Chapter 5: A Thorough Cleaning

I think my mom and I are going to have so much fun.

We had to make arrangements.

The boat was at the Coast Guard Station in Calumet City. It had been there just long enough for the Federal Alphabet Soup to thoroughly ransack the interior ... they hadn't had the time to get into the nitty gritty of chainsaws and implements of destruction when the Soup at the detainee's home found the evidence.

The investigators left in a huff ... someone had spoiled all their fun.

The Guard was just beginning to wonder what to do with the carcass when Carl Boat guy showed up with Carl Marshals Office guy and we bought the boat. Sixty-seven thousand dollars was a lot of money for the mess.

We probably could have got it cheaper.

Chicago has a big Coast Guard office downtown but the Calumet Harbor Station is pretty Podunk for such a big area to supervise.

The Lieutenant ICS (in charge of station) told us, "She's your boat ... Get it out of my Harbor."

The Chief Petty Officer laughed and said, "We'll do that, Sir. In a few minutes. First I'd like to see your license, Mrs. Austin."

Mom handed it to him. He motioned us inside the office and pointed at a couple of chairs. We sat. He phoned, radioed and did assorted other things while he checked Mom's bona fide's. Wife, mother, Airline pilot, boat captain ... all that crap. It took longer to get checked out than it did to buy the boat.

It never ceases to amaze me ... the things you can buy but can't use without the proper license.

"You're good, Mrs. Austin." The chief was waiting for it.

"So," mom said, "We can go?"

"Well ... no." He laughed. When he was through, he said, "We have to move it to the nearest facility qualified to take it ... after that ... she's yours."

"Where is that?" mom asked.

"Did you pay Illinois Sales Tax?"

"No ... we have a government waver. The Austin's pay no tax, income, sales or property. Presidential Executive Order."

"That must have been interesting."

"You might think that. I couldn't possibly say."

Those are code words recognized through the world as, 'I can't tell you. If you forced me and I did tell you, you would be dead within minutes.'

"Hmm ... Well, in order for us to take the boat to the nearest Illinois Yacht Basin, we have to sail through Indiana waters. It's always fun. They like to tax Illinois boats."

"She's going to be a Michigan boat as soon as we get a chance."

"Oh ... that's even worse. Indiana has so little of the Lake, they're always mad at Michigan."

The Coast Guard insisted on 'oversight'. The Chief and two Guardsmen went with us. As soon as we left the Guard Basin, we were in Indiana ... it's that close.

And sure enough, the Indiana Harbor Patrol stopped us. They knew the Chief and the Guardsmen but they didn't know us. The boat was untouchable coming to the Calumet Coast Guard Station ... but not now ... we were leaving.

We were boarded ... mom stuck her copy of the Presidential Order under the nose of the Harbor Cop.

"What's this?" he asked.

"You could read it," mom thought it should be simple ... but ... no ... he had us follow him while he, 'Got to the bottom of this nonsense.'

At the Harbor Patrol docks we were boarded again by men with guns and watched while the 'bottom' was excavated. A few minutes ... like 30 ... a large black vehicle pulled up outside the Harbor Patrol Office ... the FBI had arrived. Evidently, asking questions about 'certain things' pertaining to the Austin Clan rang bells in Washington

Men were taken into custody while the Harbor Cop tried to fill in the hole he had dug for himself. Hands were slapped and we were released. The SAC (Special Agent in Charge) thanked mother for being patient with 'the idiots', and could he do anything to speed us on our way?

"Yes, thank you," mom said. "Could you find us a place to park?"

"Certainly, take her back to the harbor we took her from ... the slip fees are paid up." He chuckled, and looked at the Chief, "She's only been absent ... what, Chief ... eight hours?" The boat had been in our possession at least five of those eight.

That got him a nod from the Chief.

"I'll call," he did and we were on our way back to the Museum of Science and Industry Harbor.

The Chief made mom do stunts with the boat and re-certified her competence.

"You're going to instruct the lass?"

"Yes, Chief," mom grinned, "The meat grinder."

"Great ... bring her down for testing when you're done."

After the Coast Guard delivered the boat to the MOSI docks, the Cutter that followed us from Calumet took them away.

We stood next to the boat and gawked. She had great lines.

"We need to shop. There's a store across the street or we could go to a Chandlery ... or even Wal-Mart."

"The store is good," I said. "Someone needs to stay with the boat."

"You have 'this feeling'?" mom asked.

"Trust those feelings ... they're usually right."

Mom left and was gone ... and came back with big bags and a driver. He unloaded and left.

I hadn't gone back aboard since the Coasties left. We carried ... and looked ... carried and looked. The interior was truly messy but nothing looked ... damaged.

The first thing she did was hand me a book. It was about 700 pages thick. Bound in nice leather, it came with a waterproof case, several ballpoints and several sharp pencils.

"Read that," she said.

"Mom."

"Just read it. She insisted.

I opened it to page one.

Rules of the Sea on the cover and page one.

I leafed to page two.

Page two. Rule Number 1: The Captain is in command.

I turned the page.

Page Three. Rule Number 2: The Captain is always right.

I turned the page again.

Page Four. Rule Number 3: In the Event of a Dispute See Rule Number Two.

The other pages were blank.

"Mom? What do I do with this?" I was really lost.

"You keep a diary at home. This is a Journal of Events and Lessons."

I could hear the Capital letters.

