Cutty's Ark

7/31/2019 Cutty's Ark

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CUTTYS ARK

CHAPTER 1

THE MARINA

As the tide rolls out, Cuthbert Pye jumps off of his boat and into the

water. Harvey

watches from the dock, shaking his head. Pye founders about to gain a

foothold on the bottom of his slip.

What in the hell areyou doing, now? Harvey asks.

Checking for worms, is the strained reply, as Pye rubs his hands

down the hull feeling for the telltale holes. He splashes about like a great

turtle.

The commotion brings Zelda up on deck from out of the boat. Hands

on hips, she hollers to Pye, Lunch in five minutes, with or without you.

She looks at Harvey and shrugs.

Worm check, he says.

Oh, but of course. Zelda disappears back down to the galley and

turns off the oven, hoping the pizza doesnt turn into a brick. And on second

thought opens the oven door. A little extra heat wouldnt hurt.

Though it is officially Spring, you couldnt tell except by the calendar.

Chilly breezes still swoop down from the north and the dampness of the

water only makes the cold cling to your bones all the better. Pier after pier


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of shrink-wrapped boats wait to emerge from their white world. Anxious

boaters prowl the marina, inspecting their boats faring of the winter and

sharing tales not yet lived.

As Zelda rinses the dishes from the previous night, she glances up at

the window and screams. Bowls shatter. At water level, smushed up

against the glass is a face.

You asshole! she shrieks. Moments like this really make her wonder

why she puts up with Pye. Goddamned fool. Ought to be used to it by now,

old girl, she tells herself.

Dripping silt and slag like a creature from the deep, Pye cackles as he

clambers up onto the plywood work platform floating behind his boat, not

without major difficulty for a man nearly as round as he is tall.

Damn, but that waters cold, he says.

Harvey reaches down to give his neighbor a hand. Whatd you do

that for?

Had to check for the worms, I told you.

You know what I mean. You could give somebody a heart attack that

way. Harvey backs up on the dock and lights a cigarette.

Pye stomps the muck from his sneakers and jeans. Oh, dont worry

about her. Shes a tough one. Little splats of slime encircle him.

If you say so. Harvey takes another step away.


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Anyway, at least now I know I dont have to worry about the Ark.

Shes plenty sound. Pye shivers in the wind.

Ought to bottom coat it, you know. Can't let stuff like that go. Next

thing you know, you dont even have a hull to paint. Actually, Harvey

drawls ever so slightly, you ought to just sell the thing. Get yourself a real

boat. Fiberglass.

Plodding along the finger pier, Pye takes a surprisingly agile step up

onto Cuttys Ark and disappears down the hatchway long enough to grab an

old towel. As he comes back on deck, drying himself, he says, No way.

Theres nothing like a wooden boat. Besides, Im going to give her a good

sprucing up this year. You'll see. The smell of pizza almost lures him back

down to the galley when he sees a weather worn bay boat cruise into the

harbor.

Hey, Harv, look. Its Charlie and hes got another mate. Must be that

nephew he was talking about.

Harvey drops the hot ash of his smoke into the water and tucks the

filter into his pocket. Tell me all about it. Im going to have a little lunch.

His wiry frame disappears quickly around the far side of the boat docked

next to Pyes. The taste of homemade vegetable soup has been on the tip of

his gourmet tongue since he helped Natalie get it started yesterday before

he left for the restaurant. Every time he thinks of the Lazy Whale, hes

pleased with himself for having made such a good investment. So good, in


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fact, that he was able to buy his forty-six foot motor yacht outright. Another

good investment. Cheaper than the condo he used to keep to hang his

clothes in before he met Nat. And the marina fees are no more than

maintenance fees, the way he sees it.

Pye has already come off of the finger pier and is trotting himself along

the dock like the proprietary little watchdog he thinks himself to be. When

he reaches the fuel dock, Charlie has already tied up and is pumping diesel,

his engine chattering away all the while.

Hey, Charlie, Pye calls over the drone. Howya doin?

Without looking away from the numbers rolling on the pump, Charlie

says, You still here, Pye? Heard you done froze to death.

