Chang

The Cayman Islands and Cuba produce damn GREAT rum, and Captain Chang knew it.
Chang and his crew of five drunkards had departed Key West four days earlier and were docked in Port Channel, Grand Cayman.

"Captain Chang, this is a warning. Next time you bring a bunch like this to the Caymans, I will jail you instead of them! They literally tore down the King’s pub, set fire to the brothel, and urinated on the statue of Queen Victoria. I realize she is an ugly bitch, but that's beside the point and, my good fellow, the point is a fifty dollar fine!"

"Fifty dollars! That's robbery! Last time it was only ten dollars!"

"Last time they didn't burn down the brothel!"

"Look Ian, we have known each other for some time now. We both know the fine goes straight into your pocket, old man. Let’s see, how's about twenty dollars and a box of Cuban cigars?"

The crooked customs agent settled on twenty-five dollars and two boxes of Cuban cigars. Chang's 'crew' was released from jail and properly lashed by Bruno, the first mate. Bruno was a German; he had fought in the Great War, was captured by the Americans, spoke six languages, and was used as an interpreter by the allies.

"I don't know, Bruno, this is getting old. Can’t find good crew any more. Keep your eyes on that lot. If they get into the rum, they will drink all our profits."

"Ya, Bruno watch them. Bruno break their head and feed to shark. I tell to them scurvy dogs 'Bruno break head and feed to shark if you drink my captain Chang's rum!' Ya,ya,ya."

The Lucky Dollar departed on the next outgoing tide for Cuba. Soon after departure she encountered a nasty thunderstorm—a bad omen, the crew mumbled to each other as they set and trimmed the sails. The stout 100-foot sailing ship was built of teak and mahogany in Thailand around 1896 by Chang Boat works, owned by Captain Chang's family.

The sail to Havana took five days. The wind was unpredictable, the frequent storms and waterspouts slowed their progress, and the crew had to work double shifts reefing the sails for the varying wind conditions.

"This trip is cursed! We get shanghaied in Key West, then jailed in the Caymans. The captain only allows us a pint of rum a day, and now these storms. The curse of Poseidon is on us all! Never turn a blind eye to an omen!"

"Shut the hell up John! Weren’t none of us shanghaied nowhere, just 'cause youse was so shit face drunk when youse signed up for this here voyage and don't remember. I were there, there in Key West. I seen ya sign with your mark! Ain't nuttin’ unreal about this voyage. I done it a hundred times times ten! And I can tell you John, you old fool, ain't nuttin’ unreal. These waters always has storms and water-suckers, and if’n you had more than a pint of rum a day, youse would be totally useless! Harr!"

John swilled at his pint of rum, tried to digest all his crew mate had spat at him, and replied, "Screw you, Hiram Smith! What do you know? I were sailing these waters whilst you was sucking your momma’s teat, you upstart. I will slit your throat if you open your mouth against me ever again!"

"Have at it, old man! If your dagger is as sharp as your tongue, have at it!"

"You ain't worth the effort, Hiram Smith! Mark my words, this voyage is cursed!"

John guzzled the rest of his rum, mumbled something about mermaids, and passed out in his hammock.

"Don't listen to that crazy old fool. Chang is a good captain. He knows these here waters like the back of his hands. Watch my back, boys, that old fool will stab you in the back. He kilt that Chinaman in Key West that way, stabbed him in the back like a dog, he did."

All five crew members were veterans of the Great War. They came to Key West working on Flagler’s railroad. Then, after surviving the hurricane of ’27, they worked for the wreckers and salvers. Now times were booming, working for the rum-runners. They all got a cut of the profits minus any 'fines' or other 'expenses'.

It was hurricane season, and Havana was hot and steamy. The wharfs and docks were always wet and smelled of a musty mix of fish and spilt rum. Boat loads of Americans traveled here to gamble, drink Cuban rum, and smoke the island’s fine cigars. They shuffled off the steamships, eager to soak up Cuba's legendary shows and casinos, their pockets full of cash, themselves not affected by the Great Depression that was strangling the United States and the world, and not caring.

Captain Chang ordered his rag-tag crew to load the 200 barrels of Cuban rum, and 3000 coconuts. Then they had 20 hours of shore leave.

