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Back Low Country Save as PDF
Chapters (25)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. CHAPTER 1
  4. CHAPTER 2
  5. CHAPTER 3
  6. CHAPTER 4
  7. CHAPTER 5
  8. CHAPTER 6
  9. CHAPTER 7
  10. CHAPTER 8
  11. CHAPTER 9
  12. CHAPTER 10
  13. CHAPTER 11
  14. CHAPTER 12
  15. CHAPTER 13
  16. CHAPTER 14
  17. CHAPTER 15
  18. CHAPTER 16
  19. CHAPTER 17
  20. CHAPTER 18
  21. CHAPTER 19
  22. CHAPTER 20
  23. CHAPTER 21
  24. CHAPTER 22
  25. CHAPTER 23

Up top, I hosed off the deck and pilothouse and then checked the rigging of the masts. Following that, I looked to the navigation lights, and then back at the helm, the radios, radar, and other electricals and electronics. If it seems I am obsessive about the condition of my boat—it’s because I am. I learned many years ago that the things you fail to check are the things that tend to fail. And on a boat, they will always fail at the most critical time you could possibly imagine—or worse yet—not imagine.

The angle of the sun told me the hour was no longer considered as “too early.” I picked up my phone, dialed a number, and got the answering message.

“It’s Kennesaw Tanner on a bright Saturday morning,” I said. “I’m calling in the rain check for that party of yours I missed, but this time, it’s my treat. I’m making a trip to Daufuskie today and would be delighted if you could join me. If you can make it, meet me at the docks on Lazaretto Island in ninety minutes. Just bring your excellent self, a camera, and a sense of adventure. Hope to see you then. Ciao.”

I clicked off the phone, grabbed my wallet and keys, and headed to the local market to pick up supplies and restock the larder.

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3

I WATCHED THE OIL PRESSURE GAUGE as the indicator settled to its proper mark, then, giving a long blast of the horn to alert any nearby traffic, turned the wheel to starboard and gave the throttle a small push. Miss Rosalie quivered just slightly as the prop bit into the water, and then her bows came about and she slipped out into the stream. As we cleared the docks I gave her enough juice for seven hundred rpms and felt the engine settle into a contented throb that moved us at a stately pace, leaving barely a ripple on the surface of the water.

A couple of miles downstream was a narrow channel that would eventually lead to Lazaretto Creek. As I approached the entrance to the creek I saw that the oyster bar on the lower side was just about covered by the rising tide and felt sure there would be enough water under the keel to keep from scraping bottom.

I glanced at the depth finder as Miss Rosalie squeezed through the narrow opening and saw that we’d made it with a good two feet to spare. I made a quick note of the amount of mud still exposed on the banks of the stream and, using that as a reference point for water depth, stored it away in my mind for future use. Then, within a hundred meters, the channel opened up, and Miss Rosalie and I were engulfed by the wilderness of the marsh.