Nah, just the car. Damn thing wouldnt budge for a week.

So, whatd you do?

Had a party. What else could we do?

Thats just exactly what I wouldve done in that situation.

As Charlie replaces the nozzle on the pump a boy just shy of his

sixteenth birthday scuttles out of the glassed-in kiosk and comes over to the

boat.

Prompt little bugger, aint you? Charlie says, handing the young man

the money.

Counting out the bills, he says, Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

Hey, kid, whats your name?


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Jake, sir.

Lemme give you a piece of advice, Jake-sir. If you find one man in

your life thats worth being called, sir, then youre doing real good.

Especially if hes your old man. Remember that. And for Gods sake, take a

good look at this face. Dont you go calling me sir, again. Names Charlie.

Got it?

Yes, uh,Charlie. Jake cannot wait to get away from this guy.

Sounds like one of his dads poker buddies, late in the game. Hes grateful

to go hide out in the hut, as he thinks of the kiosk.

Pye cackles, and his face bunches up into a pleasantly wrinkled moon.

Kids. Pye fingers the change in his pockets and rocks back and forth,

almost in sway with the old deadrise boat below him. Say, didnt I see you

have a mate on board?

Charlie is fiddling with his umbrella rigs, securing chartreuse sassy

shad to the single hook above the treble hooks. Yeah. Got me a good one

this time. Bob is a fine mate.

A short-haired blonde wearing a green knit cap and overalls pops out

of the forward cabin with a trayful of assorted cut bait--peeler crabs, clam

snouts, and squid strips.

Pye nearly rocks himself right off of the dock. That aint nobodys

nephew, he gasps to himself. What he sees is a pixie face with big brown


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doe eyes. But with a sturdy look about her. Enchanting, hed have to say, if

asked.

This heres Bob, Charlie says, barely looking up from his task.

Damn. He runs a good-sized hook into his finger and yanks it out.

Bob smiles and waves before setting about the baiting of her set of

hooks.

Wiping the blood on his multi-stained jeans, Charlie looks up at Pye

and says, Shes a mermaid, you know? Yep. He nods. Caught her off

the coast of the Carolinas last Fall. And shes just too damn big to throw

back.

Bob has the bait set and is untying the forward line to the pier when

Charlie sees her.

Gotta go, he says, and puts the heavy diesel engines into gear from

the outside station. With that, Bob throws the line onto the pier and waves

to Pye. And theyre off in a cloud of diesel fumes and cold water spray.

Damn. Pye shakes his head, watching the pair head out of the

harbor and into the river. Hes got to give it to old Charlie, not only is she

easy to look at, but useful, too.

As Charlies boat hits the open currents of the early Spring river, it

gives a bit of a hop before settling into its heaving ply upriver.


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Pye wanders back to the Ark, nodding at the other boaters milling

about. A flash of copper catches his eye in time for him to see Zelda getting

into her car.

Hey, Pyecalls, and bounds over to where shes parked. A bit out of

breath, he says, I thought you wanted to eat lunch.

I did, she says, and turns over the ignition, tightening her lips into

thin lines so she doesnt laugh at the picture he makes standing there,

looking pouty, afraid he wont get anything to eat. She has her own forever

five-year-old.

Well, then, be that way. He stares at the ground and turns to leave.

Try looking in the oven, she says, before shutting the car door and

driving towards the exit of the parking lot.

With a light step, Pye fairly skips off to his lunch.

As Nat washes a few bowls and spoons, she asks Harvey, What was

Pye doing in the water earlier?

Harvey lowers his newspaper. Brace yourself for this one. He was

inspecting the hull for worm holes.

In mid-wipe, Nat says, Dont they usually pull the boat out of the

water to do that?

Sane people do.

Nat turns to look over her shoulder to where Harvey is sitting in the

saloon, a dozen feet from the galley. Is he sober?


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Nodding, Harvey replies gravely. Im afraid he is. Sober as a judge.

She raises her eyebrows. Hmmph. Well, what was Zel screaming

about?

Carp man.

Huh?

