Joe Lansdale - Captains Outrageous

While I was standing there, looking out at the water, Big Bill came up and lit a cigar. “That was some night,” he said.

I turned and smiled at him. He was dressed in blue jeans, a cowboy shirt with the sleeves rolled, and house shoes. His gray hair coiled and rumpled in the wind like some invisible hand wadding up stringy cotton.

“I’ll say it was some night. I lost my lobster.”

“Not much of a loss. Sort of ruined the honeymoon atmosphere in our cabin, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. We were just down to business when all that started. Pretty soon were just two naked bodies rolling around on the floor clutching at each other saying shit.”

“Worse ways to go,” I said.

“I suppose that’s true. I got upset, got dressed, came out for a look, like it would do me good to know. Waves were washing all along the deck here. Scary. I went back in and up front and outside. Waves were jumping over the deck, way up there. It was one spooky experience, I guarantee. Cigar?”

“No thanks.”

Leonard came on deck then. He greeted Bill, who offered him a cigar.

“Is it Cuban?” Leonard asked.

“Nope. Not this one.”

Leonard took it and lit it. He said, “You know there’s a woman behind the door there, on the stair landing with two kids?”

“Saw her when I came out,” I said.

“Me too,” said Bill. “She was there last night when I came out for a look. I was surprised they hadn’t locked the doors. Safety seems a little scant to me.”

“Her little girl informed me Mama had said fuck,” I said.

“Yeah,” Leonard said, “she told me the same thing.”

“Me too,” Big Bill said. “You know, this cruise stuff sucks. I’m excited for when we get to Mexico and dock. I want to get some land under my feet and an enchilada in my mouth, wash it down with some tequila. Me and Mama might like to dance too. You know, I was out here early to smoke, and they were pushing a covered body along the deck in a wheelchair, took it through that door over there.”

“No shit?” Leonard asked.

“No shit. I asked one of the crew what happened. He said an old guy died last night. Apparently the old fella had taken this cruise several times, thought he’d like to do it one last time, and last time it was.”

“I can’t believe anybody does this on purpose twice,” Leonard said.

“He croaked in all that high seas business,” Bill said. “My guess is it scared him to death. They got him in a meat locker or something down below.”

“I can see it now,” Leonard said. “A sheet-covered corpse in a wheelchair in the food freezer with our dinner lobster and a bag of green peas in his lap.”

“Maybe it wasn’t the rough seas killed him,” I said. “Maybe it was the food.”

On that note, we went to eat breakfast in the buffet dining area.

Later in the day we shot skeet off the back of the ship. If there’s one thing I can do it’s hit a target with almost any kind of long gun. Leonard did fair, but I was really on, and me and Leonard got to betting with Big Bill and this other guy, a Yankee named Dave who looked to be about sixty and turned out to be my and Leonard’s age, late forties.

I made about ten dollars off the deal, and Leonard made five. We used our gains to buy drinks for all of us in the bar. I was the only one not drinking liquor. We sat and drank and talked for a while. It wasn’t anything special, just talk. Bill and the Yankee were all right if you didn’t have to see them on a daily basis. Then again, there’s days I feel that way about all Yankees, but I promise I’m trying to get over it.

Later in the day Leonard and I walked around the ship, bored to death. Finally we holed up in our cabin and read. I read from a good Larry McMurtry book about the size of a cement block. Leonard read from The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and laughed out loud a lot.

We had dinner in the buffet room that night. Leonard had made his point and didn’t care if he pissed the doorman off again or not.

The food wasn’t any worse or any better than where we had eaten the night before, just more casual. I couldn’t help but think about that dead guy, maybe in the food locker. Did they have a morgue on board? Maybe. Surely people died on these things now and then. Perhaps more than now and then.

We went to a bad floor show later. I had seen better high school productions. It was a tribute to rock and roll with a Filipino rock and roll band that had probably learned its material that afternoon. Little Richard would have had a heart attack, and I bet Buddy Holly was rolling over in his grave.

The singers were so awful they hurt my feelings and their dancing was a bit more like contained stumbling to music. I noticed however that I kept my eye on one of the female dancers who wore only feathers and had big tits, and I got to thinking about what Leonard had told me, and I had to sit there and do some deep soul searching. I kept my eyes on the tits just the same. I can get over bad dancing.

That night the sea was rough again, but not as rough as the night before. I went up once to check the night seas, and on the landing was the lady and her kids and the teddy bear. The kids seemed to think this was all great fun, but the mother had her back against the wall and she had carried a trash can out with her and she had that in her lap, puking. The teddy bear was hanging tough.

I opened the door, but when a mist of sea washed into my face, I closed it. Wasn’t anything I wanted to see out there. I had taken to carrying a packet of Dramamine in my pocket, and I gave it to the lady and her kids.

“It takes time to work,” I said, “but it does work. It won’t do anything for being scared, however. You know, you’d really be more comfortable in your cabin.”

“No,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am. You’re the boss.”

I went downstairs and to bed. About midnight I began to think the woman had the right idea. Perhaps I should get our trash can and go up and join her to be close to the lifeboats. The sea really began to pitch us.

When morning crept up the sea still tossed but the day was bright and things seemed less frightening. About midday we came to the coast of Mexico. It was a thin strip of brown in the distance.

The sea was bad and the ship could not go into shore, as there was no proper place for it to dock. The ship anchored and they sent out from shore what they called a tender – a small boat to haul us tourists in.

While we were waiting on the tender, we saw the snotty doorman from the dining area. He looked at us, then stuck his hand out to Leonard.

“I’m sorry about the other night.”

Leonard nodded, stuck out his hand to accept the apology.

They shook. No one offered to shake my hand. I felt kind of left out.

The guy said, “Going ashore, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Leonard said. “What time do we need to come back?”

The man paused as if remembering.

“Four-thirty.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Yeah. Well. Have a good time.”

“Sure.”

The guy went down the corridor.

I said, “He’s all right, I guess.”

“No, he’s still an asshole.”

I had been to Mexico many times, but never this spot, so I was reasonably interested in going ashore. Besides, I was ready to do anything to get off the ship, and I thought maybe Leonard and I might get a good meal in a restaurant or cafe. We went to the purser’s desk, signed up for a tour to some Mayan ruins called Tulum, then got in the departure line.

The tender tossed up alongside the ship and we had to walk out to the side of it on a rickety collapsible dock and try to jump on board when it wasn’t leaping too high or too low on the waves. A woman nearly caught her leg between the boat and the ship but pulled it back just in time to the delighted screams and yells of those on our little platform and those who had already boarded the tender.