Curse of The Salute

By Anastacia Moore

The Salute holds very dark secrets. Anyone that becomes associated with her encounters strange and mysterious events. Dick Frank's life changes drastically when he and his father Charles take over this old wooden fishing vessel.
Gruesome accidents occur all too frequently on board. Does a curse loom over the Salute? Will Dick be able to overcome the obstacles in his path to solve the mysteries? Come aboard to find out, as you immerse yourself in the dark depths of the Curse of The Salute.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anastacia Moore
• Release date: Aug 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476360942

Anastacia Moore

Anastacia Moore is an author, musician, photographer, artist, and animal lover. Having over 20 years experience in graphic design, and working in the legal field, financial field, she temporarily set aside her passion for writing. She has also worked as a wildland firefighter in Oregon, and as a fisherman on the actual Salute, out of a little seaside town called Charleston, in Oregon. This was the inspiration for "Curse of The Salute". After attending college in Nebraska, she travelled around the country, up until the late 1900's, working in various fields, and taking iconic photographs of people, wildlife, historic places, and professional portraits. She currently lives in California with her soul mate Michael, and their cat "Chloe" and sweet cockapoo rescue dog, "Missy".Anastacia invites you to immerse yourself in the mysteries of the fishing vessel Salute. If you are a fan of Stephen King, Dean Koontz, or Peter Straub, you will be happily immersed in the haunting tale of the Salute. Anastacia is currently working on "Obtrusion" a novel of intergalactic revelations that will force you to consider the other-worldly possibilities of the "creation" theories that for centuries have been tormenting the minds of mankind.

Book preview

Curse of The Salute

By Anastacia Moore

Copyright 2012 by Anastacia Moore

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781476360942

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter 1

Sleeping With the Fishes

Dick Frank beat on the hatch door furiously. His breath escaped in twirling clouds of smoke from his nose and mouth. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been trapped down here in the bowels of his own fishing boat, but he knew that it had to have been quite a while. He could no longer feel his fingers. The numbness had set in before he had even regained consciousness.

Foggy snippets of memory floated through his brain as he tried desperately to make sense of what had happened. Searing heat tore through his twisted ankle. His head throbbed. He remembered that he and his new deck hand Steve had been loading the day’s last haul of tuna into the ice hold. Steve was handing the tuna down through the opening to him. He laid them out head to tail, first icing then spreading salt over each layer before starting a new one.

The dawn of morning had just begun to settle in. They were both tired from the long night beforehand. They had been talking and smoking, but he couldn't recall what they had been talking about.

He had been standing toward the middle of the ladder and swinging around to throw one of the huge tuna onto the stack. A sharp bolt of pain shot through his head. As his world swirled into blackness, he heard a snap as he fell from the ladder and onto the floor of the frigid hold. He had no concept of time or how long he had been down here when he finally awoke from his stupor.

Gathering as much of the dank air as he could, he screamed again into the darkness. There was no reply. His voice was getting hoarse. The throbbing in his head seemed to take on a life of its own as he leaned against the aluminum ice shovel. A sudden jolt sent him reeling into the side bin as a large wave slapped into the port side of the Salute. He suddenly realized with growing dread that the ship’s diesel engine was no longer idling. Not only was he trapped below deck, but on a boat that was dead in the water. Panic once again began to race through his mind. He was over 200 miles offshore, past the shipping lanes. If the waves grew too high and his boat was caught sideways in the trough of one of them, she would be capsized in an instant. In the darkness the old wooden slats creaked and groaned. To his tormented mind it sounded like footsteps.

He braced against the wall of the ice hold in one last effort. Raising the aluminum scoop shovel over his head he beat on the wooden hatch door. When he didn’t make any progress, he dropped the shovel, and slumped against the bulkhead with a loud groan. He ran scenarios through his aching brain. Could it have been the wind that slapped the hatch door down on him so violently? He couldn't remember it picking up as the morning slid into early afternoon. If it was the wind, where was Steve? What had happened to him? Why didn’t he answer? He couldn’t help but wonder if his new deck hand would have any reason to trap him in here. If so, why? The Salute wasn’t much to look at. As fishing vessels go, she wasn’t exactly the pick of the fleet. There was really nothing on board worth stealing. He slipped into semi-consciousness again, as memories flooded his mind. The boat pitched violently back and forth. The waves picked up their intensity as the wind howled it's mournful song.

