma, and the yellow flowers of the seaside goldenrod, among others.

The island harbored a surprising abundance of animal life as well, aside from the many cetaceans, fish, turtles, crustaceans, mollusks and so on that could be found in the waters of the ocean and the sound that together surrounded the island. Several common species of insects existed across the island, dragonflies being prevalent in the marshes. Small translucent ghost crabs, seen mostly at night, frequented the front dunes and strand line, as did the sand hopper or beach flea, a tiny shrimp-like amphipod. Some of the forest animals, such as the meadow mouse and cottontail rabbit, foraged on the dunes at night. The forest also sheltered raccoons, and the yellow rat snake and an entertaining lizard called the six-lined racerunner.

The watery marshes, aside from their important role as a nursery for juveniles of many species of shrimp and fish, supported blue crabs, fiddler crabs, marsh crabs, the diamondback terrapin, clams, oysters, mussels, and several types of snails. On the tidal flats, anaerobically pungent and sometimes broad expanses of detritus-blackened muddy sand that were exposed at the marsh's edge at low tide, could be found a variety of mollusks including scallops, clams and oysters, several kinds of shrimp, hermit crabs and blue crabs, corals, sponges, and bryozoans, and the occasional squid and horseshoe crab.

T
he beach itself had its clams, ghost crabs, mole crabs in the surf zone, and other bottom dwellers such as starfish, sand dollars, and urchins, washed in from deeper water, and seasonal visitors like the endangered loggerhead turtle, which laid its eggs above the high tide line.

And of course there were
the birds. Common terns, herring gulls, willets and sandpipers frequently scavenged along the shoreline, and Ketch had seen laughing gulls, oystercatchers, skimmers, an occasional cormorant, and several other types of tern there and toward the sound. There were sometimes brown pelicans, ibises, egrets and herons in the marshes, including the great blue heron which stood over four feet tall, and once he'd seen a seahawk dive to the sound for a fish from what must have been a height of a hundred feet.

Ketch contentedly took it all in as he descended to the beach and started hiking south along the high tide line, envisioning the island and its myriad natural inhabitants as the synchronized entity it truly was, the whole dependent on all of its parts and each part ultimately dependent on every other. If he had to believe in something, he thought, he could believe in being a part of this. As he strode on, alone in this better world except for the dog, it pleased him to imagine that it all belonged to him.

But of course, it didn't. And soon neither would even his humble abode back in town. He walked for a while longer, loathe to exit his lucid dream, then reluctantly called to the dog. They'd gone more than halfway toward Buxton Woods, the largest remaining stand of maritime forest on the Carolina coast, and he wanted to hike its trails again sometime - but not today.

He removed his canteen and
the collapsible dog dish from his backpack and gave the dog a drink, and then started retracing his steps. It was time now to begin the unavoidable devolution back to reality.

It was still early when they
arrived back at the house, early enough to catch the paperboy delivering the morning newspaper. The boy stopped and dismounted his bike when he saw the dog get out of the truck, and the dog's tail started wagging furiously.

"Jack? Hey
Jack!" the boy called. The dog glanced at Ketch for permission, then assumed he had it when he didn't hear otherwise and ran to the boy. "Hey, Mister Ketchum!"

The sun was in Ketch's eyes. He shaded them with a hand, then said, "Henry?"
What was he doing delivering newspapers? Wasn't he on vacation?

"Yes sir," Henry replied. Before Ketch could inquire, he said, "We're here for the summer, me and
Mama and my sister. My dad still has to work some, so he comes when he can."

"So you decided to get a summer job? Where are you staying?" Ketch asked.

"In a house down by the canal." Still petting the dog, Henry said, "Yeah, I want to make some extra money this summer. My allowance isn't that great. I'm savin' up for somethin'."

"Are you? Well, good for you, Henry."

Ketch already admired this boy for the way he'd handled himself on the Captain's boat earlier this week, and now he was even more impressed. Unlike many nowadays, this one wasn't wasting his time playing video games, he was respectful, and it looked like he had a good work ethic. His parents must be teaching him well.

"How old are you, Henry?" he asked.

"I just turned twelve, sir. Say, do you need your grass cut or anythin'? It's okay if you don't," the boy quickly added.

"Well, now that you mention it, it could use a trim." Another thing he was falling behind on, and he doubted he'd have time to do it himself today or tomorrow. "Do you know how to run a
power mower? Is it okay with your mother?"

"Oh sure! I've done it at home, and for a couple neighbors. She doesn't mind."

"You're sure?" Ketch pressed. "Should I talk with her about it first?"

"You can, but she'll
be okay with it. Want to use my cell?"

Ketch shook his head
. "No, that's all right. How much would you charge?"

The boy named a figure and Ketch said, "That's way too low.
If you charged twice that, you'd still be cheaper than the pros. So that's what I'll pay you." He saw the boy's face light up. "I have to go out later, but I'm not sure when. I'll leave the mower out behind the house, and I'll pay you now. You come back later and do the job, and if I'm not here leave the mower in the shade when you're done. How does that sound?"

"That sounds great! Thanks, Mister Ketchum!"

Ketch gave the boy his money and sent him on his way. Before he went inside, he got the mower out and filled its gas tank, then wheeled it around to the back of the house and parked it where it would remain shaded. Then he and the dog went into the house.

"Hey, you!" Kari called from the kitchen, where the dog immediately headed. Not only did he need another drink, the woman was cooking as well.
"How was your walk? I waited breakfast for you. Go on and wash up, and then get back in here. Everythin's just about done except the eggs, and they won't take long."

Ketch returned to find
a plate of scrambled cheese eggs, bacon, orange slices, and biscuits waiting for him. "You're going to spoil me," he said, "and probably make me fat, too."