We woke up at 1:59 a.m., but we dont know why. Maybe there was already commotion on the dock. As we stared at the clock it started to flash 12:00, signaling a power interrupt. "Re- set the clock, or well be late for work," Bonnie said as she went topside to see why the electric tripped.
I heard her utter a sickening "Oh, my God!" and I raced out to see what was wrong.
Ten boats down the dock from us at the Rehoboth Bay Marina, a 30 foot cabin cruiser was fully engulfed in fire, with flames shooting 25 feet into the sky.
Bonnie jumped onto the dock, joining others who were running to wake up the people sleeping on neighboring boats, while I called 911. It was their second or third report. Others grabbed garden hoses and tried dousing the flames to absolutely no avail. Everybody, individually, looked at who was running about, looked at those trying to fight the flames and knew immediately that two people who should have been standing on the dock werent.
Sirens wailed and the Volunteer Fire Department showed up and started laying hoses, as the fire spread to a second big boat and lapped at a smaller speed boat. All we could do is stand at the back of our boat with about 10 other people, stuck on the pier between the fire and shore and pray it wouldnt spread toward us. I shut the dog in the cabin as Bonnie started our engine so we could move out of the slip if necessary. Surrounded by wooden docks and fiberglass boats, the fire could easily ignite the whole marina. As fire fighters started to shoot water onto the burning boats, flames ate through the ropes holding the second boat in place and it drifted free, toward the pier across the way, igniting two more boats. A man wrapped in a sheet escaped from one of the boats just as thick smoke started to billow. The other smoldering boat belonged to ODell of Secrets, and Lori Kline of Loris Cafe had been using it as summer lodging. Fortunately, she was on shore that night, but folks pounded on the hatch just to make sure.
Then we watched in horror as the drifting boat, flames shooting up to the night sky, started to drift our way.
A brave young man, Ian Drummond, quickly came alongside our pier in his small boat and offered to take people away from Dock A. "Lets get out of here!" the retired Marine in the next slip hollered to his wife, starting his engine. "You too, Bonnie!" As we frantically cast off our lines, we saw another manboth brave and foolhardy drive his 15 foot boat in front of us and throw his anchor up to the burning boat. Catching the bow rail, he started to tow the burning hull out of the marina.
By this time we were driving out of the marina, too, right behind the Marines boat but only a few yards in front of the runabout and the ball of fire he was towing. "Move!" I screamed to Bonnie, wondering if she could see what was breathing down on us. At the mouth of the marina, we shot to the right and the burning boat passed to our left, flames having eaten through the anchor line, separating it from the tow boat. It was followed by several firefighters in a borrowed boat, to assist in putting out the blaze.
Back on shore, firefighters had knocked down the original blaze, and doused the embers on three more smoldering vessels, sending thick black smoke billowing over dozens of boats.
Figuring it was safe to return, we made our way back to the slip and the awful confirmation that Bill and Lisa had died on their boat. Nobody could talk. All we could do is grab onto each other and try to provide whatever wordless comfort we could. And wonder what caused the blaze.
As fire fighters and investigation crews did their work on the pier, we spent the rest of the night walking around the marina parking lot in a daze. What caused the fire? Was the marina safe? Could it happen to us?
And wasnt it an awful irony that just that evening several couples from the marina asked us to join them for dinner.
"Fay, Bonnie, you never come with us to the Dewey Beach Club. Were heading over there now, why dont you join us?" said one of our dock buddies.
It was true. Ever since we first arrived at the marina three summers ago, weve been friendly with all the folks on the dock and they with usbut we havent really socialized. Were always running off to Baltimore Avenue, North Shore or other Rehoboth spots. But when we do stay at the dock, everyone shares mudslides, helps whatever boat needs a hand coming in or going out, and joins in the good-natured kidding and pleasantries.
At first we worried about how wed be treated, arriving as we did with our rainbow flag flying on our cruising double entendre Bay Pride. We neednt have worried. Diversity is as welcome at Rehoboth Bay Marina as it is at our other favorite beach spots. In fact, weve discovered that were not the only "Friends of Dorothy" at the docks. And by this season, Bonnie and her Marine buddy have bonded through their mutual military experience, and the rest of us have been known to swap stories about anniversaries and relationships as if married was married and there was absolutely no difference. Which, of course there isnt.
Of all the terrible coincidences, we joined the A Dock gang, including Bill and Lisa, at dinner Labor Day night. With eerily heavy hearts we stumbled around as dawn broke over the marina, and we realized they were gone.
By 5 a.m. officers from the state fire investigation unit interviewed us (and others), asking us to describe everything we saw of the fire. Then they escorted Bonnie back to the boat to get our things and we headed home at sunrise.
I called Lori and told her the bad news, then phoned a friend or two to tell them what happened and whatever they heard, the boat, Max, Bonnie and I were all okay.
The week crept by, with images of the flames and sadness and shock creeping into whatever we were doing. We kept in touch with the marina and our dock-mates by phonevery, very relieved, but also very sad to learn at mid-week that the investigators ruled it an electrical fire caused by faulty wiring on the one boat. Everything else at the docks checked out fine.
By Friday we were alternately anxious and afraid to return. We came laden with a state-of-the-art smoke detector and a large fire extinguisher for the boat. So did everyone else.
The burned boat was still in the parking lot, cordoned off by yellow police tape. As we walked past the empty slip, with its charred poles and blackened boards, we also walked past flowers, tributes and touching sentiments left there to honor Bill and Lisa. You know, when I think of community I always think about my community, the gay and lesbian community, the one where I feel a great sense of belonging and from which I draw energy and support. But the mission of CAMP Rehoboth is to create a more positive Rehoboth by uniting all of the diverse communities here at the beach. The morning of September 2 showed me a marina community with people working together to save lives and property, grieving for lost friends and caring for each other with the best kind of positive strength. Its another community where Im proud to be included.
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9/19/97 Issue. Copyright 1997 by CAMP Rehoboth, Inc. All rights reserved.