SPONGERS ON THE BIG DOCK

March 7, 2019

            You have no doubt noticed in the past several days, a couple of weeks or so, the presence of the sponge boats, and those men who walk the bottom, their boats tied off on the big dock. There were six, I think, “Creek Runner” Bill and Deep Sea John, pursued by winds from the southwest which, after a while, have a way of stirring up the bottom so no diver can see where he is or where the harvest might be, were the first in port.

            Not far behind was “Little Joe,” Pete and Rocky, the crew. And then came in Mike and the “Southern Comfort.” Mike, who most normally, actually, most always, prefers to work alone … a treacherous operation, with the unmanned boat above, the diver below. Spongers

            And then in came “Moody Blue,” I really don’t know that crew well, they came in for a couple of days. And then, of course, in came Taso on his renowned boat, “Anastasi.” Taso is a hard taskmaster. He had with him a couple of young men, needed to carry on the sponging tradition, that he had in training.

            And then “St. Michael.” We know little about that boat or its crew. It’s still too white. The muffler on that diesel has not yet rusted. The compressor, that piece of vital equipment that, among other things, delivers air to those walking the bottom below, looked too new, too fresh, for actual use, for a crew to rely on.

            They were all here, tied off on the big dock. Talking to Rocky one afternoon at the Captain’s Table, “All the divers at Tarpon are good, the ‘gooder’ are here right now.” Talking with Lloyd, the Dock Master, and life long Cedar Key resident, “They’s the most I’ve seen here at one time since the fire at the jail.”

            Creek Runner Bill, having been there the last trip past, out of Cedar Key, was looking for another mate. He and Deep Sea John share the task of walking the bottom. Nonetheless, Bill likes a third on board. They, Bill, commandeered Brucie. And then Nelson showed up, ready and willing.

            John was ready, past ready to go. John was itchy. Bill was still enjoying a last brew, something you don’t do when you dive, you don’t want bubbles in your system. John and Nelson came in the bar. They hooked elbows around Bill’s arms and dragged him to the boat leaving a path of destruction behind. Ethyl, in awe, just let it happen, maybe glad it happened.

            Well, it happened. Bill and John and Brucie and Nelson, and Brown off to the boat. Brown is bill’s closest companion. Brown is a reddish brown hound, a bird dog with short hair, that stays forever at Bill’s heels unless he senses a female in heat. He’s been known to hoof it back nine or so miles after a foray in the woods.

            So there goes the Creek Runner, Bill, John, Brucie, Nelson, and Brown on board, steaming out of port. They were to be gone eight or so days. I was hoping Brown was at the helm. If you know this crew, Brown has more sense then all the rest put together. They were back in four days, or less. Brucie was the first off the boat. He needed to make a phone call. He’d soon be back. He hasn’t been seen since.

            I’m glad the spongers are back in Cedar Key. I hope they make this their homeport for awhile. They are good for the town. They spend dollars and they add a flavor, a flavor of the past, a flavor of how some live day to day, a flavor of the present, a flavor of now.

            Well, as I’m sure by now you have guessed, there is more to this story. But that comes another day in another time. So, till next we talk, I’m out there gathering info, looking for Trouble in Cedar Key. Join me if you will.

  Copyright © by Gene Benedict 2019 March 7