Monday, June 1, 2009

A Captain's First Command - A Vessel's First Voyage

Have you ever made a boat? Not a big ocean carrier, or even a speed boat for skimming across local lakes. Just a small, wooden boat. Ever made one? I have.

Back more than forty years ago I joined up with a bunch of neighbors, about my age, and we built ourselves a boat. The inspiration came from a piece of discarded lumber we found in the wood pile outside my neighbor's cabinet shop - which used to be a barn. It was a door or window cutout with a pointed top. It made us think of a boat and so we began collecting pieces from the wood pile and constructing our vessel.

Dale was the eldest and he took charge. Chris was his cousin, and it was his dad's cabinet shop, so he was second in the command. The rest of us were flunkies. I was good at that. Generally, I knew better what to do than Dale or Chris, but nobody ever did what I said. Guess I lacked the charisma of a natural leader. Wasn't bossy enough.

We spent the better part of a morning picking out the right pieces, sawing them to size, and then nailing them together to make the boat's sides. I had my doubts about the vessel, but it was starting to look kind of cool. Chris, being the son of a cabinet maker, understood about angles and such. In fact, Chris now owns his own business. It isn't faring well in this current economic climate, but Chris knows his stuff. Knew a lot then, too.

What was not known (by Dale and Chris) was that in order to keep a vessel afloat, one must either use materials that are so light they cannot sink, or one must seal the cracks to prevent water from displacing the air inside the boat. I had an idea about this, but no one was going to listen to me.

We finished the boat and carried it across the street to the swamp. It took all eight of us to carry it because not only was it large, but it weighed more than any two of us. We tossed it into the water and, sure enough, it was floating. But now it needed a trial run. Who was going to get in and push out from shore?

For the life of me I don't know why, but yours truly volunteered. We had no oars so I used a long pole. I pushed off, standing in the boat's mid-section. The others cheered as I moved from the shallow twelve inch depths to the more formidable deeps of three feet.

Frankly, I was amazed. I had gone more than ten feet out from shore and there wasn't a hint of a leak. We had nailed those boards together a lot tighter than I thought. Maybe Dale and Chris were right after all. This was going to work. I shifted my weight to better push out to even deeper water. (I could have walked across that swamp and not had the water come up to my chin - were it not for the quicksand at the bottom.) Then it began.

The water had at last found its way into the boat. At first, just from one edge, but soon it was coming from every direction at once. And once begun, it rapidly increased in speed. I was sinking.

Now for some reason, standing in the middle of a makeshift boat sinking in three feet of water concerned me, while jumping out and wading through the same depths did not. Tossing the pole aside I jumped out and splashed back to shore. I was laughing. The others were not. What did I go and leave the boat for? Now I had to go back and get it. I told them what they could do with that idea. They threatened me with violence but I dared them to try it. I had no fear of taking them all on at once. Hmm. Apparently I had been braver in my youth. Wouldn't even think of making that challenge now.

I wound up walking off. The others threw various taunts after me, but those did not concern me. I came home, found my baseball bat and a small ball and went to the back yard where I played baseball alone until evening.

To my knowledge the boat was never raised. Neither did any divers seek out its remains to explore. It just sat there on the bottom of the swamp, rotting away. After forty years I expect there's nothing left of it but a memory. And I may be the only one who remembers it.

Such was the fate of my first command.

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