Tuna Tango (7 page)

Chapter 7

Will paced the floor of the fish house. It was almost 9, and the boys still hadn’t shown up. He hoped they were coming, though the thought crossed his mind that Sheryl had called them off. He cursed himself for not getting their phone numbers, thinking they had probably partied late and just needed a wake up call. Irresponsible for sure, but he remembered when he had been their age, and if he weren’t going fishing he was sleeping in. He stepped outside for the fourth time in the last hour to see if they were there, and looked at the yellow foam panel strapped to his truck. Early this morning he had taken a quick inventory of his depleted funds and made a plan. 

The job relied on having a stable surface to work under the structure. On land this would have been easy, using scaffolding and planks, but in the water what he needed was a large floating platform, and that was where the foam panel came in. The four-by-eight sheet of twelve-inch polyurethane would support an elephant. 

Looking again toward the street, he continued with his thoughts: It would be harder alone, but there was some work he could do without help. He went back to the truck and removed the panel, which was light enough to carry to the seawall, where he glued and screwed a sheet of plywood to the top of the foam to protect it. Heavier now, he had to strain to push it into the water. It floated well as he boarded it for its maiden voyage. 

Tentatively, he stood on the plywood deck and was able to reach the floor framing under the building. He pulled himself along using the wooden joists as he test-drove the raft around the structure. Happy with the results, he went back to the seawall and hopped off. 

Still no sign of the boys, so he assembled his tools and some lumber. Back under the building, he went to the first hole and tied the platform to the closest pier with a dock line taken from the sailboat. A floor joist ran right through the center of the hole where he intended to place the new pier. This would have to be cut away and headed off with double joists, to support the load when he removed it. 

He picked up the dangling end of an extension cord dropped through the hole, plugged his saw in, and started to cut away the joists at each opening. It was over an hour later when he finished and went back to the seawall. A glance around the parking lot confirmed that the boys were still absent, and he wondered if he was on his own. He thought about calling Sheryl for their numbers, but didn’t want the confrontation. There was still a lot of work he could do by himself before he needed their help to set the poles. 

The next hour was spent installing the supports he needed to reinforce the joists he had cut. Now he needed help to set the poles, but the boys were still not there. With no alternative, he changed plan and decided to jack up the structure around the first hole. This would normally be done after the pole was set and before the beam was installed, but there was no harm in doing it now. 

It was close to 10 when he loaded the platform with dive gear, some tools, a steel plate, a jack, and several pieces of six-by-six to use as temporary posts and pushed off the seawall. It was pleasant working under the building’s floor, cooler than the building, the only disturbance the small wakes from the boats passing by on the intracoastal waterway. He tied the platform off and started to get ready. 

His original plan had called for one of the boys to be on the platform to help plumb the support post, but he thought if he took it slowly, he would be able to do it himself. Over the years, he’d preferred to work alone, devising ingenious ways to handle two man jobs. Now he’d just have to do the same. Before he geared up, he dropped the steel plate in the water and used the center point of the old beam to attach a plumb bob. He had realized the standard carpenter’s tool was too light and would be affected by the current, so instead he tied a four-pound dive weight onto a piece of nylon twine and dropped that. The weighted line would tell him where to center the plate under water. 

He suited up in a three-mil wetsuit for protection, and because he might be spending significant time in the water. With prolonged exposure, even in 80-degree water, you could develop hypothermia. Weight belt strapped in place, he shrugged into his BC, buckled the straps, and swung his right hand around his back to retrieve his regulator. A quick breath to confirm the air was on, and he placed the mask on his face and side rolled into the water in order to keep the tank from damaging the foam. 

Visibility was low as the current stirred the shallow water. The depth was only six feet here, and any tidal change would silt the water. When he was about four feet under, the bottom became visible—a mixture of sand with small rocks. He found the string line swaying in the current and worked to center the steel plate where the weight had landed. The plate was two feet by two feet, with angle iron welded in the shape of a square into the center to hold the post from sliding out. He surfaced and reached for the cut piece of six-by-six he would use to enable him to set the jack above the water line. With a hammer, he descended with the piece of wood, fighting its buoyancy as he tried to get one end to set on the plate. 

Wishing he had chosen to spend the extra money on steel posts, he struggled with the surprisingly buoyant wood. Once set, he awkwardly hammered two nails into it to secure it in place. The experience of hammering a nail under water was unusual, the water buffering the hammer’s effectiveness. 

Finally he surfaced, climbed onto the barge, and slid out of his dive gear. The rest of the work could be done above water. The ten-ton bottle jack fit on top of the six-by-six, and he measured to the beam, cut another section of post, and was ready. Hammering two toe nails to hold the post to the beam, he set the jack in the space between the posts and started to work the handle. 

The neck of the jack rose slowly, soon creating pressure between the two posts. The jack met resistance and he slowed down, checking the posts for movement. If one of them got cockeyed with this much pressure, it could kick out with enough force to injure anyone in its way, and possibly damage the structure above. It would have been safer to have two men at this juncture; one to watch the level of the post and the other to work the jack.

Slowly, he pushed on the handle, listening to the building creaking as the weight was shifted. After an inch, the resistance became stronger. He would need a longer jack handle to create more leverage, but didn’t want to take the time to get out of the water and find one, so he pushed down on the handle with all his power. 

***

“He’s gonna fire us,” Kyle said as he pulled into the lot. 