"Write down the lessons ... make sure you get it right. You should write the exciting things that happen to you, this and every time we sail. Things are going to happen that you'll never forget. The mind plays tricks. If you write it down, you won't be tempted to sugar coat a disaster. Hospitals have a saying: 'If it's not written down, it never happened.'"

"Disaster? We're going to have a disaster?" That had me worried.

"Probably several," Mom said, "This is a boat, it's small, but not that small. It's big enough to get us in trouble."

"Oh." My comment wasn't really necessary but I made it anyway.

"You need a disaster or two," she said. "You have a pretty boring life."

"What makes you say that?" Curiosity ... and you know what they say about that.

Mom grinned, "Under your mattress is not a good place to leave your diary."

"MOM!!"

"Your imagination is pretty good, though."

"MOM!!"

"Who is Darren?"

"MOM!!"

"Don't worry about it. Your dad and I read it to check and see you weren't getting in trouble. I know it's hard to imagine but I was your age once. Dreams are great ... reality is better.

"I knew I was going to marry your father the first time I saw him. No if, and or but about it. He was the one ... and only! If he had died on our adventures, I'd have died too."

"How old were you?" I asked.

"Eleven. I turned twelve a week later."

"How did you meet?"

"Your dad used to stop watches. My 'grandfather' owned a watch and jewelry store a block from the Capital in Lansing. David's dad, Grand pop Charles used to take David with him every time he went to the Capital Law Library. He got in trouble so his dad sent him to the State Library. He had to walk past the shop. When he walked by the store, the watches in the window showcase would stop. Grandfather invited him in the shop ... he stopped every watch in the store."

"He doesn't do that now?" I know Daddy carries a watch ... he's told me I'm late often enough.

"No. He carried your watch until we came back from Arizona. It stopped that silliness."

"Why did he stop carrying the watch?"

"A dear friend told us it was my watch, not his."

She got a misty far away look. She blushed. "Those were exciting times. I met the moms at the beginning of my freshman year at college. We flew to Key West for Spring Break. You know most of the rest of it. I brought my diary for you to read on this vacation."

That was a shock. Mom was going to let me read her diary.

By this time it was getting dark and mom suggested we push things out of the way and sleep on the sofas.

"Hey Owner! Get up! You're burning daylight." Mom was rattling a can with pebbles in it.

"Grrrrrr!"

"None of that. This place is a mess. The Marshal's Service scattered stuff everywhere. We need a thorough cleaning."

"I have money, you said. I'll hire a maid."

"I don't think so, missy. You need to know where everything is."

"Why?"

"Picture yourself in here, upside down and water rushing in. How will you get out? If you can't find the things you need to save your life, I'll be sad but I'll get over it. I know where the things I need are. Accidents happen."

"I'm up."

"On a boat, things have a place. Usually it's someplace they can be tied down or locked in. See what you can find and put it away."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm captain. I'm going to sit and watch you work."

"MOM!"

"Gotcha!" What she said next was all in a single breath ... and very fast. "I'm going to check the electronics, check the steering hydraulics for leaks, check the water and holding tanks, see if the reverse osmosis water station works. Stick the diesel fuel tanks, check the oil in the engine, get the numbers off the filters and call around to see if anyone has replacements. Check..."

"Good God! I get it. I'm doing housekeeping while you work." I grinned at her.

"Sweetie, a boat is a hole in the water you pour money in. No matter how much you pour, the hole is always empty."

We met at noon. She was filthy.

"You have a grease stain on your nose ... and do NOT sit on my cushions. Where have you been?"

"The bilge pump had a wad of newspaper in it. Six inches of water ... absolutely icky green water in the bilges, the access hatch is all the way forward under the cabin sole, that's the deck, the bilge pump is all the way in the stern. I had to crawl through it to find the pump. At least the lights still work down there. I've already changed clothes twice. How you doing?"

"I found a place for everything loose and clamped or tied it all up. I found a few places that don't look right, that don't match the builders prints."

"You found the prints?"

"And the original build sheet and the title and registration. Do you have any idea what a deal we got on this boat?"

"67 thousand for a one year old boat that cost 229 thousand? That's a good deal."

"Oh momma ... we didn't get a 39 foot ... we got a 41."

"What? Show me!"

Sure enough, the title said 41' 9", with a tax price of $299,697.00. Wow! However, the prints, while showing a reasonably correct layout, didn't have any measurements.

"Too, do we have a tape measure?" I am Too ... not Two ... not the Second ... TOO ... and don't you forget it.

"There's a hundred footer in the kitchen," I told her. I should know, I put it away.

"Galley ... on a boat, the kitchen is the galley. Get the tape and meet me on deck, please."

I'd hate to measure this out of the dock. Momma asked me to run up to the guard gate and see if we could borrow some help. On the way, a couple of cute teens asked me what I was doing. When I mentioned I was looking for a little help on my boat, both boys volunteered.

"Boys," momma said, "She's 12. Don't even think it."

I stamped my foot, crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue at her.

The eager look died a little, but they were good sports and helped. I held my 'Rules of the Sea' journal and drew what they told me. The drawing and written measurements went on about page ten. Page Five had a heading Nautical Bullshit and Galley=Kitchen for the first entry. I was pretty sure the next five pages were going to be nautical bullshit.

We measured EVERYTHING inside and out. Momma wanted to measure the waterline so the boys grabbed two dinghies from their parents boats, putt putted to our boat and held the tape first on the painted stripe and then at the real waterline.