Water Taxi Boatman
by David Castlewitz
part 1
“Ain’t no alligators down there,” Hal said to his helper. “Ain’t no tracks, either. All myth.” He looked at the other taxi boat operators closing their kiosks and dismissing their helpers. Storm clouds were brewing north of Dykman Station, far across the Harlem River.
“Then what’re the tunnels for? I mean, before they got all full of water? My grandpa Ernie said after they flooded the fourth time—”
“And how’d he know anything about what happened a hundred-some years ago?” Hal had heard these stories before and believed none of them, not the one about a hundred days of rain or the tale of a 100-foot high wave that came on the heels of wind so fierce that the perimeter-looping monorail around Manhattan was battered into disuse.
“They just stopped fighting it,” Lou continued. “Rain we get nowadays ain’t nothing compared to what there used to be.”
Hal snorted, simultaneously amused and annoyed by the smug look of finality on his helper’s face. He didn’t care if underground trains really existed or that fat alligators roamed the waterways were true. Didn’t matter when it came to the day-by-day effort to make a living.
“If it gets all stormy, we’ll shut down.”
“But I get paid, yes?”
“For what? For going home early? It don’t work that way.” Hal couldn’t afford to pay a helper if there were no fares.
“Look,” Lou said, suddenly animated, nodding his shaved head in the direction of a tall man in a long beige coat standing like a bewildered tourist without a map. He brought him over to Hal, who took in the man’s sharp facial features, the slightly crooked thin nose and close-set beady eyes.
“Where you want to go?”
“Battery Park.”
“I’m licensed to Times Station,” Hal said, though he’d sometimes gone further south for the sake of a high fare, risking a fine that would wipe out the illicit profit.
“I’ll pay twice the regular rate.”
“Storm looks bad,” Lou said.
“Three times the rate,” Hal said. “I’m taking a big chance in this weather. Waves pour in from the river. My little boat could get swamped, especially later when the storm—“
“Okay. Three times.”
Hal didn’t smile. He took the offered pay-card, scanned it, applied the fare times three and noted the man’s name.
“Here ya go, Sam,” Hal said, slapping the card down on the counter.
While Lou locked up, Hal led Sam down the concrete steps to his taxi, a 14-foot long yellow boat decorated with green stripes, much like any other boat except for two painted eyes, one winking, decorating the bow.
Dark waters lapped the dock. A few boats were hoisted up out of the water. Hal couldn’t afford that luxury. If the tunnel water got rough, Hal could only hope his taxi didn’t get dashed against the pilings or heaved onto some other boat.
Lou joined them minutes later, handing over the lockbox with the reader that recorded the fares. That was one thing Hal never left behind.
“Small,” Sam said, hands on his narrow hips, his long beige coat bunched up at his waist.
“It’s a taxi, not a bus.” Hal snorted. Even by taxi standards the boat was more like a rowboat with an enclosed inboard engine at the stern and two seats set in the middle for passengers.
Lou unlocked the chain securing the prow to the dock and dumped the tether under the gunwale. Then he jumped aboard. He made his way to the stern, moving so the boat didn’t rock too much.
“Sit,” Hal said to the fare. The tall man plopped down onto one of the two seats.
The boat drifted free of the pilings near the dock, and Hal pressed the starter. One hand on the steering wheel, the other on the knob of the speed control, he nudged the boat between two concrete pillars and into the lane marked with a green arrow pointing south.
He fed the engine just enough current to keep it turning. With a half-charged battery and a fully charged spare, there’d be enough juice for a round trip even if they had to fight the waves that might pour in from the street.
Sam put a white handkerchief across his nose and Hal grinned. This was one guy who didn’t take the subway much, he guessed. The dank water, the sewage that often seeped in from elsewhere, along with the rotting carcasses of animals and even people combined to make a stifling odor, one Hal got used to when he was twelve years old and learning the trade at his father’s side.
Glancing back, Hal frowned at Lou, who kept looking over the sides of the boat, bending down to get close to the gunwale, then leaning back to peer past the dark waters churned by the propeller. Looking for alligators, Hal mused. Above, dim bulbs flickered. If they went out, there’d be real worries, not myths about killer lizards under the water or old tracks for underground trains.
Several tunnels merged at 145th, just past the barrier that closed off an unused passageway that Hal had been told led directly to Battery Park. He had petitioned City Transit to reopen the waterway, even though he wasn’t licensed to go past Times, because he hoped to extend his permit. At age 60, he retained youthful ambitions.
A few northbound taxis passed, and he acknowledged them with a wave. One boatman used his bullhorn to warn Hal about the coming storm. Rather than shout back, “I know,” Hal mouthed thanks.
