Chapter II

By late Spring of 1980 the preparations for Jokul's first journey were nearing completion. Inspired by Michael’s enthusiasm, the entire family had already spent four months grinding, painting, sanding, and providing whatever There alongside the fence, between two large commercial fishing boats, Jokul’s rigging towered above the maze of unfinished projects in the shipyard. to embark on a summer adventure to Alaska. Michael and Anna had invested wisely over the previous five years, now owning several apartment buildings inland. The rent would cover mortgage payments with enough left over to fund a healthy retirement.

By the mid-summer of 1980 a six-month long stay in the Port Townsend shipyard was nearing its end. The boat spent the winter undergoing a major bow-to-stern overhaul in preparation for the ocean voyage ahead. As it turned out, large portions of her hull needed replating in addition to the expected list of repairs and installations. Inspired by Michael’s determination, the entire family worked together each day pausing neither for rain nor Sabbath. Michael was an expert in the delegation of tasks, providing a constant supply of projects for each member of the family, Sid included. His small hands came in handy to keep parts in place and flashlights pointed in the right direction while working in the many tight dark spaces. Sid’s two older sisters Shauna and Vicky reluctantly received the tasks of degreasing, grinding and painting each day. Michael believed that daily hard work and strict discipline kept children out of trouble.

It was about seven o’clock in the evening, tools had been put away and the four hungry workers made there way down into the cabin where dinner waited. Anna began serving the five course meal complete with fresh homemade bread she cooked in the large diesel oven. Michael eased into the folding captain’s chair across from the three children who were filed onto the outboard settee in order from smallest to tallest.

On this particular evening Michael didn’t appear to be in a very good mood, and the children knew it was a very bad idea to begin speaking before determining his disposition. Michael never chewed with his mouth closed, and when irritated, he consumed his food very quickly while breathing loudly. And, it seemed extra loud because no one else dared make a noise, except Sid.

In fact, it was only about thirty seconds before Sid broke the icy silence, “Uh, Guess what dad!” Anna gracefully lowered herself down beside Michael who was already halfway through his mountainous plate of salad. She glanced over at Michael noticing the frown line deepening in his forehead. “What’s up?” she replied nervously.

“There making a movie down town! James and I saw big cameras and famous people and trucks all the way from Hollywood. Then we met a really neat guy who said we could…” Sid swung his legs back and forth under the table thumping them twice against the front of

the settee.

Michael’s head shot up from his plate, mouth still half-full of food. “Ten minutes. No more words.“

”Anna stared blankly at the center of the table. “That sound’s like fun Sid, maybe we can talk about it later after…”

“Actually”, Michael swallowed his food. “I don’t want any words from anyone.” He softened a bit. “I just need some time to decompress before dealing with words. So every day, at seven o’clock I don’t want any words for ten minutes.”

The rumble of a large American V-8 began to vibrate the metal hull. A car door opened and the sound of Rock and Roll churned over the engine noise. Suddenly there was a loud knocking on the side of the boat. Without putting his fork down, Michael climbed up the companion way to greet the visitor. Vicky suddenly looked very nervous and turned to look through the port light.

Noticing her older sister’s excitement, Shauna tried to squeeze in beside her, “Hey is that him? Let me see!” she whispered. Both girls began to giggle while peering through the small opening. Oh my god, “He’s so cute.” Vicky said.

Standing half way up the ladder alongside the boat stood a Hispanic boy who looked not quite sixteen years old. His hair was long and he had the proud beginnings of a goatee. Behind him was a brown El Camino with a primer grey driver-side door. Rod Stewart was singing “Didn’t I” through home stereo speakers loosely installed in the bed. “Mr. Kraus? I was wondering if Vicky was here.” He spoke in obviously artificial tone, making a rather bad effort to seem respectable.

“What’s your name?” Michael asked.

“Jo” The boy replied

“Well Jo, we’re eating and trying to have a little family time right now, but I’ll let her know you stopped by.” Michael had already begun to descend back into the cabin before finishing his sentence.

“Um Excuse me… Mr. Krause?”

Michael popped his head back up.

“Can I see her later maybe?” He inquired while wiping away the hair from in front of his eyes.

