Theday had been long and tiring and the catch had been worse than meager. Jesusand his father had awakened before the sun rose and then ventured deep into farnorthern waters in search of the ever more elusive schools of fish. Now,nearing the end of daylight, they found themselves discouraged, many hours awayfrom home, exhausted, and with little to show for their efforts. It had been adiscouraging season in general. As the summer had transitioned into fall andthen into winter, Jesus had been dismayed to see the marketable catch from thevillage fishing collective steadily plummet into insignificance. Today was nodifferent. Once again, their entire day's labor had yielded little of value.
"Pull up your net Jesus. It is time to go," said his father wearily. "Wherewill we go?" asked Jesus. "We are hours away from the village."
"Iam tired my son. I need to rest. There is a small cove a bit further to thenorth. We can sleep there and fish along the way home tomorrow. Maybe we willget lucky after a good night's sleep," he said without conviction.
Itwasn't just Mamacita and her crew that were having difficulties. The entire LaCruz fishing fleet had been hurting lately. And it wasn't just seasonalvariation to the catch. Winter usually brought a bountiful harvest to theirnets. In a typical year, cooler waters to the north drove vast schools of fishsouth to the warmer waters along the Mexican Pacific coast. Mysteriously, thisyear the fish didn't appear as they normally did and all the fishermen in thevillage were affected.
"Itis just south of Punta Tortuga. The anchorage is not much, but while the windcontinues out of the north we will be comfortable enough."
Jesusnodded to his father. He knew that he must be very tired or he would not haveeven made the suggestion. The winds this time of year were variable and theycould easily be blown out of the intended anchorage with a small wind shift. Despite his misgivings, he held his tongue and began pulling his empty net fromthe sea. There wasn't anything to be done about it anyway. They had a longvoyage back to the village and no fish to sell when they got there. His fatherwas right. If they were lucky, maybe they could fill their hold in the morningas they made their way back to the harbor in the village.
It was nearly dark when they arrived at the cove. As Jesus had feared and hisfather had admitted, the anchorage wasn't much. That was probably why Jesus hadnever heard of it from the other fishermen in the village. It was exposed toany wind and waves from the southeast all the way to the northwest. It wascalm when they arrived but Jesus knew that conditions could change in aheartbeat. By the time they had dropped anchor and settled in, it didn'tmatter. They were too tired to care. After a small dinner of raw fish andwater to wash it down, father and son went to sleep aboard Mamacita under lightcovers.
Aboutan hour before daylight, Jesus awoke. Their fishing panga was rollinguncomfortably from side to side. It was an unpredictable, nausea inducingmotion that Jesus detested. An occasional wave would slap the gunwale,throwing spray high into the air where it was blown back into Mamacita. Jesus'blanket was thoroughly soaked, caught between the effects of the wave actionand the morning dew. Everything he touched was damp or dripping wet, making itseem even colder than the temperature implied.
Thewestern sky was still dark, but to the east, a pink glow had already beguncreeping up the horizon. In the dim light available, Jesus could see thatsometime during the night they had moved into a potentially dangeroussituation. As he had feared, the winds had shifted while they slept, and theywere now coming directly out of the south, perhaps presaging an unseasonablylate storm.
Withthe wind shift, came a directional change in the way the panga was oriented,but the wave action hadn't yet caught up with the wind shift. The waves, thoughnot large, were coming from the northwest. Mamacita was now pointing south,her nose into the wind, and uncomfortably broadside to the motion of the sea. Worse, even in the dim light, Jesus could see that they were being blown in thedirection of a rocky shore that would break their Mamacita to bits if shemanaged to drag all the way to the edge of the water.
"Father! Father! Wake up!" Jesus spoke with some urgency. "The wind shifted while weslept. We must leave here soon!"
Hisfather, only half asleep anyway, grunted wordlessly. The same uncomfortablynauseating motion that had awakened Jesus had made deep slumber difficult forhis father as well. The words of warning from Jesus weren't a surprise. Evenwithout looking, he had detected the wind shift with his nose. Winds off theshore have a distinctly different smell from those coming off the ocean. Whenthey had arrived the previous evening, he knew the land breeze was pushing themaway from the rocks lining the shore. The air had an earthy smell to it thathe recognized immediately. Now his nose was telling him a moisture laden seabreeze was pushing them onto the land. He knew they needed to be moving on,but had let his son come to the same conclusion for himself. Now it was time. Withboth of them awake, they should be leaving.
