Bana Fine Irish Pizza. T. STRAHS
chameleon.
Hair, not sure of the true color, with the few strands left, a very dark brown that did not match his black/gray beard! Eyebrows were dyed blonde.
Demetriux never went beyond the top of the gangway before talking to the twins on their flip phone, modified with two earplugs. They called back and were asked if they wished to book the upscale large room that was described to Demetriux by Cap3.
They took a cab from their apartment still above the original restorante, arriving at the Port of New York–Newark with minutes to spare.
Cap3 was anxiously pacing the rusty deck covered with new paint that looked good, if no-one looked closely. He simply told his crew to throw paint on and spread it around. Using paint that “fell” out of boxes of freight, they mixed them all together and came up with a bright green. Cap3 was pleased as it looked close to the color of the mold and past vomit stains.
Luigi and Guido were on their way back
Cap3 saw the cab pull up to the gate and soon passed through. It looked like a little money was passed to the guard to expediate their entry. “Maybe these twins aren’t as stupid as my dad made them out to be. Could be opportunities to take some extra cash.”
As they came up the gangway, Cap3 yelled to them, “Well, welcome home to your ship that brought you fame and fortune in Newark. Hurry on up here, and we’ll get underway. No use just sitting around any longer. Come on up to the refurbished captain’s cabin, and we’ll have a sip of prosecco while the boys get us underway.”
In reality, Cap3 was anxious to get beyond the seven-mile limit and away from too many curious eyes. He also didn’t want Luigi and Guido to wander around the ship and change their minds.
One of Cap3’s crewmen, who looked like Bogart from The African Queen, took their six bags down to their cabin. He was introduced by Cap3 as their cabin man who would be at their call up to two hours a day. The other hours, he would be oiling the engine and cleaning the captain’s cabin.
The crewman, introduced as McGurne, who grinned at them with a full set of perfect white teeth, only to find out later that he took them from a box of teeth they were shipping to Chinatown in New York.
As they rapidly left the port, leaving plumes of black smoke as their marker, the twins were entertained in the wheelhouse refurbished to include a 1989 Garmin GPS and newer captain’s seat.
They were not overly impressed with Cap3. As soon as he left the port, he was definitely like his grandfather: he poured himself a water glass full of clear liquid from a jar that looked just like their freshly stilled Bana Fine Liquor without the label. Clearly Demetriux had been, most likely, bribing Cap3 for a better price for the twins’ journey.
Once outside of the point of no return to the port, Cap3 told McGurne to show his honored guests to their “renovated” large room.
McGurne lead them down through the next level past the captain’s ornate cabin and small VIP cabin used for special travel companions of the captain down the next set of rusted stairs, familiar, yet more rusted, to the next level to the “renovated” large room.
It was hard not to notice that the same sounds from thirty years ago where still there—the scratching sound behind the walls, creaking of the walls sounding like a hailstorm, puddles of water with the same drip location as before.
When McGurne opened the lockless door, both Luigi and Guido flinched; not only was it very familiar with the only change that there were only four bunk beds.
McGurne was proud of the work he did to upgrade this cabin and showed them around, taking one minute to point out the refurbished toilet seat, two faucets on the stained sink versus the only one before, keeping in mind that only the cold worked.
There were still no windows, but McGurne was proud of his painting—one with blue sky and brownish curtains. The painting looked as if it was done by paint by numbers by someone who was blind.
The bunkbeds were complete with sagging mattress and stained sheets. There was no closet but a six-foot moldy bench taking a good portion of the cabin to lay their clothes out. McGurne said the good news was that Cap3 had not booked the other two beds.
No, nothing had really changed. It was the same rusty broken stairs, peeling paint on the walls, smell of rotten food and oil, and the most prominent of all was body odor. The seams still had rust marks on them.
Guido and Luigi decided to go see Cap3 and tell him that they wanted off and take one of the ships that they saw over on the other side of the Hudson. There was one named Queen-something and that looked like a great ship compared to this. Up they weaved to the captain, still sitting with his bottle, almost gone.
“Well, boys, you come up to tell me how great your renovated room is and what great memories it brought back?”
Luigi spoke first, “No, Cap3, we are nota the shy young men your granddaddy brought us over on. We wanna off so we can take a bigger boat that is clean!”
“Well, boys, it’s too late now. The ship has left the port, and there ain’t no turning back.”
“Tell ya what, I have two bottles of this good-tasting liquor that I got from Demexy, your lackey, you sent to get a deal on the large room.”
“Well, it ain’t gonna work. We ain’t turning back, and I got no way to get you back. We’re approaching the seven-mile line, and it looks like a storm a-brewing.”
Luigi and Guido looked out the window and turned pale in the shock of remembrance when they saw the storm coming toward them and no other ships have left the port.
Cap3 looked at them and the clouds. “None to worry, boys, it’s only a quick storm, and we’ll just push right through it and have you back in Italy in a short while. Go back to your suite. I have work to do to get us through this short little storm.”
Another wave hit The New Sole 2, tossing Luigi and Guido again against the wall of their windowless, cramped cabin. This time it was Luigi’s turn to use the small commode in the corner to let go of little was left in his stomach.
Just when they thought the “brief” storm had ended, a wave—larger than the next—slammed into side of the rusting ship, causing paint chips to scatter off the walls and again surround the twins, catching in their eyes, ears, and mouth. More to vomit up. The rats in the walls were also cowering in the corners, climbing over one another to get to the “safe spot” on the top of the pack.
The twins were standing next to each other, as usual, and as green as the algae on the walls and passageways.
Their two “roommates” from the eight-bunk room across the hall joined them when the bulkhead next to their bunks sprang a solid stream of water.
They were the same green as Luigi and Guido. The only toilet in their room was cracked and full of four-day old olive laced port food, simply unusable. They all took turns using the crew’s toilet that wasn’t much better, only that it had a flap that opened to the outside the ship—no water, just seawater backwash.
The rusted-out ship was the perfect carrier as the only attention they got was when crews of the other ships, as they left port, laughed at him and the ship. Cap3 was happy: he had a ship, not a good one, but a ship. He not only allowed drinking by the crew but encouraged it so they wouldn’t leave.
When they were leaving port, Cap3 told them the storm would only last four to five hours before it slowed down and they could make good headway. They were now on day 4. The storm started as they quickly left the port and headed for open sea.
After day 5, the twins decided to go and talk to the captain and find out when they could stop puking.
They weaved their way, unsure of the route as the walls changed color and one of the ladders fell since they were led down by McGurne, or maybe it was simply nausea and dehydration.
The walls were damp and slippery green. They wobbled—a carryover when they were conjoined at their toes—Luigi to the left and Guido to the right—up the