Overboard in Lake Ontario: First There Were Four

By Carol Oschmann

A teaching tool about the Great Lakes. This is chucked full. From the geography to the charting, the history of wrecks, to the weather and compass headings. Combine this with a tale of a fourteen year old homeless boy, a marina fire, drug runners and a few other things.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Authors' Tranquility Press
• Release date: Sep 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9781959453185

Carol Oschmann

The author has been involved with dream study for over forty-five years. It began with a spiritual experience. She went on to help others through classes, lectures, and volunteering in a feral prison in Florida.

Book preview

Chapter One

In the beginning, there were four bad guys, in the dark of the night, sitting on the top of the hill overlooking Lake Ontario. The crickets’ chirping was loud. The waves gently lapped on the shore below them. The lines on the sailboats in the marina next door to them clanged with the slight wind. The men around the campfire plotted their next move, hoping to make a lot of money, and cover their crime.

We need to own this marina! There is a big shipment coming in a few days. We don’t need any witnesses.

Well, we don’t need to ask permission this time. I’ve arranged something to get BJ out of the area, and maybe forever, while we use his property.

I don’t need to know what you’re planning. The more of us that can act innocent, the better, but, yeah, great!

At least that kid is gone, being a foster kid at the farm now he’s not seeing what happens at the marina anymore.

Are you sure?

He’s gone. He ran away from the farm after Jerry scared him. He’ll never come back to this town anymore. I‘ve also arranged for BJ to pick up a boat in the Thousand Islands this week, keep him far away from the marina while we receive the goods. The rest will be a pleasant surprise, believe me.

Sounds like we’re all set for this week, anyway.

Chapter Two

He lifted his head slowly from his knees, wondering how long he’d slept. He gazed across the river. The sinking sun burned his eyes. Thinking that he must show up like a spotlighted actor on a dark stage, he quickly scrambled from the hole in the wall of the old hotel to the safety of the darkness behind it.

His Uncle BJ, the owner of the marina across the harbor, was working on a boat. Tom prayed he’d not been spotted by him.

Tom brushed cobwebs out of his hair and face. Darn! It just wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair. Tom wiped his eyes and nose with his sleeve. It had been three days since he ran away from the farm. Why couldn’t he have been born into a family like Cary’s? She had food, clothes, a mom and a dad, and a house to call home. Tom was fourteen, the same as Cary. He had none of these. All he had were his dreams, dreams that kept ending in flames, making sleep almost impossible. He wondered, if dreams have meaning, were they a symbol of his life? He could not live like that! Should he light a fire and end it now? He didn’t even have a match!

He looked around at the faded, peeling, old wallpaper. It reminded him of the wallpaper in Gram’s house. She was supposed to take care of him until he was ready to take care of himself. She died three months ago, and the county big shots put him in a foster home, on a farm that he hated.

There was a lot to fear at the farm where he’d spent the last few months. Fear was a feeling he’d never had until he moved there. He shuddered thinking about it. He walked in fear, did his work in fear, ate in fear, and slept in fear. He had to get away from there; so, he ran away. He came to this deserted hotel.

Tom wiped his eyes. The only living relative that he knew about, owned the marina he was watching. But his uncle had no room in his life for a kid.

A bang startled him. It was the trap door slamming back against the floor of what used to be the hotel kitchen, two empty rooms away. Cary must have finally gotten there.

It had been three days since he had run away. His stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten all day. He ran his fingers through his rather long, blonde hair and wiped at any tear stains that might be on his face, probably smearing it more with dust from the floor.

The hotel belonged to Cary’s family. It dated back to the late 1800s when her great grandparents ran tour boats from it, across Lake Ontario to Coburg and Toronto, Canada. Other relatives smuggled various things out of Canada, into the US, through that trap door on the kitchen floor. You could float a rowboat among the stilts that support the building that was built mostly over the water.

Cary knew where he’d hide and came to find him as soon as she heard he’d run away. They were in the same grade at school, but he didn’t consider her a real friend. He knew she hoped to marry his Uncle Jim when she grew up. That was the only reason she hung around him. She’d brought him a sweater and food yesterday.

Here are some binoculars, she said. The boards creaked as Cary walked across the large room and handed him the spy glasses.