Michael shot a pained look down at Jo’s dilapidated car. “Well Jo, maybe Vicky hasn’t told you about her commitment to Jesus Christ, but I’m sure she doesn’t want to listen to music with that kind of message.” He said very seriously while pointing his fork toward the El Camino. “Oh.” Jo tilted his head, looking confused. “Well that’s just the radio.”

The El Camino began to sputter.

“Oh shit!” Jo leapt from the ladder, raced to the driver’s seat and began to rev the engine up. “The alternator’s goin’ out!” He shouted. “Got to take her home before the battery dies!” he slammed the door and rolled out of sight. “And there’s some shit she ain’t told you either.” he mumbled to himself.

In disbelief, Michael’s fork hand dropped to his side and he stomped back down into the main salon. Vicky and Shauna were staring straight ahead with expressionless faces. Sid, on the other hand, was smiling widely. “Vicky’s got a boyfriend!” he began to sing.

“No she doesn’t.” Michael pointed the fork toward the brass ship’s clock. “And it hasn’t been ten minutes. Four words, four swats.”

Sid began to cry, “But dad I forgot!”

“That’ll be four more to help you remember.”

Michael sat back down. “Vicky, go get your time charts. I want to see the last week.”

Without speaking, Vicky slid out of her seat and made her way to the front of the boat. She returned carrying a small stack of papers with both hands. Michael slid his finger down the left-hand column of the top page. It was marked in fifteen-minute increments with lines extending to the right where one could write in what was being done at each time. After leafing through all seven pages, he asked. “So where did you find the spare time to hang out with Jo? I don’t see spending time with Jo anywhere in here.” He glanced over at Anna. “I don’t want that kid around the girls. He looks like a lot of trouble.”

“Oh you don’t know him, he’s a sweet kid.” Anna lifted the last of the dishes from the table. “He already has a job too, over at Safeway.”

“How do you know so much about him?”

“He stopped by and left us some donuts the other day. It was really nice.”

“Look Anna, I don’t my words being negated by you.” He set the papers back down on the table. “There has to be someone running the show here. Do you want to take over? I know what guys that age have on their mind. I was one.”

“Was?” Anna said just over her breath. “What’s your point?” Her face showed a tinge of hurt as she began to fill the sink with water.

Sid was having a hard time holding back his pleasure. He knew this was becoming the perfect distraction to save him from getting swats after dinner. He checked the clock. It was safe. “Hey dad, can we work on the model rocket?”

Michael’s face brightened. “Go get the stuff buddy!”

By nine O’clock the next morning work began as usual. The children were rolling a thick layer black tri-butyl, tin-based anti-fouling paint over the bottom. The stuff was highly toxic and no longer easily purchased. Earlier that week Michael came across a screaming deal at the local military surplus store and brought home two five-gallon drums of the stuff. “Try not to get this on your hands.” He instructed the children while laying out the supplies.

Shauna was feeling a bit dizzy from the fumes as she stirred the black goop with a stick. She stood up to get a breath of fresh air. Taking a couple steps backward she bumped into a figure who had been watching the operation with a concerned look on his face.

“Pardon me.” The man said, “I was wondering if your father is going to be around today.” He was tall and thin, wearing cut-off jeans and a grateful dead T-shirt. Immediately below his baseball cap were two kind eyes. “You guys should really be wearing full-face respirators and protective clothing with that stuff.” He said as he began to walk around toward the side of the boat where Vicky was working. “Isn’t this the paint the Navy uses for submarines?”

“I don’t know” Vicky replied through her paint mask. “It sure stinks though!”

Shauna ran up the ladder and yelled down into the cabin. “Hey Dad! There’s someone out here who wants to see you.”

Sid was using a brush to get the areas where the roller wouldn’t cover. Seeing an opportunity for a break, he walked out from under the prop shaft. “What’s your name?” He asked the man.

“My name is Albert.” He kneeled down, smiling with an outstretched hand.

“Hello, Hello!” Came a shout from up above. Michael leaned down over the rail with a welding hood tilted up on his forehead, holding a wire brush in his gloved hands.

