Rigged Brewery Tales

By Bruce Brewer

The excitement and thrill laced within the pages of this novel are steeped in Bahamian ambience. Drama-packed episodes are told from the perspective of Brewer, a local who was born and raised in Nassau, Bahamas. One of his many hobbies over the years lead him to become the founding father of the Rip Ty'd Brewery. Uncannily and coincidently, his background sets him up for an extremely unique story to be told. The plot unfolds around a tale of stunning intrigue. The novel twists and turns its way into an unfathomable, chilling mind warp.



*****



This fictional novel was passionately inspired by daunting coincidences.

A few of Port Nassau's authentic touristic attractions are highlighted and innocuously woven into the fabric of the drama. "We are in Port for only a couple of hours. What should we do?"--this question is answered to create sentiment around an actual visit or provide an agenda of a few things to do when in Port Nassau.

The novel drama unfolds when the confluence of several factors coincidently amalgamate. A perfect Category 5-strength hurricane of thrill and excitement develops and then catastrophically morphs overtime.

Two dramatic stories are revealed in parallel. Both have a common theme of chase and desperation laced within turns of the pages. In one corner, a watery battle for life as well as the retention of stolen diamonds unravel. At the same time, with similar vigor, a relationship struggle for survival and emotional closure rage.

The daunting perspectives penned are stunningly unique. The mind-blowing painted canvases are sometimes shocking and causes for pause and much reflection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 31, 2024
• ISBN: 9798887639499

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Preface

Introduction

Freedom

Sunday, New Guests

Brewer's Background

Brewer's Early Days

Seeds of the Future

Violent Chemical Reactions

Making Booze

Bushfire

Cheap Doodles

Mother

Protection from Life's Adversities

Hammering Down the Hatches

Category 5 Hurricane Devastates Parts of the Bahamas

Know When to Be Cheap—It's a Skill

Chance on the Dirt Bike

Dad

Secure the Hatches

The Job

The Chase for Hobbies

Windsurfing—the Best Sport Ever

Art and Oil Painting

Good Relationships

The Everyday Mask

The Chase for Hobbies Continues

Age Ain't Nothing but a Number

Sea Grapes Liquor Store

The Home-Brew Chase

Rip Ty'd's Doors Open

Generator

Boating, COVID-19 Lockdowns, and Friends

COVID-19

Brewer's Void

Chase for Music

Jay and Thomas Find the Brewery

Extreme Tipping

Empathy

The Romance at Cigar Cay

Samantha Likes Red Wine

Cigar Nights

Dopamine Trigger

Justification

Piano Crutch

Email Number One

Puff the Magic Dragon

A Rare Peek at the Inside

Arawak Cay

Brewer's Chase for the Backpack—to Forgive

Dragging Anchor

Protect Your Asset—The Scare

Pacing the Hospital Floor

Connecting Marie with Jay

Everyone Loves Jay

IG (Instagram) Is a Thing

Bon Vivants

Cigar Bar, Baha Mar

Sunday Piano at the Brewery

Samantha Asks a Question

Laundry Day

Thunderbolt and Lightning, Very, Very Frightening

Samantha's Goodbye Party

Rosewood, Manor Bar

Finding the Car after Baha Mar

The Dream

Twisted Lime

Email Number Two

A Subtle Measure of Disrespect

Will You Release Me? Will Not Release You!

Ego—a Three-Letter Word

Mythical Dogfight

New Kid on the Block

Communication Foul-Up

Graduation

Barracuda Bar

Pregame at the Brewery

The East Street Date

My Job

The Robbery at the Taproom

Romance under the Darkness of the Night

A Hurricane Is Traveling

Romance

Some Days Are Diamond

Mob Training

Hello, Savannah

The Message

Freedom Crosses the Gulf

Congratulations, Jay!

The Submarine

A Motel and a Center-Console Boat

Customs and Border Patrol

The Celebrity Relationship

Is There Anybody Out There?