Got any food? Tom asked.

Cary sat down on the bare floor near Tom. She opened her book bag and took out some cookies. Tom stuffed two in his mouth as he held the glasses up in front of his wet eyes, pretending to adjust them while the tears dried.

The sun had moved low enough to let him see his Uncle Jim’s marina. The shoreline, for more than a mile, curved in a half circle creating a natural harbor. The hotel was on one side of the half circle, and Uncle Jim’s marina was on the other side. A road running around the harbor connected the two by land, but the shortest distance was by water.

Rock jetties had been set down in the water, from one point of land to the other, to protect the harbor from the harsh, spring storms and the high waves of Lake Ontario. An opening in the center of the rock jetties allowed the large tour ships that used to frequent the harbor, to go in and out. Now there were even lights on the ends of the jetties marking the entrance for pleasure boaters.

The abandoned hotel made a perfect hide-out. Empty for more than fifty years, it had been stripped of everything including light fixtures and water faucets. The hotel wasn’t exactly safe. That was what made it fun. Tom and Cary played there often when they were younger and being boyfriend and girlfriend didn’t matter. Oh, the stilts that held the five-story building up out of the water were still solid, and so was the foundation where the old building rested partly on the shore. But the wind, rain and hard winters had weakened the rest of the structure.

They sat on the floor of what used to be a combination dining room and dance hall. The boards that used to be over the windows blew away long ago, and so had the windows. Tom and Cary watched the harbor through a rather large hole in the wall. It was getting dark fast, now that the sun had gone down. They watched as the harbor lights came on. Uncle Jim disappeared into his houseboat.

The hotel was the only building left on Lake Ontario at Troutburg, New York. Back in the 1800s, Troutburg was a busy vacation spot. Now, the population of the whole area, Troutburg, Morton, and Kendall, was so small that Cary’s father was both the local Judge and school maintenance man.

Did you tell your dad where I am? Tom was afraid she’d tell the Judge and he’d be taken back to the farm. She shook her head no.

He looked back across the water. In the darkness, the lights at the ends of the docks made patterns on the ripples of water in the harbor. Tom lifted the binoculars to his eyes and followed the lights on the ripples.

He picked out the first line of boats docked on Section C. Then, raising the glasses a little, he found the last boat on Dock Section B. Raising them again, Uncle Jim’s houseboat, The Playhouse, on the end of Section A finally came into view.

The Playhouse tipped as Big Jim Huge (BJ) jumped off to meet a guest. Cary grabbed the glasses.

Nice going, Cary, Tom whispered angrily. Next time you do that, the binoculars will be at the bottom of the bay. It’s just the same girl he took out on the boat last night. Cary handed the glasses back. Tom suppressed a smile. She’d probably seen enough to ruin her day. Tom wondered when she’d realize BJ was too old for her.

Cary looked at Tom. You can’t keep hiding out like this, you know. Mom wants to know where I go. I feel like she’s keeping track of the food I take.

Yeah, I know, Tom said. He had to do something. Maybe ask Cary for matches, but she’d know why and not bring them. I’ll sneak over to the clubhouse and raid the refrigerator. Thanks for helping me. I’d have been pretty cold last night without the sweater you brought me.

Why can’t you go back to the farm? Dad says that they’ve got the police looking for you.

I figured they would. I’m not going back there. Uncle Jim has to let me live with him at the marina. I have to figure a way to convince him. He’s the only family I have. He’s got to let me live with him.

Tom rubbed his back thinking, if only he’d run away last week. He’d still have the bruises made by old man Kutzen to show BJ.

There are other foster homes, you know.

Kutzen’s was bad enough. I don’t want another foster home. Tom looked through the binoculars again. The girl on the Playhouse, was hauling in the fenders. The familiar roar of the Playhouse’s motor broke the silence.

BJ’s boat trip would probably last three or four hours. Tom would have plenty of time to row across the harbor in Cary’s dingy, raid the clubhouse refrigerator and get back. The boaters who kept food there would all blame each other.

Seems to be a lot of people around the marina, Cary said.

I’ll wait until they stop walking around. Tom was thinking aloud. Maybe they don’t all know about me. He looked at Cary. She shrugged her shoulders.