"The tide will be right for our departure in 24 hours. And one of you gets arrested, I will leave you here to rot! No more fines—the Cubans don't play like the Caymans do. They will put your ass to work in the cane fields for a year for drunkenness. Just ask old John."

Old John nodded a confirmation to Chang's statement. John had been the guest of the Cuban chain gangs, not once but four times. Old John hated sugar cane, and he hated the Cubans. But he liked their rum.

"Bruno, I gotta go see my señorita. I ordered five hundred boxes of cigars from Fernandez. When they get here, put them in the small sail locker next to my cabin and cover them with some oilskins. I think they will fit there. If not, put the rest in my cabin. The last trip we lost half of them stinkers. That chain locker aft leaked, damn waste of good cigars."

Chang hailed a taxi and went to the Casino Royal. His señorita, a voluptuous young blond Spaniard, worked there as a card dealer. It was just after 6 PM and her first shift wasn’t over until 11PM, when the real action started.

"Hey Lucia! My only girl! How's my only girl?"

"Your only girl! Poof-poof you so bad to me Chang, I mad at you!"

"You are always mad at me, Lucia. I have a present for you!"

"I no want your present, Chang! You bad to Lucy! What is present? Show me now!"


Chang always splurged on Lucia. She was his favorite gal in Cuba. She worked hard and had her own apartment. She also was his connection in Cuba with the black market. Her family had a small rum distillery that produced the best rum liquor in Cuba. Chang always bought all they would sell him.

Lucia's eyes lit up when Chang gave her a diamond-studded Tiffany gold watch.

"You do loves me, Chang! It’s so beauty! All my friends will say Lucia has the most beauty watch in Cuba! And Chang gives it to her. She is a lucky girl, that Lucia!"

Lucia danced around the casino showing off her watch to anyone who would look at it. After a few drinks and a go at the black-jack table, Chang knew the tide waits for no man. He needed to sell his other gold and diamond Tiffany jewelry, and Lucia knew the person that wanted it.

"Come on, Lucia, we got some business to conduct. I have to sail next high tide. Where is Mr. Monteleone? You said he would be here around eight, and it’s almost nine. I gotta get back to my ship and make sure those idiots loaded and secured the rum and coconuts."

"He is in his room waiting for you. Why you not ask? He might be mad you no show at eight."

Lucia knew everybody in town, but her weak point was time control.

"Why, why—oh Lucia, let’s go."

They made their way to the penthouse, were frisked by two of Monteleone’s goons, given the evil eye by the butler, then escorted to the kitchen, where a fat woman singing “Ave Maria” was joyfully cleaning pots and pans.

Monteleone was sitting at a round table covered with various-sized bowls, each filled with different types of pasta mixed with lobster, fish, and conch. Two simple white chairs were offered to Lucia and Chang.

"Drink some wine. It’s from the old country—my brother’s vineyard in Sardinia makes it. You won’t find any wine better than this in Cuba or the world! Right, Momma?" The old fat woman stopped singing and grunted something that sounded like 'rumpabudump.’

"Momma donta know English very well. She hates Cuba. She wants to go back to the old country, but she can’t. She shoot the mayor’s wife in the head. I don't know why she did this. Maybe she don't like the mayor’s wife. Now sit, eat, I cook this fish and lobster—my son Antony, he catch today! Eat!"

When Monteleone tells you to eat and drink, you do so even if you aren’t hungry or thirsty. After the meal was finished, they cleared the table and Momma started washing the bowls, singing the same song. Monteleone conducted all his business on the round table. As he loosened his belt so his belly could expand, he snorted, "Show me the Tiffany."

Chang opened his black leather case. Inside were several small black boxes. He handed Monteleone the largest one. "Santa Maria! Behold! The diamonds are spectacular!" The Italian was mesmerized by the beauty of the necklace. It was a Tiffany original, set with a ten-carat emerald in the center and surrounded by a hundred diamonds on each side. His new mistress was getting a little out of hand, so he figured this gift might settle her down a bit.

"How much?"

"Fifty thousand, US."

"I give you twenty-five."

"Give me thirty and you got a deal."

Lucia was mad. Chang didn't give her the necklace. She held her wrath for later.

"Now, why don't you buy some of my wine? We have over one hundred barrels today. You buy twenty-five now, I give you good deal today."

"My ship is full of rum. Next trip I will buy twenty-five barrels. My customers in Florida want good wine. It is hard to find."

