8 - Time To Prepare

The Sound Is The Sailor’s Laughter

A Novel

For Andrew

e-book: “The Sound Is The Sailor’s Laughter”

The Sound Is The Sailor’s Laughter By Corinne Devin Sullivan

ISBN 979-8-9909558-0-6

© Corinne Devin Sullivan. 2024. All rights reserved.

Publication made by: CORINNE DEVIN SULLIVAN BOOKS

Published in the United States of America, in November of 2024.

Chapter 8: time to prepare

The next letter was sent in May of 2005…

Floyd, 

Truly I do appreciate your having sent me the attachments from your big release! The publicity is very happening!  

I was sincerely touched by what the article wrote about all of us. After our show was cancelled, I didn’t know what people really thought. I noticed the reporter included her “heart-to-hearts” about our past friendship and my employment at your production office. She was terrible. Can you tell me anything? 

I don’t want to be a menace to you, my wonderful pal, but I am still hoping to be paid something, you know, so far as residuals go. If you get any word on that I would like to hear!

If I sound tortured it’s because the really good has mixed into the really bad, again. If I keep telling people “like it is” I am probably never going to be hired again. No one will want to help me at all. Yet, I have to say what I see or else I’m nothing anyone can ever trust! I end up being the odd one, I know. It’s been that way all my life. After last year, it has gotten even worse.

I’m including every remainder of the writings by my Dad. I wish I had more time between auditions, writing, a couple of side jobs and working part-time in the studio to read everything he’s been working on. Let me know on your end, okay?

I found your invitation to be delightful. So much meaningful placement. The colors are perfect! I accepted it on-line so I guess I am seeing you at the end of the year, at your wife’s big art event in southern California. Looking forward to it, and plus I made a point to tell your wife I’ll be her friend forever if she helps you and I become friends once again. 

Your bitter and broke artistic geek, 

Fiona

What happened to be enclosed with the aforementioned letter was this here print-out…

Dad, You can write any story you want about the ocean here… CLICK “SAVE” PLEASE!!!

…as well as this here documentations and such:

Hey, kiddo. Scoobadoo to you, too! Love, Meade.

Stories from my time at sea. Written for wonderful Fiona, my daughter. (header)

Friday continued talking to me about his work to man a crew for Sassy when I was trying to get out the door in order to see her in real-life. I had to go through the ship level by level before volunteering anymore souls to her demise.

I had my keys in my hand and I was walking over to my truck. Friday went on about needing to get a first mate and an adjunct for Captain White before the Coast Guard would dare give Sassy any authorization to depart. 

Friday expected me to supply him with all the people I knew in Seattle who might be looking for work. I denied knowing any of them and got off the phone. 

The new owner had paid to bring Sassy from San Francisco up to a shipyard just inside the Port of Tacoma. From what I was told, it sounded like moving the vessel went decently. I imagined the ship was fairly well intact.   

 The work orders for Sassy‘s on-board preparations were sort of sketched out. They had been faxed from the owner’s office in India to Ted Friday who faxed them to me.  They were left on the seat of my truck. I sat behind the steering wheel, and I read through everything there. The orders were vague. I got the idea no one knew what was happening with the ship’s condition and yet they were pushing on us departing Seattle as quickly as possible. 

I set the work orders down. I drove over to the dock. Rock and roll was on the radio the entire time. I played it too loud. I think I almost got pulled over.

My mind was on the Engine Room. I had Kingston Riggs for my First Engineer. I needed two more people. 

This trip would be a perfect time for you to learn from me about ships and the ocean and the history of the merchant marines, but Aoife told me fifty times never to ask you about sailing on Sassy again.  

“She wasn’t ever asking on her own to work at sea, was she?” Aoife spit at me over the phone, that night. I made a point not to tell Aoife anything about the plans I had for my success, these days.

Aoife drives every point home without remorse. 

She ended off our argument with, “Fiona never asked to be a sailor, Meade—not even after she graduated that Able-Bodied Sailor class you made her take.”

“Able-Bodied Seaman, Aoife. It’s a precise thing. Or, it’s an AB. That’s it.” 

I also told Aoife, “You want people to know you understand what you’re talking about.”

Aoife did not answer. She just kept talking about her prior subject. 

She said, “You do not know your own daughter that well. Her brothers and I know her very, very well. She is not cut out for your lifestyle. You can tell her I told you so.”

So, that was what your mother said to me, Fiona. Still, I had a gut feeling that, somewhere inside, you were a merchant marine, just like your dad. 

I played some music you gave me at Christmas this past year. In it, Neal Diamond was singing his song about Cracklin’ Rosie. 

I thought about the conversation we all had last Christmas. You were tearing up, but the twins didn’t mean to make you cry. They played a mean trick on themselves as well as you, by stealing Friendly Floyd in LA away from you. Just let it rest. Better to stay friends than to go to war over something meaningless.