If anyone stops me, I’ll just say I’m looking for Big Jim. The boaters were mostly city people who might not have heard he ran away.

Tom moved along the wall. He lay on his stomach in front of another missing section, binoculars to his face, to watch the boat leave the harbor. Once it was out of sight, he swung the binoculars back to the marina to watch the activity on the docks and around the clubhouse. His stomach gurgled again.

Tom groaned. He had to get his mind off food. It’d be a while before he could get into that clubhouse.

Sitting back up he said, I can see the kitchen table at the farm piled high with potatoes and roast beef and corn about now.

Is Mrs. Kutzen a good cook? Cary asked.

Mrs. Kutzen’s a real good cook. She cans everything being harvested or slaughtered.

Tom’s mind switched to Mr. Kutzen. He might be a good farmer, but that was the only good thing Tom could say good about him. Tom thought about the changing faces of the migrant workers that lived in a collection of bug-infested old trailer houses behind the barn. The area was completely out of sight from the road. He wondered if anyone knew or cared how those poor people lived.

Tom found it curious how the migrant people moved around. He’d thought they’d stay in one place for a whole season before going back south. Maybe if they were unhappy there, like me, they’d just up and leave too, like me.

Tom knew Cary wanted to know what had happened but there were some things you just didn’t talk about. This was one of them. He was in enough trouble, no sense getting Cary in trouble too.

Chapter Three

Didn’t you like it at the farm? Or was it just that you’d rather be at the marina? Cary asked.

Trying to see through the glasses was getting pretty useless. I want to be at the marina, Tom said, laying the glasses down and turning to face the direction Cary’s voice came from in the dark room. He could barely see her. And I didn’t like being at the farm. He must not tell her the whole truth.

Her bare arms, long bare legs and shiny face with high cheekbones and a straight nose were visible. Her straight brown hair and dark blue jean shorts and shirt blended into the dark of the room.

Tom felt uncomfortable in the silence. What was Cary thinking? How much of what he said would get back to her dad? Could he use this conversation to win Judge Travers to his side? Could he get Cary, and maybe her father to believe he shouldn’t stay at the farm? Without saying too much, that is.

Jake and Harold didn’t like it there, either. Something happened and they’re gone too.

What do you mean, gone?

Gone. The Kutzens pushed them out.

Come on, now! Cary asked, Why’d they take foster kids if they didn’t want them?

If you figure it out, tell me.

Tom, Cary sounded a little exasperated, good people take foster kids. They do it to help the kids.

Just because Cary’s father was a Judge, didn’t mean Cary knew everything, Tom thought.

Kutzens would find other homes for them, Cary said, not push them out.

He was right. She was dumb about this. Take it from me, he said, they pushed them out. Probably someone should find out about them, but not me. I just want to forget it all.

Tom, why do you think that way? Cary must have stood up. Her voice came from above him now, way above him.

Cary loved gossip; Tom remembered. Maybe that’s all this is to her. If it was, he’d change the subject. But ….

Maybe they didn’t need the money anymore? Maybe they got tired of bossing us around. It’s none of our business, Cary. Just drop the whole thing.

I want to know where the other boys went and why. Cary took the binoculars and put them back in her bag. What were their names?

Harold and Jake. As far as I know, Tom said, Harold had a birthday coming. He’d be old enough to be on his own. He left a whole month before his birthday. He used to get whipped a lot. I saw the bruises on his back.

Ouch!

Jakey’s the other one. He’s only twelve. One night Jerry Kutzen and his dad came out to the barn and pretended to be buddy-buddy with Jake and me. They talked about being grown up and drinking beer. They had some drugs too. Jakey was dumb enough to take some. Dumb or afraid, I don’t really know."

You’re kidding. Jerry and his father did that?

Jake freaked out. They called the case worker. They said he was unmanageable, and he needed stricter control. The case worker took him to juvenile hall.

Tom stopped talking. He’d told Cary a lot more than he’d intended. Cary, you’ve got to keep this to yourself. Jerry threatened me… well….

Jerry threatened you? Listen, I know Jerry too. Why are you saying these things? You’re making him out to be bad.

It gets worse. Tom could have kicked himself for saying as much as he did, but he couldn’t stand Cary