Tampa, Florida
Part 4

I nearly fell in a crumpled heap when I answered the doorbell. Mark was everything Cody had described and more. He was dressed smart but also casual; an open-neck, short-sleeve blue shirt, that showed off his strong tanned arms, blue jeans, and light blue sneakers. His black hair was styled and spiky, and looked wicked. And handsome? Whoa! The dude was straight out of a fucking movie. Totally killer looks. Even the shirt couldn't hide the shape of his pecs.

“Wow! I’m so glad you could make it, Mark!” I beamed. “What’s that after-shave you’re wearing? Brut? Yep, I'll bet it's Brute. Cody used to wear Brute. Hey, you look totally awesome, man. My mom’s gonna go ballistic. I remember Cody telling me about his mom and the way she…”

“Hey, I don’t mean to be rude, Daniel, but are we gonna dine out here on the front porch?”

“Huh?” I could feel the hot blood rushing to my cheeks. “Oh, jeez, sorry, man. Kinda got carried away, heh. Come and meet the folks.”

Mark waited behind me ‘til I closed the door, then followed me down the hall to the living room – well, as best he could ‘cause Kyle was jumping all over the place like a frog on steroids - where I introduced him to my mom, Andy, and Greg. They were all impressed big time with Mark’s smile. It was one of those smiles that made you feel like you’d known him forever… and wanted to know him for forever more.

“Lemme get you a beer,” I said, then darted into the kitchen where I let out a silent ‘Woohoo’ as I opened the fridge door. I grabbed a can Coor’s Keystone Premium and a chilled glass, and headed back to the living room. Mark was seated by then, and looking relaxed as he chatted to my folks and bro. “You wanna pour it or will I?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I popped the can, tilted the glass, and began pouring the lager into the glass. It was always such a cool sight to see the amber liquid rising, and the white head beginning to form, and the effervescence coming to life - hundreds of tiny bubbles heading north.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the glass from me, then putting it to his lips. “Mmmm. Just what the doctor ordered. Pretty good drop.”

“Did I miss anything while I was in the kitchen?”

“You were only gone a second,” Andy laughed. “We’ve hardly said a word.”

“I don’t wanna miss a single thing,” I said as I planted my butt on the floor next to Mark’s chair, and crossed my legs. “So, what was the trip like? Sailing here from Durban?”

“Fantastic. Scary sometimes, but mostly fantastic. If you’d asked me about sailing a couple of years ago, I would’ve thought you were crazy. It’s in my blood now. I love it. It’s my future.”

“How long are you gonna be in Tampa?”

“Not sure. I’m hoping I can get some work crewing. I’d like to hang around for a while.”

“Really? That’d be soooo cool! Where are you gonna stay, though?”

“Haven’t figured that out yet. Depends on a whole bunch of things. I guess I’ll feel my way as I go along. One thing’s for sure. I can’t stay at the Marriott. Wow! That place is way too expensive for me. Luckily, it’s on the boss’s tab – part of the deal.”

“When do you move out?”

“Monday.”

“The day after tomorrow? Where are you gonna go?”

“Maybe a backpackers or something. I’ll find a place.”

“Mom?”

She knew exactly what was on my mind. She glanced at Andy for a moment, got the nod of approval, then spoke to Mark. “You have a place here if you want. We don’t have a spare room, but there’s a spare bed in Daniel’s room. It would be no trouble at all.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate that. But I couldn’t impose. Really. You people don’t even know me.”

“I do!” I insisted. “You’re Cody’s friend. Mr T said Cody always chose his friends well. And any friend of Cody’s is a friend of ours. Anyway, it’s not like you’re gonna be living here forever – just ‘til you get settled. And we’re not gonna take no for an answer. Right, mom?”

“It seems that my son has made up his mind,” mom laughed. “And he’s not an easy person to argue with.”

“Well… I don’t quite know how to thank you. This is all a bit overwhelming. I’ll pay my way, of course. I have money saved. I don’t want charity.”

“We’ll work something out, Mark,” my mom smiled as she rose from her chair. “Meantime, the meatloaf is about ready. Excuse me while I get dinner organized.” Mom had only gone a few paces when she paused, turned, and said to Mark: "By the way, I love your accent."

Normally, I’d help mom in the kitchen but Andy volunteered ‘cause he knew I wanted to stick like glue to Mark. So, my bro, Mark, Kyle and I remained in the living room.

“I hope you don’t mind my asking,” Mark began after taking a sip of the Coor's, “but I’m curious about you and Greg. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of your mom and dad. Are you guys really brothers?”

“Step bros,” I answered, then went on to explain that Andy was married to a Philippino woman who was Greg’s mom. “She died some years ago. Andy and Greg moved here to Tampa. We all became friends 'cause we were neighbors. Then Andy proposed to my mom. And here we are. Bros. Pretty cool, huh?”

“That explains Greg’s skin color and features. Hey, don’t get me wrong. That wasn’t meant to be racist or anything…”

“Hey, man, that’s no prob,” Greg grinned, showing his awesome set of sparkling pearlies, and causing his dark eyes to become crescent-shaped. “It’s natural to be curious. No biggie. I’m what they call Eurasian.”

“Yeah, the best of both worlds,” I interrupted. “Looks awesome, huh? And he’s the best bro a guy could wish for… ‘cept when we fight, that is, which isn’t very often.”

“That’s ‘cause I always win.”

“Yeah, right.” But the subject of fighting reminded me of something. “Are you still boxing, Mark?”

“Bit hard at sea on a yacht,” he smiled. “But I work out. Haven’t been in a ring for ages, though. I miss those days sparring with the Codeman.”