If you and I worked together on a sea voyage, eventually we could build our friendship up again so that it would be strong like it was when you were a little girl, and you were wholesome then. That’s been my plan for us, for years. I think you need me to help you regain some composure. A ship environment offers clean space for that. You and I could do a lot of damage to your woes. Elbow grease and swabbing the deck can work a wonder in someone’s life. 

 Driving across the docks that day, I passed by an outfit who had obtained a different one of the old WW2 refits. It had been kept up nicely. Their ship was in much higher demand as it was still functioning. I watched as they loaded up gear for what appeared to be a fishing expedition. 

Sassy was prominently situated next door. She was a real mess staring me in the face. Standing outside my truck and looking at that ship anchored there, inside the nice harbor, sort of gave me an eerie feeling. 

Sassy was built during World War II. She was one of a whole fleet. I called them Knot Ships because once they were refit for fishing, each and every one of her kind of vessel had to carry the word “Knot” in its title, such as the “Yardarm Knot” which was another vessel of Sassy’s kind—but the story of that ship was another tale meant for another time.

Sassy was christened the U.S.S. “something or another”. She had been employed during the Korean War carrying back frozen corpses to the United States. Sometime in the Sixties, all of these particular vessels were decommissioned. 

An outfit called Aleutian Fisheries bought twenty of the Knot ships. Next, that company went broke. It happened after they spent a huge amount of money refitting all the ships. The closing of that company without any profit made in the long run was not a big surprise. Starting their own companies in shipping, small businessmen can lose their shirts easily and do, all the time. The shipping industry is tough even for the good companies. 

Throughout my career, I would see Sassy‘s kind around in various ports, all during my travels as a Merchant Marine. 

Ships sometimes get left in yards. Abandoned ships sometimes rot. Sassy had been resting in an unknown port for some unknown number of years. She was covered with junk, rust, old lines, clothing, wooden planks over trap doors, and other things I cannot describe.

The forward, lowest hold was filled with two-stroke diesel engines and an array of fish processors. They were called “dirty” engines because they generated too much exhaust. These things were all going to be outlawed in the United States for what they did to the environment. 

The remainder of her abandoned shell was completely empty of the truth of her past. There was no telling who had been going through those holds. Her legend was creepy enough.  

“This ship is haunted! It is haunted, speaks me the truth!” And then there was loud laughter everywhere. 

I turned to look at who had made the noise. It was Baxter. He was standing next to me on the edge of the pier. I hadn’t seen him in a year or three.

I asked him, “How the hell are you doing there, buddy?”

We shook hands. Baxter had been waiting for me in the main office. 

Baxter knew I was supposed to show up that day. He talked about how he had watched Sassy get delivered to the yard that morning. He said he just happened to visit an old buddy, an Oiler, who had sailed to the Orient yesterday. While he had been in the area, he had heard stories about Sassy. However, Baxter’s alibi was a little strained.

Baxter had a lot to say about Sassy’s appearance. He was certain there was a dead captain living somewhere in the Captain’s Quarters. 

He told me, “It was just a thought I had when I saw the dockside pilot pulling her up. She looks light and heavy at the same time. Fun times, Chief.”

It was a gorgeous day in Seattle. Baxter gave me a nudge with his elbow, and asked the next thing without thinking: “Need a First for your big adventure?”

“Is that what you qualify for now, kid?” I asked him, looking at him closely. His skin tone was bright. He was smiling. He seemed stronger than the last time. 

Baxter laughed aloud. “Yep, sure. That’s right. I do.”

I told him I already had a First, but he could take on Second Engineer. I was happy to call him Second because I genuinely appreciated his attitude. He was hired on the spot.  

“The ship’s condition is substandard,” I informed him. 

“Yea. It’s kind of a piece of crap, wouldn’t you say, Chief?” Baxter was smiling the entire time, and I couldn’t pull that thing off his face if I ever tried to do it.

“Maybe the guys from the company who moved her figured they could go aboard and grab hold of anything they wanted.” 

He could see what I saw. Something had been misplaced down below. It was what sailors called a hunch.

The word Sassy was block-lettered. Paint and rust were just peeling off. Must have been layers and layers slapped upon her hull.

He asked me, “Have you been around inside the bridge, or the rooms yet?”

“Not one time,” I replied. “Let’s check her out.”

I got my thermos into my hands from the truck where I had left it. It was filled with coffee. 

Baxter and I ventured into Sassy for her first official walk-through in, let’s just say, a long while. Sassy had been out of type for years. She had this single final last voyage to make. Would she be able to pull through? Baxter and I had a hard time telling each other she could be fixed up enough. She was missing a lot of parts.

The Main Engine looked decent enough though it needed some work. All the generators had been taken out of her but for a single one. 

The ship was not huge, but she was big enough, with three decks above the main and three decks below. She had three holds. She was three hundred and thirty-eight feet long and rested eighteen feet deep into the water. Her shallow draft made her ideal for island hopping that took place in the Pacific. 

