Captain's Choice Ch. 01-02

"Excellent, Mister Hamelin. Outstanding work! You can take much pride in this vessel now."

"Thank you. It's been a lot of work but I'm glad you approve."

The twelve hours on the engine clock had been spent on my getting used to handling the craft by myself with just a deckhand to help with docking. I was reasonably satisfied that between my Power Squadron lessons and my extreme caution not to put a mark on my "masterpiece," I would be okay.

"So what now?" Joel asked.

"I've been thinking about chartering. Maximum six-to-eight people. I've got a couple of twelve foot Zodiacs on order for fishing. That's what the crane on the foredeck is for. I want to get some more hours under my belt, so I'll probably spend the next two or three months learning everything I can about handling the boat and what I need to have for charter operations."

I contacted an agency that booked charters for boats like mine. I was interviewed on my boat as they wanted to make sure it was up to their standards and was fully insured. I made it clear that I had the right of refusal to charter to anyone I did not feel comfortable with. They assured me that they screened their clients as carefully as they screened me. I wasn't convinced, but I decided to go with them for now.

The first summer was an eye-opener. The screening the agency did on their customers was purely financial, I guessed. Happily, I had refused day parties of more than twelve people and for overnight trips a maximum of eight, and preferably six. Despite the fact that the boat was fifty feet long, it wasn't designed as a passenger vessel. It was a yacht suitable for six to eight people to sleep in relative comfort. Six was ideal, while eight was stretching the resources, forcing us to find places for the crew. With only two heads (small washrooms) on board, facilities had to be rationed and carefully maintained.

I didn't set the rates, the agency did. I received the fees, less the agency's commission, which was substantial. I don't think I'd ever worked as hard as I did from May through September of that first year. Even all the hard work I put in restoring the boat didn't produce the fatigue that trying to please the clients did. Twelve hour days were the exception. Sixteen hours more often, trying to keep the food, liquor, bedding, fishing gear and working toilets at the ready.

I was astounded at the behaviour of some people. It was as if they had no responsibilities other than to party. They were rude, obnoxious, reckless with the equipment, pigs when it came to personal hygiene and generally disagreeable. They were a minority, of course. I was lucky enough to meet some delightful people and they were the perfect guests. It was the exceptions that coloured my thinking, though.

Halfway through the summer, I made a decision. I would do my own chartering and I would be a good deal more careful about whom I chose to welcome aboard. That was when Tom Thompson pointed me in the right direction toward controlling my own destiny. If it hadn't been for Tom, I might have given up the idea of chartering right then and there.

He put me on to corporate charter groups. Generally sales people taking key clients whom they wanted to entertain or thank for their business. While it wasn't the perfect solution, it was far better than I had experienced that first summer. The principal ambition of most of the corporate charters was to catch salmon. My two deckhands became my guides and my charter business began to thrive on its own merit.

These charters were decidedly more upscale and we had to cater to them in that fashion. The food had to be top quality and the service and accommodations had to match what we were charging. I found I was a good deal more relaxed and interested in interacting with the clients. For the most part, they were well behaved and often pitched in to help around the boat when the occasion arose. I began to enjoy my new career for the first time. I also made some new friends and valuable contacts for the future. I know we gained some new clients from the way we handled ourselves, so things were going in the right direction.

Most of my summer crew were repeaters. Students who needed a summer job, or more often now, young guys who wanted to do what they enjoyed in the summer, take some time off to travel, work at the ski resorts in the winter, and generally just move from location to location. I was amazed at how well-traveled these young people were.

When we had overnight guests, the crew would often take one of the inflatables ashore and set up a tent to sleep in. They would be back in time to get breakfast ready the next morning. It's a good thing they were young. They got very little sleep compared to the guests, but none of them complained. It was a life they enjoyed and were happy with their circumstances.

If we only had six or seven people for an overnight trip, I would sleep on the drop-down galley bunk. If it was eight, I would sleep up on the bridge on a fold-up cot I stowed for the purpose. The customer's comfort was first and foremost, so the captain's cabin was available to them first.