Chang and Monteleone made a deal on the wine. Then Chang and Lucia left the penthouse. "You bastard!” shouted Lucia. “Why didn't you give me that necklace? You bad to me, Chang!" Chang knew he’d better cook up a good excuse or he would have hell to pay.

"Look, on my next trip to Cuba I will have a necklace bigger and better than that one for you. My love, I needed the cash so when I sail to Miami I can buy it for you!"

"You so good to me, Chang, let’s go to my apartment."

High tide came on time, and the only crew member missing was old John. Chang ordered Bruno to find him, and Bruno knew exactly where to look. "Ya, Bruno find old John, in jail for murder. He kill that crazy Irishman that owns pawn shop by casino. Ya, ya, they hang old John noon tomorrow. Bruno no like old John. Ya, but Bruno sad to see him hang like dog. Irishman bad man. They both must now rot in hell together, ya, ya, ya."

The sea was unusually calm, winds steady as the old ship swung around southern Cuba to catch the northbound gulfstream for the four- or five-day trip to Key Largo, where they would unload the rum barrels on smaller high-speed motor boats to be smuggled into Miami.

Chang wondered if Lucia was worth the fancy Tiffany necklace. It would probably cost him two barrels of rum. It was a good trade, he reasoned; the jewels were hot, stolen or extorted by the Chicago mobsters in Miami that he sold his rum to. As the sun set, the entire sky appeared to be on fire, the clouds were long, wispy, narrow and transparent. Thousands of them all pointed in the same direction, north.

Chang and Bruno had seen these conditions before.

"Captain, Bruno no like sky. Barometer falling, water is bad color, and no bottlenose fishes fly off the bow, no bird fish. Storm, ya, ya, ya."

"Yeah, we are in for a bad storm. Start securing the rum barrels. I want triple lines on everything. No rum tonight for the crew—we can’t afford to lose a single barrel. Lodge coconuts in between the barrels so they can’t move around. We did that last storm, it worked good. Tell Cookie to prepare a meal now so everybody will have a full stomach to fight the storm. Damn, this is all I need."

Monteleone gave the Tiffany necklace to his French mistress. He was almost 53. She was 25, but looked 20. She also was a card dealer at the same casino that Lucia worked at. Lucia was a much better dealer than Moonrise, but because Monteleone lavished the French girl with gifts and a better apartment than Lucia, there was a slight bit of tension between the two.

Lucia knew the necklace Monique was now wearing should have been hers, but she was prepared to wait a month until Chang returned with a necklace with more diamonds and two emeralds. Then she would then put that French bitch in her place.

"Lucia, your Chang charged me too much for that necklace, but that's okay. Monique loves it. Maybe I buy you one? How you like that?"

"Chang bring me one better than that when he return! Then your little whore will want more! She will never have enough diamonds, you no see that, Monte? Why you like her? She so skinny. Look at me! I have nice. She is all bones and no brains in head, like a mono."

"Ha-ha, Lucia. That's why I don't send you away. You remind me of my wife back in Chicago, like a firecracker! I like skinny women! You Cubans have big rumps!"

"I see your wife when she here, Monte. She has bigger culo than me! And she ugly, like a burro! Good she go back home!"

"Ha-ha, Lucia, only you can talk to me like that! Now, you know were Chang got that Tiffany necklace? And the watch he gave you? Some friends of mine are here and they tell me the jewels are very hot, sizzling hot, and some very unhappy people back in Chicago want them back. I am out thirty grand, and Monique will not be happy when I take her necklace away, so hand over the watch and tell me where, exactly where and when Chang makes his drop in Florida."

The wireless never worked that well. The tubes exploded when they got wet, and it seemed like they were always getting wet. Chang tried to contact Jamaica. The weather station there was the best for a tropical forecast, but the static was so bad he gave up after an hour or so of trying to contact them.

The barometer dropped from 29.5 to 28.7 in several hours. The southwest wind was a steady fifteen knots and increasing. Then in less than an hour whitecaps starting forming and a following sea started to roll behind the Lucky Dollar. Total darkness engulfed the ship—no moon, no starlight, just a dull blue luminous reflection from the depths of a deep dark sea.