Once past Times, Hal kept a lookout for Transit Police who might stop him to inspect his license. It had happened once before, costing him some eScript.
A flash of lightning above ground blasted bright white light across the platform at Times, where all the boats were hoisted up out of the water. Everyone’s scared off by this storm, so what’s with this guy? Hal wondered as he looked back at the tall passenger sitting with hands in his coat pockets, a glum look on his narrow face.
Lou attended to his job, clearing away debris with an oar when the engine churned the water and resurrected a piece of junk from below. Old PVC pipe, tangled electrical wires, animal skulls and human bones gave rise to fantastic tales of killer animals and sub-humans lurking in the unused tunnels connected to the main thoroughfare.
At Battery Park, the howling wind whistled from above. Here, a few boats had been hoisted out of the water and a lone sentry watched over them. He gave Hal a brief glance from his perch on a raised stool.
“You been upside?” Hal asked him, pointing at the stairway to the park above.
“Was up,” the sentry said. “A lot of wind. And lightning.”
Lou secured the boat bow and stern to a dock horn. The passenger, on his feet a bit fast, stumbled when the boat rocked, but regained his balance. Lou gave him a steadying hand.
“Tell you what,” the passenger said. “Wait a bit. I’ll be back and you’ll get another triple fare.”
“Can’t wait long,” Hal said. “Big storm coming.”
“Triple the fare,” Sam offered again.
“I’ll wait an hour. You wanna go back up north?”
“Yeah. Up north. I’ll pay you when we get there.”
“Let’s settle up now. I’ll go topside with you.” Hal needed a connection to his bank, a link he didn’t get in the tunnels.
“I don’t have time to dick around with you,” Sam said, and hurried up the concrete stairway.
Lou stepped close and whispered, “We got one full battery, Mr. Hal. The one we’re on is just about done for.”
Hal looked at the boats dangling from hooks in the hoist. The old man at the crank might take a bribe. Or he might take note of Hal’s license number painted in bold black block letters and digits across both sides of the bow and report him to Transit.
“Know where I can buy a battery?” Hal asked. “In case the lights go out, I’ll never get back in the dark and I’ll use up what juice I have running the engine and lighting a lamp at the same time.”
The old man shrugged, as though to say: “Not my problem.”
“No ideas?” Hal asked. “Anything?”
“Okay if I go up?” Lou asked. “Never been this far south.”
“Go ahead. Just don’t get drowned or blown away.” Hal laughed. The skinny kid could readily be picked up by a strong wind and carried into the river.
It didn’t take long for Lou to come skipping back down the steps, his dark face flush, his bald head wet. “You wouldn’t believe the wind,” he shouted. “Not much rain, but the wind’s whipping up the river something awful.”
Hal nodded. He’d been in windstorms. He knew all about them. That’s why the subway tunnels were so popular.
“We gonna make it back?” Lou asked.
Hal wasn’t as certain as he tried to sound. “Yeah, even if you gotta row the boat.”
Lou laughed.
“Go back up, will ya? See if that guy’s anywhere around.” Hal didn’t want to wait the full hour. He didn’t have a watch to know the time, so he gauged the hour’s passing by the amount of anxiety he felt standing around on the platform.
When Lou hesitated, Hal pushed him aside, mouthing, “I’ll go myself,” and lumbered up the concrete steps and into the blistering wet wind. The late spring day had suddenly turned into a wintry one. Hal shivered, hugging himself, hands clasping his upper arms.
No sign of Sam, the passenger. No sign of anyone in the park. On the river, a barge floated like a majestic whale, a regal giant fending off six-foot high waves and heavy winds.
“I ain’t waiting all day,” Hal shouted. As if in answer, Sam appeared between the trees, tugging at someone behind him. When he came closer, Hal saw he had a frail young woman in tow. Dressed in a flimsy nightgown, her hem sweeping up her thighs, her fight with the garment nearly comical.
“You ain’t bringing anybody,” Hal blurted out.
“She’s coming.” Sam shoved Hal aside and took the woman with him down the steps.
“You gonna pay what her fare is?” Hal asked when he got down to the platform. Sam, with Lou’s aid, helped the young woman into the rocking boat. The smiles that graced her soft round face gave her a little-girl appeal.
“How much more you want now?” Sam asked. “Make it four times the usual rate. Okay?”
“If money’s not an object—” Hal began
He didn’t finish when Sam grabbed the front of his shirt. “You got a good day’s take. Live to enjoy it.” Sam rapped Hal’s chin with his knuckles.
Copyright © 2023 by David Castlewitz