Harvey folds up his paper and raises the footrest of his lounger. He

starts chuckling in spite of himself. Pye shoved his face onto the window in

the galley and nearly gave her a glimpse of Eternity.

"Sheesh. I dont know how she stands it. You never can tell what hell

get up to next.

Tell me about it, Harvey grumbles.Remember Halloween? He

about scared those kids to death when he was running around with that pig

mask on, dripping ketchup and squealing that way. Hes just a laugh a

minute.

Nat flips the dishtowel over the clean dishes draining by the sink and

joins Harvey in the saloon. She stretches her long legs across the sofa.

Laughing, she says, You know you like him. Thats why we got this slip,

isnt it?

Well, yes. But it isnt the same as when I just saw him on weekends

or whenever I took out the little boat.

But he is a good neighbor. Hes always ready to lend an hand.

Especially since hes been living on his boat for years and knows all that stuff


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we didnt. At least I didnt. I thought itd be like an apartment on the

water.

Harvey gets a beer out of the refrigerator and looks to Nat, who nods.

He slowly pours a local micro-brew into two tall glasses and sets them on

their coffee table. It is, sort of. Except in an apartment you dont have to

worry about the head freezing solid.

Nat laughs, a high and musical sound.

I dont know if were cut out to be live-aboards, hon. I mean, just

about everything we own is in storage. And even though this is a good-sized

boat for trips and all, it sure does shrink during the winter. Even now, I

cant wait to get outside just for the sake of someplace larger to sit.

Well, maybe were just too far north. Ill bet itd be different down in

the Florida Keys or someplace.

Oh, thatd be different all right. Harvey sips on his beer for a minute

or two. Though it would be rather difficult to run the Lazy Whale long

distance. Tough to check out the produce, let alone the seafood from a

thousand miles away.

Nat sips at her beer. Isnt that what Lloyd is for?

He is the best manager Iveever had, but Id be a fool to turn over

the entire operation to anyone. A surefire recipe for bankruptcy.

Mmm. Nat stares out the window, watching the gray-green water

chop at the side of the boat, enjoying the slight roll. As a former world-class


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insomniac, the movement of the boat which makes so many retch is sleep

heaven for her. Until last summer, she couldnt remember the last time she

slept through the night. Her mind wanders from place to place, all warm

destinations. Hey, why couldnt you just sort of move the business?

Harvey smiles paternally. Honey, it just isn't that easy. And, after

all, it is all a matter of location.

What, people in Florida dont like steak or soft crabs?

Im sure they do. Its all very complicated.

Nat knows the conversation is over and turns her attention to her

beer. The last thing she wants is for Harvey to think shes a nag. Then he

might spend all his time at the Whale. And shes spent enough time alone to

know that a little goes a long way.

After Pye changes into dry clothes, he wolfs down his half of the pizza,

and sees from the saloon windows that someone is walking up and down the

finger piers on either side of the Ark. Curiosity propels him up to the deck.

How you doing, buddy? Pye calls, reaching into the cooler for his first

cold one of the day. He does a quick mental check to make sure that it is

indeed past noon before popping the top. He offers one to the stranger,

who declines.


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Is this your boat? the man asks. Hes wearing a captains hat, and

sporting a grayish mustache, which he's twirled up at the ends. His navy

blue windbreaker has a multicolored life ring embroidered on the left breast.

Sure is. Why? Pye sets his beer on the cooler lid and takes a step

closer to the man.

The stranger extends his hand. Allow me to introduce myself. Im

Elliot Wingate."_@

Pye steps down to the finger pier and takes Elliots hand. Cuthbert

Pye. He nearly adds, Commodore, Grace Harbor Yacht Club, but hes

wondering which other club sent over this spy.

I was wondering if youd be interested in selling your boat. You see,

Ive been looking for one just like this and having one devil of a time. Most I

find in chop piles behind sheds. This one has such potential. The color in

Elliots cheeks has risen, along with his voice. But, Im sure you are already

quite well aware of that. At any rate, Im prepared to make you a most

generous offer.

