Captain's Choice Ch. 05-06

We beat housekeeping by at least ten minutes after calling for a cab to take us into the town for breakfast. I borrowed a phone book and made note of a couple of flight charter operators. The most likely was VanIsle Air, a local Campbell River operator with both float and wheeled aircraft. I was pretty sure a float plane would make the most sense.

I punched in the number and spoke to the dispatcher. It was clearly a small operation and the prices they quoted sounded realistic: $350 per hour, three hour minimum, for a Cessna 185 on floats. I thought that would be the ideal aircraft and Ardele agreed. When we finished our breakfast, we made for the airport and VanIsle's office. One platinum credit card later and we were booked for today and tomorrow.

Our pilot was Jerry McIvor, a fairly young guy who was living the life he always wanted. Single and flying all over the north island and mainland coast, he had a perpetual grin pasted on his face. We explained the circumstances and showed him the pictures of the boat. He was keen to get started and had a chart that would allow him to systematically do the search. He agreed that the most likely place to try and hide a boat of this size was Desolation Sound or even as far as Toba Inlet.

Within a few minutes, we were airborne and Jerry was retracting the wheels into the pontoons. It was cloudy and calm, with a ceiling at about five thousand feet. Flying at a thousand feet gave us the ideal view. Ardele was in back and I sat in the right seat, watching Jerry as he worked his chart, making marks to indicate where we were and where we had been. The chart was plastic laminated and folded up. He explained he used it over and over again for flight planning and keeping track of his course.

Three hours later, we had covered a lot of territory, seeing nothing that was even remotely like the Captain's Choice. It was just approaching one in the afternoon when Jerry got my attention and tapped the fuel gauge on the cockpit panel. I knew he had to get back to refuel and we all needed a break from the concentration.

We had lunch together while the plane was being refueled and Jerry showed us where we had covered and what might be our next plot.

"Your boat isn't particularly fast," Jerry said, "but if you're running steadily for twelve or sixteen hours a day, you can put a lot of distance between Menzies Bay and wherever you are headed. How much fuel was on board and what would the range be?"

"Four hundred gallons of diesel, topped up. Range? Between twenty-five and thirty gallons per hour at normal cruise. That would about eight to ten knots."

"Okay, let's look at the maximum it could travel on your fuel," the pilot said. "I'm sure the RCMP has alerted the various fuel stations to be on the lookout for your boat. That's the first thing they would do."

Jerry did some quick math, pulled out a protractor and drew a red arc with the center at Menzies Bay.

"Taking into account that there isn't a straight line to any destination from here, this is about as far as it could get on fuel."

We looked at the chart. In theory, the boat could be in U.S. waters by now. My heart sunk. We might be on a wild goose chase after all. They had a two day head start and at a steady ten knots, the range was far in excess of what I had hoped.

"What do you think, Jerry?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Hard to say. Why did they steal the boat in the first place? They must have had a purpose for it. If they were headed north, they might go around the top of the island to the west coast. Nootka Sound is another great place to hide away. I'm sure the RCMP have thought of that and they've got a patrol boat in the area. I'm sure they'll be checking it out.

"The other option would be to make a run south, trying to get to the U.S. If it's smuggling they're into, that would make some sense. Sooner or later they are going to need fuel and supplies and that's where they're vulnerable."

"So what are you suggesting?" I asked.

"I think we should stick to the original plan for now," the young guy said. "Let's keep looking in the general area we first decided on before we look elsewhere. I'll leave it up to you to decide when you want to change direction or stop altogether."

"I've got clients arriving this afternoon," I said, "and I need to get them settled with the guy I've hired to take them. Why don't we plan on picking this up again tomorrow morning early? Will that work for you?"

"I'm okay until about three tomorrow afternoon, then I've got a flight. Tell you what. I'll pick you up at Menzies Bay tomorrow morning at seven. That will save you having to find a cab early on Saturday morning."

"That will be great, Jerry. Thanks a lot."

I looked at Del and she was nodding in agreement. We thanked Jerry again and headed for the cab stand and the ride back to Campbell River. I wanted to check in with the RCMP to see if anything had turned up yet. The answer was a quick no. No one had reported seeing the boat and the notification had been sent out to all units including the Vancouver Harbour Police and the Coast Guard.

