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Favorite option: If you want this item to be marked as a favorite, click on the black heart. Storm's Wet Christmas

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Dan Nickens - Dec 24,2005 Viewers | Reply


	Storms that had battered the island overnight could still be seen on the horizon. The wind they left behind was cold and blustery. Captain Storm shivered in the gray of early dawn and grumbled as he knocked the sand out of his old jeans.<br /><br />Storm was grumpy anytime he had to wear jeans. With temperatures plummeting into the 60’s there wasn’t much choice. His blood was thin from years of island living. He pulled on his jeans like donning a suit of heavy armor.<br /><br />Tailspin growled. He circled Storm warily. The last shaking of Storm’s leg as it pushed through the pants leg was all he could stand. He attacked.<br /><br />Storm was on one leg and off balance when the little brown dog hit him like a hurricane. Tailspin grabbed the loose denim and Storm went down. Storm frantically groped for the table’s edge. All he got was some cloth.<br /><br />Kicking, hollering, pulling, and growling they all piled into the corner. The little Christmas tree that had set precariously on the table cloth fell on top of all them.<br /><br />Tailspin sat back to consider his work. Storm glared back. “No, no bad dog!”<br /><br />Tailspin cocked his head to see what that was all about. Surely Storm couldn’t be serious. As far as Tailspin was concerned, a good rumble was a great way to start the day.<br /><br />It took a minute for Storm to get his bearings. The little artificial tree had come apart. Storm was covered in tinsel and wrapped in electric lights. Tailspin was grinning ear to ear.<br /><br />“I see you’re enjoying the cold weather. Fine. You explain to Wendy why the tree she gave us ended up in a pile of pick up sticks.”<br /><br />Of course Tailspin had no intention of confessing to Wendy. All was forgotten as far as he was concerned as he romped down the beach chasing gulls with the Captain trundling after him. He burst through the back door of the Tiki hut and gave Wendy a big slobbery kiss.<br /><br />They looked up as Storm walked onto the deck. “Well, what have we here?” Wendy asked with a sly grin. “Tinsel covered jeans? I knew you’d eventually get into the spirit of Christmas.”<br /><br />“It’s Tailspin’s doing, or didn’t he tell you? This is from your Christmas tree decoration. I told you it would lead to no good.”<br /><br />“Now don’t you even start. Everybody should have a tree for the holidays. It can’t hurt.”<br /><br />“Can’t hurt? What if I had been electrocuted by the lights? Bah humbug.”<br /><br />“Back atcha with salt. I’ll bet this cold weather and a cup of hot chocolate will get you in the spirit.”<br /><br />“Let me check under the pear tree and see if there are any partridge eggs to scramble. That will help my attitude.”<br /><br />“We’re all out of eggs, my dear. The tourists didn’t have anything to do yesterday during the storms but eat.”<br /><br />“Great. I know you need those supplies from the mainland. I’ll get them today.”<br /><br />“There was no way I would have let you fly in that weather yesterday. We’ll get by. Why don’t you just relax and enjoy a couple days off for the holidays?”<br /><br />“Holidays are for folks with nothing better to do. You want anything special?”<br /><br />“What are you offering?”<br /><br />“Uh, well, um, I mean, do you want anything other than the usual stuff from the store…like eggnog or fruit cake?”<br /><br />“Darn. I thought that’s what you meant. Well, no then. Just the usual stuff.”<br /><br />“Right. Well, we’d better be off. It’s a long flight.”<br /><br />Tailspin loved to fly. He barked as the trusty Continental woke from its slumber. The sleek SeaRaider rolled over the crushed corral and into the aquamarine waters. Departing from the lee of the island where the waves were smallest, Storm urged his little seaplane quickly into the cool wind.<br /><br />Out in the channel between the islands the waves were much larger. As if frothing mad, white foam writhed on each crest. “Better up here than down there in a boat,” he told Tailspin.”<br /><br />“Yipe.”<br /><br />But there were no boats in the channel. Normally the tourists would be out in force fishing the flats. Not this day.<br /><br />On a canvas of white topped blue waves Storm spotted in the distance what seemed to be a strange shoal area. It took only a moment for Storm to bank sharply towards it. It was no shoal. It was a boat upside down in the battering water.