“Hey there sir, are you the captain of the boat?”

“That would be me.” Michael reported.

“I do custom lettering and decorative paint work for boats here in the yard. Are you looking to get the name painted back on before going back in the water?” Albert asked.

“How much do you charge?”

“Well of course it depends on what you want. But I’m usually half the price of the regular painting outfits, and I’d be happy to show you some of my work when you have time.”

“Well that sounds pretty good. Maybe next Monday you can stop by again and we can talk about it? What’s your name?”

Sid spoke up. “His name is Albert Dad, and he says that our paint is dangerous submarine paint! We have to go back to the Army store and get gasmasks for everyone!”

Albert laughed. “O.K. I’ll see you on Monday. How about ten o’clock?”

“Sounds good.”

Just as Michael disappeared from view, a plump bearded man wearing carpenter’s overalls walked up along side Albert.

“Hey Walter.” Albert greeted the man with a handshake.

“She sure does look different doesn’t she?” Walter spoke with a gruff voice.

“Well the boat’s lucky to have three first-rate shipwrights working on her.” Albert winked at Sid.

“Well I ain’t doing anything else until I get a gasmask.” He came alongside the two men, perfectly imitating their hands-on-hips, expert-analyzer stance.

“This is the Halamede right?” Walter asked quietly turning toward Albert.

“I’m pretty sure. It’s got to be.” Albert put his hand up to block the sun as he peered into the rigging. “But I remember her being a ketch rig. This is a cutter.”

“I don’t know, but it’s got to be her. Check out the weird access chamber above the prop.” Walter walked in beside the rudder skeg pointing up to a manhole-sized square recess extending several feet into the hull and covered with a windowed plate. “The last time I saw this boat, she was up for auction. She sat out in the long term storage area for a whole year. I heard someone bought her for just a few thousand bucks last fall. I know she still didn’t have her rig put back on when she sold. Maybe they decided a cutter would be better idea.” Walter began to walk away and Albert followed looking a little confused.

“That’s really surprising. That young couple put so much work into her. I thought they were off to the South Pacific.”

“You mean those inexperienced kids from Iceland who wanted to leave mid-winter with barely enough money to pay the yard bill?” Walter’s sarcasm was transparent. “Didn’t you hear what happened to those guys?”

“No, not at all. The last time I saw them, I offered to put the new name on the stern.”

“Jokul?”

“Yeah, something like that. Anyway, I caught guy in a pretty bad mood. He said he was just going to spray paint it on with some stencils.”

“He was a real type-A cheapskate piece of work. Some guys are willing to reinvent the wheel at every turn just to save a buck. It’s a real problem with these engineer-type mentalities; always over thinking. They can’t just assume there’s a reason things are done a certain way or trust that anyone else knows what the hell…”

“So what happened?” Albert interrupted.

“Well no one knows exactly, but the Coast Guard found the boat drifting dismasted about a hundred miles off Tatoosh Point. The woman was beat up really bad. They found her holed up in the head and completely freaked out. It took quite a show to pry her out. Maybe she was just hiding from the husband. Even when they finally did get her out on the cutter she wouldn't talk to anyone though. They arrested the man, and last I heard, deported him back to Iceland. A real nutcase I guess.”

“Jesus, I didn’t hear anything about that.” Albert responded. "It's pretty bad luck; changing the name of boat."

“No, it’s not bad luck. It’s disrespectful, and it’s the same kind of disrespect that gets people in trouble out there.” Walter corrected thoughtfully.

Two more weeks passed. By the morning of August 14^th Jokul, renamed “Day Star” after the family's home-town church, began it’s descent into the lifting bay. Sid stood entranced by the complex of pulleys, cables, and straps working together to gently maneuver the twenty-ton hulk into position. As the hull slid deeper into the water he began to wonder if too much weight had been added during the six-month stay in the yard. Remembering the gigantic sheets of steel that had been welded into place and thousands of pounds of equipment that had been loaded onboard, he thought, “What if it just keeps going down?” Luckily, he carried his most prized possessions with him in his trousers: His pocket knife, a Darth Vader action figure, and a flashing UFO yo-yo.

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