101 Sea Stories and Some Token Miscellaneous BS from All Ye Scoundrels Who Ought to be Keelhauled
Port call in Dubrovnic, Yugoslavis, tied up to the pier. I was Command Duty Officer when I get the call to come down to the quarterdeck. When I get there my attention is directed to a local civilian, about 5 foot tall, 300 pounds, wearing a shiny suit obviously made for someone 5 foot tall, 250 pounds. When I ask what's up I'm told that the man was here for his boat. "What boat," I ask innocently. "The motor launch," I'm told, "This man holds title to it." When I look at the piece of paper and, sure enough, Petty Officer Ronald Wilson Reagan and traded one regulation U.S. Navy motor launch in exchange for 12 bottles of beer and three servings of some Yugoslavian food I couldn't make out. I should hasten to add that U.S. Navy ships didn't call in Yugoslavia much and the locals weren't used to all the tricks. Desperate to think of something, I assured the civilian that Petty Officer Reagan (No, sir, I'm sorry but I don't believe that he and the President are related) did indeed inform me of the transaction but unfortunately Petty Officer Reagan dented the boat when he had it out for a spin earlier this morning. So the boat was being repaired and would be ready in two days. However, in light of the fact that the boat was damaged property, it wouldn't be fair to charge him the full 12 beers and three meals. If he would only present himself to the U.S. Consulate the day after tomorrow he would receive not only the title to the boat but $5 as well. Jest tell them that I sent you and they will understand everything. My name, sir? Why I am Lieutenant Richard Milhous Nixon, at your service.
P.S. We left port 8:30 the next morning. Poor SOB is probably still trying to get his boat.