The Marathon 1-26-18

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The Marathon - Excerpt from my Book 1-26-18

Spring Came and the beginning of summer and the snow was replaced by spring wild flowers and green everywhere.  Scouts was a bustle of activity as we started gearing up for all the summer activities when Scouting was most active.  We still sailed every day and checked our lobster traps and made money for the Troop, and there was mumbled discussion of maybe doing a sailing and camping journey up the coast and back, but nothing definite was decided.

About this time on radio and in the news was the story of this fellow Abdel (Abdellatief Abouheif) from Egypt,  who was planning to swim nonstop across the English Channel  to beat 11 other contestants, from France to England, some 150 miles wide :O  (Abdel was Winner of a special 1955 race from France to England, competed against another 11 male and four female contenders.)

Charley Wilson was excited beside himself and he was the true swimmer of our Scout Troop.  On land he was a slow clumsy fat boy, but in the water he was like a fish, or maybe a small whale.

"If I was there I could swim that Channel!" he exclaimed emphatically.  Most of us didn't doubt it.  He could match pace and speed with our dory with 2 boys pulling at 2 sets of oars.  At barely 12, he was a strong steady swimmer rolling side to side effortlessly with powerful big arms and steady leg strokes.  He didn't tire in water like he did on land and we believed him when he told us "my fat makes me float good".  He was irritable now that he couldn't take on the English Channel with the other eleven contenders. "It's just not fair!" he groused, "I could do it, I know I could!" and most of us were sympathetic.

Pokey offered a solution. "why don' you hold your own swim contest?" he offered.  "you could swim da Portsmouth harbor 'gainst da clock!"  Our jaws dropped.  What an idea.

Portsmouth harbor was not little.  Huge Navy vessels came and went and wasn't it rumored that German submarines snooped around in its depths?  Portsmouth Harbor was really 12 miles long and included the Piscatagua river that separated New Hampshire from Maine.  It was a little treacherous because it had a constant current of over 4 knots that Charley would have to swim against.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piscataqua\_River
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Charley's face turned serious and he displayed a grin and said "No dumb river will get the best of me, you have seen me swim!"  And we had, er had seen him pace our dory effortlessly, and we believed him.

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It was decided Charley should start training and we also decided afternoon would be warmest, tho the water was cold year around in Portsmouth.  We didn't have wet-suits or any such thing. I remembered my stepfather said "wool will keep you warm even if it is soaking wet".  Wool does stretch so I donated a pair of my woolen long johns, the all one piece 'union suits' they called them.  Charlie went into the bathroom of the Scout room to see if he could get into them.  They did stretch amazingly enough.  Charley came out to face us looking like a short white snowman!

"What about the trap door?" as asked hesitantly.  I know what he meant.  All union suits had a flap called the trap door that opened on the bottom to use the bathroom.  ":I'll get mymother to sew that shut", I said and he nodded gratefully.

My mother however thought we were totally crazy.  "He is gonna do what?" she hollered, "He is gonna sink and drown!"

"Can't", I said. "He gots fat and he says it makes him float!"  She was speechless and my stepfather grinned. "I seen that boy swim and I think he can do it!" he said and walked away carrying the monthly copy of the Dairy News.  My mother said that wool was too thick to sew so she used a crochet hook and crocheted the edges together slick as if they were made one piece.  I gave them to Charley the next day and he approved 'cept for one thing. "I really don't wanna swim the harbor and river in white underwear... nor red ones either!" he pouted.  My mother agreed one more task was okay and dyed them blue.  They didn't look like underwear any more.

"Aye...  it needs a lightning bolt on the front!" exclaimed Robbie, to which Pokey guffawed and said "maybe on da butt so everyone can follow him in da water!"  Charlie pouted and was not amused, but he liked the color.

We started training every day.  Two boys would row the dory with two pairs of oars and Charlie was to keep pace with it for an hour each practice session.  "How is it going Charlie?" I asked from the boat as he rolled side to side and stroked.

"Not bad", he replied grinning. "Your dad was right, wool is warm when its wet.  Only my neck and feet feel cold".  Charley was around 100 pounds at 12 years old and playing ball he sort of waddled his way around the bases, but here in the water he was swimming a good 6 knots or more by my guess.  I told the boys to put their backs into it and they did but he kept pace.  I was impressed.