Chapter 2

Towing the Line

Dick's entire life had been spent fishing the Western Pacific tuna grounds far off the coast of Charleston, Oregon, where the Salute was anchored. His father, Charles Frank was a retired Navy veteran. The old man was always known as the gruffest son of a bitch around the docks. Charles had put Dick to work on the Salute when he was barely old enough to climb over the rail. He was very young when his mother moved away to Portland, leaving him to be raised by his father.

The old man was a tough taskmaster. It had always been his wish that eventually Dick take over the Salute. Every season, the old wooden schooner took precedence over anything else. School wasn’t a top priority. Keeping Dick around to work the boat was much more important.

Dick didn't have the opportunity to finish high school. His education consisted of learning the fishing business. His father had been his only teacher. He grew up spending his time between the docks and fishing the tuna and salmon grounds with his father and a plethora of different crewmen. Some signed on and stayed for a season or two. Others didn't last long enough to get out to the fishing grounds. Old man Frank had a motto, it was his way or the highway. He made no bones about enforcing that with anyone who boarded the Salute.

The Salute was a 59 foot wooden behemoth. Old man Frank acquired her from the wife of one of his fallen navy comrades. He picked her up pretty cheap, considering the wife had no knowledge whatsoever of fishing. She simply didn't want to deal with the vessel upon the passing of her husband. The old man hadn’t known the guy personally. Somehow, during one of their maneuvers, the guy had gone overboard, and was lost at sea. There were whispers from some of the other crew that the poor guy had gone Section 8. They said his cheese had totally slipped off his cracker so-to-speak. He had jumped to his death. There were rumors that something terrible had happened on board the guy's boat. Details were sketchy at best as to what exactly that was. All Charles Frank heard was that the guy had the choice of going to prison or joining the Navy. Obviously he had chosen the latter of the two.

Dick's old man had purchased the old boat when he was just a baby. After registering the boat, he began to go through her with a fine tooth comb. When his mother left he was taken along on every trip down to the docks to help his father work on her. As he grew older, he quickly learned from the ground up everything about the boat and fishing. If there was anything his father was adept at, it was the sea and fishing. He taught Dick well. Failure was not an option. If he stumbled at anything his father didn't gently pick him up, he grabbed him by the collar and made him do the task again and again until he got it right.

Thick cobwebs laced throughout the engine compartment. Nails protruded through the deck floor where someone had re-installed carpet in the wheelhouse. They haphazardly nailed the carpet right through the deck floor. The diesel engine itself had needed almost a complete overhaul, which his father did himself. The old man was too cheap to hire a professional to do any work on the boat. He figured if he didn’t get it right the first time, he’d just keep tearing it apart, and rebuilding it until it worked.

Rust drooled down the sides of the gunwale from nails that had seen better days. Dick had to clean with bleach, and then whitewash the entire upper portions of the hull. His father had piled more and more responsibilities on him. He had to run to the local market to stock up at least a week’s worth of groceries for each trip. With the fridge and cupboards stocked, he also had to make sure there was plenty of beer, soda, and water in the aft hold. The old man had a particular fondness for the giant Hershey bars, so that was always a part of the purchase. If anyone dared touch his stash, they faced severe consequences. Rumors swirled through the small fleet about crewmen being tied to the mast, or locked in the hold for pilfering. As to how much of those rumors were true, only old man Frank knew for sure.

Dick had wanted nothing better than to leave this god-forsaken berg and go to school in the big city of Portland. He wanted to study law or accounting, anything but be stuck breaking his back hauling fish out of an almost bankrupt ocean. He didn’t dare breath a word of such an idiotic idea to his father for fear of the consequences. He knew better than to go against his father. He was bound by birth to the Salute.

When the old man was too bent and aged to climb up into the mast to weld or fix the rigging, Dick was dispatched to tackle the chore. By the time he was 25, he was doing most of the major work on the old girl. His father sat in the wheelhouse barking orders, swilling beer, and smoking his two packs a day.

Things seemed to break with an uncanny recurrence on the Salute. He would repair one hydraulic line to the diesel engine, only to find that another line had sprung a leak the next day. The batting from the old wooden deck had to be completely removed and replaced. The deck was then oiled so she looked almost as good as new. The rust colored stains refused to disappear.

Crawling into the cramped engine compartment was an adventure unto itself. The stench of diesel and oil permeated the air. Pipes and hoses slithered like snakes along the low ceiling. Rusty nails protruded overhead from the carpet job in the cabin above. They jutted from the ceiling like voracious fangs threatening to strike at any unwary victim.

