I MISSED THE BOAT

    Some might think yacht racing, snorkeling, surfing all can be an adventure on water, not me.....let me explain. It's an early Sunday afternoon in February, five of us are in the club watching TV. Joe Fitzpatrick is sleeping at one of the side tables. He had stopped in to get a quick one before attending the ten o'clock mass, held three hours ago. At a time between football and baseball seasons, we're watching the wide world of sport fishing. From the east and west coast, the camera is catching the action of sport fishermen in a contest to see who can catch the biggest tuna or swordfish.

    Jack Friel says, "look at the size of the sworefish." "It's not a sworefish Jack, it's a swordfish," said Ted Bradley, the elder statesman of our group. Jack answered right back, "if you had a hook in your mouth, I think you'd be swearing." That broke the gang up and even woke up Joe at the table.

    "You know something, that's something we should do, you know, like take a fishing trip this summer on one of those party boats." said Ray McCann. "Not a bad idea, said Ted, I know a party boat captain out of Barnegate Light, that makes two runs every day when the season starts. How about if I give him a call and ask him to send me some information?"

    "I need another drink, I'm starting to get seasick already, chirped Tom Atkins, don't count on me going, I was in the Navy and I know." "What Navy was that? Your brother said you were stationed at the Navy Yard for three years," said the bartender. Another round of laughter that disturbed Joe's sleep. "Can't you guys keep it down," said, as he dropped his head back on the table.

    So, four months later, on the second Saturday morning in June, at 5:30 am, the five of us loaded up Ted Bradley's station wagon and headed for the shore. About half way down, I could feel my stomach acting up. Probably the hot pork with chillies sandwich I had the night before. A couple of tums should fix that.

    Arriving at parking lot adjacent to the dock, we unloaded the wagon, taking only what was needed, leaving two coolers in the car, one with a case of beer on ice, to be drank, while we cleaned what ever fish we caught and put in the other empty cooler. There were about 15 other people waiting to board. A couple of women with their husbands, teenagers with their dads, old timers like Ted, and our group.

    The captain of the Sea Breeze V, along with his first mate arrived about five minutes later. Greeting everybody with handshakes, he said, "should be a nice day for fishing, just stow your gear in the cabin area, and those who need fishing rods, take your pick of the ones set around the railings. We'll be leaving in about 15 minutes." 

    Like everyone else, we all had small coolers holding sandwiches, some fruit and something to drink, no booze allowed on board. Tom Atkins had taken Dramamine the night before, but he brought some extra just in case. After saying hello to everybody and checking out the layout of the boat, we all settled down for about a ten mile trip to the nearest wreck the Captain favored.

    All of a sudden I didn't feel to good. Those damn chillies were playing soccer inside my stomach. "I'll be right back, I said, going to hit the head." The ship's toilet's was occupied so I headed to the nearby tackle shop that had a sign that read public restrooms in back, key inside. Got the key from the store clerk and minutes later, the stomach soccer game had ended and I returned the key.

    Leaving the tackle shop I see the Sea Breeze V, which was now in the channel and heading for the break waters. I ran to the edge of the dock shouting and waving my arms, but to no avail, as people standing in the back of the boat only waved back. What am I going to do.....my friends think I'm in the John, when I don't return and they can't find me, they'll think I fell overboard.

    I immediately went back to the tackle shop, approached the clerk behind the counter, who thought I needed to go again, and had the bathroom key out. I explained my problem and wanted to know how I can contact the boat and let them know I'm OK?" "Let me call the Coast Guard, they can radio the boat and tell them what happened," he said. A few minutes on the phone, then the clerk looked at me and said, "they want to know the name of the boat you missed, your name and the name of somebody on board who knows you."

    Would you believe I couldn't remember the name of the boat. "Do you have a list of party boats leaving from this pier?" I asked. "Near the front door," he said. I rushed over and looked at the list of scheduled boats party boats. "That's it, Sea Breeze V," I said out loud. I gave him my name and Ted Bradley's name.

    Ten minutes later the problem was solved. They knew I was safe and I'm sure they weren't going to let me..... off the hook. Now, what to do with my time while waiting for them to return? Ted's car is locked with the beer inside, so crashing on the back seat is out.

    Looking at the different boat schedules posted by the door, I seen nothing less than a four hour trip after 9 o'clock, which meant I'd still be out when they returned. "Anything I can do to pass the time until the Sea Breeze comes back," I asked the clerk. "You could go crabbing," he said. "I never been crabbing, how's that work? I only know how to fish," I answered back. "If you ever fished out of a boat you can crab. Nothing needed but bait, string and a net," he told me.

    "If your interested, he said, about a mile down the highway where the inlet starts to narrow, there's a barn type building with 'JOE'S CRAB BOAT RENTALS.' painted on the front. Might be fun, and could consume some time waiting for the SEA BREEZE to return." I thanked him for all his help and headed for Joe's.

