Skipper was furious that the tourists had stolen his sawtooth fish bill. His anger took the form of ranting that tourists shouldn’t be allowed on the shrimp docks. “They get in the way of working boats, and now they are thieves.” The thieving part wasn’t true in this case. I had stolen it.
He was disappointed and heartsick at its loss. The bill of a sawfish was so unusual and rare to own. The shrimp boat he crewed on had snagged a “small toothed sawfish” in their nets. They cut the eighteen-inch snout off the dead fish before dumping it overboard. Skipper kept the rare item as a trophy. The snout (rostrum) of the sawfish is long, flat, and edged on both sides with many triangular, sharp teeth. It looked like an ancient weapon. It actually was used by indigenous seafaring warriors. Skipper showed it around the docks to other fishermen, as many had never seen such a thing. I envied his joy and the excitement it created. I wanted that sawfish snout so badly that I took it off Skipper’s boat and hid it under my mattress on the Pollyanna. I learned the meaning of the word “covet” in that theft.
Envy is an emotion, basically a resentment towards someone else’s advantage. The advantage could be financial, social, or something physical. Covet is an intense desire to possess the exact thing seen as an advantage. Covet is so intense that it leads to action, theft, or manipulation to acquire that thing away from the rightful owner. “Thou shalt not covet” is the tenth commandment in the Christian tradition. The ban on such action is universal. I broke that ban and one other by going into Skipper’s quarters.
There is a strict privacy ethic among the fishing community when boats are at the docks. Typically, there is not enough length of dock for all boats, forcing them to tie off to each other. Boats might be three or four deep from the dock, which creates a passage problem for the crews of the farthest boats. The ethic allows anyone to walk across the back work deck of any boat to get to their boat, but bans access, without invitation, to another boat’s cabin, which houses crew quarters, galley, head, and pilot house.
Skipper and I were of similar ages, so we spent time together when both our boats were docked. We walked the streets of Key West and drank beer at Sloppy Joe’s. Skipper would often sit in the pilot house of his boat with that sawfish bill on his lap. He would look at it, wave it around, and retell the story of catching the eight-foot-long fish in their nets. It had slashed their net before it died. On one of my visits, I saw where he kept it. I violated the fishing community ethic by going uninvited onto his vacant boat to steal the sawfish bill.
When no one else was on my boat, I would pull the fish bill from its hiding place. I would look at it carefully to explore its unique beauty. It was a marvel of nature. If I heard anyone on the boat, I would quickly return that forbidden fruit to its hiding place. It stayed there for weeks on end. I hadn’t realized that by stealing Skipper’s prize, I wouldn’t have the same joy and excitement in showing off the trophy. Showing it to anyone would reveal me as the thief because the whole dock community knew it had been stolen. I had to keep my joy and excitement hidden until it festered into shame for what I had done to my friend. My basic honesty suffered because of my covetous act. I had to repair that damage. But how?
My time in Key West had come to an end. I had loaded my backpack and said goodbye to Captain Cooper. I thanked him for what I had learned from him on the Pollyanna. Then I went to say goodbye to Skipper. He was sitting in his favorite chair in the pilot house of his boat. I immediately handed him the prized sawfish bill. I briefly told him how sorry I was that I had stolen it. I knew it was wrong. I said a few more words of regret as the fish bill dangled from his hand. He had not even looked at it, but stared wide-eyed at me with his mouth wide open. He said not a word as I turned to go. I never saw him again, but I still remember the look of disbelief on his face. It displayed confusion, shock, and broken trust.
As a child, I learned to recite the Ten Commandments. After my time in Key West, I had a deep understanding that simply reciting is not enough. In coveting Skipper’s possession, I violated my own integrity, biblical law, and community ethics, resulting in my shame, broken trust, and ruined friendship. That hard lesson would serve me well in a future work circumstance.
Years later, in a Michigan winter, I was working at the lakeside summer compound of a wealthy publisher and owner of a major news service. I was working that day in the main house. A manager had let me in, but then left. No one else was around. It was a typical work arrangement for wealthy summer residents to hire trusted local workers to remodel or make repairs when the properties were not occupied. Local tradespeople had to maintain a reputation of integrity and value as judged by summer residents. The tradespeople kept track among themselves as to which wealthy summer residents were “good pay” (paid bills timely) or “bad pay” (missed payments). The project I had that day was “good pay,” and my reputation allowed me solitary access to a finely furnished, unoccupied home.
My work was on the second floor. The wall of the staircase was hung with numerous signed, dated original artworks. At the top of the stairs was a spectacular fourteen-inch carving displayed on a small, simple table. It was a carved ivory tusk executed in an Asian style. It revealed in intricate detail a beautiful female form. The tusk was carved through to shape arms and flowing hair. Her clothing carved in elegant drapes. Her face was lovely with demure eyes. I felt covetous. I was not envious of anything in the house, but I wanted that statue. I picked it up for a closer look.
When I turned it around, I saw a demonic female form on the reverse side. A cruel face, talon fingers, and rumpled, tattered clothes. I interpreted the two sides of the carved tusk as representing good and evil, beauty and ugliness. The homeowner had the beautiful, good side displayed. What was I going to display? I remembered the look on Skipper’s face, teaching me to act with integrity. It was an obvious choice to set that wonderfully carved tusk back on its table, where it belonged, with goodness and beauty on display. Action speaks louder than recited words.