They caught the old man good when he ventured below deck to work on the tired engine.

As old man Frank stomped up the ladder cursing, Dick stepped from the wheelhouse. He saw the blood first. It oozed from a long slice on his father's forehead, and left a trail of red in his wake.

Jerking the suspenders of his orange waders from his broad shoulders he stepped out of them. The grease stained rag was the first thing he grabbed to staunch the flow. Charles Frank, at 6' 5" had learned quickly the repercussions of standing up in the cramped engine compartment.

Dad, what happened? Dick was almost afraid to ask.

God-damned nails poking down damn near ripped me fuckin' face off! The old man pulled the greasy rag away. The gaping slash had formed a crusty edged volcano of blood.

Dad, you need to get that taken care of . . .

Yeah, yeah, let's go – you can drive. My friggin' head is killing me! The elder Frank replaced the rag against his forehead.

Climbing over the rail of the old boat he wiped the sleeve of his long john shirt against his cheek. The blood that had run down rubbed off in a brown rust. It mingled with the layers of grime and oil on the shirt.

Dick wasn't a candidate for GQ himself. His father even less. Being a fisherman didn't require much of a flashy wardrobe. Faded jeans, tattered T's, rubber soled boots, topped off by a pair of orange rubberized waders was the outfit of the day. Dressing in layers was the norm. While it may be chilly when they first start out, once the work went full throttle, layers were easily shed. Almost every fisherman in this tiny Charleston fleet was geared up in the same ensemble.

If she didn't know better, Evelyn, the nurse at the emergency room could have mistaken Charles Frank for a homeless vagabond. She had seen him countless times at the diner above the docks. The Whaler's Lounge was the watering hole for the locals. During the summer tourist season, a few stragglers would wander in for a brew or a bite to eat.

Not only the best grub in the area, it was the only restaurant south of Coos Bay.

It was obvious who were locals and who weren't simply by their attire.

Evelyn greeted Charles with a warm smile. It quickly faded when he removed the rag from his forehead. Her jaw dropped.

Well, goddammit woman! Don't just stand there catching flies! Call Horseback, Worshach, whatever his freakin' name is! The elder Frank shuffled to a nearby chair and slumped back with a groan.

Suddenly the PA system sparked to life. Dr. Worshach, please report to ER stat!

The waiting room, with its pale green hospital walls was empty. Dick pulled a chair next to his father while they waited. He didn't speak, just tentatively put a reassuring hand on his father's shoulder.

Together they sat wordless in the quiet waiting room. Evelyn had taken refuge behind the counter at the nurse's station.

Within 10 minutes of Evelyn making the call, a tall middle aged man whisked into the emergency room. Dr. Worshach had the clean cut look of a college professor. Just a hint of gray at his temples and a bit in his neatly trimmed beard. He could easily have passed for a recent med school graduate.

Worshach had been practicing medicine in Charleston for the last twenty years. It was obvious that the salt air had not been as harsh on him as it had been on those similar in age.

Afternoon Chuck. He greeted the old man as a friend. Let's get into an exam room and have a look at that. He hoped silently that he wouldn't have to treat Charles for infection from the filthy rag as he pulled it away from the wound.

An acrid stench frothed from the deep gash in Charles' forehead. Worshach had seen some nasty things. This wound, although only a few hours old, looked already ravaged with infection.

As he scrubbed the wound with disinfectant, Worshach commented. Jesus Charles, that thing couldn't possibly have gone septic in this short of time!

I don't know doc. All I know is the sum bitch hurt like a mother! Charles reached toward the wound with his hand.

Oh no ya don't! Worshach admonished. I just cleaned that, so keep yer grubby paws away!

The old man gaped at Worshach like he wanted to punch him in the mouth. He looked down at his hands. They WERE both mired with grease and grime from the engine. He burst out laughing.

"Yep, I guess they are a little grunged up." He gingerly swiped them on the sides of his worn jeans.

Worshach hadn't noticed the nasty glare. He had half turned to fill a hypodermic with Novocaine.

Alright, let's numb you up and get a few stitches in that. Worshach leaned in toward the old man. The tip of the needle glistened with a drop of the serum.

Dick was sitting on a chair next to the gurney. He was now almost as hardened as his father. The thought of having a needle stuck into his skull didn't turn him on though.

He glanced away from his father and feigned interest in the television monitor overhead.

When all was said and done, Charles Frank sported ten stitches. He and Dick thanked Worshach, and headed back to the boat to continue their repairs.

