AcquaintanceShip

Living aboard a boat gives a person an opportunity to meet all kinds of characters. Last summer while cruising the Carolinas we happened upon one interesting cat.

His name was Mikey; short a wiry man whose skin was leathery and tanned by years of sun. He was hard working. I would watch him detail boats while nursing a six-pack of Coronas; he took a lot of pride in his work. Readying random boats for weekend cruisers. He was proficient and called upon often to repair docks, scale masts, rig sails, tinker at engines, scrub hulls, there was no job to big or small to tackle at when it came to water vehicles.

Upon our first meeting we were using the laundry facilities together. He had a little white Lhasa Apso with him. This dog struck me as being an odd fit for a guy like him. Being a dog person I knelt down to give the pup a pat on the head to say hello.
"What' your dog's name?" I asked.
"Mutton” He replied. After a brief pause he says rather cautiously, "I inherited her. Her name was Muffin but that was too faggotty so I call her Mutton. It works."
"Good name - she looks like Sheri Lewis's Lamb Chops". I say - but he looks at me blankly. Like my Canadian accent trumped him or he had no idea who Sheri Lewis and Lamb Chops were.
He asked which boat I was on. I told him.

"Tell your Mister to come see me if he needs work done." He said as he passed through the door.

I return to the boat to tell my "Mister" - I had met the wily wiry guy - and that he said you should get up with him if you need any work done. My Mister says – That guy is used to taking on jobs for boat owners - we are sailors not boat owners we do our own work. He'll know that we are different soon enough.

Next day I return to the slip to find Mikey up our mast. Mutton is tied to our hookups lounging in a small bit of provided shade.

"Hey there Missus" he shouts from above as a greeting.

"Hello Mikey," I reply, "what are you boys up to? "

“Givin’ the Mister a hand with the wind gage.”

My Mister and Mikey chat boats.

Mikey asks us “why we are so far from home? Was Canada too cold?” Without waiting for a reply he proceeds on, “I am from West Virginia up in the mountains. It’s too fucking cold there and I knew soon as I was old enough and able I was getting out of there. Ain’t never going back cept to burry my kin.”

Mikey is not much a fan f the government either. He claims to be a cash man. No employment record means no money in taxes. He lives aboard a boat on the ocean what the hell does he need to pay tax for?
Every now and again his cell phone rings and he has a good chat. He’s a talker. He mentions a girlfriend in a neighboring town who is a nurse. When she comes to visit we should all go out he says. I later ask the Mister what a nurse would be doing with a guy who lives outside society? The Mister says some girls like the idea of guys like that.

Mikey is always friendly with us but his natural demeaner is a bit on edge. I think fundamentally he would like to trust but this was a guy whose been crossed and lived on the outside of civilization for a reason. I have observed him enough to know that there would be something to set him off and it wouldn’t take much. The odd time we would see a few shady characters pop by to visit with him. He would dismiss them call them trouble – he always claimed he didn’t know why they were coming around.

Last winter we decided to move the boat. It would mean a four-day motor if the winds, which were not typical at that time of year for the area, were not up. I was back in Canada working a contract leaving the Mister to battle the mild January Carolina weather and water to move the boat on his own.

Sure enough Mikey had resurfaced in the area. He had been anchored out for some time so as not to incur any marina fees. With all the boats winterized the work around the marina was few and far between. With his obvious distaste for cold weather I am curious to know why he has not sailed further south but I am not there to ask. It’s January and prone to temperatures that hover around the freezing mark. The Mister tells him of his plan to move the boat and coincidentally Mikey has to a pick up a boat in the same area and deliver it back to the marina we are departing. So Mikey tags along to keep the Mister company and help us out. I tell my Mister that this idea makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know if we can trust Mikey not to snap.

Each morning I call the Mister to find out how the move is going. He reports back that everything is going great. Mikey thinks our boat sails really well and feels we have made a great choice in purchasing her. If we ever want to sell it Mikey says to call him first.