Word got around as word does in a small place. Down at the tavern men were pooling bets on Charley and Charley's dad was the most enthusiastic. "No one will make fun of my Charley after this!" he said smacking his beer mug down on the bar for a refill. " Nay not a one!" said Shawn O'Donell".  "Im buying everyone another pint!"

My mother had turned from doubter to supporter and planned a party after the marathon 'win or lose', and I pointed out no one was swimming against him.  "Don't matter nohow", she said, "That boy will be hungry after all that!"  I agreed that Charley could always eat.

We finally decided that the event would take place in June after school let out for the summer and we picked a suitable Saturday and a second day if the first was bad weather.  Our Scoutmaster Mister Hall said he would award Charley the merit badge for swimming, 'till we pointed out he already had it. "Well I will think of something!" he affirmed, "that boy deserves a medal.  He is a tribute to Old Portsmouth"

I don't know how they found out.. probably at the tavern, but the Navy guys and Coast Guard had their own pool going.  This was the greatest thing since the Cod Fishing contest!  "He warned us about that sneaky U-Boat", said a Bosun at the tavern.  "That turned out to be a false alarm", someone replied, and every face turned to him with a frown or a scowl and he ate crow. "I mean he done it in good faith!" he weasled and everyone took another drink.

You would think all this would make Charley nervous, but when he was in the water it was him and the sea, like they were both one. It was how I felt sailing, with the wind behind me and skimming the waves like a toboggan flat out with a white wake trailing.  Charley had been training by swimming up channel against the 4 knott current, but we convinced him to swim the other way out to the point and the sea instead, swimming with the current would give him added speed and advantage.

School ended and the second Saturday of June was the big day.  I was with the boys in the dory and we would meet him halfway and follow him out to the point.  Mister Hall joined us in the dory for the second time ever since we made it and sat just behind the mast.  Robbie was in the bow and I was skipper holding the tiller and the line for the sheet to control the sail.  Pokey went with Charlie and his dad who was driving him up to the upper limit of the harbor about 12 miles and we sailed up channel to be there to meet him coming down.

The bright blue of Charlies suit was clear in the dark gray water of the bay and we saw him coming down the channel.  "There he is!" yelled Mister Hall.  "God!  Look at that boy go!"  He was right, with a 4 knott current behind him, Charley needed no lightning bolt on his butt to be seen.  People were up on the bridge and were hollering encouragement and one fellow poured booze in the river, I suppose for good luck. Charley sure couldn't drink it.  we were rowing to hold position and Charley reached us Grinning like the Cheshire Cat.  I turned to pace him and we had to row to keep up.  He rolled easily left to right as alternate arms and strong leg strokes propelled him forward.

Now you know how when you think something can't get any better and then it does? It did this time.

Coming toward us through the water were a cluster of dark shapes. They couldn't be sharks the water here was too cold, and they were bigger than dolphins.  "Pilot whales", whispered Mister Hall, "larger cousins of dolphins but much smaller than Orcas.  They are usually as friendly as dolphins".

They caught up with us and surrounded the dory playfully, rubbing against us affectionately. The swam with Charley too and he had a hand on one and was pulled a ways by the big fin.  They nuzzled him like playful puppies as he swam toward the point and the sea.  "I'll be dammed!" exclaimed Mister Hall, "They are treating him like he was one of their pod heading out to sea!"

"Would you look at that!" yelled a Coast Guardsman from a deck "One of them pilot whales is Blue!" and we sniggered.

At the point two men helped Charley out of the water onto a dock and someone was taking pictures, but Charley's thoughts were elsewhere.  We followed his gaze and saw the pod of five pilot whales as they left the harbor and headed out to sea. I suspected Charley wished he could be one of them.  In the water he could be what every other boy could be on land.

Mister Hall climbed out of the dory onto the pier and went up to Charley.  "I said you deserve a medal" he said fishing into his pocket, "and here it is!"  He hung a bronze medal around Charley's neck from the trophy shop.  Charley held it and his jaw dropped... in the middle of the large bronze medallion was the raised figure of a big Dolphin!

You know", said Charley as we walked, "These woolies really are still warm when they are wet!"

© Copyright 2018 by Daniel Blankley. All rights reserved.

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