This past summer had been the third charter summer for me and I was satisfied I had found the life I could be happy with. However, I did want to add a permanent crew person this winter or spring. I needed someone to whom I could hand over command of the boat and be confident that it was in good hands. There were times when I needed to leave the bridge to effect repairs or check on supplies. It was a constant monitoring of the boat that I found the most demanding.

I had composed a help wanted ad for the newspaper. I was seeking an experienced person and hopefully a responsible one as well. Shortly after December first, I placed the ad.

Chapter 2 The Deckhand

The response to my advertisement for a deckhand brought a very sparse return. I had six letters containing what you might call a résumé, but that was stretching the definition for most. Only one of them caught my eye. A. R. (Del) Quinton provided a carefully and cleanly written application stating age, physical size, experience, and references.

Mr. Quinton had spent three years with Inlet Towing and listed the general manager as a reference. He also had a certificate of marine emergency duties from the British Columbia Institute of Technology. I didn't even know such a course existed. He was a graduate of B.C.I.T. in marine engineering. I looked up the courses on the website and I was impressed. At five-foot-ten and a hundred-sixty pounds, he wouldn't be the biggest deckhand I'd ever hired, but the experience and education was the clincher. This man was overqualified for the job, but if that's what he wanted, I'd be a fool not to interview him.

There was no phone number on the application, however there was an e-mail address. I typed a response and requested he contact me for an interview, preferably at the boat. I got a reply within a few minutes. Good! I arranged for him to meet me at the security gate at the yacht club at three that afternoon.

"Mister Hamelin?" a woman asked as I waited at the gate.

"Yes?"

"I'm Del Quinton," she smiled. "Sorry to mislead you, but I didn't want to prejudice my interview before it began."

I looked her over, a bit upset that I had been slightly deceived.

"That wasn't necessary. I've hired women deckhands before," I said abruptly.

"Good, then you can see from my application that I have the experience and some additional assets that can be of use to you."

I'll give her this. She was cool and unruffled by my somewhat chilly reception.

"So, what is your proper name?" I asked as I guided her through the security gate and down onto the floating dock.

"Ardele Roberta Quinton, but most of my friends and relatives call me 'Del.'"

"Three years on the tow boats at Inlet, I see."

"Yes. My father had a friend who was a senior manager at Inlet. I pretty much begged to get a chance. I'm glad I did, but I wouldn't go back there."

"Too hard?"

"It isn't the best environment for a woman. Booze and drugs among a lot of the hands. I loved the work, but after a while I decided there must be something better. Something that would keep me on the water and not have to put up with the shi... uh ... crap that was a steady diet after a while."

I nodded. She had a weathered look to her face and didn't bother to "dress up" for the interview. There were no skin-tight jeans, but rather baggy cotton cargo pants and a flannel snap-button shirt with a clean white t-shirt underneath. The boots were well worn soft-soled safety boots, obviously from her time on the tugs.

"What did you do before Inlet?"

"I worked for Burrard Marine at their chandlery. That's where I met my husband, to my regret."

"How long have you been married?"

"Six years. He figured out he didn't really have to work since I could support both of us on my income. That should have been the end right there, but I let it go on for a couple of years before I'd had enough."

"Why don't you come aboard and we can discuss what the job is all about?"

She followed me as we stepped onto the afterdeck of my boat and I saw her appraising it immediately. I let her look around and was pretty sure she was getting a good first impression. For that matter, I was getting a pretty good first impression of Del Quinton.

She was no raving beauty, but she was attractive in a rough-hewn sort of way. Her face told you that she lived an outdoor life and her body, although fairly well hidden by her clothes, implied she was fit and probably strong. Her blonde hair was short, cut just above the nape of her neck. When she finished her preliminary survey, she smiled, showing perfect white teeth.

"Well, what do you think?" I asked.

"I like it. I like it a lot. How old?"

"Fifty-two years. Built by Shadwell in 1959. Re-engined in 1970, restored in 2007 with new electronics and galley, along with a lot of the fittings and hardware."

"Diesel?"

"Twin Perkins plus a Yanmar generator."

"GPS?"

"Yeah, Garmin for that and the radar."

