On Island by Pat Carney

Author:Pat Carney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Touchwood Editions
Published: 2017-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

DOCK DEBATES

THE MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT FOR the Salish Sea was on the ferry sailing between the Mainland and Big Island when she saw the column of black smoke spiraling over the low-lying islands hunkered down on the horizon beyond the ship’s bow. A crew member tracked her down in the cafeteria where she was drinking coffee at a table with her ferry caucus, as she called her constituents, listening to their concerns and complaints.

“The government dock on the southern island is on fire,” he told her.

Coastal born and bred, she replied: “Thanks. I already figured that out.” She knew from experience that only old, smouldering creosote-soaked planks and pilings produced oily streaks like those now smearing the sky.

As her tablemates rushed to the ship’s cafeteria windows to speculate over the source of the smoke, she reached for her government-issue Blackberry and called the Joint Rescue Coordination Centre for further information. The Rescue Centre was not technically responsible for docks but usually was on top of coastal emergencies. “Nobody hurt, no fuel tank explosions so far,” the Rescue Centre official assured her. “Things seem to be under control.”

The MP was en route from her Ottawa office to her home on Big Island, but she transferred to the inter-island ferry when she reached port. By the time she arrived at the south island, most of the dock fire was out. She assessed the damage, aware that she would need to find the federal funding to rebuild the island’s only public dock.

The freight shed was destroyed, she noted. The wide planks of the wharf deck itself were gone, no surprise given its fuel-soaked history. Several small craft, including the baker’s delivery boat, the Canadian Coast Guard Auxiliary’s Zodiac, and the runabout of a caretaker from a nearby islet had been rescued and were now moored to red buoys in the harbour.

The wharf itself had been reduced to flame-blackened pilings protruding from the seabed. The metal ramp that normally led from the wharf deck to the floats below had been hauled ashore and was leaning precariously on the rocky slope below the fuel tanks, which, thank the Lord, had been spared from the flames.

To her surprise the ferry slip, which sheathed the inter-island ferry on arrivals and departures, seemed unharmed, aside from smoke damage to the metal gates and lighting infrastructure.

Several of the volunteer fire crew had retired to the pub to celebrate their success in saving the island forest from going up in flames, jeopardizing islanders and their homes, leaving a corporal’s guard to hose down the smouldering embers threatening the charcoaled pilings, the remaining relics of the dock, and the charred floats below.

The MP parked her car in front of the Wharf Store and entered the pub below to congratulate the volunteer fire crew, promising them that finding the funds to rebuild the island’s government dock would be her priority.

She cut her political teeth on that dock. After the election, when the votes were tallied and the victory speeches finished and tearful

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