Shakingthe sleep out of his head, his father slowly sat up and peered into thedarkness. With a wary squinted eye, he noted the waves breaking on a leeshore.
"Yes," he grunted again. "Even with my tired old eyes I can see it is time to go."
Jesus,by now fully awake, watched the shore nervously, suspecting they were inchingcloser to the rocks even as he watched. Was it his imagination? It wasdifficult to tell in the dim light. Still, it was best not to take a chance.
"Father,it looks like we are getting closer to shore. Do you think our anchor might bedragging?"
Hisfather, busy draining his bladder, only grunted again. He suspected Jesus wascorrect. It really was time to be moving on.
"Bringthe anchor in boy. I will start the engine."
Jesus,glad to have a purpose, crawled forward to the bow where the anchor was tied tothe gunwale cleat. He saw immediately that the anchor line was stretched tautin a trajectory that led just below the dim horizon. He realized instantlythat there was a lot of tension on the anchor and it was almost certainlydragging along the sandy bottom with every wave, just as he had suspected.
"Areyou ready father?" he asked.
"Waita moment. The engine will not start," came the mumbled reply.
Inshocked silence, Jesus turned to watch his father as he hovered over theengine. The only sounds he could hear were the waves as they slapped the hulland the wind as it shrieked past his ears.
"Whatis wrong?" Jesus asked in a confused tone.
"Ido not know. It just will not start. You better look at it."
Theboat was rocking wildly by now and Jesus was careful as he scrambled back tothe stern where the motor was mounted. His father pointed at the on/off switchand the battery, grunting again in consternation. Everything looked normal toJesus and he could feel the nervous tension growing. He was convinced thatevery wave was carrying them closer to shore. Out of the corners of his eyes,Jesus could see the waves crashing on the rocks and the resultant spray beingblown to shore.
Itwas growing lighter now. There was no need for a flashlight to see theengine. After a cursory assessment, Jesus saw nothing that would prevent anuneventful start. He reached for the switch, hoped for the best, and toggledit slowly.
Deadsilence. Nothing. Absolutely nothing resulted. He tried again and got thesame result.
"Didyou check the battery?" he asked his father in desperation.
"No," his father grunted, lost in thought. "It was fine yesterday."
Jesusrealized the battery was unlikely to be the problem, but he had to startsomewhere. The rocks along the shore would be unforgiving if they dragged downonto them.
Theboat was convulsing uncontrollably now. The waves were building and lastnight's shelter had become open ocean. Reaching for the tool box, Jesus nearlyfell out of the boat, but his father grabbed at his belt and steadied himbefore he could go over the side.
Aclose one, Jesus said while rummaging through the tool box in search of somewire. As quick as he could in the difficult conditions, he attached the wireto the positive lead on the battery. As he was moving the other end of thewire to the ground post, another large wave caused the boat to lurch, pushingJesus on top of the battery. Big, bright sparks started flying everywhere.
"Itis not the battery," he said grimly after regaining his seating. "Could it bethe starter switch?"
"Youmight be right," said his father thoughtfully. "If it got wet last night fromdew and salt spray, it might be shorting to itself."
Jesuswas silent for a while. He had been glancing all along at the shore and wascertain now that they were closer; dangerously closer. He suspected that thewaves were getting larger because they were in the shallow waters adjacent tothe beach. In a few minutes those waves would likely start breaking on top ofthem, filling Mamacita with water and sinking her.
"Weare too close to the rocks," he replied in obvious alarm.
Hisfather, deep in thought, grunted again and barked at Jesus.
"Giveme that big adjustable wrench. I will bypass the starter."
"Letme get you the gloves. You might get shocked," Jesus said, while handing thewrench over.
"Thereis no time for that mijo," his father responded. "We need to get out of here. We will be on the rocks in seconds."
Sosaying, his father positioned one end of the wrench on the positive lead of thebattery, and the other on some exposed wiring that effectively bypassed thestarter. The engine instantly responded with a roar, bringing relieved grinsto the faces of both the fishermen. Jesus scrambled forward again to bring theanchor aboard hand-over-hand, while his father manipulated the throttle to keepthem in deeper water as he brought it up. They had survived the ordeal.
Inan hours' time, father and son were deploying their nets on their way south.
"Maybewe will get lucky today," his father said to no one in particular.
Jesussaid nothing in response. He was afraid that maybe they had already beengranted all the luck they would get in one lifetime.