The four crew members were a mix of ages. Hiram Smith, now that old John was gone, was the oldest and most experienced sea hand, and now the chosen one to officiate over rumors and scuttlebutt. After the ship was prepared for storm conditions, and most but a few storm sails stowed below, the crew was given a few hours to rest below decks.

"Old John. I wish old John was here. He would know what to do. Are we gonna die, Hiram?"

"Get that out of your head. We ain’t gonna die. It’s just a storm. This ship is a fine ship, and if we all work together we will be in Miami even faster thanks to the storm’s swift wind!"

"Hiram, I seen that Bruno on his knees praying like a preacher, and he had a fear in his eyes!"

"He is a crazy Hun! Don't let that worry you a lot. The Huns lost the war. What do he know about praying? Sides, Chang is a master captain. I put my faith in Chang, not God!"

"That’s blasphemy, Hiram Smith! Take it back or you will rot in hell! Just like old John fer murderin’ that poor man back in Cuba, may they both rest in peace."

"Ha! They both won’t rest in peace, Buckey boy. You better wake up. Didn't the war teach you anythin’, Buckey boy?"

Buckey Hunter was the youngest of the crew. He’d enlisted in the Marines when he was 16, got shipped off to France, and fought the Germans for two weeks in the trenches. Then the Armistice was called, his age was discovered, and he was sent home. President Wilson sent him a letter thanking him for his patriotism and for being the youngest living Marine to survive the Great War.

The crew was too tired to sleep. They chatted for an hour or so; then they all fell silent. As the storm increased in strength, the wind's low howling sounds turned into a wild screaming-banshee symphony and the Lucky Dollar's rigging started to vibrate like a fiddle’s strings, producing more unnerving supernatural music. It was starting to drive the frightened crew batty. A loud SNAP-CRACK broke the silence.

"What was that? Sounded like a tree falling!"

Just then, the cabin’s door was blown in and a torrent of sea water gushed in. Behind it was Bruno’s silhouette.

"Achtung! Achtung! All crew on deck! Grab an axe and start chopping the rigging! We lost the aft mast—snapped like a toothpick! Ya, ya!"

The wooden mast had cracked completely in half about six feet above the deck line. It had fallen like a tall tree, and most of it was dragging in the sea, causing the ship to list hard to starboard. The crew chopped at the hemp rigging frantically in an attempt to free the ship of the fallen mast. Each piece of rigging snapped loudly as it was severed from the ship. Slowly the mast sank deeper into the salty darkness. When the last of the rigging was severed, the mast, pushed by a massive wave, shot back into the ship. Its long, jagged, splintery end thrust itself into Hiram Smith’s chest. The splinters were so long and sharp that they stuck out of Hiram’s back several feet. Then, just as fast, the mast was sucked back into the sea, with the unlucky Hiram attached, about to disappear forever. Bruno ordered the crew to go below to batten the hatches and wait the storm out.

Buckey Hunter limped back into the crew’s cabin. He looked at his bloody bare right foot. He had chopped off his big toe with his axe. Buckey passed out.

Captain Chang was in the pilothouse, trying to save his vessel. He had almost no control, having lost the aft mast. All he had was the foremast and one small storm sail to control the ship. Bruno informed Chang of Hiram’s demise, went down on his knees, and started to pray.

"Get up, Bruno. Stuff some caulking around the glass. It’s leaking like hell! I ain’t payin’ you to pray!"

Bruno ignored Chang, and as the captain was about to lambaste his first mate again, a massive wave rolled the Lucky Dollar over, breaking the foremast off and busting out all the pilothouse's glass windows. Bruno was swept out through the cavity that was once a window, and Chang was smashed unconscious by the huge bronze tabernacle that was now rolling around like a loose bowling pin.

Hurricanes are each unique. Some stick to you like glue and others race away as fast as they came along. In less than four hours, the storm had passed and the Lucky Dollar drifted with the gulfstream for a day or three, no one could remember. Then one night a strong south wind blew her on a reef, just off Grassy Key in the Florida Keys.

Buckey had been passed out the whole time. Banks McGallister had been a medic in the war, and he had patched up Buckey’s foot as best he could, soaking it in rum to prevent infection. Banks marveled at what a clean cut the old axe had made. Now Buckey woke up.

"Where we at, Banks? Are we alive? I saw Hiram’s eyes as he was sucked into the sea. Even in the war I never saw a man’s eyes so full of terror. Where we at?"

