A Mile Down Read Online Free PDF Page B

begin.
    The trips weren’t selling, however. I had maintained hope that maybe we’d have some last-minute enrollment from people who saw that the war in Kosovo hadn’t in fact spilled over into Turkey and Ocalan’s supporters hadn’t unleashed massive terrorist attacks. But no one was signing up. The few trips I was going to run would be at a loss, and though I dearly wanted to just cancel all of them, I couldn’t. I had professors coming. The Homer’s Odyssey course had a few students, so at least that trip would go off well, but the archaeology course had only two students. And a famous, extremely well-liked professor. It was going to be embarrassing.
    My first summer in the San Juans, I had easily filled eight weeks. The summer of 1998, in Turkey, had been even more successful, with many repeat customers. I had also run winter trips in the Virgin Islands and the Sea of Cortez. And this summer I was offering a better route, a better boat, better course offerings, famous and accomplished teachers, and reduced prices, and still no one was coming. I didn’t see how I was going to make it. I was fighting over the construction of the boat all day, every day, trying to get it launched and finished on time, but this also meant I was spending money I didn’t have, and my credit was about to end.
    Seref and I fought over so many items partially because of what he himself called his Black Sea Mentality. “I come from the Black Sea,” he said. “And there, we don’t have a lot of money, but we find a way.”
    His resourcefulness was admirable, and very much in line with my own attempts to save money, but it also meant storing the propane tank down in the galley next to the stove, for instance, even though it was an explosion hazard. I wanted a box on deck, vented so the fumes couldn’t collect in any enclosed portion of the boat.
    â€œThis is not necessary, David,” he said. “All these boats here use this system.”
    I hated to sound like a jerk, but his explanation didn’t matter. “I don’t care if these other boats want to blow up,” I said.
    â€œNone of these boats blow up. You do not know this system.”
    â€œSeref. Propane is heavier than air and can ignite from a spark after collecting in any enclosed space. No amount of tradition can change science.”
    So Seref took the tack he usually did when he hit a wall, which was to argue that even if I wanted this change, it wasn’t possible in the design and with how much time we had. It was the same approach he took with the anchor and the exhausts to the engines and various other items.
    â€œWhere does this tank go?” he asked. “There is no place for it out there.”
    We finally put it under the captain’s seat on deck, which made the seat too high. So the days ground on, filled with anger and disappointment, and if I had had a way out of the whole business, I would have taken it. But the owners before me had spent $250,000 and received only $100,000 of the $140,000 I had paid. That’s what happens when you try to sell a boat that is still under construction. You lose a lot of money. I was locked in to finishing and then using the boat successfully. That was the only way I would be able to pay everyone back.

LAUNCH DAY FINALLY arrived. Traditionally, we should have been sacrificing an animal—a goat, I think. But I said no. I was also supposed to give big tips to everyone, for luck, but I didn’t have the money. I walked around the boat with Nancy and wished we’d had more time. It would have been better to complete everything before launching.
    I kept staring at the name on the stern. It had been a lovely gift from Seref, a varnished wooden plaque carved by a friend of his in Bodrum, but I worried that all of its bolts through the steel would cause corrosion.
    The name itself was odd, too: The Wife of Bath . My company was Canterbury Sails,