The Opening Nor'Wester

The Opening Nor'Wester

I wanted to know more. I wanted to learn more after spending most of my life around sailors. The oceans have scared me and brought me to the height of ecstasy and I still wanted to know more, so I started writing stories about others’ experiences as a way of life. a lot of collecting, experiencing, and combining the two. On San Sebastian Island, a lot of old sailors' tales of the sea came out of their sun-damaged mouths. My column on the lives and deaths of those who worked in the sea appeared in the Islands Chronicle, a local publication. A close friend of mine, Harrold, arranged a meeting with a turtle fisherman. So, after hiking through a swampy mosquito infested Red Mangrove forest I arrived at Redfoot Town.

Dixie, a bushy-headed man with a powerful, tall frame, a cafe au lait complexion, and squinty hazel eyes, stood in front of me. Before lighting a thick splif of Jamaican ganja from the rail of a blue dinghy, he gave me a long, thoughtful look before smiling. Dixie was very happy. The dinghy was 18 feet long, so we sat on the rail and talked for a while. I produced my tape recorder and nodded a question of acceptance toward being recorded to which Dixie smiled a yes. This section discusses his first trip and the events of his rite of passage. ‘On that first trip I adopted one of the tortles I had caught. On that first day of traveling home, he made eye contact with me. He wasn't young, but he didn't have many wrinkles. I was just relieved to not being on that cay with them mozzies and all, and sat against the cabin side with him in front. He lifted his head and stared straight at me until I moved over to his side. He seemed to smile at that and laid his head back down on the little soft-log pillow. Since my buddy Tote never smiled, I referred to him as Junior Tote because he appeared to do so constantly. ‘I used to feed Junior Tote and keep him clean, and when nobody was around I’d talk to him. I don't mean that I actually spoke to him and he responded, but I was only fourteen at the time. I had the body of a man, but I was only fourteen years old, and all I needed was someone to talk to—my mother, my big brother, Tobby, or someone else—and he seemed to want to talk to someone as well. He would smile and wink at me when he recognized me. We spent a few beautiful nights together looking at the stars and sea slipping by, heading North.

‘There was not much to do after the first few watches underway, just clearing the reefs and keeping to deep water, except eat and jaw. We ate trash and played cards and dominoes. We had a lot of shark because Doc went to town and cooked fresh tortle. We even had sufficient stocks of leftover rice. We ate well. The luxuries made a difficult life much more bearable. ‘The weather started turning about thirty-six hours out from the reefs. I remember that Jamie Perez used a machet to cut up Cop'n. I was off watch at the time, laying in my hammock strung near Junior Tote, slipping into daydreams.

‘I heard a bunch of mumbling up forward and raised up to see the problem. Uncle Tubby was supervising the machet, and they had Jamie confined to a row of dinghies. The ol’ Man was laying on some tortle being looked after by Doc and a couple of the crew. I think it was Edwin, my mommy’s first cousin, with them trying to stop the bleeding on Cop’n’s forearms.

His cheek, shoulder, and both forearms were cut. They claimed that Cop'n discovered a missing strand while Jamie Perez was long-splicing line for the tortle float. Jamie Perez just got to burning and hissing insults to the man, who in turn hit Jamie in the nose. Jamie Perez was quick with the machet though. It is a stupid man that swings on another who has a machet, Cop’n said so just after that happened.

‘It was not like Jamie Perez was tied up or anything like that. We are San Sebastian Islanders and Christians. Men who are free. We just would not think, back then, to do that to one of our’s. He just stayed below caring for the tortle and Cop’n stayed above navigating Celia. Things were different back then, and I believe we had a lot of honor. Cop'n was forced to order a reef in the main shortly after that cutting because the wind started to go in the wrong direction. Then he had to order the jib topsail down, then another reef. They claimed that the wind was pushing up the waves against the current and the confusion caused by the reefs far behind us. We charged through with only the main and inner jib after lowering the foresail and outer jib. As the saying goes, it was wet sailing on a dry boat. However, it did not end there, no. Soon, we found it tiring just to sit on that bumping, slanting deck. We were forced to remove all sails and stow them as best we could below decks. We were now just hove-to with the handkerchief of a heavy storm staysail stropped to the main mast and pulled tight amidships to keep our head slanted to some monstrous waves.