Well, Ill tell you, Elliot. Cuttys Ark just aint for sale. Pye puffs out

his chest in defense of his craft.

Elliot pulls a card from his jacket pocket along with a pen and writes a

figure on the back of it before handing it to Pye. I certainly cant blame

you. No, not one bit. I wouldnt want to part with her either, if she were

mine. Should you reconsider, you have my card. He manages a thin smile.


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Shoving the card into his back pocket, Pye says, Sure thing, Elliot.

Again, Elliot extends his hand. So nice to have made your

acquaintance, Cuthbert.

Pye flinches and forces a grin as he takes the thin hand into his own

fleshy paw. He watches as the other man clips his way along the dock and

into the parking lot.

Harvey appears on the finger pier between their two boats. Who was

that?

So startled that he nearly loses his balance, Pye catches himself and

only spills a little bit of his beer. Damn! Dont sneak up on me like that.

He goes back up on deck and Harvey follows.

Pye tips his beer and drains nearly half down his throat. Some joker

from another club. Who has the colored life ring insignia?

Harvey thinks for a minute before shrugging and helping himself to a

beer. Whatd he want?

Says he wants to buy the Ark. Right. Ill just bet you that bunch

from the Point sent him down here to make sure I didnt get her all fixed up.

Because then Old Rat Nose wouldnt win the antique boat ribbon at the Fest

like he does every year.

Harvey snorts. From what Ive seen, he wouldnt have anything to

talk about, then.


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Pye sucks down the last of his beer and pops open another, pacing on

the diminutive deck. You know what I ought to do? I ought to give him a

run for his money this year. Slap on a coat of paint topside, polish up the

stainless and redo the rails. You know, just like Id planned. Only better.

Yeah. And some new canvas. And Ill get a flag made up with the club

insignia. And--

Wouldnt ithelp if she ran?

The pumps on order. Itll be here any day now. Pye sips on his

beer and continues pacing.

Harvey sits down in one of the faded canvas deck chairs, enjoying his

beer and staring out at the water. The wide-openness of the river, and

every body of water, makes him feel anything is possible. Even for Pye to

win that ribbon.

A very tan man with a salt-and-pepper ponytail bicycles towards them,

with a fully loaded pack on his back. When he reaches the boat, he stops.

Dont you people ever go anyplace?

Well, well. If it isnt the infamous Davis Keyes, returned from the

Seven Seas, Pye sings.

Hello, Keyes. So, what was your latest port?

It mustve been one hell of a trip. Havent seen you all winter.

After I ran the Express Cruiser down to Marathon, I decided I could

go a winter without seeing snow. Just for a change. Keyes puts one foot


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on the pedal and balances himself. You know, theres an awful lot to see in

this world. And even more people to meet. He winks and rides on down

the dock to where his old wooden thirty-six foot power boat is waiting for

him.

Harvey looks at Pye. He sure is a happy sort.

Nodding, Pye says, Yeah. And I cant wait to hear about this trip. Bet

he hooked up with a couple of those blonde beach babes they have down

there.

Whos got blonde beach babes? A man in his early forties is standing

on the dock with his sixteen year-old son, both armed with fishing poles and

tackle boxes.

What do you say, Floyd? Pete? Pye tosses down a beer. Aint he

old enough to drink, yet?

Pete looks hopefully at his dad.

Grinning, Floyd says, Someone has to drive home. He takes a drink

from the can and scans the marina. I see Keyes is back. The Jolly Roger is

flying.

That was quick, Harvey says. He pedaled by not ten minutes ago.

Well, Pye says, just like him not to waste a minute.

Pete fidgets on the dock, dying to go down and see Keyes. But he

knows hes not allowed. And has no idea why.


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Bet he has some tales to tell, Floyd says. Well, better go see if

were having stripers or pizza for dinner. Thanks for the beer. He tosses

the empty back to Pye.

The duo go back up the dock and head for the second pier in, where

their runabout is tied up. Floyd throws the lines onto the pilings as Pete

fires the outboard to life and takes the helm. On their way out of the

harbor, both admire the gulls as they clip and dive to the choppy waves, fish

shining briefly in their mouths.