<br /><br />Storm pushed the nose of his SeaRaider down into a dive as he accelerated towards the stricken boat. With his mind racing through possibilities, he said, “Looks like a boat got washed from the harbor last night, Tailspin. I’ll bet some tourist is going to be really surprised when he gets up for lunch and looks out at the dock.”<br /> <br />Storm’s grin turned to grim stone when he saw a figure clutching at the sinking shape. Ramming the throttle forward, Storm drove the little airplane closer and closer to its maximum diving speed.<br /><br />Tailspin looked at Storm and whined. He wasn’t used to hearing the wind blast around the airplane at such a hazardous speed. It wasn’t fast enough for Storm.<br /><br />With the airplane screaming they flashed over the boat just above the waves. Storm pulled the SeaRaider up into a vertical climb as the wings moaned under the force. Banking sharply Storm idled the engine and made a tight circle over the craft.<br /><br />“That’s no tourist! That’s old Ben the fisherman.”<br /><br />Old Ben clutched frantically with one hand on the barnacle encrusted keel and waved wildly. Storm quickly saw that the boat was slipping deeper and deeper into the enveloping sea with each battering wave.<br /><br />Storm’s mind raced with options. The waves were much to wild for his little seaplane. If the landing didn’t destroy the structure the waves would quickly swamp his low riding hull. Storm was never above trying the improbable, but the impossible was surely suicide.<br /><br />Calling the Coast Guard was no cure. The nearest base was in Key West, an hour away even for their fastest chopper. With no other boats in sight, Storm felt himself sinking into a well of hopelessness as they circled helplessly.<br /><br />Tailspin shook his head. He knew trouble on Storm’s face when he saw it. In a flash he jumped out of his seat and into the baggage area. Growling and tugging he wrestled the yellow life raft from its holder.<br /><br />Storm was startled. “Calm down, boy! We’re not going down…..HEY! That’s a great idea. Bring me the raft. Come on. Bring it over here where I can reach it. Good boy.”<br /><br />With the raft’s handle in easy reach Tailspin handed it off to Storm. Storm circled the sinking boat at slow speed. Sliding back his canopy he tried yelling down to Ben.<br /><br />“I’ll drop the raft!” he yelled, waving it for Ben to see. He knew Ben couldn’t hear him. It was also apparent that Ben was losing his struggle to stay with the boat. As it slipped lower the waves grabbed him into their wet bellies. Storm could see he was about done in.<br /><br />“Cripes, Tailspin! He doesn’t look like he can swim for the raft. I’ll have to drop it right on him. If it hits him he’ll be knocked out or worse.”<br /><br />Storm was pretty good at aerial drops, but this would test the limits of a Lindbergh. There was no room for error.<br /><br />The thought of Lindbergh made him pause. “Wait! What would Lindbergh do?” he pondered. “OF COURSE! A point package drop is what an old airmail pilot like Chuck would do. Fetch the line, Tailspin!”<br /><br />Tailspin grabbed the long rope tucked behind the seats. Storm grabbed the end and attached it to the raft handle. He held the other end in his free hand. “Now all we have to do, Tailspin, is set up a tight circle at low altitude over old Ben.”<br /><br />“Easier said than done,” said the quizzical look on Tailspin's face.<br /><br />It was no ordinary maneuver. In the days of daring do pilots in spindly biplanes had skills rarely seen in modern pilots. Storm settled on a level altitude 75’ above the water. Kicking the rudder and throwing the stick left he set up a steep turn. As the airplane buffeted against an impending stall he added a notch of flaps. He slowed to a critically slow speed in a tight circle.<br /><br />A perfect circle was required for the maneuver. The wind, however, worked furiously against him. To offset its effect he had to constantly change the angle of the bank as he turned to and from its push.<br /><br />Sliding his canopy full open he felt the full blast of cold air. Pulling down his goggles and gritting his teeth he held the raft suspended on the cockpit’s edge. With a firm grip on the line he started slowly lowering it over the side.<br /><br />The raft swung out and behind the airplane. It twisted and gyrated in the turbulence as it slowly fell towards old Ben.<br /><br />Even in the cold wind, sweat popped out on Storm’s brow. It took ever fiber of concentration he had to turn and hold altitude and correct for the wind and watch the raft as it swung lower and lower, narrowing its circle closer to a point above Ben’s head as it descended.