“The dude’s desperate. When was the last time you had a boss that talked that nice to you?” Dick replied as he took the last hit on the pipe. He held his breath before letting the smoke out. “Besides, we tell him a story about the car breaking down or some shit, and he’ll buy it.”

“If you didn’t have to stay out ‘till 3 partying, we could have been here on time.”

“What are you, my mother? You were right there with me.”

They pulled next to Will’s truck and got out.

“It’s hotter than seven hells,” Kyle said as they went for the open door. Noise came from under the building as they entered, and he called out for Will. 

Suddenly a loud pop sounded and the building vibrated. 

“What the hell was that?”

“I heard a splash. Come on.”

They ran outside to the seawall and looked under the building. The platform was still there, with one end of a broken beam laying on it. Will was nowhere in sight. 

“He must be in the water,” Kyle said as he jumped in. Dick followed, and they swam to the platform. 

Dick took a deep breath and dove, surfacing a second later. “Can’t see anything.” He spotted Will’s mask on the platform, put it on, and dove again. With a hand on the broken beam, he pushed himself to the bottom and started to look around. The silt was thick from the beam falling, and he could barely see his hand in front of his face. 

Then something grabbed at his arm. Out of air, he had to fight off Will’s grip and surface. “He’s down there,” he yelled to Kyle and looked around. “Give me that rope.”

With one end of the dock line in hand, he dove again. Will’s hand grabbed him again, though the grip wasn’t as strong as it had been seconds before. Dick worked frantically, fighting the pain in his chest as his breath started to run out. He found the beam and looped an end of the rope around it, then quickly surfaced. 

“Pull!” He broke the surface and yelled at Kyle, then took another breath and submerged, not waiting to see if he understood.

Will felt lifeless when he reached him. He planted his feet on the bottom, grabbed him by his shirt, and pulled as hard as he could. When he was almost standing, he felt the weight come easily. Kyle must have pulled the beam off. Now free, he pushed Will to the surface, toward Kyle’s waiting hand. 

 Will spat and coughed as they pulled him onto the platform. His eyes opened slowly. 

“Give him some room,” Dick said.

Will sat up slowly and looked around.

“He’s not right. Let’s get him up top,” Kyle said.

They released the line holding the platform and pushed it toward the sunlight. Once at the seawall, Will tried to get off, but fell back.

“Easy, dude. We’ll help you,” Dick said. It took both of them to stabilize the floating foam enough to move Will onto the seawall. All three leaned back and collapsed. 

***

They sat on the sidewalk eating lunch. Will was shaken, but feeling better. At least it hadn’t hit his head—then he’d really be in bad shape. He knew he was lucky the boys had walked in when they did or he could have been killed by the post kicking out and the beam breaking.

“I want to have a look under there and see what happened.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Dick asked.

“We didn’t know there was a danger factor built into this job when we signed up. Maybe we should be getting more money,” Kyle added.

“Just be happy you still have a job. I was ready to fire you until you saved me there,” Will replied. He was still upset that they were late; if they had been on time, one of them would have been down there with him. The accident may still have happened, but he would not have been alone. “Let’s finish this up and have a look. One of you guys can be up top and one with me.”

They finished eating in silence and went back to work. Will asked Dick to stay topside, and took Kyle underneath the building with him. They cleared off the platform and started to work their way back to the broken beam. The wood was split in two, now, with both ends submerged. One piece was short enough to lift without getting in the water, but the platform started to sink on one end as they pulled at the beam.

Will backed off and called up through the hole. “Dick, find that dock line and send one end down. It’ll be easier for you to pull it from up there.” 

A minute later, the line was through the hole. Will looped it around the end of the beam and called up to Dick to pull. All three lifted—Will and Kyle from below, and Dick from on top. The end came up easily now, and they maneuvered it onto the barge. 

When Will saw it, though, he gasped. It was rotted through. The complexity of the job had just increased tenfold.

Chapter 8

“Hey, can you give us an advance?” Kyle asked. 

“You guys have only worked eight hours between Saturday and this afternoon.” Will was almost out of money after giving most of the cash to Sheryl and buying materials—and the boat. The last thing he wanted to do was pay out to the boys. 

“Just a hundred each,” Dick said. “That ain’t gonna break you.”

Will didn’t need to check how much cash he had to know that it wasn’t enough to pay them. If he could get a couple of poles set, then he could ask Lance for another draw. But even that was going to be tough. Lance had been argumentative when he had called after finding the rotten beam. Will had offered to show him around and explain what would need to be done now, but he declined. 

Silence had prevailed when he asked for more money. He explained how the rotten beams would also have to be replaced and that the job was bigger than he’d realized, and would take more time and materials. 

Lance blew, starting to yell about time and costs and lost opportunity. How he was under pressure to get the job done now and that Will was only delaying the process to make more money. 

Will had been confused first at his silence and apparent lack of concern to get the job done right. And then at his rant. But he could not overlook faulty work, and things were getting worse every time he turned around. He thought he had been hired to do the job right.

As if on cue, the noise of a loud truck interrupted his thoughts. He looked toward the road and saw George drive by, the truck slowing as he approached, clearly checking out the job; reminding Will that he was watching. 

He looked back at the boys. “Listen, I spent just about everything on materials this morning. If we can get a couple of poles set, I can get some cash from the owner and pay you.”