Week Thirty Six
The Storm and Cape Williams
The bow of the ship cast its thin shadow down onto waters of the harbor in the midday sun. The fenders squeaked lowly as the slow rocking of the ship pressed them into dock, and the spring lines slacked with each roll. It had been years since the Eventide had been on the open water. Aside from the two or three storms that made their way up the Atlantic Coast each year and sent white caps across Cape Williams' harbor, the gentle up and down was the most movement the ship would experience on any given day.
The Eventide was ritualistically scrubbed cleaned each month on strict orders from its owner, P. Wellington Scott, better known as "Wells," the wealthiest man in Cape Williams who doubled as the town's local eccentric. He hadn't set foot on the boat since he'd purchased it a decade before, but as it was the longest and tallest boat in the harbor, and as it was a representation of who he was and the wealth he'd inherited, he felt the town deserved to have it looking well-polished.
The Scott family had helped settle the town generations before and quickly amassed their fortune through the creation of a textile mill spun for decades a few miles up on the Cape Williams River before moving their services overseas and eventually selling off the company to a multinational conglomerate. The remaining money filtered down to Wells through years of family in-fighting, divorce, and death leaving him as the only remaining heir. Rumors spread through town that he'd died in his mansion over-looking the town, but no one had the energy to go up to the house and find the corpse. But the checks kept coming and the so the Eventide was kept barnacle free.
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Ballyhoo started as an idea. While on a bike ride, Aaron Peters had helped a blind man cross the street. The friends he was with mentioned how nice it was that he'd helped the man, but Aaron wanted more. He wanted the world to know just how nice of a person he was. And that notion sparked an idea that turned into an app that turned into a worldwide phenomenon which made Aaron Peters a lot of money.
Ballyhoo gave everyone with the app a chance to give points to friends, family members, and strangers based on the good deeds they'd done. Get a cat out of a tree and your friend might give you 5 Ballyhoos - the name for the in-app point system. Help a friend move, and they might reward you with 20 Ballyhoos. The higher your number, the more things that would become available to you. Insurance companies would lower your premiums. Soda companies would want you to give out free products to your friends. And people on dating apps might be convinced that you weren't a serial killer.
Aaron Peters (currently at 34,522 Ballyhoos) shunned Silicon Valley. He hated cities. He didn't like the idea of being landlocked in some midwestern farming state. And when his girlfriend (71,329 Ballyhoos) spoke about a cute little town away on the water named Cape Williams, his ears perked up.
Land was purchased. A mansion was built. And the citizens of Cape Williams spun the rumor mill up again.
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The Ballyhoo was built in a shipyard in Holland and made its way across the Atlantic and into Cape Williams Harbor with much fanfare. Aaron hired a band, held a parade, and donated enough money to the local fire department to procure the use of their fireboat to "christen" the Ballyhoo as it made its way toward the dock.
As the crew jumped out to fasten the bow lines to their cleats, the diminishing wake of the ship sent the Eventide - moored to the other side of the dock - bobbing wildly. Several feet longer and a few inches taller, the Ballyhoo cast a long shadow over the Eventide in the late day sun. The townspeople were invited on board, and Aaron threw a loud and raucous party that lasted until the sun rose the next morning.
Up the hill, the thud of the bass and the tinny hits from the band's horn section were carried up on the wind and settled aggravatingly in the ears of P. Wellington Scott who sat in his chair on his balcony overlooking his town. He tossed his remaining scotch into the trees, slammed the balcony doors shut, and moved to the edge of his bed where he grumbled incoherently.
If you'd been on the Cape Williams docks a few night later, you would have seen him. Dressed in black, Wells walked silently along the wooden planks, with a flashlight in one hand and a tape measure in the other. He carefully attached one end to the space between two boards on the dock next to the bow of the Ballyhoo and ran it down to the stern.
"Damn it," he exclaimed looking at the tick marks on the tape measure. Aaron's ship was seven feet longer than the Eventide.
Three days later, the Eventide disappeared from the dock and a week after that, the Eventide II motored into the harbor. Longer, taller, and faster, Wells' new boat had the latest technology, a bigger engine, and enough bells and whistles to make the Ballyhoo seem insignificant in comparison.