We headed back to Menzies Bay to meet our crew and our next clients. I had phoned Dean and Pete earlier to give them a heads up that we had an alternative for them and made sure they understood that they would be working for Ernie Tillman for the next three charters. After that, we would talk about it.

Tony Burdock had already told the boys where to find Ernie and they had headed on down to scope out their new boat. They were on the way back with Ernie when we arrived.

"What do you think?" I asked Pete, the senior of the two.

"Great. Nice boat, clean, plenty of room. It's going to be fine, Pat. Thanks for doing this. It would have been easy to say it wasn't possible."

"I'm glad we got lucky and Ernie was available," I said. "You can help him too, since he's new to chartering. I'm sure your experience will come in handy for him."

"Glad to do it," Dean said, nodding to Ernie.

"That gives me a real boost, guys," Ernie smiled.

I was pretty sure Ernie would benefit from our two guides being with him for three charters. He'd know what worked and what didn't. He'd have a good idea of what he wanted in a crew, and he'd gain a lot more confidence with the customers. It was all good from his point of view.

The clients arrived and I told them what had happened and what arrangements we had made for them. Their motel rooms had been reserved. I assured them that my crew would look after them just as they would if it had been my boat. I also let them know that the caterer was the same, so no changes there. One look at the boat put them at ease and when I mentioned Ernie's credentials, I could see the last remnants of concern disappear. Besides, they knew where to find me if they weren't happy.

Chapter 6 Discovery

True to his word, I heard the snarl of Jerry's plane just before seven on Saturday morning. Del and I were on the dock, coffee thermos in hand and ready for a full morning of searching. I watched Jerry drift the sleek float plane near the narrow end of the dock, cut the engine and step onto the pontoon. I caught the line he threw to tether the plane and tied it off to the nearest cleat.

"Mornin' Jerry," I said.

"Mornin," he replied. "Did you hear about the explosion last night?"

"No ... what explosion?"

"One of the salmon farms in Jervis Inlet reported an explosion and what they thought was a fireball somewhere in Hotham Sound about ten-thirty last night. Why don't you call the RCMP and see what they can tell you before we take off."

I had the RCMP number on my saved list and punched it in.

"RCMP Campbell River, Constable Myers speaking."

"Constable, this is Pat Hamelin. I've reported my boat being stolen on Tuesday. I understand there was a report of an explosion and possible fire in Hotham Sound last night. Do you have a report on that?"

"One moment," he said, putting the phone down. I could hear him talking to someone in the background but I couldn't make out the conversation. He was back on the line a couple of minutes later.

"Yes, we have a report of a boat exploding in that location. Can you describe your boat?"

"Fifty foot, wooden hull, wooden superstructure. Restored heritage boat from the fifties. It was stolen from our mooring in Menzies Bay sometime Tuesday night I believe."

"Okay, I've got the report now. It's possible that this might be your boat, but the damage is such that it's going to be difficult to confirm that."

"Constable, I've got a charter float plane standing by that we've been using to search for my boat. We'll fly down to the location and see if there's anything we can identify. It's extremely important to me to know if it is mine."

"I understand Mr. Hamelin. However, you'll either find one of our boats or the coast guard at the scene. There's a report that there were fatalities involved and that will be the site will be cordoned off. You'll have to follow the strict instructions of whoever is in charge."

"Yeah, sure. I just need to know. Thanks, I'll check in down there when we arrive."

I hung up and turned toward Del and Jerry. "They've confirmed the explosion and that it was a boat. Apparently there were fatalities. It's possible it's not the Captain's Choice, but we need to fly down there and check it out. How long, Jerry?"

"Thirty minutes, thereabouts. We can go now."

"Let's go. The sooner I know, the better off I'm going to be, even if it is the worst news.

Jerry got us to Hotham Sound in just over thirty minutes and dropped down to overlook the site. I could see the RCMP patrol boat, an oversized inflatable, and a couple of other boats around what appeared to be the semi-submerged hull of a large boat. He rounded out the pattern and made his landing approach well clear of the site and sat in place a hundred meters off the area, waiting for someone to approach.

