THE ANGRY SHADOWS

My Marina has many stories; And one of them is a ghost story. I like to say my marina, although its been 20 years since I lived there. Just to live at the Marina was an adventure, and I lived there for eight years. At some point I learned about the California Indian tribes and travelers that gathered because of the plentiful food source. Here, they feasted and built their cooking fires. They saw every sunset the same as I did right in this very spot. I felt it is a special place, and I still do. After a long day’s work and a nerve wracking commute, there was always a feeling of peace when I walked up to the gate marked F and G dock. It was like I was going on vacation as soon as I saw the water and my Roamer. And except for that night of the “Black Gypsy,” there were no mysterious events, only wonderful marina adventures. Until the Schooner arrived at one of the long slips at

I saw it one morning as I was leaving for work. Those two tall masts at the end of the dock stood out over all the rest, and I could make out a black hull, a new arrival!

It looked very antique at first, like a ship from the past. But I really couldn’t pinpoint how old it was, nor did I care..... at the time.

Little did I know the new arrival brought unwelcome guests.

“ The crew ”

Both Steve and Mitch were on parole. They had spent some time in prison down in L.A. and working as crew on a boat made good sense, keeping them out of trouble and away from their old friends. Actually Steve and Mitch were crew on” Ranger, 85,” a whale watching boat that took passengers out into the ocean. They were deck hands. Ranger went to Long Beach for service, Mitch and Steve stayed on Cyrano. So the pirate looking guys were the watchdogs on the pirate-looking ship! How crazy is that? While inside my boat one afternoon I heard footsteps walking by on the wooden docks; and talking in low tones as if scheming something, and then they would both laugh an evil laugh, and plot some more. Yes, it was the pirates. Pulling the curtain back, I saw them. Steve looked like a chicano gangster in his black leather vest, silver earrings, a chain on his billfold and silver skull rings decorating his hands. He carried a switchblade and had a few more knives in his collection, and I’m thinking ( I’m sure ) he knew how to use them.

Mitch was a white guy a little taller than Steve and every bit as “gang looking.” Each of them wore bandanas. At the time I was thinking, they don’t belong here, look at the way they’re dressed. They looked like bikers or pirates, not boaters. But then, there was no dress code at the marina. And who am I to judge.

Cyrano

Inevitably I was drawn to the slip at the end of F dock to see this most interesting boat, the schooner Cyrano. I was pleased to see it had a figurehead, a carved likeness

of Cyrano de Bergerac from the works of William Shakespeare. The rough planks of the hull were never intended to be a smooth yacht for some pretentious millionaire. Many coats of black paint now were dulling with time and the sea. My son Todd had made friends with Mitch and Steve, and there was another guy I can’t remember his name.

So for the story I’ll call him Jeff. That afternoon I was invited to come aboard and hang out with the motley crew. The ships owner was far away in another state and the hired captain was spending time with his family, so the crew were relaxed and had the run of the boat. It was a time for laughing and drinking as sailors are prone to do.

I stepped onto the worn deck and took a few minutes to look around and see this classic schooner from the top of those tall masts to the length of the deck. At the helm, standing next to the large wheel, I rested my hand on one of the spokes and wondered how it would be to try and handle this large sailing boat in a stiff wind. I couldn’t imagine,

maybe because my boat had engines and was half the size, and I even had white knuckles handling the the little “Mary Anne”, a tiny sailboat that I sailed around the marina chasing ducks for fun.

It’s funny how a memory can go back in time and recapture those moments so vividly, the soft breeze, the sunlight on my back, seagulls calling close by. The sun was low in San Francisco bay and it’s light shone down into the salon or main cabins interior.

Worn plank flooring stretched out towards the bow, and I carefully made my way down the five steps and to my amazement saw a piano built into the port bulkhead! It was an old upright scarred and painted many times, well worn with use. Out of tune and silent now, replaced by electronic portable stereos, it stands neglected, without hope for

the musicians touch. And then, as I have a tendency to do, I daydreamed about those bygone days, happy times,

laughing voices, couples dancing, honky tonk piano filling the Salon with it’s persistent staccato musical energy. I could very easily see this schooner as an off shore speak easy in the days of prohibition. Selected guests would be brought out by motor launch to party, drink, and gamble just outside the legal limit without fear of being raided by the police. And the honky tonk piano that gave them joy,... now silent, waiting for the end. That may have been Cyrano’s past, but now there was a dark side waiting. In the salon, there was no fancy paneling, nor marble or glitter, just tongue and groove painted white.