Move the Goalpost

Shannon Is in Distress at Sea, While Brewer's Distress Is for Closure

The Relentless Torment

The Weight of Fatigue and Pain Is Dragging Them Down

Shannon Is Drowning

The USCG Checks Out a Suspicious Center Console

IG Unfollow

Request to Follow

Freedom Clears, Inbound at Savannah

Freedom at Providence, Rhode Island

Busy at Work

Birthday Celebrations

A Tailor-Made Friend

Creep by Radiohead

Front-Row Seats to Crazy

Just One More, Then We Say Goodbye

Abandonment

Dowdeswell Street Speaks

Final Reflections

The Sin of Abandonment

Day Off

Courtroom Stenographer

Interpretation

A Different Operating System

Samantha's Opinion

The Twilight Zone Mind Warp

FOCD

The Deep Stuff

Jay's Side of the Story

Jay Is the Victim

Teetering on the Edge

Chase for Closure

The Poem

Brewer's Breakdown

The Computer Simulation

The Meltdown

Flashing Lights at Armstrong and Dowdeswell Streets

A Straight-Fitted Jacket

About the Author

cover.jpg

Rigged Brewery Tales

Bruce Brewer

Copyright © 2023 Bruce Brewer

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88763-948-2 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88763-949-9 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

To the charm of Dowdeswell Street in Port Nassau, Bahamas

Preface

This short story is set around the Rip Ty'd Brewery in Port Nassau, Bahamas. Landmarks and things to do around the area are highlighted specially to enhance a visitor's anticipated day at Port Nassau. The author hopes that the book will be kept as a souvenir in itself, perhaps a reminder of an experience in Port or something that, one day, might be experienced if visiting. The book is packed with an exceptional amount of intrigue and thought-provoking concepts couched in an authentic Bahamian ambience. As you sail, travel, or just curl up and enjoy, we hope to be so impactful that one day, we see you in person, enjoying Mermaid's Walk.

The brewery is only steps away from dockside and boasts an authentic Bahamian experience. Unique Bahamian beers are on tap, complemented by other drinks and folklore around the Farmer's Daughter, a class C regatta sailboat. The boat built in Farmer's Cay, Exuma, is a part of the decor. The area is absolutely steeped in Bahamian history. Mermaid's Walk was coined in the novel to illustrate what to do if you only have a couple of hours in port. Written by a Bahamian man named Brewer, the novel imparts nuggets of Bahamian life and culture from the perspective of one native over many years of experience. Thrill, suspense, and a lot of drama are added to the mix when Brewer meets the crew from Freedom, a tall-sail schooner that frequents Nassau weekly. An incredible story unfolds.

Jacob (Jay), a sailor on Freedom, finds the craft-beer joint to hang out at during his short visits to Nassau. He befriends everyone including Brewer and Tiger, who both work at the taproom. Brewer's continuous, obsessive cycling in and out of hobbies may have led to a new variety of chase, one for friendship.

The intense friendship coincidently mimics the theatrics of a famous song. When the friendship spontaneously ends, Brewer uses music to illustrate a mind warp of torment and a chase for closure. In parallel, Jay gets involved with a girl on Cigar Cay, where the sailing ship frequents each week. The romance morphs into a complicated scheme. She needs to switch her identity, reenter her home country, and retain a small bounty of diamond souvenirs collected in the Bahamas.

Introduction

The year took a bite at Brewer before it even got started. The type of drama that was welcomed at this time of year was either a big Christmas gift or the popping of champagne and fireworks for New Year's.

Brewer had years of culinary enjoyment, successfully eating and savoring the local catch. He caught fish at the docks at a very early age. He remembered his dad once exclaiming, It must be a sin to catch these small fish! Brewer would learn to catch bigger fish over the years and enjoy eating the bounty.

In January a late Christmas dinner postponed because of the intricacies of COVID-19 turned into a once-in-a-lifetime culinary enlightenment for Brewer. The anticipation of having a well-prepared and seasoned five-star gourmet meal at a popular venue was creating excitement for the family. They had planned to finalize the old year at a fancy sit-down dinner. At this point, the celebration was also to head up the new year with great memories and a bang.

Brewer loved grouper and hogfish and would occasionally indulge in a meal that presented a chance to savor and enjoy the local marine offerings and much-acclaimed delicacy. This would truly be a treat. The venue was a fine restaurant establishment that became a favorite over the years.

That night, immediately after dinner, the nightmare began. Brewer became violently ill.

His daughter, Marie, looked on as she envisioned having to call for help. She could imagine the flashing lights of an ambulance and a long drive to get her dad, Brewer, to the hospital. She imagined the cold, sterile environment of a hospital visit. Brewer was bent over at the porcelain altar. She was scared and nervous for her dad's well-being but also scared for herself. She knew to call 919. She could drive him, but how would she get him into the car? She knew she could not lift him. What was it exactly that she would need to do? What was wrong with him?