It didn't take long before another, smaller Zodiac came racing out to meet us. I opened my door and carefully stepped out on the pontoon. The inflatable slowed and approached from my side of the aircraft. Jerry had killed the engine and we were just drifting at that point.

I could see a uniform on the man in the inflatable and assumed he was RCMP.

"What are you doing here?" he asked politely. "This is a controlled area for now."

"I understand. I had my boat stolen a few days ago from Campbell River and I wanted to find out if this was it."

"Okay, I heard about that. We're wondering the same thing. Why don't you step aboard and I'll take you over there. Maybe there's something you can identify. There isn't much left of it though."

"I'm Pat Hamelin," I said by introduction and we motored carefully back to the scene.

"Corporal Williston, Search and Rescue, Comox. Was your boat all wood?"

"Yes. It was a motor launch built in the 1950's."

He nodded but didn't say anything. I was getting the ominous feeling that this was my boat all right.

"The constable I talked to in Campbell River said there was a fatality."

"Two so far. One on the boat, burned to a crisp, and one in the water."

"Do you have any idea what caused the explosion?"

"Too early. Might have been gas fumes, might have been propane."

"My boat was diesel and had automatic sniffers and fans. The propane tank ran the stove top and oven, refrigerator and heat."

"Large tank?"

"Yes," I answered. "It's possible that they didn't know how to control the propane shut-off valve and flooded the bilge with gas."

We were drifting slowly closer to the sunken hull of the boat. It looked like the boat had been anchored in fairly shallow water and the hull was visible from above. I scanned it carefully, becoming more and more convinced that this was my boat ... or what was left of it. I could barely make out the registration numbers on the bow, but when I did, I knew.

"Oh, fuck!" I spat, slumping back on the inflatable's seat board.

"You recognize something?" the corporal asked.

"Yeah, I recognize the last four digits of my registration number on the bow. That is the Captain's Choice. I'm sure of it."

"I've got a diver on the patrol vessel. I'll get him over the side to confirm the number."

I nodded, numb now that I knew the worst.

The corporal spoke into a shoulder-mounted mike and a couple of minutes later a scuba diver appeared, putting on his tank and fins and slipping over the side of the big patrol vessel. Less than five minutes later he confirmed what I already knew. The registration number, or what was left of it, corresponded to Captain's Choice.

"Any likelihood anyone got away alive?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I doubt it. There wouldn't be any warning if it was gas accumulation. The guy we found in the water looked like he'd been run over by a train. We're still collecting pieces of debris for the forensics guys, but I doubt we'll find much more than scrap wood. We did find an inflatable on the shore. Would that be yours?"

"Yeah, there were two of them, one racked on the transom, one on the foredeck. We used the boat for charters and the Zodiacs were for fishing."

"Well, only one of them has shown up. I'll have the diver check to see if the other is on the bottom somewhere nearby. Otherwise, maybe someone took it to go somewhere and missed the fireworks."

"I don't think there's anything else I can do here, corporal. Can you take me back to the plane and we'll get out of your way."

"No problem. Actually, you've been a big help identifying the boat and letting us know about the other inflatable. Stay in touch with the RCMP, please. They're just getting started on the investigation."

"Sure. My insurance company is going to want some details, so I'll contact them and let them know who to talk to."

He took me back to the plane and I thanked him before climbing back into the cabin.

"Well, Del, it's our boat all right. What's left of it, that is."

"Oh, Pat. I'm so sorry. I kept hoping that we would find it and it would be all right. I guess I was just kidding myself."

"I think I knew all along that it was never going to be recovered. That we'd sailed our last cruise on it. Damn that hurts."

"That boat was something special to you?" Jerry asked as we continued to sit and drift.

"Yeah. It was my father's. I restored it and turned it into a charter boat. It was the last thing he owned that I still kept. It was a beautiful boat and it's a damn shame it's been destroyed."

Jerry nodded, turned a switch and pushed a button to start the engine. It coughed to life and a minute later we were taxiing out toward the middle of the sound, giving us clearance for a safe takeoff.