<br /><br />Storm could see the surprise on Ben’s upturned face. The raft seemed to float just above his head even as the airplane spiraled above him. In a trough between waves he reached out and grabbed for it.<br /><br />Storm let the rope fall slack. Ben missed the raft but grabbed the rope. Storm let the rest of the rope fall as he broke off the circle.<br /><br />In grasping the rope Ben had lost his hold on the boat. He was pushed away from it by the next wave.<br /><br />Storm held his breath as he circled back. “How long has it been since I had the raft serviced?” he wondered. “Will there be enough charge to deploy it? I hope Ben knows how?”<br /><br />There should have been no worry about that. Ben was an experienced seaman. In a few minutes he found the lanyard and yanked. The yellow boat sprouted in front of him. Storm watched as Ben pulled out the rope ladder and climbed into the raft’s tent. Ben weakly waved his okay as soon as he could manage it.<br /><br />Storm immediate climbed for altitude. “Mayday! Mayday!” he called on the emergency marine channel. The Coast Guard radio operator answered. Calmly now Storm called out the coordinates.<br /><br />“We’re launching a Blackhawk now,” the operator told him. “Can you hold station until we arrive?”<br /><br />Storm looked at his gas gage. It would be a close thing. “Roger,” was all he said.<br /><br />The minutes dragged on as the gage fell lower. It only took a few more minutes for the boat to completely slip below the surface. As it did, brightly colored packages popped to the surface.<br /><br />“What’s that? Oh, no. Those are Christmas presents. I’ll bet they’re for Ben’s kids. That’s gonna suck.”<br /><br />Storm had bigger worries at the moment. He was starting to squirm in his seat as the fuel fell towards E until he saw the dark shape racing over the horizon for them. Storm climbed up and switched to the aviation emergency channel.<br /><br />“You’ll find the raft at your one o’clock position and three miles,” Storm announced.<br /><br />“Roger. We have the target in sight.”<br /><br />Storm stayed overhead as the rescue swimmer dropped into the water near the raft. In quick order the swimmer had Ben strapped in and they were pulled up into the helicopter.<br /><br />“Race you to base, Storm!” the helio pilot challenged.<br /><br />“You’re on.” Disregarding his fuel gage now, Storm rammed the throttle home and headed for the big island.<br /><br />Fortunately for the CG guys their base was closer than the airport.<br /><br />The SeaRaider slipped down the final approach on fumes. Storm had just enough momentum to roll up to the fuel pumps. A quick call to the base confirmed that Old Ben was just fine. The Coastie guys told Storm that Ben would catch a water taxi home.<br /><br />After hanging up Storm stopped. “What about those Christmas presents? I forgot to ask about the presents! Shoot fire, now what?” Storm knew Old Ben’s family didn’t have a lot of money.<br /><br />“Those kids won’t have any presents, Tailspin. There’s nothing to do but pick up some stuff for the kids.” Tailspin wagged his agreement.<br /><br />There was nothing more agonizing for Storm than shopping. Shopping on Christmas Eve was absolutely horrifying. He did it, though, for the kids.<br /><br />Exhausted from his personal ordeal, Storm stuffed the groceries and wrapped presents into the SkyRaider. It was so heavy it barely broke free of the pavement at the end of the runway. Storm and Tailspin staggered homeward in their overloaded aerial sleigh.<br /><br />As they taxied up his home beach the sun was getting low in the sky. Wendy was waiting for them.<br /><br />“Oh, Storm! We heard what happened. What a terrible tragedy! Ben’s lost his boat.”<br /><br />“Yeah, but at least he’s okay.”<br /><br />“Yeah, okay except he’s not got a way to make a living without a boat. How’s he gonna support all those kids of his? He must be pretty broke up. What a rotten thing to happen during the holidays.”<br /><br />“You don’t know the half of it. Anyway, here are your groceries. There’s one more thing I’ve got to do.”<br /><br />“You’re not going out again, are you? It’s almost dark.”<br /><br />“Just a quick trip. I’ll be back before it’s too dark to land.”<br /><br />“I hope so. You know how dangerous night water landings are. And don’t forget you promised to come to the party tonight.”<br /><br />“We’ll be there. Now, come on Tailspin, we’ve got to hurry.” As he walked away he added quietly so Wendy couldn’t hear, “First we’ll have to rig up a parachute and drop the presents into Old Ben’s place. No way we can land there this late with the heavy seas.”