Banks attempted to open the cabin door. It was jammed shut. The whole cabin was twisted and misaligned. They chopped the door open. The entire deck was strewn with rigging, cracked coconuts, twisted bits of the ship, and stinking dead shrimp. Sardines and squid were wrapped in a coffin of fermenting seaweed.

Banks found Bruno buried under a pile of lines and anchor chain. He was alive, and as they dug him out he started cussing in German. The German was a tough old nut. He bounced back to life like nothing had happened. He ordered the rag-tag crew to search for the captain.

"Bruno! Bruno! Here is Chang! I think he is dead!"

Banks poked the captain with a piece of wood. When Bruno arrived, he noticed Chang was breathing. They took him to the crew’s cabin, where he convalesced for a few days. As Chang regained his strength, he ordered his remaining crew to secure the ship by setting two anchors on shore so the ship couldn’t drift back out to sea.

"What’s the land look like, Bruno? I figure we might be around Vaca Key. There might be G-Men passing through here."

"Ya, ya, we just east of Vaca Key. Chart say Grassy Key. No one around for miles, only railroad, and they can no see ship. What we do, Chang?"

"I got me a idea, Bruno. Start bustin’ up the old Lucky Dollar. We will use the timbers to build some bungalows so we can stash what rum survived the storm."

It took a week to bust up the ship and move the rum barrels and coconuts onshore. Most all of the rum kegs had survived. Chang had lost his ship, but at least he had his life and most of his cargo. In another week, three bungalows were built—one for the crew, one for the rum and coconuts, and one for Chang.

Chang called a meeting.

"Okay, we got us some problems. We are running out of rice and beans and other food stores. When we go to Vaca Key, they will get curious about us. I have plenty of cash to buy supplies, so me and Banks will go and buy what we need. Bruno and you two will stay here and guard the rum. Then I will take the train to Key West and buy a barge so we can take the rum to Key Largo. See you all in a week or so."

"Ya, ya, Captain, the whole time we here we never hear train go by. You think train still work?"

"Probably a bridge got washed. They will fix it in no time, I am sure. Can’t stop the train from running! Now let’s get going, Banks."

Chang and Banks started walking west to Vaca Key. They noticed the train tracks were intact even though there was severe erosion under them. By the time they got to where the Vaca Key cut bridge should have been, they saw the carnage on Vaca. The bridge and the train tracks were twisted like pretzels, and all of the buildings were gone. A new small shack was standing where the old station had been. A lone attendant shouted over Vaca cut.

"Who goes there? Do you need a ferry over?"

Chang shouted back and the attendant pulled a small raft over to the other side.

"What happened here? This place looks like a war zone." Banks asked the ferry man.

"Everyone is dead. The hurricane killed five hundred men here on Vaca Key. Where you boys from, Key Largo?"

Chang and Banks surveyed the damage. There were only a few buildings left standing: the solid concrete bank building, a church, and the old Pine Stripe Bar. It had been constructed from steel and wood timbers salvaged off an old steamship that was wrecked by the 1919 hurricane. The owner had insisted it be built atop poured concrete piers. Everyone thought he was crazy, but when the tidal surge came, it did not float away like the other structures. Inside the bar were several dozen people.

"Got any cold beer, Mack?"

This comment generated a lot of interest from the tattered patrons. A tall bald man behind the bar shouted,

"We got beer, but it ain’t cold, and it’s a buck a bottle!"

"Gimme me two and one for my man here."

In a tense silence, the barkeep opened three beers, and before he placed them on the bar he said, "Three dollars, bubbo, cash money, no credit here." Chang placed a hundred dollar bill on the bar. The barkeep looked at it in a strange way. "I ain’t got that kind of change, bubbo." Chang motioned for the beers. The barkeep reluctantly gave them up. Banks drank his so fast it made him belch twice. The captain asked the barkeep’s name and then slowly sipped on his beer as the patrons watched.

"Look Vincent, I need some supplies and foodstuffs. When will the train be here? I need to get to Key West, unless you know someone who has a steam barge, or a few cat boats. Who is in charge here?"

Vincent informed Chang he was, because his boss had sailed to Key West to get more food and supplies.

"There were three bridges knocked out ‘tween here and Key West, and five or more ‘tween here and Tavernier. The railroad people got crews working on them, but we don't expect the train to be up and running for a few more weeks. Say, how you fellers get here? Where ya from? Miami?"