Look at that! Pye bounces to attention and points towards the river

where a lengthy motor yacht is approaching the marina. Brightwork gleams

sharply in the late afternoon sun.

Harvey stands to get a better look. Whew--that baby looks like a

million dollars. Literally!

Wonder what theyre doing at this marina.

As the maroon and white craft approaches, two men come out on the

deck to secure the lines. A man wearing a navy captains hat waves as they

pass and the man at the wheel expertly berths the cumbersome vessel into

a slip several piers away. Having moored, three of the men disembark and

make their way to the parking lot.

Looks like weve got a new neighbor, Harvey says.


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Be pretty tough to live on one that size, huh?

Harvey nods.

Pye says, Bet you could cross the Atlantic with her. Hey, lets go

ask.

Give the guy a break. He just got here.

We got to be neighborly, don't we? Come on. Pye hops down the

step to the finger pier and waves Harvey on, who follows, two beers in hand.

As they walk down the dock, Pye says, We never had one that big in

here before. He must be loaded. I mean filthy, stinking rich."

Yeah. That sure is some toy.

As they reach the boat, a voice booms from the deck. Ahoy! The

man with the captains hat smiles broadly and waves. His sunglasses are

neon pink mirrored wrap-around style, and below his khaki-colored shorts

are his sock-clad feet wearing sandals. His thirtieth birthday is a fresh

memory.

Pye and Harvey look at each other, both figuring his father must own

the boat.

The first to speak is, of course, Pye. Hi, Im Pye and this is Harvey.

Im Max. Welcome aboard.

Pye and Harvey board and join Max on the immaculate deck.

Is she new? Pye asks.


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She sure is, Max beams. Fresh from the factory. We picked her up

in Baltimore this morning.

Remembering the beers hes holding, Harvey offers one to Max.

Thanks, man, but Ive got a whole boatload in here. Max snickers as

he lifts the lid on the cooler which also provides generous seating for two.

Got plentymore in the fridge. He pulls out three bottles of imported beer

and offers them to his guests, who accept. Using the built-in bottle opener,

he snaps off the caps.

Man, Pye says, you sure know how to live. This is the good stuff.

Yeah, aint itgreat, Max says. Life is good. He raises his beer and

takes a long swallow.

Pye and Harvey follow suit.

Really nice boat you have here, Harvey says, setting the beers he

brought on the cooler lid.

Thanks. Really, I ought to thank my Uncle Marvin.

Oh, is this his boat? Pye asks.

Laughing, and nearly blowing suds out of his nose, Max says, Hell, no.

Hes dead. Recovering himself, he continues. Sorry about that. No, he

left me a fortune. Never even knew the tightwad had a damn penny. When

hed come over for Christmas dinner, he brought us kids oranges. Like it

was some big deal. But since I just happened to love em, those big navels


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especially, it was okay with me, and I got everybody elses. He shrugs.

And he left everything to me.

Wish I had a rich uncle, Pye says, and savors the brew which his

budget denies him.

Come on in and take a look around. This is the deluxe package. Its

even got a built-in entertainment center. And the bathrooms are really cool.

It has two.

Dont look now, Harvey says, gesturing with his head towards a bald

man with a beer belly which wiggles as he walks along the pier.

Pye takes one glance in that direction and says, For Gods sakes, lets

go below. Now.

Max lead the way to the enclosed bridge and opens the mahogany

door leading down to the spacious saloon. Its the sort of room usually

found in a hotel suite: walnut walls, glass-topped tables, plush love seats

and a sofa.

Quickly closing the curtains, Pye says, Boy, that wasa close one.

Ill say, Harvey sighs.

Whats up? Max asks.

Well, Pye shakes his head, we just saved your life. That walking

bowl of human jelly is Albert Ross. The Albatross. He knows everything

about anything and he lives to share his knowledge with us poor witless

morons.


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All you have to do is say hello to him and you can kiss the next four

hours good-bye.

Never, ever shuts up, Pye adds.

Almost breaking into a grin, Max says, So, why dont you tell him to

drop dead.