Our decks were completely submerged as a result of the bowsprit sticking into the water, and we clung to anything we could. Cop’n and Uncle Tubby were at the helm struggling to keep her at the right angles to the seas as we would go up and up into bright turquoise, then race down into a valley of dark green. We could see fish and even sharks and tortle in the waves turning over and over. My Junior Tote was gone along with his mates as the seas cleaned the deck off. A Nor’wester was what it was and it was the wrong time of year for a Nor’wester.

‘Cop’n changed course as we went down a wave and put us on a beam reach with the waves surfing us but the bowsprit was out of the water and we almost stayed still but we were pointing away from our destination and toward the reefs again.

"I must say, however, that I liked it. No, I loved it. The wind and seas flying, the taste of salt, something close to being really free, you know? With the wind on the beam you could stand up again and I remember standing there in the waist by the lee rail. That storm sail was shiny, strained, and soaked. By us, aside us, and beneath us, the seas were foaming. They had to be at least 20 feet tall, so we just went up, down, and up. The sky cleared and the rain stopped and the wind lessened a bit but Cop’n did not turn back the course at all.

‘I volunteered to take the helm, some of the boys were below and I think were scared but I was almost in heaven in that storm and wanted the feel of control the wheel gives. Throughout that day, there were always two of us aboard, and our movement was limited to ensuring that the vessel remained under control. The teeth of those reefs were still where they were and we did not want to be near them, so no more sail went up until evening fell. Cop'n turned us back toward Key West because the waves were smaller now, and he got the boys to come up on deck to set the forestaysail while keeping the storm staysail up. I joked with Tote about being in a real storm at sea because I was certain we were out of it. Uncle Tubby heard me and said we were not in the storm yet. That there was a hurricane coming up and Cop’n wanted to get us as far away from the reefs as is possible before it hits.

‘I saw him tie one axe to the foremast and two axes and a few machets to the main mast. Tote informed me that we might have to remove the masts. I had heard of that but when you are there it doesn’t make much sense and too unreal, you know? When Uncle Tubby passed I called to him and asked if we would be cutting out the masts. He said if we have to.

‘The seas pulled the sky down until you could not tell the difference. Everything was rumbled and blackened by the seas, who were in charge. As night fell, the hissing and howling actually made me scream. I was scared, I was scared. I had to pee but couldn’t move. Man, life was a screaming blur.' Dixie stopped and looked around. He gave the area a second look before turning his shaking hands down. He gave me a look, smiled, and then opened his mouth to shake his head. ‘Whoa, that was something, man. That was a true memory there, man, I was there again. They say you can’t really remember a hurt or a fear but that is definitely not true because I just went through both. I was there and a tortle log flew at me and hit me in the arm. Uncle Tubby was yelling at me. I tried to get up but was pushed down by the wind like a piece of paper as I looked around at the blackness and felt the cabin roof. Man, I just felt everything. I was clinging to the foremast while lying on the deck for no particular amount of time. I don’t remember getting to the foremast. This hand of wind just pushing me straight along the deck with my legs streaming aft. The wind then completely ceased. In the stillness, with wavelets bouncing around and Celia bouncing, it was so hot that my eyes were sweating. Then, she settled and the seas lay flat.

‘Then the breeze started up and relieved the heat a bit as we hauled and hefted up the turtle from the hold by their flippers to get the weight out. I was happy that they were returning to the ocean. Strange at that time to be remembering that I was glad that all of our work and time and pains of mosquitos, no-seeums, loneliness, homesickness was for nothing. I was really glad, man, deeply glad they were going overboard.

‘The seas started rolling with a rhythm again, they started growing tall as the breeze became a wind, became a gale. We got all the tortle out and could barely gain the deck again my arms were useless and my weight was much more then I remembered. I was freed by some hands, and as I looked up, I saw seas as high as the masts that were speeding toward us. Celia rose and rose and rose with us tilted backward. I was holding onto the foremast again and feeling like I was laying against a wall with no bottom for my feet. We started going down the other side and I wrapped my legs around the mast. I was swept by people and things that rolled, bounced, and flew by. My back was hard hit by the wind, like a fist. I have no idea if I have misplaced any of this. I was there with a wind pushing me and Celia climbing again.