"You've got the whole package, then."

"That was the plan. I can show you some pictures of what she looked like before I restored it four years ago. I know a lot of people were thinking I was wasting my time."

"No ... you didn't. It's beautiful. It's perfect. Who do I have to bribe to get this job?"

"Let's go into the cabin and talk. You need to know what I'm looking for and I need to know you can do the job."

I don't know why I spent the next half-hour with her. I knew she could do the job and I knew I was going to hire her. It was just a matter of settling the details. But first I wanted to know more about her.

"Were do you live?"

"Right this moment, nowhere. I've bailed out of my apartment. My soon-to-be ex-husband made life untenable for me."

"Where are your things? Clothes and stuff?"

"In my truck. I'll find a place."

"Are you working right now?"

She shook her head. "No ... but I've got a few bucks the lazy SOB couldn't get his hands on."

"Did he get physical with you?" I asked, wondering if some hulk wasn't going to try and track her down.

"He wouldn't dare. He'd be in emergency before he got a second chance."

I snorted. She didn't sound like someone who would stand being messed with.

"Anything else I should be aware of or worried about?"

She laughed. "Well, I'm not wanted by the police ... or my 'old man' as it turns out. I'm available for work right away. I can afford to buy a uniform if I need one. I have my own outerwear including a survival suit. I can rig fishing tackle, repair most engines, prepare food, clean toilets ... you know ... the usual female stuff."

"Okay, okay," I interrupted, holding my hand up. "You know what I'm paying. Any tips are your own. I'm insured and you will be covered by my health insurance after sixty days. Any questions?"

"Yeah ... what happened to the last deckhand?"

"Everyone I've hired has been a temp for the spring and summer season. Most of them are college kids. I want someone year-around. I don't have to depend on the charter business in the off-season, but there is some business if I want to take it. My corporate customer base is growing and they like to entertain clients in style. We provide that style."

"Yeah, I can see that. This is one very nice boat. You've done a hell of a job bringing it back to new."

"Thanks. It was a lot of work, but everyone who knows something about boats tells me it was worth it."

"I agree," she nodded.

"Where are you staying tonight?" I asked, remembering she had left her apartment and husband behind.

"I'll get a motel room for a few days until I can find another apartment."

"You can stay on the boat if you like. You'll have to get some food for yourself, but the power, water and sanitary system are all hooked up."

"Thanks, but you don't know me. Aren't you taking a risk?"

"I guess I am, but I'm taking a risk hiring you before I check your references. You need a place to stay temporarily and I have one. You might as well take advantage of the opportunity to get to know your workplace better."

"Okay, thanks. I'll take you up on your offer. I appreciate it."

"Can I help you with your things?"

"No need. I've just got one bag. There's nothing left at the apartment that I want."

"Okay, go ahead then," I said, passing her my card for the security gate. "I've got a couple of phone calls to make."

I waited until she was on the dock before I keyed in Joel's number.

"Hey, Joel, it's Pat Hamelin. Got a minute?"

"Sure, Pat. What can I do for you?"

"Do you know a family named Quinton?"

"Yeah ... Cam Quinton. If I remember, he has three daughters. Joan, Wendy and the youngest. Odd first name if I remember correctly."

"Would it be Ardele?"

"Yeah ... I think that's it all right. Why do you ask?"

"She applied for the deckhand job. She looks good on paper, but I wondered if you knew anything?"

"Not much, Pat. She was a serious student at BCIT and then, against her parents' wishes, married some guy. Pleko or Pleshko ... something like that."

"Okay. What was your impression of her?"

I could almost see him shaking his head. "Nothing special. Good student ... studying engineering or something like that. Not a problem, other than marrying this guy I mentioned."

"You know anyone at Inlet Towing?"

"Nope. Sorry, can't help you there."

"Okay. She gave the GM as a reference. I guess that should be good enough."

"Give him a call, Pat. You can usually tell if someone doesn't want to tell you everything."

"I'll do that. Thanks, Joel."

