Sooo, there I was, broke and busted in the lovely town of Beaufort, NC. NOTE; Pronounced “Bowfert”…Do NOT say Beeyuofort, that is in SC and you will be directed there. Matter of fact, when a vessel was out in the channel and hailing the Town Dock on the VHF and askin for docking/fuel/etc.,info and made the mistake of hailing…”Beeyoufort Town Dock….Beeyoufort Town Dock, come in…”, the Dock master and Town Dockrats wouldn’t even answer the call. Some other fella on the same channel would invariably chime in and say..”It’s pronounced Bowfort…” The same vessel would hail again and say it properly and by golly he would get an answer right away. We had been fishing out of that area for a couple months and my partner, his girlfriend and I had rented a small cottage down the road a short bike ride from the dock. Needless to say, after it was found he was a crook of sorts and the boat got gone I was no longer “welcome” in that place. Not entirely a bad thing as I really, REALLY, wanted to go somewhere off shore with him and see how long he could tread water whilst throwing bloody fish entrails in his general direction. I had made friends with a retired Yankee fire captain, Captain D, from Ct. while I spent time in the couple of bars open in the winter in town. He was running a 48’ Hatteras for his rich friend and said he needed a good mate and would let me live on the boat for free as long as I went on the charters and maintained the boat. Signed right up and was homeless for the moment no longer. Things were looking up. Now, this rig was docked in the town marina, right on the boardwalk. Prime real estate. I could pedal anywhere I needed. Heck, there was a bar right in front of the dock! What could be a better place for a broke, busted, and depressed fisherman?? Right!?.....NOT….. Well, my now new best friend Capt D, really didn’t have enough charters to make me enough money that I could get out of town. He was retired w/ a good pension, the owner was a rich fella who just wanted the charter boat business to offset the costs of having the boat. I needed and had to try and find other ways of making money and the only way for me down there was finding other boats that needed help. Fishing…any kind of fishing. Loads of opportunity in the area, just gotta find a way of getting my Yankee butt on board. Not an easy thing. First off, everyone in town had me pegged for a narc. The story of the “broke and busted Yankee” just wasn’t floating well with the locals. Lot of dope around this area at that time. This was a town where they sorta “rolled up the sidewalks” in the winter from November to about March and you are left with the locals in the few remaining open establishment that made sure the lights were low, so the dark circles under your eyes were not so visible and the 3 foot of smoke from the ceiling on down also helped to obscure that defeated slouch in yer shoulders. When I would enter such places all talk would cease and there was always the one fella who would greet me cause he knew I was gonna buy him a beer or 2 before moving on. So it took me a little time before I started getting work. I met a fella, WW, who seemed to know EVERYBODY everywhere and he told me he had a boat on the blocks that needed electrical work and would pay me 12 bucks an hour to get her into shape for fishing. Signed up for that too. The name of the boat was “Teach”. That was Blackbeards given last name. Blackbeard also had a house in Beaufort. That should have told me something from the git go.