"Yeah, we from Miami. Was on our way to Key West, got smashed by the storm, wrecked a few miles east, boat’s a total loss. Who all these people?"

"The survivors. After the storm a tidal wave from the gulf side swept everything and most of the townsfolk, their children, dogs, cats, chickens, goats, general store—everything on Vaca Key—out to sea. The only ones to survive was here in the bar, and a few in the church."

Chang told Vincent to give everybody in the bar a beer.

"That's a lot of money bubo. Even then I won’t have enough cash to give you change fer that C note."

"I will take the rest in beer. I got more crew back on Grassy Key that have a powerful thirst. You have enough beer?"

"Yeah, we gots lots of beer, just got a shipment from Jamaica before the storm hit. In fact, that's about all we have, beer, lots of beer, and a few hundred tins of jerked Jamaican goat meat. Everybody here is sick of it. Got anything you wanna trade for the goat tins?"

"I got cash. How's about that?"

They made a deal and Chang hired a small flats boat to help transport the goods back to Grassy Key. The owner of the boat had at first refused to sell it to Chang, but when they got back to Grassy Key, the captain got him all liquored up on rum and won it off him in a card game.

"You got me good, Chang! Now how am I gonna feed my fat wife and my ungrateful children without my boat? I might as well walk to Miami, because she will kill me if I show up broke and without my boat."

"Work for me, Harry. You know these waters—I need someone like you. What do ya say? When we finish the job I will give you your boat back, plus your pay and a bonus if all goes well." Harry looked surprised.

"What choice do I have? Sure Chang, you got a deal! Thanks! What's the job?"

Chang showed Harry the rum and explained how he needed to get it to Key Largo.

"Well we can only take five, maybe six of them barrels a trip, and a round trip will take a week. That's a lot of trips, Chang, but I will do it. What you gonna do with all them coconuts?"

"Eat them or trade them for what we need, why? The rum is worth its weight in gold. I ain’t concerned with the nuts right now."

"This is good rum, Chang. My daddy used to make a coconut rum back in Cuba. I know the recipe. Before I go I will get a batch going, if it’s okay?"

Chang liked the idea. He could probably charge twice the price for authentic Cuban coconut rum. Before Harry and Bruno left for Key Largo, Harry husked the nuts and mixed the coconut water and meat with the rum. He blended two barrels and hammered the bung hole shut and melted some wax around it. He then dug a barrel-shaped hole in the white sand and laid the barrels in them, half in the sand and half exposed to the sun. He informed Chang they may 'spit a little rum' now and then, but not to be concerned.

A few hours after Bruno and Harry sailed, two men in a rowboat from Vaca Key arrived to inquire about Harry.

"He works for me now, boys. He is on an errand—will be back in a week. Need some coconuts?"

"We ain't got no money, mister, but we can trade you some crayfish and conch, or we gots lots of sea-cow meat. Just slaughtered a big-un."

Chang began trading with the locals, and his bungalows soon became the center of trade in those parts. Harry's coconut rum was a smash hit with all the locals, and they went into full production selling it by the bottle or glass. Chang had another bungalow built like the Vaca Key bar on stilts that survived the hurricane, and opened it as a speak-easy bar and casino.

The train finally started running again. Vaca Key was rebuilt, and Chang's casino and speak-easy was the place in the middle keys. Officially it was known as “Harry's Trading Post.” Chang stopped selling his rum to the rum-runners in Key Largo and used the bulk of his rum to make his now famous Co Co-Cubano coconut rum.

"Harry, we have sold twenty barrels of your rum and I made more money than I would of selling the whole lot! This place has turned into a gold mine. I am going to Miami to buy a new 55-foot Chris Craft. It has three Cadillac V-16s and cruises at over 25 knots! We can make the run to Cuba and back in one day! Imagine that! Them boys in Key Largo will buy Co Co Cubano for three times the price of regular rum."

Chang and Banks took the next train to Miami. By this time the Chicago boys in Miami had gotten wind of Chang’s operation in Grassy Key.