Sassy would be unusually light on our voyage. With the exception of the fish processors and the extra diesel engines, she was gutted of everything but the barest essentials. I checked all the holds for any parts we might need, plus spares. I marked everything down. 

Baxter complained about creepy feelings when we peered in every hold with can lights we held up, or by flashlight. I had to agree. It felt like fallen soldiers were waiting to walk over and stare us in the eye. I expected Baxter to take off and forgo the voyage. I wouldn’t be able to change my mind, but Baxter still could. I was hoping he would say it wasn’t worth the risk. 

In the end, neither Baxter nor I expressed any discontent for the job ahead which is the mainstay of living a life at sea. 

We started to understand what a task it was going to be. Getting Sassy from the Puget Sound to India’s western coastline would be risky. It might turn grisly in a minute what with water seepage, electrical failure or full-on black-out of every system the ship used to navigate. 

None of the owners were forthcoming to give promises of anything successful in dealing with the ship. Ted Friday couldn’t even guarantee insurance for the trip. The only guarantee we had was that Sassy would be equipped with life rafts and other emergency equipment. We had to get the Coast Guard’s permission before departing. It would be an enormous inspection to get through.

When we walked into the Engine Room and saw stacks of old turpentine containers left behind, Baxter laughed out loud. 

Baxter asked, “Can you even say no at this stage of things, Chief?”

“I can walk away any time I need to. But I don’t intend to change a thing. A promise kept—that sort of thing.”

He looked at me. “I bet you never walked off from anything. Am I right?

I looked at Baxter. He might have been about thirty. He had short hair. He was black and tall. He walked like a fighter, just like I used to. I couldn’t have asked for a better sidekick. I had to smile. The kid smiled back in full gusto. 

I told him, “I wouldn’t have taken the job from the outset otherwise than that I was trying to make my point of youth being a mindset.”

He laughed and responded, “I am ruined, man! Okay, let’s do it. Together we shall sail.” 

Baxter sang a song he made up while I was standing there. 

We went into the crews quarters. Baxter shook his head. He had strange images of nefarious goings-on running through the picture shows inside his head. He had to take a breather, for the moment. 

We walked along the pier. 

I asked him, “We have our work cut out for us, don’t we, kid? Let’s get this thing out of our hometown, lay her to final sleep. What do you say?”

“Please!” Baxter said. “This is it. This is the thing we are going to do. This is our moment.”

I said, “Let’s see if the coast guard even will give us a leave from Seattle. I don’t know what they will tell us.”

We continued to walk.

I had to ask him, “Can you give me your credentials. Not today. But when I need to put things together?”

Baxter seemed to withdraw. He was thinking before he gave an answer. 

I asked, “You need to tell me something?”

He said, “It’s nothing, Chief. I have everything coming to me, but I’m supposed to pick them up before I do it. There’s a wait. I guess, for right now, I am certified mainly to wipe. That’s all.” 

Baxter was mighty disappointed.

“It will do,” I said. “All of us are going to see on this shell how the mind works under pressure. Either that, or we can each earn award as top swimmer in the merchant marines. One thing I got to ask...”

He raised his eyebrows. The man was on guard. 

I smiled when I said, “Did you know my ex-wife, Aoife? She’s old friends with that son-of-a-gun in the main office. Even though we are friends again, it doesn’t clearly make sense how you showed up here today. Is there someone from the Port Engineer’s who  drummed you up for Aoife’s purposes? She has spied on me before.”

Baxter was straight-faced a minute. I kept my gaze level. 

I said, “I hate to ask.”

Then he laughed.

Baxter said, “Chief, tell me what you do. You spell it all out like that, and it’s like you’re reading a script I got written outside on my forehead, or something like that. I can’t lie. I did meet your very morbid ex-lady. Stacy, in the office—not your friend—handed me the phone to talk to her. So, I don’t know what anyone else has going on against you, but I guess you have been telling her how you are bringing your daughter with you. And she wants to know the trip will be safe. That’s all Aoife asked me to help her with.”

I nodded. I was more than a little tired of the games Aoife played. 

I said, “My daughter is not going on this. Aoife has a bad habit of being a bit intrusive.”

To let him know that he and I were still good friends, I said, “Just don’t let me catch you watching me in my room, or something strange.”

Baxter couldn’t answer. He was laughing. 

I told him,  “See you at 9am. Show up on time, if you can make it. There’s going to be a lot of work before the Coast Guard will let us take Sassy out of Seattle.”

WRITTEN AND PUBLISHED BY CORINNE DEVIN SULLIVAN

ISBN 979-8-9909558-0-6 e-book: “The Sound Is The Sailor’s Laughter”

© Corinne Devin Sullivan. 2024. All rights reserved.

Publication made by: CORINNE DEVIN SULLIVAN BOOKS “The Sound Is The Sailor’s Laughter” Published in the United States of America 2024. First Final EBook. Design by C.D.S. Website: www.corinnedevinsullivan.com