In an interview with the Cape Williams Courier, the newly not-dead Wells explained that the Eventide II was a purchase a long time coming, and that he received an offer for his old boat that he simply couldn't pass up. When asked if he'd seen the Ballyhoo parked on the docks, Wells feigned ignorance and said he hadn't even noticed it.
Aaron Peters laughed at the article, and then went straight into his company's database to see what sort of Ballyhoo numbers this P. Wellington Scott character was pulling in.
His search came up empty. Wells was either using an alias or he - perish the thought - wasn't using the service at all.
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The Indian Scout Bobber roared up the hill, the rumble from its dual exhaust shook the leaves of the trees, and from a mile away, Wells could hear it approaching. When Aaron got to the gate, he shut off the motorcycle, and removed his helmet. Locating the callbox, he pressed the button repeatedly, but received no answer from Wells huddled inside. Anticipating this, he pulled an envelope out of his jacket and taped it to the gate. Inside, a note invited Wells to spend some time aboard the Ballyhoo and mentioned that, as the two wealthiest people in Cape Williams, they should discuss how they can better the community.
A note was sent back to Aaron on Wells' letter head with a small typed-out message: No.
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The Ballyhoo II's two personal water craft hung off the stern and added four feet to the total length of Aaron Peters new boat. Its flying bridge not only added height, but gave Aaron a perfect view down onto the Eventide II. He'd sold some of his stock in his company to make the purchase, but once he saw the boat at the dock, and the shadow it cast, he knew it was worth it.
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The Eventide III had a helicopter. Wells sold off some of his property to afford the new yacht. The Ballyhoo III was a repurposed military ship used by the Argentine Navy and cost so much money that Aaron had to take out a second mortgage on his mansion. This back and forth continued for months until Wells had sold off most of his family's assets and Aaron Peters had liquidated most of his stocks. Wells hadn't slept in weeks; spending nights pouring over yacht catalogues and designs. Aaron Peters was so consumed with this ship-based cold war that he was asked by the company's board to vacate his position as CEO.
The two never met and never spoke. But the town of Cape Williams rejoiced at the increase in tourism (and taxes) at the escalation. People came from miles around to see the two largest private vessels on the East Coast. Wells paid to have a deep-water channel cut through the harbor to safely sail the Eventide VIII in while Aaron had land removed from the harbor-adjacent elementary school so he could park the Ballyhoo VII without its stern sticking out into the middle of the harbor.
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An area of low pressure formed off the coast of Currituck Beach in North Carolina. This extratropical storm quickly gathered strength and by the time it made its way up the coast, it had become a bonafide nor'easter. Due to the geographic anomaly of Cape Williams and its precarious placement on the coast, it soon became apparent that the small village would bear the brunt of the storm. Weather stations urged residents to seek refuge while Cape Williams' harbor master instructed all vessels to relocate to less vulnerable harbors.
Every single seaworthy ship in Cape Williams was out of the harbor a day before the nor'easter arrived. All but two. The Ballyhoo VII and the Eventide VIII were so large that they couldn't move to a suitable harbor, and while the harbor master suggested that Wells and Aaron move their ships out to sea to ride out the storm, neither man knew how to sail.
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Trees were torn from their roots. A storm surge ran through the stilts of the houses built along the beach. And an off-shore buoy recorded record wave heights. When the clouds cleared and the winds died down, the Mayor of Cape Williams drove through the limb-strewn streets and down to the harbor. Seeing the state of things, he immediately placed two telephone calls.
Wells and Aaron sat on the splintered dock looking out at the debris field floating in Cape Williams' harbor. Aaron reached down and pulled a broken wooden board out of the water. The letters "BALLYH" were clearly visible. He laughed, placed the board on the dock, shook Wells' hand, and silently walked back up the gangplank toward town. Wells smiled and stared out into the harbor. A board painted in the unmistakable red of the Eventide VIII floated by. He plucked it up, smiled, and rested it on the dock next to the remaining board of the Ballyhoo VII. A smile unfurled from his lips as he noticed, quite unmistakably, that the board from the Eventide VIII was at least half an inch longer than the board from the Ballyhoo VII.
