Sammy Lu II

From the shore all Captain Jeff could do was stand and watch. The Sammy Lu II moaned under the torturous twist of Pele’s stones as they gnashed at the hull. Bits from the underside of the bucket-of-a boat drifted in the surf. Unable to break free of the crush of water and tangle of lava, the 39 foot craft outfitted for a fishing expedition endured the battering.

The Sammy Lu II was out of Honokohau Harbor. A tired boat, her hull coated with algae and slim, what was once white now a shade of pale green and rust as prevalent salt in the sea, she had known better days, but they were long ago. The smell of sea, and fish punctured the air and mingled with the odors of stale cigarettes, burnt coffee and sour beer. Her diesel engine coughed hard every morning, dying a slow death for her Captain's attention to her needs was as shallow as the tidal pools where he flung his nets for bait fish. Though he spent his days at the helm and his nights in the cabin sprawled out on two planks stained with sweat, he promised her tomorrow, but delivered more of the same.

Captain Jeff was an expert, an expert at sinking boats. Sammy Lu II was the third boat under his command that took its last voyage. He now watched helplessly, hindered from retrieving any gear. The Coast Guard and Harbor Crew stood near-by and would not permit him to re-board the dying boat.

The morning had promised a prosperous day. Fishing had been good. A bride and groom hired him to provide a catch for their wedding reception. He was armed with five poles and plenty of bait fish. A twenty-four pack of Bud sat on ice in a large cooler that was intended for his take. Before setting out he topped the tank with enough diesel to take him beyond the horizon where mahi-mahi blazed through the deep waters off the Kona Coast. As he loaded the supplies, Sammy Lu II’s engine complained. There just wasn’t enough time or money for maintenance. He thought, “Tomorrow, when I get back.”

A north and west swell broke on the rocks just outside the channel mouth. He’d seen this slop before. But when the Sammy Lu II dipped her nose into the spray, she paused and her engine choked. The Captain found the boat wallowing in a six foot swell. It didn’t take long before the fishing vessel fell into the grasping claws of the lava rocks.

At quarter past the nine am hour word went out that the Sammy Lu II was sitting high off the swell and taking a beating. Each wave licked at the hull as if searching for the sweet spot, that place where boats are the weakest. She took the pounding for four and a half hours before one single high-rolling swell lifted her port side and dropped her. Fiberglass splinted and Captain Jeff turned away in pain. The next series of waves torn the bow from the stern and toppled the cabin’s canopy into the water where two sea turtles leisurely cruised.

To add insult to injury when the life raft box hit the water it self-inflated bobbing casually in the surf that began to disperse the contents of the boat and the boat herself. A paddle boarder rescued four life preservers and towed the raft into the harbor.

When I left the bow was behind the stern and the groom’s family gathered to retrieve boat pieces from the shore line. The bride's family was probably at Costco's buying fish.