Chapter 3

Old Pete

Tuna season rolled around in the early summer months that year. The old man hired one of his drinking buddies from the Whaler's Lounge, old Pete, as he was known around the docks, as a second hand. Pete had worked on several other fishing boats within the fleet. He didn't have a very stellar reputation. He was a hapless drunk but had endeared himself to the men of the fishing fleet. Many of them had given him odd jobs on board their vessels. None of these stints lasted very long when he did something stupid. He was best known for the time he was working on board the Jenny B. and fell overboard after sneaking a bottle of rum on. He had been taking nips the whole time they were out fishing.

Reviews for Curse of The Salute

[kevin1arneau · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Great storyline. The characters are actually believable, everyday people, who get mixed up with a haunted fishing boat. The author does a great job of laying out the plot, and describes the characters.The cover is what attracted me to the book, but the fact that it is a horror, thriller also helped in choosing it to review. The novel is a fast paced, keep you on the edge of your seat type of story. There is always something going on, to keep your interest. I highly recommend this book for anyone that likes horror novels. Although it is not so much blood and guts as some of the movies and books nowadays are, it is indeed a page turning extravaganza that will keep you going until you come to the conclusion. Definitely check it out.Kevin Arneau

[dennis_marshall-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Overall, this is a great story. The author does a great job in describing her characters, and their relationships to each other. I was amazed that out of the large quantity of 'reviews' on various sites that this book received a half star from one 'reviewer' on this particular site, as I thought the text flowed quite smoothly, and the author writes with passion and enthusiasm. According to the author bio, she had taken from her own experience working on a fishing boat, and, having never even been a fisherman myself, I find it interesting the way she describes the boat, the surrounding area, etc. Granted, it is not the all popular vampire theme that seems so prevalent currently, but it is a nice little jaunt through the adventures of a man and his son, as they face 'evil' forces on their boat.Personally, I like this author's style, and I am sure that if you like a little adventure, you, as a reader will enjoy it as well.

[kathybeck-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Purchased this as a paperback from Amazon.com. I think it's a pretty good story. Anastacia Moore writes a real page turner. She captured my interest right from the start, and held it through the whole book.I really felt connected to the characters, especially Richard, the son, and look forward to more from miss Moore.

[margaret4evans-2 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is a very good book for a first novel by the author Anastacia Moore. She does a good job of making you want to keep reading. A real page turner. Look forward to her next works. I highly recommend this book. There is some swearing, but I guess that is how sailors talk, so don't let that discourage you.

[kevin1andreas-3 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I read this book through Barnes and Noble. I really liked the smooth flow of the narrative.The characters are interesting, and well thought out and described by Ms. Moore. She lays an exciting plot.I think this would make an excellent movie, and highly recommend it to all readers who like a good paranormal themed read!

[victorquinn-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is about a haunted fishing boat, owned by a father and son, who encounter illness, death, and strange things while on their boat.The son, Dick, goes through a series of hellish events, and without spoiling too much, almost goes insane in the process.The thing that caught my attention was reading the opening chapter, where the character Dick is locked somehow in a frigid ice hold on the boat. The story goes on from there, almost in a long flashback up to a certain point, but just the first few paragraphs make you want to keep reading to find WHY he is down there, and how or even IF he will escape.Overall, I think this is an excellent story, and I recommend it.

[mikeueb · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This was a great book. I like books about fishing and this one seems like a very knowledgeable one about fihsng in general.

[cindyholdmann · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This was a great chiller that kept me on the edge of my seat. The characters were well defined for a shorter novel but I would have liked to have known more about the past of the ship. Maybe that was the allure though. It really made you think about what the fate of all of those sailors really was. It was edited well with few mistakes and I really enjoyed reading it. I would definitely recommend it.

[dokfintong · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I received this book through librarything.com.It is a terrible thing when a potentially good book is ruined by poor editing. This seems to be a commonality among Smashwords offerings.Ms Moore seems to be a creative writer, the story seems to have the potential to be a good read. But when "gobbet" of flesh is rendered "goblet", we know that nothing stellar can follow.What is it with the people at Smashwords? Do they have no professionalism at all? Why don't they help the new writers they want to support? I do not know if Smashwords charges the authors to post their books but if so, they should be openly discredited. Authors beware.Update: I downloaded my copy from Smashwords. I do not know if downloads from other sites are different versions but as other people are not complaining about the awful editing, perhaps B&N and Amazon are selling different versions.