Over dinner, the convo was totally centered around our handsome guest. Questions were being fired from every direction, and he must’ve been wondering what all the fuss was about. But he sure enjoyed talking about sailing. I guessed it kinda took the heat off him personally. I was mindful of what Cody had told me about Mark being a pretty private person, and resenting being given the third degree about personal stuff.

One of the more obvious questions was how long the trip took. “About 42 days, not counting stop-overs to replenish supplies. We averaged about 140 nautical miles a day. Some days, depending on the trade winds, we’d cover 300 nautical miles. Then there were days when the boat was becalmed and we just sat there like shags on a rock. Even then, we had plenty of maintenance jobs to keep ourselves occupied.”

“Doesn’t the boat have an auxiliary motor?” Andy asked.

“Yep. But that only does eight knots. It’s only for maneuvering around harbors and stuff like that. Anyway, we sailed around the Cape, at about 45 degrees longitude, and headed across the Atlantic for Rio. That was our first stop-over. Had to keep an eye out for pirates, though.”

“Pirates?”

“Sure. But we were armed, and there was always someone on watch 24/7. Pirates weren’t our only concern, though. Now that whales are more or less protected, there are a helluva lot more of them around. Hit one of those guys and you’re in big trouble. And containers.”

“Containers?”

“Shipping containers. They fall off ships in a storm or whatever, and they usually float just below the surface. They can be a major hazard for small boats. You don’t wanna argue with those things, especially at night.”

“Jeez!” I ventured. “When you think of the ocean you think of almost endless space. Not some man-made junkyard with a whole bunch of crap floating around.”

“Sometimes the ocean is endless. You can go for days without seeing another vessel, or anything at all except ocean and sky. But there’s a lot of traffic out there, and you’ve gotta watch out for it, day and night. You know, you can’t just park somewhere after sundown and book into a motel. Sailing an ocean is an all-day, all-night job; non-stop.”

Mark went on to answer further questions about storms, heavy seas with waves 40 feet high, sea sickness, the daily routine on board, and even superstitions at sea.

“Yeah,” he laughed after swallowing a mouthful of meatloaf. “I was the youngest member on board, so if we were approaching a hazardous area or a breeding ground for sea monsters…”

“Sea monsters? Yeah, right. Surely nobody believes in that crap?”

“Go on, Mark. Please ignore Daniel’s interruptions.”

“Well, according to an ancient mariner’s book of the sea, I’d be thrown overboard as a sacrifice. It’s called ‘ducking’ and it’s supposed to be very effective. There are all kinds of superstitions. Throwing salt over your shoulder. Re-naming a boat. We didn’t have to worry about that ‘cause it was brand new. Giving a boat a name ending with the letter ‘a’. Leaving port on the 13th day of the month. Keeping clear of black cats and overturned wash basins before boarding for final departure. And it’s tradition to throw a shot of rum overboard before you take a sip of it yourself. Women also attract bad luck. No offence, Nancy. But I’ve heard that a naked woman or a pregnant woman is OK. The guys on board were joking about having to find a naked woman and getting her pregnant to avoid the bad omen.”

Everybody cracked up about that, including Mark.

“And you can’t have garlic stowed too close to the ship’s compass, or the GPS, for that matter. No one quite knows how garlic might affect satellite navigation. Actually, as we were rounding the Cape of Good Hope, we also had to keep an eye out for the ‘Flying Dutchman’.”

“Who’s he?”

“It’s not a ‘he’, Daniel. It’s a ship. The captain of the Flying Dutchman used to cuss like crazy – like someone else I know – and he was big time into booze. Legend says he was a sinner and sold his soul to the devil. He was finally cursed for all eternity to wander through the huge storm where he and his ship were originally lost, never succeeding in rounding the Cape. If you even sight the Flying Dutchman today, it’s said that misfortune will be your fate due to the severity of the curse.”

As recently as March, 1939, the ghost ship was seen off the coast of South Africa by dozens of bathers who supplied detailed descriptions of the ship, although most had probably never seen a 17th century merchant vessel. The British South Africa Annual of 1939 included the story, derived from newspaper reports:
"With uncanny volition, the ship sailed steadily on as the Glencairn beach folk stood about keenly discussing the whys and wherefores of the vessel. Just as the excitement reached its climax, however, the mystery ship vanished into thin air as strangely as it had come."

The last recorded sighting was in 1942 off the coast of Cape Town. Four witnesses saw the Dutchman sail into Table Bay... and vanish.

“Do you really believe all that crap?”

“Hey, I’m a sailor,” he winked. “That’s what sailors believe in.” Then he turned his attention to my mom and rubbed his stomach. “Awesome meatloaf, Nancy. Best I’ve ever tasted.”

“There’s more if you’d like a second helping.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Whoa! I’m totally full.”

“No dessert? We’re having fruit salad and ice cream.”

“OK,” he grinned. “Maybe just a small serving.”

Andy was puzzled about one aspect of the whole yacht thing, though. “You say the yacht was built in Johannesburg. Isn’t that quite a way inland?”

“Yep. Maybe 500 kilometers from Durban.”

“I would have thought it would be more economical to build yachts closer to a port.”

“Not necessarily. Sea-front property is very expensive, which all adds to the cost of constructing a boat. Labor is also cheaper in Joburg. Once the hull, interior fittings, and fairing are finished, we use a low-loader semi-trailer fitted with a cradle to truck the boat to port. Masts, sails and other fittings come along for the ride, but are not fitted until the boat is in port. Then it’s ready for sailing. Lots of boat-builders are based inland for economic reasons, as well as other reasons.”

“I hadn’t realized that. Very interesting.”

“Hey, I’ve been doing all the talking here,” Mark said as dessert was placed in front of him. “So tell me about Florida and what it’s like here.”

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