The Verdict -- Robert Gardner

Robert Gardner

The recent stories in the Pilot about the good ship Muriel certainly

dredged up memories. For the benefit of those who didn’t read the stories

about the Muriel, I would advise that she was a ship that went aground at

the harbor entrance some time during the 1920s. At that moment, she

became my playground, my home away from home, the place in which dreams

were born.

Although I have lived on or near the ocean most of my life, I don’t

know beans about boats or ships. I spent most of my time either in or

under the water and never paid much attention to what was on the water,

so I don’t know just what kind of a boat the Muriel was. I don’t know

port from starboard, but I do know warm water from cold, and that is the

reason I liked the Muriel.

For some reason, the water inside the hull was always warm. We urchins

played in the warm water inside the Muriel, and it was great fun until

some killjoy said the warm water had attracted a giant octopus, and when

I say giant, I mean GIANT. She/he/it was about 15 feet from tentacle to

tentacle, according to what we were told. That did it for the Muriel,

warm water notwithstanding.

That wasn’t my last adventure with an octopus, however. Some time

during WWII, I was stationed on the island of Saipan. There was a small

lagoon just below the bluff on which we heroes of WWII were stationed. I

always took advantage of whatever water opportunities there were, and so

I dove in that lagoon. I was swimming slowly along a wall of rocks.

Inside a big rock was a small hole. In that hole, I thought I saw an

octopus.

When I got back to camp, I happened to mention it to to someone who

happened to be a war correspondent, and he became very excited about the

story possibilities. He had seen too many horror movies and thought the

octopus was put on earth for the sole reason to eat up all us human

beings. His idea was that I go after the beast. I would spear the giant

octopus and drag it out of that hole and he would get pictures as the

beast tried to devour me. Big deal. What I had learned since the Muriel

was that an octopus is a very cowardly creature. Besides, it was a very

small hole.

And so we went octopus hunting. The war correspondent stationed

himself at an appropriate place, I stuck my spear down the hole, and out

came a tentative inch or so of tentacle. The inch became several, then

got bigger and bigger, while more tentacles emerged, and finally out of

that hole emerged the biggest, maddest octopus I had ever seen.

When an octopus is disturbed, he emits a purple liquid. Suddenly, the

clear water became murky purple, and underneath that murky purple water

lurked a giant octopus just waiting to snarf me for his lunch.

It never happened. When the water cleared, the octopus, true to its

timorous nature, had escaped. As for the war correspondent, all he got

out of it was a picture of purple water.

* ROBERT GARDNER is a Corona del Mar resident and a former judge. His

column runs Tuesdays.