It was a warm afternoon in April as my brother and I slowly walked back along the beach on the east end of Atsena Otie Key to our boat, the canoe-like rowboat/sailboat Paddle. We had spent the day during our second week of vacation rowing through the middle of the islands around Cedar Key on the Gulf Coast of Florida. Now we watched for herons and ospreys before wading the shallows of the shoreline.

Our eyes had been mostly focused on the water, the better to spot hermit crabs, minnows and other monsters of the deep, when I looked up and saw a small motor boat a few feet offshore that seemed to be in difficulty. Two elderly couples were with the boat, one fellow alongside the outboard engine whose cowling was off, apparently attempting to start it with no success.

About to head back to Cedar Key, I thought it prudent to enquire whether they could use some assistance. I wasn’t quite sure what I had to offer. Never having used an engine, I was an unlikely mechanic for theirs. But I got within hailing distance before sorting out my thoughts and blurted out: “Want a tow?”

The two couples seemed unusually jovial considering their predicament. Absent ourselves, it seemed that they faced the prospect of an unanticipated night on the key. They pondered my offer and then, much to my dismay, the fellow by the engine said, “Sure.” What was I going to do now? Paddle weighs 85 lbs. Together with their boat, engine and selves, the two couples must have weighed ten times that. Too late for me to back out now.

Walking Paddle over to the motorboat I tried to work out the logistics. We had a mile to travel back to the dock. I would man the 8 feet oars, my brother the canoe paddle. The fellow by the engine had waved a beaten up wooden paddle as well. So much for man power. We also had the sail, 60 square feet of sprit-rigged canvas. A modest wind was blowing so as to give a good beam reach. The tide was also ebbing in our favour, taking us right back to the big fishing pier on Cedar Key. The only doubtful piece of equipment was my arms.

Tying a line to their bow, we got in. I settled myself on the thwart, spat on both hands, braced my feet and gave a mighty heave on the oars. Paddle smoothly accelerated forward — about 10 feet. That was the length of the tow rope. Pulling taut the rope snapped back in recoil and I nearly tumbled off the thwart. Total distance nil. Grabbing the oars again I gave another great heave only to lurch forward another few feet and then spring back. “My God!” I thought, “I can’t even budge them.” The fellow handling the motorboat grasped the problem. As he climbed out of the motorboat I saw it begin to float again. They had been aground.

In slightly deeper water, we all began to move. Slowly, but we moved. Under oar, sail and two paddles we gradually began to make progress, at perhaps 1 knot, towards Cedar Key. What seemed at first to be an impossible ordeal was suddenly becoming fun. Over the years, in various unpowered little sailboats I had been given a rescue tow at one time or another by motorboats in Lake Erie. Here was my chance to reciprocate. I had a big fish and I was heading back to harbour with him.

It must have made a peculiar sight; a canoe-sized craft under sail, oar and paddle, towing a motorboat filled with people. A little too peculiar. As we passed the half-way point I spotted a distant motorboat becoming less distant by the minute. They were heading for the rescue.

As the new boat approached I began to feel apprehensive. Were they going to steal our tow? Slowly they circled us, like sharks. “Look like you could use some help. Toss us a line; we’ll take her in.” And before we could protest, they did.

I was insulted. We had arranged this rescue. That was ‘our’ tow. We had done the hard work of getting them this far and were having no trouble at all. Here were these interlopers, trying to steal our fish. I thought of Hemingway’s story The Old Man and the Sea. How the old man had caught a fish larger than his boat, and struggled to bring it back, only to have it taken from him by sharks. I understood how he felt. Rocking slightly in the wake of the departing boats, I pulled in on the mainsheet and we slowly sailed Paddle back to our cottage on Cedar Key.