I waited for Del to return with her bag. It was almost the size of a hockey bag, so she wasn't leaving much behind in her former digs. It looked heavy but she didn't seem to be having any trouble with it slung over her shoulder. There was little doubt she was fit and strong.

"We'll just head up to the office and get you your own security card. Do you go by your married name?"

"No. I never took his family name. I like my independence too much, I guess."

"Okay then, the pass will be made out to Ardele Quinton."

She smiled and nodded. "That's what it says on my passport."

"You'll need to come with me and sign the register and the card. Leave your bag here and we can get this done now before the office closes."

"Let's go," she grinned.

"You know this job entails dealing with the public, right?" I asked.

"I know. Don't worry. I'm not a bitch and I don't get moody at certain times of the month," she smirked. "I promise not to punch out any wise-asses that might be among the clients."

"That's good to know," I chuckled. "My insurance carrier will be most grateful."

I had already sent out some feelers for "off season" cruises and fishing trips. Winter Chinook salmon fishing had been good the last couple of years and I knew there might be some opportunities for some whale watching further north in the Straits. But first, a good test of Ardele would be the Carol Ship Parade. She would be aboard for the last three days and that should give me a good idea of how she handled the public.

I checked with Hector Taylor at Inlet Towing and got a good, believable report on Ardele. If she lacked anything, it was the ambition to use her education to move further up the ladder at his company. She was a reliable, hard worker and didn't mess with either drugs or alcohol. When she was done with her shift, she went home to her husband and wasn't heard from until she reported for her next shift. He had no idea she had split up with Kurt Plekas, the man she had married.

Her initial test would be this coming Friday with our first parade. A dozen guests, three crew and a bartender. I intended for Del to split her time with me on the bridge and mingling with the crew to see what was going on and how they handled themselves. My crew were experienced, having previously worked with me on Captain's Choice, so I had no concerns about their ability to do the job.

Typical dress for the Carol Ships was black trousers, black shoes, and a white open-neck dress shirt. It made it easy for the guests to find a crew member when they needed one and I wanted them to look professional, despite the young average age. The bartender wore the same by request. It could get pretty warm in the cabin with that many people and I wanted our staff to be comfortable.

Del wore black slacks and a white short-sleeved dress shirt and with black deck shoes I was satisfied with the way she looked. I couldn't help but notice her muscular arms. My first impression of her was right. She was fit and strong if her biceps were any indication. The slacks were a good deal snugger than her cargo pants and I was impressed with her physique. Everything about her spelled fitness and yet it didn't deter from her feminine qualities. When the crew arrived, I saw the guys checking her out carefully.

By the time we embarked on our first parade cruise of the season, the organizers had pretty well got things under control, with only a few stragglers and misfits. The parade began around seven in the evening and we were usually back at our berth between 9:30 and 10:00 PM.

Del mingled among the guests, answering questions about the boat and where we were in the harbour. It was a cool, moonless night, but thankfully not raining or windy, so many of the guests were outside enjoying the sights, trying to take pictures as we slowly motored along.

I went below, leaving Tom at the wheel, checking with the bartender to make sure no one was getting drunk and that all was well. He assured me we were fine and said the crew were keeping a watch for anyone who might not behave. I found Del outside, short sleeves and all, talking to a couple of our guests.

"Do you want a sweat shirt, Del?" I asked.

"No, I'm fine. I'll come in soon. I just wanted to check on our passengers and make sure everyone was safe."

"Thanks. We can see some of them from the bridge, but it's good to keep an eye out."

I went back inside, said hello to a few people and then returned to the bridge.

"I think I made a good choice for my new deckhand, Tom."

"Glad to hear it. From what you've told me, she has the credentials to be really useful on board."

"Yes ... that and the fact that she's an interesting person to talk to. She's very knowledgeable and well read."

"She's also an attractive woman, in case you haven't noticed," he kidded.

"Yes ... not a classic beauty, but nice just the same."

"I think she's interested in you," he said, continuing to scan the darkness for whatever he could see.

"What makes you think that?"

"I dunno ... just the way she looks at you sometimes. I could be wrong."

"I think you are. Anyway, it's a bad idea to get involved with your employees, I've always been told."