<br /><br />It didn’t take Storm long to bind the packages and attach one of his old sport chutes. As the sun touched down on the distant water, Storm took off again.<br /><br />It was a short run over to Ben’s place a couple of islands over. He flew over the house in the dusky light. He could see the kids run out at the sound of his plane.<br /><br />Circling back he slid the canopy open. “Look out below,” he yelled to no one as he tossed the package out. The parachute opened immediately and the wind blew it onto the top of Old Ben’s house.<br /><br />“Just like Santa Claus,” he told Tailspin. Tailspin knew, however, that Santa takes the packages down the chimney into the house. Who ever heard of leaving them on the roof?<br /><br />Storm didn’t have time to ponder the difference. He had to use full throttle to get back home and put the airplane down just as the last bit of light gave way to starry darkness.<br /><br />After a quick shower Storm and Tailspin wandered down the chilly beach to Wendy’s place. The party was already in full swing.<br /><br />“Hey, Storm! Where have you been?”<br /><br />Storm groaned quietly. Stephen was one of the sunburned tourists that had been staying at Wendy’s B&B for the past week. He had latched onto Storm like a starving parasite.<br /><br />“No where. Just flying around.”<br /><br />“That’s not what we heard. We heard you dropped some Christmas presents off at the fisherman’s house.”<br /><br />“Yeah, maybe.”<br /><br />“Well, why in the heck did you do that? Didn’t you know Ben Silverman’s family is Jewish? What are they going to do with a bunch of Christmas presents?”<br /><br />“Huh?”<br /><br />“Yeah, you delivered Christmas presents on Hanukkah, har har! I sure hope you said ‘Happy Holidays’ instead of ‘Merry Christmas!’”<br /><br />“Give him a break,” Wendy interjected, “and don’t you worry Storm. You did a good thing. It won’t matter to Ben’s kids.”<br /><br />“But I saw wrapped presents in the water around Ben’s boat?”<br /><br />“Honey, I’m afraid that what you saw was just bundles of clothes Ben was bringing back from the laundry.”<br /><br />“Oh my gosh. I hope I haven’t offended Ben and his family.”<br /><br />Wendy shook her head. “I suspect Ben’s got more to worry about than Christmas presents for his kids.”<br /><br />“Hey, you should have used the ‘Happy Holiday’ wrapping instead of ‘Merry Christmas,” chortled Stephen.<br /><br />“Like hell!” blurted out Phil, a rotund tourist from up state. “It’s the Christmas holiday and anybody that doesn’t like it can kiss my rosy red underwear.”<br /><br />Tailspin growled. Storm was starting to turn as red as Phil’s underwear. “I don’t see any reason to offend my friends, but you’re not one of them. Maybe you’d like to take your red underwear outside.”<br /><br />From over in the corner came a lament: “Lord, help us all just to live through the season without killing each other.”<br /><br />“Who the heck are you!” demanded Phil.<br /><br />“I’m Reverend Collins,” the stranger replied.<br /><br />Phil quickly sat down.<br /><br />“The way to celebrate the Lord’s birthday is with peace and understanding,” Rev. Collins continued. “It’s not very Christ-like to demand that others pay homage to our holiday. The true meaning of Christmas is love and forgiveness, not intolerance and confrontation. ‘Happy Holidays’ is what Jesus would say.”<br /><br />“I sure didn’t think we’d get a sermon like that at a Christmas party,” Phil grumbled.<br /><br />“It’s not a Christmas party,” Wendy said flatly. “It’s a celebration for all of us, even you Phil.”<br /><br />“I’m glad I’m a Buddhist,” Storm said. “It’s a lot simpler when every day’s a celebration.”<br /><br />Suddenly Petty Officer Bridges burst in. “Know anybody that could use a good boat!”<br /><br />“What? Whose boat?” Wendy asked.<br /><br />“Oh, until an hour ago it belonged to a drug runner. We caught him trying to sneak through the strait. We got his drugs and he decided he didn’t need his boat any more. So, know anyone who needs one?”<br /><br />“Hey, you can’t just give away a drug boat,” Phil stammered. “There are laws about that.”<br /><br />“Who’s this guy?” Bridges asked.<br /><br />“A tourist,” Wendy replied. “Hey Phil, drinks are on me tonight. Drink up!”<br /><br />“AWRIGHT!”<br /><br />“I’ll meet you at Ben’s house tomorrow,” Storm told Bridges. “That’s as good a place as any to leave a boat.”<br /><br />And they sat down and celebrated happily ever after; until Wendy ran them all off at closing time. Phil was too hung over to remember anything the next morning. Ho, ho, ho.<br /><br /><br /><br />

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