Posted by: nauticalchronicles | December 14, 2011



It Never Happened

Like most boaters, on any given summer weekend, we (Louise and I) would rather be on the water aboard “HalfMine”, traveling to some exotic destination, with a flotilla of our friends, prepared to enjoy all the amenities provided by these distant ports of call.  However, when natural forces prevail and we are unable to leave the docks, we somehow manage to amuse ourselves.

“HalfMine” is equipped with a quality, six-speaker stereo system complete with a 6-disc CD changer, 500 watt amplifier, 2 Bose 151 outdoor speakers and is I-Pod compatible.  We religiously play “Taps” for the marina as the sun sets and the flag comes down.  Not so religiously, we play “Reveille” in the mornings.  We also have the standard karaoke machine which is only occasionally used.  Our inflatable “fat suits” have also been a hit.  And this is only our boat.

Whit’s boat, “Mudslide”, has 16 speakers and he is known to be careless with the volume button.  Perry’s “Off Duty” has an ingenious stainless steel pole mounted in the fighting chair support bracket for “pole dancing”, and our inventor friend, Peter from “Wicked’toria” has several clever items for disbursing water onto the docks when cool refreshment is needed (or as a surprise to unsuspecting guests, as the case may be).

With all this entertainment available to us, it would be hard to understand how we, and our crony friends, could ever become…bored. 

 It happened.

Late one boating season, sitting around on Peter [another Peter] and Mary’s boat, “Out of Service”, we were gloomy.  Our boating season was coming to an end, and it was obvious that none of our usual antics were going to make us happy.  The days were much shorter; the sun was going down early; there was no sun out and a mild mist was beginning to envelop us.  Even the midgies and mosquitoes weren’t a problem on this sullen late afternoon; there weren’t any.  If this condition were to last, we’d all be going home soon and this could not be tolerated; drastic measures were required.


Perry had a pint bottle of Jim Beam.  We put it into a brown paper bag, rolled back just enough to expose the top of the bottle, and began to pass it around.  There were some who didn’t care much for this libation but took a taste just to be cordial.  Others had a more robust approach to this solution for our malady (especially Kenny).  Since there were 15 of us, the bottle didn’t last long, but the idea had taken root.  We quickly found another pint bottle, wrapped it in brown paper and continued our remedial activities.  Soon, the music began, spirits were raised, the singing started, soon to be followed with the dancing.

As was generally the case, moderation was practiced by too few, and what began as a dull, meaningless day, became a rather wild and meaningless night.  However, to our knowledge, the whiskey from the brown paper bag was the only liquor imbibed that night.  Each time the bottle was emptied, it was refilled with whatever other whiskey could be found (someone may have filled it with Tequila once instead of whiskey) but it always remained full and in the brown paper bag.  At one point, as our stock was running perilously low, we approached a boat, with normal, reserved, book-reading, TV-watching owners (John and Louise[another Louise]) and asked in a most courteous manner, “Could we borrow a cup of whiskey?”

Our friend, Kenny, doesn’t swim.  His 1st mate, Debbie, concerned for his well-being, managed to get his Type-II PDF on him, but had a hard time keeping him in his “playpen” (what we call the closed, aft deck of the boat); his recurring, immortal words have gone down in dock history: “Why can’t I be with my friends?”, and “Whiskey is my friend!”.

Dottie and Joann invented a new, much safer way to walk on the docks…it involved scooting, crawling and crouching; they invented it to stay out of the water.

Brian tripped on a dock cleat, cut his foot & left a blood-trail the entire length of the main dock.  Early the next morning, we noticed this trail and followed it back to his boat.  Concerned for his well-being, after several knocks on his door, without answer, we tenuously entered fearing the worst.  He wasn’t there.  Maybe he did the smart thing and visited the emergency room.  Nope; he went to breakfast with a friend and barely noticed the cut on his foot.

But what happened with our friend Peter that night, “really never happened”. 

Peter and Mary’s boat, “Out of Service”, is a heavy boat and travels well, even in a bad sea. They love their boat; it’s a sturdy Carver live-aboard type boat, 50+ feet and many of their trips are to lovely destinations. It’s an older boat, as have been their five previous boats…and, unfortunately, spends a lot of time in need of repair, thus their name.

That night, as we passed the brown paper bag around, unbeknown to us, Peter did not partake.  He is partial to Rum; preferably expensive Rum; flavored; preferably on the rocks, which he “sips”. This was how he was passing the evening.  He loves music and singing and dancing.  Both he and Mary were dancing in a lively manner and carrying-on, but the one thing we can always count on is that he wears himself out quickly.  When he has reached his endurance level for both rum and dancing, he is the first one to escape to his boat “for a nap” (it should also be mentioned here that Peter “naps”, sans pajamas). Usually he is not to be seen until the next morning.

Well…this particular evening was to be (exceptional) an exception.

Our dock festivities expired around midnight; Peter had expired around 10 PM.  By 12:30, we were all pretty well tucked into our berths, except our friend David who was visiting some late-night boat-folks on the other side of the marina.  At 12:45 on this pitch-black night, out of the corner of his eye, David spotted, what looked to be, a naked man, running full throttle, around the docks, toward the marina rest rooms and offices; he could not believe his eyes.  The sprinting figure disappeared in the parking lot before David could understand what was happening.  David then tracked the elusive figure up the ramp, through the graveled cooking and party area to the restrooms.  He peered into the men’s room, but no one was there.  He began to scout around the parking lot, and even headed toward the main road in search of his quarry before hearing…”psssst; David; psssst”.  The voice was emanating from the laundry room at the rear of the office building.  It was Peter.  David, completely incredulous to what was happening, approached the laundry room; “Peter…is that you?”  “Yea; do you think you could find me a towel or something?”  Peter…what are you are doing?”  “I don’t know; I don’t know how I got here or what happened; I just know I need something to cover myself…quickly!”

David, the always dutiful, always helpful mayor of “F” dock, helped Peter back to his vessel, “Out of Service”. It turned out that Peter had always had occasional episodes of sleep-walking at home, but this was not common knowledge…until now; and sleep-running was new, even to Peter and Mary.

There were no other witnesses to this occurrence.  It was with great hilarity that David related this story to the rest of our gang the next morning.  As unbelievable as this story seemed to us, it had to be true; David could not have made it up; no way.  But to this day, the best person to validate this happening, the only person to validate it, Peter, has maintained that “It Never Happened!”…and with as straight a face as you will ever see.

Captain Robert Brown

First Mate Louise

the little man



  1. OH the stories…………and as I recall from this story “It never happened”!

  2. I will always have a momento of that evening; no memory but, a large irregular scar below my left toe. After two seasons, there is still, several blood trails vizable to the naked eye!
    Oh what fun 🙂

  3. Well that ones almost close. LOL

  4. Get down, it is the only way to travel….African Gold as I recall…LOL

  5. Omg thats awesome…. 🙂

  6. Great One Captain Bob Right about now working on this Coca-Cola stuff,I could use my friend.This comming season I think I might have too cut back a touch on the Whisky,because I don’t remmber all these Peter’s and Davids and I really can’t remmber any Marys other than the Marys at the thursty whale.I do remmber my friends like my friend Bud,Mr.DanielsOR Captain Morgan and that Mexacain Jose Cuervo oh and that gentileman Jack on A dock.I must be more aware of who is on the docks.Swimming lessons at the Ashworth in two weeks so I don’t have to put that dumb life vest on while I’m with my friends. signning off for now,keep up the good work .The General

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