It was built functional, and it has remained that way through time, and that was part of it’s charm. I made my way through a low narrow passageway to the stern, and entered the galley, mostly a hangout for the crew, a stove

and sink, with a sturdy table in the center and several built in bunks. Going forward, a few staterooms, very tiny, each having a wooden louvered door.

Steve and Mitch were playing cards at a table gloriously decorated with beer cans , ashtrays, cigarette packs........ and mumbling their thoughts out loud.

Todd opened a louvered door and said;” Dad, this is Steve’s room, he’s got the best.” and yes it was, it had all the comforts. His own TV, and stereo AND a porthole.

Posters here and there, it was a “man cave.” When I write about this now I realize that I stood in the doorway of the room where it happened! But we’ll get to that in a minute.

I visited Cyrano several more times, each of those times was during daylight.

For in the darkness of the night, there lay the danger.

My old Ford pickup rumbled home from work that cold afternoon, home, my home on the water. The boat felt like an iceberg inside and I kept my jacket on while I turned on the electric heater and lit the propane stove to cook a little dinner. The night became dark and colder, no moon, I didn’t go outside, now Roamers cabin was warm and cozy. Time seemed to slip away as I sat at the table making out checks to pay some bills.

As it got later, I felt like having some coffee, kind of a reward I thought for working all day and getting those checks ready for the mail. The coffee was almost ready when my table lamp and electric heater went out. I think it was about 11:30 or midnight. Looking out the window, I realized the whole Marina was dark, without power. Oh no, how am I going to keep warm? The stove’s blue flame under the coffee pot was the only source of heat now and it gave me an idea. My memory turned to a friend that told me about how, as a boy in Finland his family set flat rocks near the fireplace in the day and at night they would wrap them in a blanket and put them in their bed to keep warm until morning. Having no flat rocks, I substituted some large tools, a pipe wrench and anything that could retain heat and put them in my oven. The boat lost heat rapidly and I gladly jumped in bed with all these metal tools wrapped in a towel, I got burned a little bit but they did the job and I fell asleep with lots of blankets. It was another Marina adventure for me, but on Cyrano a dark adventure had occurred on that cold and moonless night. Was it the loss of power? The loss of lights? I don’t know, I will not try to explain it, I can only tell the story as it happened.

So on Cyrano, the card game and the music came to the sudden stop that brings the reality of the moment. Candles were lit and conversation took over, but only for a short while. As time went on, it was apparent that they may be waiting in vain.

Steve finished his second beer, as he raised the glass, his silver skull rings seemed to glow and dance in the candles light. There was a hush among the small group, everyone had seen it but no one said anything. Steve, unaware of what they had seen, said, “I’m gonna crash, see ya in the morning”. Out of the candles light, Steve seemed to disappear into the darkness. Still, no one mentioned the glowing skulls, and soon the group broke up and found their way to rest. Todd stayed on to the last, standing watch, you might say. Standing watch to be a witness to the happening.

Steve felt his way along the dark narrow passageway from the galley towards the salon. He passed the old garish looking piano, and made his way carefully through the salon. His small stateroom was pitch dark as he prepared himself for bed, and just before he lay down he placed his knife under the pillow, a precaution he took every night. Steve lay on his back and resting his head on the pillow, he lay there with eyes

open, absorbing the darkness, waiting for sleep to come. An awareness slowly crept into his mind. There, in the corner, two dark figures, appearing to move!

Steve blinked his eyes, not believing what he saw! In that instant, they were upon him.............. Physically upon him! Pinned down! Yes, Pinned down in his bunk!

He struggled as he felt the strength and the coldness of the two dark creatures grasp his throat in a terror he had never known! Steve thrashed wildly to escape, but he could not rise. He could not reach his knife. Now let me tell you, Steve was a strong guy, He was short, but built like a strong bull. Somehow he managed, using his feet, to slide away off of his bunk. He fell to the floor, but in almost a single motion, his hand found the door handle and he almost yanked the wooden louvered door off it’s hinges!