Brewer knew that fish poisoning had finally caught up with him and taken him down.

With little warning, an explosive missile-like projectile of energy and toxins was forcefully expelled. A lionlike roar from the base of his diaphragm filled the acoustic void. A gush of relief splattered the tiled area of the bathroom. The porcelain altar comfortably received a majority portion of the offering.

The release finally foreshadowed a morsel of hope and the anticipation of recovery. This was already a day later. The lingering effects of the poisoning would continue for a couple of weeks and even months. The effects of the poisoning were so overwhelming that Brewer almost hurt himself when trying to combat the excruciating symptoms. A devil-like itching under the skin provoked Brewer to take a piece of sandpaper and sand his foot. The soothing relief of this action soon evaporated into a raw, burning pain. The itching continued to become overwhelming and daunting.

Brewer confirmed with some of his friends who also had a taste of this plague. The ciguatera poison could be ravenously jealous. To be fair, it would allow the free flow and passage of life's urinary necessity to sustain its victim; but in some cases, not a drop more. It was said that a passionate release could evoke a debilitating burning sensation that engulfed the most final extremities of one's being because of the jealous sexual rage of the poison.

Brewer knew that another poisoning soon after could be detrimental. The recommendation given by most was to stay away from reef fish for at least a year.

Not too long after and certainly still in the first month of the year, Brewer was hit yet again. This time it was a sting of some sort. As impossible as it might seem, it happened. What type of bad luck or weird coincidence was this? It almost seemed that Brewer was taking on toxins at a rate his body could no longer sustain.

Brewer watched the swelling in his foot gradually take its hold. The initial red patch appeared to be mobile. Brewer imagined this moving up his leg and toward his heart. He was always concerned about his heart. He hated the hospital. He had a fear associated with the idea of doctors in white gowns pacing the floors, deciding their next move, having the power to influence and perhaps determine the patient's fate.

How did this second hit take place anyway? What were the details surrounding this uncanny repetitive incident? Barefoot and shirtless, Brewer was walking the dog right outside, in the grass, when suddenly his foot was impacted by the venomous sting of some unknown insect or perhaps a bee. Another bite, another venomous sting. Brewer's establishment had now already taken two blows so early in the year. Suppose this venom traveled to the heart? Brewer, not knowing what had stung him, remained vigilant and cautious. His swollen foot would act as a barometer for his well-being and the progress of improvement. Despite his adamant reluctance, Brewer was rushed to receive antivenin treatment. A combination of the earlier fish poisoning as well as this unknown intrusion would potentially become a cauldron of toxicity strong enough to bring down a dragon. Brewer would now be forced to wear a medical alert bracelet for six months to follow. The slightest introduction of another tranquilizer or injectable chemical sedative would be certain to inflict the final blow.

Brewer understood the concept of things happening in batches of three. He now wondered if he needed to panic. The third blow was now almost guaranteed to come. What could that be? There was a recent shark attack on the island. Brewer did not want to go in the water, at least not too far from the boat. He was scared about taking another bite or sting. A third blow seemed inevitable, and Brewer had to keep his eyes peeled. He needed to be ready for this one. He thought, Three strikes, and you're out. Brewer was caught in a precarious position. He knew something more was about to go down. Another sting could be waiting around any corner.

Hosting guests on the beautiful shores of the Bahamas was a part of the country's tourism script, especially guests who could fully appreciate the nautical offerings of the country. The notion of a guest inflicted trauma, attack, or third sting was as far-flung and distant as the geographic coverage of the majestic islands of the Bahamas.

Freedom

SV Freedom was a tall-sail schooner on charter in the Bahamas. She ran south every year to avoid the impacts of the nor'easters that could pound away at the upper North Atlantic coast. These storms originated as a low-pressure disturbance within one hundred miles of the shore. They thrived on the symbiotic relationship of converging masses of cold polar air combining with warmer oceanic air masses.

Freedom attempted to have the best of both worlds. She escaped bad weather and lived where the prediction for fair winds and following seas was best had.

She typically left the Northeastern US coast in the late fall for the warm waters of the Bahamas to begin the winter season. Once in Bahamas, she plied between Nassau and remote islands east of Nassau on prepaid group excursions. Although Freedom might vary destinations based on factors like weather and the captain's decision, she almost always called on the famous and renowned Cigar Cay.