It was a quiet threesome as we flew back to Menzies Bay. Jerry dropped us off at the dock and wished us the best, however things turned out. I thanked him for all his expertise and help. Del and I walked slowly up the ramp toward the motel. We could forget about the boat now. It was gone and never coming back.

It was still early, not yet ten am. I had no idea what I wanted to do.

I turned to Ardele. "Well, that closes the book on that. What now?"

She seemed to be lost in thought and I chose not to interrupt her. I took her hand as we walked along and tried to focus on what I might do now.

"You need another boat, Pat," Ardele said, stopping and looking at me. "As important as your father's boat was, it was the life it created for you that you love. There are a thousand other boats out there that you can get and continue to do what you really want to do."

I didn't respond. I thought about what she said. I wasn't so sure I agreed with her. It was important that it was "that boat." That was my connector to the past, something tangible that linked my late father to me. It was more than just a boat.

"I know what you're thinking," she continued. "It was special and it was personal. But it's gone now. What you have left is the rest of your life. It doesn't mean that you've lost contact with your father. That's in your head and in your heart. The boat was just a reminder. After all, wasn't it he who left it in that shed for ten years and didn't set foot on it. It was an object, Pat. A beautiful one to be sure, but still ... it was an object. Objects can be replaced."

We hadn't moved since she began her comments. Still holding hands, her eyes boring into mine, she was trying to convince me to carry on.

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm asking you if you still want to be in the charter business?" she said quietly.

"Okay, good question. I don't know. I guess that's the first decision to make."

"Pat, you're good at it. But more important, you enjoy it. I can see it in your face, your eyes. You love it. The boat is replaceable. Your happiness isn't. Do what you love to do."

"You sound pretty adamant about it. You must like it too to want to see me back in business."

"I do. I love it, we both do. We love being on the water and this is the best of all possible worlds. You've had a terrible thing happen to you, but you're young and you'll get over it. Ask yourself this question, Pat. What would you do if you didn't do this? I'd love to hear the answer."

"Oh, I don't know. I could probably be a clerk in an office somewhere. You know, with a little cubicle and my brown bag lunch."

That got me a punch on the arm. "Be serious. You know damn well it would be hard to replace this job."

"Impossible, is the word for it," I agreed. "You're right, Del. This is what I enjoy doing and it looks like I do it fairly well. So ... maybe you're right. Maybe I've got to think about another boat."

"Good for you, Pat," she said with a big smile and wrapping her arms around me in a bear hug. "Can I help?"

"I wouldn't have anyone else," I said, kissing her. "You're my first mate and I need you by my side."

"Thanks. I'm glad you listened to reason. Of course, it wasn't exactly unselfish of me. I really didn't want to see the best team on the west coast split up."

I looked at her steadily. "Can't let that happen. Bad for business."

"I have a suggestion," she said, still with her arms around me. "I should cancel my room at the motel and move in with you. It will save money we can use to get by until we're back in business."

"Very frugal of you," I grinned. "You think you might be able to move in tonight?"

"If we hurry, I can check out before the next day's charge applies. That will look after lunch and dinner tonight, my treat."

"Let's go," I agreed. "Besides, neither of us had breakfast, so I think a nice brunch is in order."

I had a spare key to Pete's car and knowing he was gone for the day, I borrowed it to take us back to the motel, then into town for something to eat.

The pub opened at eleven am and we feasted on a pair of ham and cheese omelets, bacon, hash browns and coffee.

"There's a boat yard right next door, Del. We should see what they have for sale. It might give us some ideas."

"Sure. Did you tell me that your boat was insured for a half-million?"

"Yeah. Assuming they will pay out the full amount we can get a pretty decent boat for that much."

"You're not kidding. With the economy the way it is, I'm sure you can get a good boat fairly cheaply and put some money into it to make it even better."

"That's my thinking too. My experience with the Captain's Choice taught me a lot about what kind of performance and layout I'd really like to have. They say you have to own a couple of boats to know what you really want. I'm hoping that I know what I want and that I can find it."

"So ... you've decided then?" she asked tentatively.

"You mean ... replace Captain's Choice?"

She nodded.

"Yeah, although it is dependent on a couple of things."

"What things?"

"Well, one of them is that you would help me find the right boat," I said with what I hoped was a serious tone.