    I guess it took me about twenty minutes to get there. Took off my light jacket as I was walking, but kept on my boonie hat as the day warmed. The store was situated on pilings on the inlet's edge. There was a floating dock on each side to accommodate the tides.  Five or six two man skiffs were tied to the docks.

    Entering the store, I explained my problem to a middle age man, behind the counter, wearing a white shirt with Joe stitched above the pocket. "Well your not the first, and won't be the last, he said. Ever fish from a row boat?" "Many a times," I replied. "Then you can crab, wanna give it a try? Forty bucks and five dollars for the crab bucket if you keep it." straight forwardly said. "Sounds good, sign me up," I nodded, reaching for my wallet. "One other thing, I needed your drivers license, no offense to you, but some people think a boat and motor is worth forty dollars," he said.

    Calling Susy on the speaker mike, "that's my wife" he offered as she came in from the dock area. "Set this gentleman up, he's a..... newby,....give him the first class treatment, we want him to come back," said laughingly. "Come with me, she said and I get you started."

    With a working like motion, she brought a motor to one of the boats, then returned for the battery. She showed how it worked from a motor they kept on the dock in a barrel of water.   On her third trip back she brought a bag of chicken necks, about 6 ft. of thick string, and a net, all inside a large bucket used to keep the caught crabs, plus a mitt to handle the crabs. She showed me were the boat was marked on it's crossbeam for legal size catches. Then giving me a laminated copy of pictured keepable crabs on one side, crabbing regulations and basic intructions on the other, she waited till I got in and untied the mooring line. "Stay on the other side of the channel, near the marsh grasses, where those other boats are; you don't want to mess with a yacht in mid channel, good luck," she said. 

    I pushed off from the dock, and headed across the channel. slow but steady, using all the power in the one an half HP electric motor. Securing a spot near but not too near the other crabbers, I threw out the anchor and took a few minutes reading the do's and don'ts of crabbing. Gotta catch a crab first so I can compare it to the pictures, so taking a chicken neck from the bag and tying the string around it, I lowered it over the side until it hit bottom, approximately four feet.

    Holding the string for a couple of minutes, it suddenly moved in my hand. Letting the string be pulled a couple more inches, I started to pull the string back slowly. Sure enough there was a crab locked on to the chicken. As it got near the water's edge, I scooped it up. Keeping it in the net, I measured it on the scale marked on the boats crossbeam. Taking the "catcher's mitt," I turned it over to check it's sex. I didn't see a bra or a bulging stomach, so that meant it was legit. My first crab.

    So that's how it went for the next hour and a half. I figured I had about a dozen or so of legal crabs. And I was enjoying myself with my new sport. I had caught more than the dozen but some were lady and children crabs which I returned to the neighborhood.

    The tide was now starting to come in as I felt the boat turning on it's anchor. One more and I'm out of here, by the time I get across the channel and walk back to the boat pier, it shouldn't be long before the Sea Breeze returns, besides I had nothing to eat or drink since last night. I'll give the crabs I caught to the man and his son, who I had been talking with in between breaks.

    My last chicken neck went overboard and attracted the neighborhood super crab. Man, it was big, when I netted it I held it up to show my new friends in the other boat. But putting it in the crab bucket wasn't that easy, as a matter of fact it escaped the net and landed in the boat. With pincers snapping it headed for my boat shoes.

    I then violated the first rule of small boat seamanship.... Don't stand up and dance in a two man skiff.... A half minute later, I was standing in chest high water holding on to the skiff. My new friends in the "Carpathia" heard the splash, and came to my aid. "Are you OK?" they wanted to know while holding the skiff steady on one side, while I started to climbed back in on the other side. "I'm fine, I said, I wished I brought my trunks."

    It didn't end there. The second rule of small boat seamanship.... Don't try to reenter a small two man skiff with a bucket of live crabs nearby..... "JAIL BREAK", as I knocked the bucket over and the newly caught crabs sought revenge. Laughing like hell, my rescuers took their boat's oars and kept the crabs in the back of the boat. I did the same thing while trying to dry out. "You guys can have the crabs, I have no use for them, I said, pass me your net and I'll transfer them over." So with two nets I moved the crabs from my boat to the "Carpathia."

    "We just met, but you made our day, the father said, thanks for the crabs, their all legal. For a first timer, you did all right." "You deserve them, thanks for helping me," I replied, and I meant it.

    Twenty minutes later I was back at Joe's. Susy seeing me wanted to know what happened. When I told her, she asked me if I was alright, then burst out laughing. I told her husband the same story after returning the crab bucket for my five dollar rebate.  "That story just earned you free crabbing boat rental for the rest of the summer," he said, trying to control himself. He made a photo copy of my driver's license and marked on it FREE SUMMER RENTAL. "If you come back, just tell who ever is behind the counter that you have a free rental on file.

    Thanking everybody for their help, I left Joe's, and headed back to where I began. Thinking along the way as my boat shoes squeaked, I'm soaked, hungry and a little tired; but this was the best fishing trip I ever took.