The beauty of the Bahamas' cays was astonishing. Astronaut Scott Kelly dubbed these cays as the most beautiful place from space.

The cay marked the separation between civilization and nature in the purest sense.

There was a rustic marina. This was the last vestige of civilization. Sandy white beaches were parted by a mix of turquoise-blue-and-green waters and honeycomb coral. The deeper ocean blues and turquoise greens preceded a translucent clear-white surf along a beachy shoreline. The cay provided a refuge as well as acted as an oasis where last-minute, forgotten supplies were always available. Bunny's store was cramped with souvenirs and trinkets, exclusively envisioned for the visiting tourist.

The voice of a panic-stricken guest might be heard. He could be embarking on a weeklong excursion and only now realizing that he had forgotten a toothbrush or some other city-life necessity. The thought of not having the comfort of a habit-entrenched amenity could be daunting for the unsuspecting visiting sailor.

Bunny's always seemed to have some must have item or the ability to quench the appetite of at least a few sailors on each trip. Cigar Cay adequately represented the last stop where the connection to city life ended. This marked the commencement of the Bahamian aqua safari for the next five days. Communication with Nassau was the first amenity lost as one approached the cay. The necessities like Wi-Fi were lost on the cay. The highest point on the cay housed a long whip-type antenna that was the last link to Nassau. An outdated single-side band radio was the only means to make the link to Nassau. This was the standby contingency plan in case of emergency.

Freedom docked on the outside berth of the marina because of its size and because it could also run the skiff into shore. The guests and crew were always a welcomed addition to the day's register.

Jacob was a sailor on Freedom. His sailor buddies nicknamed him Jay because it was easier to shout, especially when the seas were messy and the wind was strong.

Jay was somewhat an unassuming character at first glance. He could nestle in with a crowd and become unnoticed. His strong ego and willpower directed him to be a winner. In his own mind, he thought that the most beautiful lady on the cay should naturally gravitate to him. However, always willing to help, Jay would do his best to assist her in finding him, if necessary.

Sunday, New Guests

We only have a few hours. Where should we go, and what should we do in Nassau? And what is the big secret about the conch anyway? The guests on Freedom did not have much time in Nassau.

Passengers would typically fly into Nassau's airport and take transportation into town to join up with Freedom. The boarding process was what consumed the crew's time on Sundays. There was no shift rotation, just a rotation of customers. The new customers were encouraged to go out into Nassau and find supper and cocktails in the evening. After all, this was a part of the experience. Nassau could be called an experience for sure. The John Alfred dock (JAD) area was a bit lonely. This was not the hustle and bustle of Nassau. The immediate area looked a bit abandoned.

These days, Baha Mar and Atlantis were the big city-like attractions. Many nice restaurants were scattered throughout town, which the locals divide into east and west. Freedom was docked nearer to the east than the west but was basically centrally located. Green Parrot was the closest restaurant, although a bistro had recently opened right opposite of JAD. Further west was Fish Fry at Arawak Cay, which was always a good attraction for visitors. At Fish Fry, there were several authentic Bahamian shacks that catered food. Among the favorite foods to try would be the conch dishes and, like the name suggested, local catch.

These days you could get conch salad in the original style or in a tropical variety. The tropical variety included a sweeter taste with the addition of pineapple, mango, and some other seasonal fruits. Conch was basically a rubberlike textured shellfish white in color and primarily bland. It picked up its taste from the surrounding citrus mix and vegetables, all seasoned. The dicing of the ingredients could be a sight to see. Experienced chefs displayed quite an artful use of their cutlery and knife-handling skills. Traditionally, the mix contained a lime-based juice countered with the flavors of onion, sweet pepper, salt, a squeeze of orange, and the all-important goat and red bird peppers to flavor. The exact proportions of ingredients separated excellent from good. The mixture was left for at least a few minutes to a few hours to marinate, and you had basic conch salad. The term steep was sometimes used to describe the period for marinating. The longer the better.

The big myth about conch was steeped in tradition. The locals would quickly have you know about conch's medicinal value: better than Viagra. The rumors of the aphrodisiac effect so kindly provided by the conch delicacy were well-known. The Bahamians could be heard talking about it giving you a strong back and one going all night with a good scorch conch. It didn't matter what the preparation style was, and there were a few different ones. All that mattered was that you got your conch fix, and the sooner the better.