Each night I call the Mister to remind him that he should not indulge in any booze with Mikey because I think that would cause him some unneeded trouble. The Mister tells me not to worry. But I do.

On the fourth day after encountering some unfavorable weather there is still another 2 days to make it to the next marina. Mikey offers to deliver our boat for $150.00 cash while the Mister heads back to work. I wonder if our boat will arrive. I think up scenarios of the name and serial number being removed and the boat flipping hands with a shady broker for an unusually low sum of money and this thought makes me feel somewhat sad.

On the sixth day Mikey calls the Mister to say he had arrived safely to the docks. He’s going to supervise the lift as the marina is going to pull our boat out of the water so we can have some bottom work done. Mikey says he has met another sailor who is going to help him deliver the next boat. Would the Mister mind driving them both over to the next marina when he comes to pay up for delivering the boat. The Mister complies.

Finishing my contact I arrive back home to witness the finale of this sailing tale.

The Mister tells me the friend Mikey met was sketchy. He too lived on the outskirts of society was pretty rough around the edges and was missing more than a few teeth. He had driven Mikey, the New Guy and their stuff, which included a motor, a tool kit and a couple of duffels to the next town over.

The Mister admits to me that Mikey was an all right guy but clearly had some psychological problems, which he seemed to be keeping in check. But Mikey liked the Mister all right and the Mister was cautious not to set him off. Their deal was completed and to the Mister there was closure. To Mikey in the Mister he had found a new best friend.

The Mister receives a phone call from Mikey, he just wanted to check in and thank the Mister for the business. He said to say hi to the Missus.

A few days later the Mister collects a phone message. He listens, presses speaker and holds the phone out for me to listen. It’s Mikey, he claims the “New Guy” was a mean, mean drunk who drank all his beer, smoked all his smokes, ate all his pizza and had pulled a knife on him. He had thrown New Guy off the boat with all his belongings and was underway to deliver the boat back to the originating marina. Look out for him he’s a mean sun of a gun. Say hi to the Missus. He hangs up.

Eyebrows raised the Mister and I look at each other.

“I wonder what the real story is? “ I say.

Not too long after we are down at our marina checking out the progress on our boat’s repairs when we see a guy with a sun-bleached head of long hair, his back is to us. The Mister looks at me and whispers – “that’s New Guy”. As we approach, New Guy turns around an instantly recognizes the Mister.

From the front the New Guy’s hair is fairly well receded, his face is leathery, he is sporting a black eye and a few lacerations one on his cheek bone another on his nose. They look fresh.

New guy says, “Hey, that friend of yours is a lunatic. He smoked all my smokes, bought the bar full of people pizza with that $150.00 you gave him and got pissed off when they didn’t even save him a slice. The cops were called to the bar to remove him because he was out of control mad over the eaten pizza.
Back at the boat he accused me of drinking his beer, eating his pizza and then pulled a homemade flare gun on me. It was all I could do to get all my shit and get off that boat alive. What a mean, mean motha-fucker drunk. His daddy and my daddy go back, they said he’s a mean, mean drunk.“

Now I really wonder what the real story is.

A month goes by and we hear nothing from Mikey and one day the Mister picks up a phone message. It’s Mikey. He says he’s going inside to do a month in lieu of paying restitution for a bar fight he was in. Ain’t no government gonna take his thousand dollars. A warm bed and a hot meal everyday for 30 was better than that.

Some where down the middle of two stories was the truth? Did it matter what it was?

Mikey was a character. I think of him from time to time and hope that he is making his way more peacefully and I wonder what happened to Mutton.

Mikey was a guy who was generous enough that he would use his honestly and hard earned cash to feed strangers in a bar. Strangers who did not have the decency to save him a pizza slice…. He was also the guy who no way in hell was going to let the “man” get their hands on his cash. No way.

For the Mister and I that was the story.