"What we gonna do about this Chang? I got no problems with him if he sells us rum at a fair price. Monteleone wants his thirty grand back and I want the rest of my wife’s Tiffany jewels back. They’re sentimental. I personally plucked them from that English broad when I whacked her husband. He was my first contract, so them jewels are mighty sentimental to me, Butchie. We whacked the punks that stole them, and the fence in Miami that sold them to Chang. So why is it taking so long to get my goods back, Butchie?"

"Until Chang ordered that new boat we didn’t know where he was. He sold a few barrels of rum to the Clearys in Key Largo, but we got him now, boss!"

"Remind me, why do we let the Clearys operate?"

"Cuz one is married to your sister, boss."

"They didn’t send me a birthday card this year. Ingrates. Don’t screw it up, Butchie. Bring Chang to me. Alive!"

Chang knew he had to keep a low profile in Miami. He arranged to have his new boat, fully fueled, delivered to a secluded marina on Biscayne Bay.

Butchie had his men watching the wrong boat. He also had his men stationed at Miami Central Rail Station. Chang and Banks got off the train in Florida City and hitched a ride up to Miami.

"Where’s Mathson Hammock?"

"Just take US1 north a few more miles. I will tell you where to stop. Hey, thanks for the ride. Here is ten bucks for the trouble."

It was about a mile walk down the banyan tree covered dirt road to the marina. It was getting dark and Chang didn't know what to expect when they arrived.

The new boat was floating on the far end of the dock. The dock master was adjusting the lines as Chang and Banks approached.

"Hey, Chang, long time, old boy! This is a beauty! How much it cost?"

"Never mind, Mathson. Anyone snooping around asking questions?"

"Naw, them boys dropped it off and a left in a small skiff around noon."

Chang inspected his new rum delivery craft. He marveled at the shiny new Cadillac power plants. The entire cabin was built to hold eighty rum barrels and twenty five wine barrels, and there was a separate watertight locker for the Cuban cigars. The coconuts had a separate locker in the aft cabin.

At dusk Chang fired up the three Cadillacs. They rumbled to life and settled into a smooth idle. Banks tossed the dock lines and the new Lucky Dollar II was off for her first trip to Cuba. The ocean was calm that Friday morning. Chang powered his boat out of Miami Cut like a pro. He was a sailor, loved sailboats, but this was the way to smuggle rum, he thought. He ramped up the throttles and the Lucky Dollar II shot to life.

It took seven hours to reach Cuba. The harbor was busy as usual. Chang’s rum barrels were stacked on the docks. He hired four longshoremen to help Banks.

Two of Monteleone’s goons were also there to meet Chang. They escorted him to the casino.

"So Chang, that Tiffany you sold me was red hot. I had to give it and Maria’s watch to the big guy in Miami. You owe me thirty grand. And they want the rest of the jewels. You are lucky you are still breathing. I saved your ass."

"Monte, the rest of the jewels are back at my place in the keys. I didn't know they belonged to Rocky. When I get back, I will personally deliver them to him."

"You didn't know, so I forgive you for that, an honest mistake—but you owe me thirty grand. What you gonna do about that?"

"I used that thirty grand to buy my new boat, Monte."

"So you are telling me I now own a new boat?"

"NO! I mean, I got ten grand after I paid for the rum. Here it is. I can pay you the rest next trip, Monte."

"I like your operation, Chang. Here's the deal. You can keep your thirty grand and boat. I want you to buy two more boats and run them for me. I gots to get my wine to Miami and Jacksonville. When can we be up and running?"

They hashed out the details, and Chang went back to his boat. Now that Monte and Chang were in the wine smuggling business, Monte sent one of his goons along for the voyage to Grassy Key to supervise his new endeavor and to assure the jewels got back to Rocky.

The trip back to the keys was a breeze—only four hours. Framboi, Monte's man, was as seasick as a dog. Back at the bungalows, the men started unloading the new boat.

Butchie was back in Miami brooding. Rocky was all over his ass about losing Chang. Monte had wired Rocky about the new deal with Chang. Rocky agreed to wait for his jewels to be returned and not whack Chang. But just in case, he sent Butchie and two of his best guys down to Grassy Key.

"Bruno, we made Grassy in four hours! That boat is a dream. Didn't lose one rum barrel. I know we could outrun the Coast Guard in that baby, it’s that fast!"

"Ya, ya, ya, Bruno like das boot. Bruno want go next trip. Bruno miss life at sea."

"You will get your chance, Bruno. We got us some running coming up, buddy. I got to go to Miami tomorrow."