The wind was roaring at us, lifting and lowering us. When I looked I could see three men at the helm but did not recognise them because of the water spread across my vision. Then, trying to clear my eyes, I saw it coming from the stern with a clear blue sky above and perfectly outlined by that blue was a white mass of wave top, curling teeth-like, moving much faster then we were and we were not rising. I lashed the loose end of a water barrel line that was tied to an eye on the cabin side around my waist and waited. I could see Cop'n, Uncle Tubby, and Jamie at the wheel, all three with their heads turned toward the sky as the water wall lifted the stern. ‘That was the picture that remains to this day in my head. I never saw them again after that. I can still see the Cop’n’s white shirt with blood stains on them, Jamie’s chequered shirt buttoned to his chin and Uncle Tubby shaking his head with a corner of a smile showing on half of his face. He may have just accepted that he was following in the footsteps of his father and his father's father. You know, I want to go that way too.' Dixie paused after saying that to turn his head and wipe a few tears away that wouldn’t stop flowing. He stood up, walked over to the bush, and cried out in pain at the memory and the loss. He let out a deep, hurtful moan with a trembling back. Dixie went over to a small shack after a while and returned with two drinks served in tall glasses with ice tinkling. He gave it to me. Strange out in the bush with ice tinkling in tall clear almost elegant glasses.

‘Yeah. Unfortunately for Celia, the seas got rough after that wave. At the main mast, someone was chopping. Another big wave came and washed over us. No wheel. Cook rum is out. When it finished there was no main mast and the rigging had crashed across the cabin caving in a long streak of torn and splintered wood. Celia had turned to have the waves on her beam because of the mast dragging still connected to her by the rigging on her port side.

‘The next big wave came and we turned sideways and leaned and she was going down. I pulled out my knife and cut the barrel loose from the cabin side while thinking clearly. We floated to the top of the seas as the barrel was almost empty. There was wreckage and the foremast top sticking up with a few men clambering on to pieces of board and anything floating. Another wave came and another and another until the big ones all stopped and I was alone, drifting with the barrel.

‘I saw a half of the cabin top and kicked my way over to it, hauling myself and the barrel up onto the top. There was still wind and a lot of sea but the big waves were only forming at one spot and Celia’s foremast with her wind pennant blowing sweetly was still sticking up there.There was nobody around that I could see but there was a dinghy upended floating a little way off. Somehow I tore off a part of the cabin top and used it as a paddle to get over to it. With the scupper that was attached to the after thwart, I raised it up and baled out most of the water. Despite the tangled fishing lines, hooks and line were still aboard. A water cask held a little water in the bottom so I felt I could make do for a while. The whole thing fell apart and mostly sank after I broke up more of the cabin top to make paddles. I went to sleep in the dinghy's bilge in the water as the wind eased. It was still night when I awoke, but the wind was light and the seas were calm. The half moon stood out like the world was a nice place and I kept trying to piece it all together but couldn’t. I awoke to heat from the day. I observed that I had numerous cuts on my body, that my left shoulder was severely injured, and that I was unable to move my arm. I baled water out of the dinghy and, knowing that Mexico would be to the west, tied pieces of wood I had saved for paddles to the fishing line to make a short mast. I then tied my shirt and pants like a sail, and the dinghy responded and moved forward. I used another piece of my cabin top wood and rigged a rudder and very slowly started reaching toward the bottom of Mexico.

"I would occasionally pause to examine the fishing line I was trolling with, where some of my blood had soaked onto a strip of my shirt. I overate a bonito that I had caught. I was eating when I vomited in the bilge. I caught a small dorado by using a portion of that fish as bait. I ate a few pieces, cut the rest into strips, and placed them on the middle thwart to dry cook like we do at home. ‘I was encouraged because I could see land or a haze that meant land. I made it to a reef and found a small cut to get the dinghy through. People were sunbathing on the shore, and some of the women wore no tops. ‘So,’ Dixie had concluded, ‘that’s the story. And, as you can see I am here to tell it.’

"You went back to turtling for years, did you not?' ‘Yeah, man. I am a Tortle Man.’

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