Caribbean's Keeper by Brian; Boland Read Free Book Online Page A

bills while he lived a life others could only envy. Cole sensed that Kevin was more intelligent then he let on and quickly developed a measure of respect for his professed way of life.
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    Well after the sun had set over the Keys, Cole and Kevin shook hands. Kevin went on his way and Cole ordered a plate of fish tacos to settle his stomach. He ate by himself, one last bottle of beer sweating next to him before he made his way back to La Concha for the night. Key West was alive as he walked back up Duval Street. He thought that perhaps he was now a regular. In a town of misfits, he wondered, What does one need to become a local ? His mind pondered such inconsequential questions as he walked alone up the sidewalk. The bar music blended in with the raucous noise as Key West repeated its same drunken mistakes yet again. He turned in to his room a little after nine and smiled under the crisp and clean cotton sheets, ecstatic at the thought of eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.
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    He woke early at a half past five and brewed the junk coffee in his room. Dressing quickly and in silence, he grabbed the coffee to go in a Styrofoam cup and made his way down Duval Street to the Yankee Freedom II . The feeling of a first day at work was new to him, and he enjoyed the thought of the day ahead. Meeting Kevin at the dock, Cole caught a Yankee Freedom t-shirt Kevin threw at him and replaced his button down shirt with it. Hopping aboard, Cole went to work with little direction from Kevin. He helped carry crates from the dock, set up the meager breakfast foods, and introduced himself to the few other crew members wandering about.
    The tourists showed up shortly after seven. Cole was polite and realized that his smile was contagious. It was easy work. The sun was up, the engines were running, and Cole could hardly wait to slip the lines off the cleats and smell salt air in his lungs again. With the last of the guests aboard, the nimble cat cut through the light chop of the harbor and pointed south, her engines vibrating the deck beneath Cole’s bare feet. She cut the same path through the water Cole had steamed so many times before on Delaney , but this time was different. Cole pictured himself content like the boatswain’s mates on the decks of Delaney . His pace slowed as he stowed the last of the lines and the cat picked up speed southbound approaching the sea buoy. She rocked more as the open swells pushed under her bow and the cat made an easy turn to the west. Quickly coming up on speed, Cole’s work was done for the next two hours. Perhaps he’d take a photo or two at the request of some tourists, or even pose for one, but the next two hours left him mostly alone with his thoughts.
    Twenty minutes after rounding the reef, Kevin approached Cole on the aft deck and the two stood facing out over the water.
    Kevin said, “If this is something you wanna do, you’ve got the job. I was just impressed you were here early this morning.”
    Cole replied, “Yeah, man. I think this is good for me.”
    “Cool.” Kevin didn’t say much after that. The two stood side by side, their arms against the railing and their shirts blowing in the breeze. The sun was warm and the breeze was stiff as the Yankee Freedom dug through a groundswell and pointed towards the Dry Tortugas.
    Two hours later, Kevin and Cole made their way to the bridge as Fort Jefferson came into view. The cat slowed as she neared the island, and Cole was struck by its secluded charm. Dating back to the middle of the 18 th century, the fort served as an outpost against piracy and commanded control of the straits. It was monstrous and a sight to behold. Her massive brick walls pressed up against the shallow waters of a larger lagoon. During the Civil War, it had housed hundreds of army deserters. Cole knew the history of the fort and smiled to himself in appreciation of the mindset of a deserter. He felt like one himself in some ways and imagined what life must have been like for