Business was booming at Harry's Trading Post, and when the word got out that they had wine, more high rollers will be stopping in for a bottle or twelve, Chang reasoned.

The next day Chang and Banks fired up the Lucky Dollar II and shot up to Miami to deliver the Tiffany jewels to Rocky, who had a massive fortress built of coquina and cypress on Key Biscayne. The docks at the fortress had guard shacks armed with machine guns on each end, with a long steel anchor chain draped across the entrance. When the Lucky Dollar II approached, the chain was lowered and she slipped in.

"Sorry Rocky. If I knew them was yours, I would of shot that creep Epstein. He told me they was stole from a New York family."

"You are a lucky man, Chang. You have a good friend in Monte. Now you are my friend. Don't ever cross me or I will pluck your eyes out and make you eat them. Then I will cut your..."

"Boss, boss! The stock market just crashed! The ticker tape is going crazy!"

"Another problem, Chang. It never ends. Thanks for bringing my goods back. They are very special to me. By the way, I sent Butchie down to see you. He is a very sensitive boy and he has egg on his face because of you giving him the slip. He has a chip on his shoulder. If you have to kill him I will understand. He has been getting sloppy lately. Welcome to the family."

Chang and Banks motored over to the Sands speak-easy and whooped it up that night. Banks won a thousand dollars at blackjack, the most money he ever had in his life. The next day Banks, with a hangover, told Chang he quit, that he had enough money to retire, so Chang gave him a bottle of rum that he promptly guzzled in an attempt to relieve his throbbing head. When he passed out, Chang headed for Grassy Key.

Butchie and his boys had stayed in Key Largo that night. They caught the 10 AM train and arrived at Harry’s Trading Post around noon. Butchie was pissed off and hung over. He had lost ten grand at the casino in Key Largo, and he swore he would make Chang pay for that as well.

"Where’s Chang?"

"Ya, who wants to know, ya?"

"You tell him the big guy from Miami is here to have a chat."

"Ya,ya,ya, Mr. Big Guy, Chang not back from Miami yet. Maybe he come today. He no say when he back. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. You go to bar, wait. When he come Bruno tell him Mr. Big Guy here, ya,ya."

"You a funny guy? Cuz I don't like funny guys! This place is a dump. Get me a bottle of rum and some eats, funny guy."

Bruno has one speed, slow like a bulldozer. He directed the goons to a table in a dark corner and set three bottles of rum and some fried sea-cow on their table. Bruno slugged down two glasses of rum and tore into the sea-cow.

"Hey funny man, this fried crap is good. What is it?"

"Ya, is cow."

"Taste like chicken! HA,HA,HA! I’m funny, just like Mr. Funny Man, hey boys?"

His boys took Butchie’s cue and choked up a laugh.

After several hours of drinking rum, the goons started to get rowdy. Butchie, a mean drunk, cussed at Bruno. They never noticed the Lucky Dollar II arriving. Chang reckoned he might as well take Butchie on straight up. As Chang entered the bungalow, Butchie stood up and pulled his nickel-plated Colt 1911.

"Where’s Rocky’s jewels, Chang?"

"I just got back from Key Biscayne. He has them all."

"You owe me ten grand. Pay up or I will let you have it!"

"Why do I owe you ten grand?"

"Not important why, you just do, you stinking chink! Pay up or else!"

Butchie’s two goons saw the Thompson machine gun that Bruno was pointing at them. Then they noticed Banks and Buckey in the shadows, each with a Thompson pointed their way. Not wanting to end their lives of crime just yet, they put their pistols down on the table. Butchie, with his back to his goons, didn’t notice their surrender.

"I ain’t payin' you squat, you punk. Now get the hell out of here or I will kick your ass."

"Ha! No chink ever kicked my ass or will. Besides, ain’t gonna be no ass whoopin’. I gonna blast a hole right between your chink eyes. Get him, boys!"

When his boys didn’t respond, Butchie turned around to see them with their guns on the table and their arms up in the air. With blind rage, Butchie turned around and started shooting in the direction were Chang had been standing. The two goons hit the floor as Bruno, Banks and Buckey let him have it with their Thompsons.

"He looks like a piece of Swiss cheese, Bruno. A little overkill, boys, but better him than me. Get him out of here, all this blood is bad for business."


The End