To start the all night session, Brewer hoped that Freedom's visitors would stop by the taproom on Sunday nights. It was a good hangout really close to JAD. The atmosphere was great for a few drinks to pregame before their main activity—whatever plans were made for their single night on the town in Nassau.

Brewer's Background

Brewer was an unassuming, simple kind of guy—at least on the surface. Deep down he was a complicated mess.

You only get one shot at life, and you've got to make it count, Brewer reflected. He saw a post that said, Never regret anything because at one time, it was exactly what you wanted. That was powerful. That resonated with Brewer in the context of brewing as well as his complex chase for hobbies, relationships, and happiness.

Brewer could not figure out for himself what he wanted to be in life. He basically wanted to be a bunch of everything. An executive, an engineer, a retired free spirit—there was no one right answer. He basically wanted to do it all and did not want to be boxed into anything. He sometimes had an issue with commitment. Brewer's gift as well as his challenge was that he could be whatever he wanted. There was no ability challenge, and this was driven mostly by his strong motivation as opposed to academics. The additional challenge for Brewer was that the motivation was not on demand. It was not consistent and not predictable. Brewer was not predictable, but then sometimes he was. He couldn't figure himself out. He often frustrated himself as well as others who knew him. His character was interesting enough to capture the attention of some.

Brewer's Early Days

Brewer lived in Nassau all his life except for college and the annual family vacations. He used up more lives than a cat in his youth. There always was some drama going on with Brewer. There was always some struggle. Not much came easy. There was no real consistency, and perhaps that was what kept it interesting for Brewer.

His interests became technical at some magical turning point in his early teenage years. Prior to his educational transformation, his report cards would read easily distracted and made good effort but.

Seeds of the Future

Just as the seeds of the future are sewn early, character is influenced early and solidified in the twenties. Someone said, Character is developed like a Jell-O pudding, which slowly and gradually matures and transforms from a watery mixture in early childhood to the final product.

The character that we see in everyday interactions with adults has likely been influenced by steering currents introduced from individual childhood experiences. Adult behavior can often be traced back to a source experience.

How much freedom do you give a kid to experiment? There is always that chance that they could blow the place up. They could hurt themselves, their friends, and others. On the other hand, kids need some freedom to explore and learn.

From an early age, Brewer always liked the sciences. He made his own simple lab in the laundry room at his house. This was convenient since there was a big sink in there. In addition to the chemicals that came with the kid's lab kit, Brewer had access to bleach, TSP, and other household chemicals that were naturally kept in there. Brewer's most notable addition to the lab was some magnesium strips and a piece of sodium the lab teacher gave him. Ms. Scofield was the best.

Violent Chemical Reactions

Ms. Scofield would dictate to the kids, Magnesium burns like a bright-white light in the middle of the night. Sodium's reaction in water was memorable. The soft metal broke down and melted on top of the water. A violent exothermic explosion produced heat and light. A dazzling dance of darting energy disbursing itself could be seen careening over the water's surface. This was an excitement of the elements.

Making Booze

All the guys liked her for sure. Ms. Scofield was likely the only teacher in the world to get away with teaching the kids how to make liquor at school. This would be Brewer's first introduction to making booze. Brewer took the concept home and made wine. The grapes he used were household grapes, to which he added regular sugar and baker's yeast. The fermented yield was stored in a glass Maxwell House coffee container with a memorable red screw-off top. The product was periodically tested by a couple of friends. Only a small sip would be proportioned to anyone indulging, just in case there was any methyl alcohol. That was the one that would make you blind.

Chemicals, booze, and fire seemed to excite Brewer. In retrospect, safety was likely not as high a priority as having fun.

Bushfire

A huge fire broke out in his sleepy childhood neighborhood during one summer holiday period.

Brewer, his brother, and some friends had tried to make a fireplace in the bushes opposite the house. Only God knew what had inspired them in near-ninety-degree summer weather. They had been likely playing house with the girl next door. Little time had elapsed before the bushes were ablaze. This looked like an inferno.

Brewer had enough sense to think about the implications of the trouble that had been set. He thought, What if the fire spread to the house next door? People in the neighborhood were in the street, anxiously awaiting help. Chatter could be heard. Everyone was trying to resolve the source