Harvey and Pye exchange weary glances.

Pye says, Doesnt work. Believe me, it doesn't work.

Max sinks into an overstuffed chair by the cabin wall. So, you guys

just hide from, whats-his-name?

Nervously, Harvey and Pye sit on the edge of the expensive sofa facing

Max. The Albatross. Yeah, pretty much.

Damn, Max says. He drains his beer and offers another to the duo,

who both smile and nod. When he opens the refrigerator, the other two see

that he wasnt kidding about having plenty of beer. There is nothing else in

the standard-sized refrigerator in the spacious galley.

Accepting the beer from Max, Pye says, So, what, do you live on

beer?

Max sits Harveys beer in front of him, on the smoked glass topped

coffee table. Harvey wishes he had a coaster. If he had a handkerchief in

his pocket hed use that. He tries to let it go.

Uh, well, Ive certainly tried. But, what are you talking about?


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Pye says, Your fridge. No room for food. Or do you just do

carryout?

Come again?

You got to eat sometime. How can you live here with no food?

Max shakes his head. Live here? No way. Ive got a condo. Who

lives on a boat? That shit went out with the hippies.

Can you dig that, Moonbeam?

Far out, man, Pye says to Harvey.

His eyebrows shooting up to his thinning hairline, Max says, You

mean you guys actually live on your boats? Like, all year? As the two nod

slowly, he says, Hey, I didnt mean anything. Its just that its so. . .uh,

unusual these days.

Pye asks, Have you spent anytime in a marina?

No, not really.

How long have you been boating?

Counting today?

So you dont even know how to run this thing?

Not yet. But, Im going to take lessons. Maxs voice rises.

Harvey offers, Maybe you should have started a little smaller.

Something this size can be a bear to dock, if you can even find a slip.


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Yeah, Max says. You know, I did have one hell of a time finding

this, um, slip. Theres plenty down the bay, but I wanted to be at the head

of the Chesapeake.

I see, Harvey says.

Standing up, Pye says, Weve got to get going. Thanks for the beer.

He drains the bottle and sets it on the coffee table.

Sure thing. Any time.

Harvey sets his empty on the carpet, next to the sofa leg. Thanks for

hiding us out. And for the beer. The Albatross should have flown away by

now if he couldnt find any fool to corner.

Pye takes a quick peek out of the curtains. Yep. The coast is clear.

Better make a run for it.

Max walks them up to the bridge and out on deck, where he waves as

they leave before going back down to his living room and cranking up the

jams.

Guess we better get used to it, Pye says. Another month and all of

the idiots will be here. But, that Max guy just takes the cake. A classic case

of more money than brains. All that boat and hes not even going to live on

it.

Harvey keeps an eye peeled for the dreaded Ross. Well, I guess he

can afford a captain and crew.

Yeah. Must be nice.


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I wouldnt mind trying it, Harvey agrees.

Whatre you talking about? Youre loaded.

Not hardly.

Oh, yeah, Pye snorts. Everybody owns a restaurant. And pays cash

for their boat. Uh-huh.

Hey, I just know a good investment when I see one.

When they reach their boats, Pye invites Harvey to join him on the Ark

for a drink.

Thanks, but Ive got to go check on Nat. Make sure the galley isnt

on fire.

There's always carryout, Pye offers.

Yeah, good idea, Harvey says. I could get one of the busboys to

run something down here. How about some crab cakes? You guys come

over around six, okay?

Sure thing. Ill bring the dessert. Zel just made a chocolate cake.

Sounds good. See you then.

Dinner rolls along like many others since Nat and Harvey came to live

at the marina. Since the last summer, its become almost a weekly event

that the four of them get together over the weekend and spend an evening

eating, drinking, and generally making merry. Laughter can be heard

drifting across the water until the earliest of hours. Sometimes they play

cards, or one of Nats innumerable board games. Mostly they just make fun


23/23

of the world and their lives and everyone elses. And when their cheeks and

ribs cant stand any more, Pye and Zelda go home to their boat and smile in

their sleep.

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Cutty's Ark