Steve scrambled out of the stateroom and into the pitch black salon. There was a dim light in the passageway leading to the galley, and looking over his shoulder, he ran for it.

Yes, run for the light, it was the best plan. Steve burst into the galley where Todd was sitting at the butcher-block table. Todd was shocked and asked, “Steve, are you ok?”

Steve leaned against the galley’s bulkhead and slid to the floor, his head down, he seemed to nod, to reassure Todd. But he was not all right, his head was spinning with what happened, and he had to take a moment to think. His first thoughts were that he had some kind of a flashback from his heavy drug days, and he could think of nothing else it could be. No, he didn’t want to tell Todd, he felt embarrassed about the panic and fear he was feeling. After smoking a cigarette, he took one of the small candles back to his room with him. Although the room seemed strange with the candle, Steve checked it carefully and finally lay down on his bunk again.... His hand reached under the pillow and felt the handle of the knife slip comfortably into his grip. Steve rested now, this time with a knife in his hand.

After a long while, the candle flickered. Steve could not go to sleep, he lay there with eyes open. Each time the candle flickered his eyes searched that corner, and finally the

light dimmed to zero. I can’t imagine what was going through Steve’s mind then ................ Maybe you can. Then, there they was a movement! Angry shadows.... Writhing......... Darker than the room itself! Steve didn’t have time to respond fast enough, without a sound, they were on him. Again he felt the cold grip

around his throat, and something was holding him down! In a sheer terror and fighting for his life, he slashed at the attackers ................ With no effect! Somehow he found the strength to escape, and once again found himself out of his room and in the dark salon, knife in hand, he stood in the salon in a combat stance, shaking, waiting to see if they would follow, but they did not.

Steve would not talk about the attack, but he confided in Todd a few days later.

He would never again sleep in that room. He slept in the forecastle, where the dim security light was on at all times.

In a few day’s, Captain John called Steve and Mitch to let them know that “Ranger 85” was on it’s way, returning to the Berkeley Marina. It was time to go to work again and with a feeling of relief, they packed their stuff, happy to leave the Cyrano.

However, there was a small crew left to stay on the black schooner. Two young guys

who just needed a place to stay. The young man’s name was Jeff, and on an evening his girlfriend came to visit, and spend the night. They watched TV in the salon until late,

and then retired to the stateroom that used to be .......... Steve’s. Unknowingly they had chosen the very room that the angry shadows dwell. Laying on the bunk, the radio playing softly, the moonlight dimly coming through the porthole it seemed a perfect setting for a romantic evening. Jeff’s girlfriend became restless and felt uncomfortable.

Maybe it was woman’s intuition, she didn’t want to be there, so they left the stateroom and went forward to the forecastle. They climbed up into the highest bunk, but Jeff felt it was too light in there, so he turned off the security light. Now, in total darkness on the schooner Cyrano, the third attack was about to happen. Without a warning, Jeff was lifted out of the bunk! Strong forces lifted him and held him pinned to the ceiling! He struggled and yelled, then suddenly was released to fall on the floor. Terrified, he found the light switch. All he saw was the girlfriend and the empty room, there was no-one there!

A few weeks later, I noticed the Cyrano was no longer at F-dock.

I could not find it in the Marina. Asking people, I found that nobody had seen it leave,

nobody had seen a crew arrive, preparing to sail. There was just no information about it.

Years later, an article in the St. Petersburg Times caught my eye. The freighter

Atlantic Star, while heading north along the coast of Florida, had radioed to the Coast Guard the sighting of a vessel in distress. Atlantic Star reported a black schooner with sails loose, appeared to be unattended in a squall, heading east. With binoculars there was no sign of life on board and no response on the radio. One of the ships officers swears he could hear music drifting through the storm, a piano playing honky-tonk! The captain of the freighter took this picture. Coast Guard searches were delayed due to severe weather and later found nothing. No vessels were reported missing. The area they searched is in the Bermuda Triangle.