Chapter 39The Hole
“Gidna hoe!”
We looked at each other, trying to make sense of the thick Cajun accent blaring out of the radio. We had the handheld radio watching channel 16 for pleasure craft, a watch on 13 for commercial craft, like the boat in front of us, and the main channel pointed to 17, our chat channel with our friends Mike and Beth on our buddy boat. They had a twenty-seven-foot blue-and-tan Ranger Tug named Amy Marie. They were the very same couple we’d met in Chattanooga and had later seen again in Savannah. Beth, the feisty nurse who had put Mike together after a vicious bike wreck, was also a bit confused about the directions from the tow captain. After a brief pause, we heard her say “Repeat, please?”
“Gidna hoe!”
He said it ...
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