Chapter 59

True to their word ... a thousand $FIJI in the crane operators pocket retrieved the Samana’s mast, boom and rigging. The mast had fallen out. The grand saved a good Thirty thousand,

(A word about Catamarans ... they are an airfoil. Just like an airplane, high winds will produce lift... 255 mph is plenty fast enough. Cyclones south of the equator rotate clockwise. This one had the mountain effect. Air rushing down a slope speeds up.)

The rigging was slack ... adjusting was the rumor. The adjustor wasn’t available to question ... never found.

I had to replace every turnbuckle and pad-eye. The turnbuckles were bent ... if 90 degrees is bent. The pad-eyes snapped at the attachment on deck.

The main sail was in the mast ... the jib was wrapped around the forestay furler and still attached to the mast. The remainder of the sails were in the port and starboard hull lockers. All 33 of them. Nylon, Dacron, composite, laminated ... even canvas storm sails. I’m willing to bet the owner didn’t know what the extra sails were for ... his neighbors boat had them so he did too.

The surprise was the fly bridge ... it wasn’t there. That seemed to be the damage ... and some gelcoat scratches ... nothing I couldn’t fix.

The bare-boat cost was 1.8 million ... from France ... shipping and outfitting was the rest of the 4.5 mil ... all the things the partner needed to support a lifestyle. Dive gear; wet suits, dry suits, fins, masks, dive compressor, a 36 tank bank, shallow water tankless outfits.

A state of the art stainless kitchen ... Galley!

Silk linen. Three thousand dollar a set bed sheets and 10 sets per bed. Two SIX THOUSAND DOLLAR EIDERDOWN PILLOWS ... five beds! Conspicuous consumption abounds!

The list went on and on ... pots ... pans ... genuine silver place settings. A framed and authenticated Monet oil ... the size of a letter envelope. Enormous flatscreen TV’s. Side and forward scan sonar.

If it was operated by electricity and on the mast? Replace it. A month in saltwater does electronics no favors.

The negotiations with the government over price was like ... yeah. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure. I wanted it free ... they wanted half price ... audited ... including contents.

“You took possession more than a month ago,” I said the the Harbour Authority.

“They will come,” said the minister.

Two weeks later and no one came.

“You’ve had it two months ... you are spending money for security. The crane is clearing the shore ... and what are they doing with the wreckage? Taking it out to sea and sinking it. Fifty thousand.”

“Done!”

The self-propelled barge crane motored over ... slid their straps under the raised cabin and fastened it in such a manner that as soon as the cat was clear it flipped right-side up and splashed down. Wasn’t even a big splash. With 25 tons off the deck, the one eighty floated. The crane operator noticed, cut me lose and dropped diesel pumps on the one eighty and kept it afloat. The one eighty wasn’t holed ... it had been sitting on a sand bottom. Water aboard was from storm surge and wave action.

The government sold the one eighty for 9 million.

I shoulda got mine free!

“I thought I was out of time,” I said to Alice. “I forgot the Timer returns to the time the watch was wound ... just a blink later.

I had hired the two sets of triplets to mind my boat. They thoroughly enjoyed the responsibility.

We biked back to Bud Field and our accommodations.