Two Fat Guys in a Boat

The Hunter Shannon was taking on water, and we were two miles from shore. I thought we were goners.

Dad was never one to pay attention to details. He and his friend Calvin were drunk or high most of the time. Well, Dad was always drunk. Cal was usually high. It was funny sometimes, but usually it was sad. Dad had me selling coke and cooking meth by the time I was ten years old. The day that the Hunter Shannon sank around us, I was fifteen, and it was the first legit fishing job we'd been hired for in six months. I reminded Dad about the hole in the hold, but he ignored me and set sail for the fishing grounds anyway. "Just put a cork in the hole, boy," he said, which I did, dubious of the solution to be effective on the ocean waves we would encounter.

My buddy Steve was with us, and I told him about the hole and the cork. "With those two fat guys on board, that cork will never hold, and by the time we get halfway to shore, we'll be half-sunk. You wait and see," I said. Steve shook his head and laughed.

By midday, we'd hauled enough fish to earn our wages, so we asked Dad to turn the boat for home. To my surprise, he agreed, but that's also when we noticed that the hold was leaking. "Go down and see if that cork is still in the hole, boy," he said to me. "Be quick about it."

I did as I was told, and I was dismayed to find that the cork was nowhere to be seen. I grabbed a fish and stuffed it into the hole. That solved the primary leak, but not for long. The pressure dissolved the fish in minutes, and I had to shove more of the dead creatures into the hole to plug it again. "DAD!" I hollered. "The cork is gone, and all I have for plugging the hole is our catch! Make for shore as quick as you can!"

Moments later, Dad's undershirt fell into the mirky mush at my feet. "Shove that in the hole, boy, then get back up here and start bailing us out!" I followed his orders and got topside as fast as I could. Steve was already scooping out the stern as quickly as his bucket allowed, so I went forward to work there. Calvin sat at the bow and watched. He was too large to be helpful.

While Steve and I labored to keep the Hunter Shannon afloat, I figured that if push came to shove, we could toss Cal into the hold and plug the hole with him. He wouldn't get sucked through the little opening, and he'd be doing more good than he was sitting at the bow. We could toss Dad down there, but someone had to steer the boat, and at least he knew how to do that. Both men were bigger than fat, though, and if either stood up they'd jeopardize our stability.

I assumed they knew that, but you know what happens when you assume, right? So it was, when we were a quarter mile from shore, that Cal needed to relieve himself, that he began to stand up to pee over the starboard bow, and the boat rocked dangerously. Three of us cried out, "Sit down, ya old fart!"

Cal promptly sat down with such force that the bow cracked below the waterline, and the Hunter Shannon took on water faster than we could bail it out. "Swim to shore, boy!" Dad called out. "Swim to shore and get some help. We'll stay here and protect the catch."

I jumped overboard and began swimming. I knew the urgency but decided against overdoing it. The only one I was worried about was Steve, and a few moments after I jumped ship, as it were, so did he. We got to shore about the same time. After climbing onto the dock looking like a pair of drowned rats, onlookers asked if we needed help. We explained our situation, and kindly strangers drove us in their boat to see how Dad and Cal were faring.

There wasn't much visible of the Hunter Shannon when we arrived: Just the top of the cabin, with two fat men floating nearby. We hauled them aboard with the day's catch and returned to the docks. Dad paid the strangers for their time and cashed in our day's work. When we were finally on our way home, I lit into him.

"I told you there was a leak in the boat, you friggin' idiot! When are you gonna sober up and listen to me? You coulda killed us all! You and your drunken stupidity!"

"Now, listen here, boy," he replied calmly. "You were never in any danger. I got you off that boat alive, didn't I? You're not the one that had to stay on that vessel with Calvin! What a whiner! That feller kept sayin' he had to pee. He coulda peed there in the water and nobody'd been the wiser, but nooooo. He just had to whine about it."

"All right, you drunken skunk. Next time there's a hole in the boat, we'll plug it with his p*cker. That way it'll stay plugged and he can pee all he wants." That broke the tension for Dad and me, and we laughed the rest of the way home. It's too bad it took losing the Hunter Shannon to make that happen.