Here is where I turn this piece from present to past tense, because to recount what unfolded over the next hour on the river required much more measured reflection than writing in the moment.
The captain of the Now Voyager piloted over to the no name boat and came alongside. He handed a bag and tools to the other captain. I caught drifts of their conversation. It was about repairing the anchor.
A few minutes later, the Now Voyager puttered away and took a position about 50 yards away. The captain of the no name boat then crawled overboard into a battered plastic skiff, stood up, and began paddling out into the raging river. He was not wearing a life jacket. He was smoking a cigarette.
What was he doing? It was beyond comprehension to me, but I know almost nothing of nautical matters, although I have read Moby Dick (twice) and all the Patrick O'Brian Aubery/Maturin novels.
A fancy three-deck river cruiser appeared from the north. It was cutting upstream with gusto. I saw tourists on deck drinking drinks. I was certain when the cruiser's wake met the skiff, the skiff would somersault. I figured the captain would last five minutes in the river, unless the other captain hauled him out in time.
It's not often you find yourself sitting on a park bench and watching a man about to drown for no sane reason.
The wake crashed into the skiff. The captain turned into it and the skiff remained upright. It was a miracle of some kind.
As this was happening, a gaggle of geese flew overhead, a blue heron undulated by, and two dogs took dumps near me. I never stopped typing on the AlphaSmart.
The captain of the skiff stopped paddling. He grabbed an anchor and flung it into the river and I saw it sink with chain and rope following it into the brown current. He waited a bit and then began pulling the anchor up by the rope. All the time he was standing up, smoking and cursing.
He pulled the anchor aboard and inspected it. He coiled the rope and hurled everything back into the river.
The captain of the Now Voyager motored over and rendered aid. He came alongside the skiff and the other captain reeled in the line and anchor and dumped it into the skiff. He lashed the skiff to the boat. The Now Voyager maneuvered back to the dock and its captain secured the vessels.
The no name captain hauled the anchor and rope out of the skiff and dumped it on the dock, cursing all the time.
I now clearly understood there was something wrong with his anchor or its supporting line but I couldn't fathom the problem.
The no name captain paddled the skiff to his boat, boarded, rummaged around, tinkered, then got back into the skiff and returned to the dock They talked and trouble shot. The no name captain was cursing and I heard him yell, “I love when people let their dogs come down to the dock and shit and don't pick it up.”
That made me laugh.
A brief respite occurred. The no name captain sat down on the dock. He looked exhausted, licked. The other captain kept pitching solutions. I sat there and waited for the next chapter that I prayed would unfold and somehow have a happy ending.
You read Moby Dick twice!! Now that's dedication.