Your Sentinel Old Memory Part 2

Dad was a little younger than in this picture, but not much.

      Dad was a good swimmer as was the extra man, but grandpa could not swim a single stroke. Dad had to go under water to pull grandpa out and to shore. The outside temperature was around 40 degrees and the water wasn't much warmer if at all. The 3 of them were soaking wet and we had a rugged half-mile to get back to dad's station wagon. Dad was helping grandpa, keeping him moving and not letting him sit down because that would have been a terrible, dangerous thing for grandpa. Dad had a pint of whiskey in his jacket. He never drank whiskey normally, but I suppose that was to keep the men warm in the cold by the river. Grandpa never drank whiskey, he loved his beer, but not whiskey. Dad pulled the pint out and started pouring it down grandpa's gullet to fuel him enough to make it back to the car. Once we made it to the car dad had poured most of the whiskey down grandpa. We made it home a half-hour later and grandpa was loaded to the gills, taking giant steps and being quite boisterous. Mom's first words were, "what did you to to my father?" Grandpa ate some hot chili and went to bed. Dad explained everything to mom and whatever he said did not go over well with mom.
      Dad worked the next week and come Saturday the plan was just he and I going up to conduct salvage services. Dad had bought a small grappling hook and a length of rope and off we two went back to the flood waters. We trudged through another half-mile to where the boat and motor went down. The temperature was cold enough to start snowing when we got there. Dad tried with his grappling hook to snag something to pull the boat out and after a half-hour or so it was clear the hook was not going to work. He stood there thinking about what to try next. It seemed obvious to me what needed to be done, so I took my clothes off down to my underpants and walked into the coldest darn water I ever experienced. I started diving down to locate the boat in murky, muddy water and when I found it the foreword end was about 8 feet down on the bottom of the water. I caught another breath and went back down to grab hold of the rope and then swam back to where I could stand up before I drug the boat far enough to hand the rope to dad. I was shivering from head to toe and did not wait to dry off in the air, but put my clothes back on immediately.
      Dad pulled the boat ashore, removed the motor and turned the boat upside down on the bank. We then laid the motor in the boat and then dragged it back to the station wagon and headed home. We stopped on the way to drop off the motor at the other man's house. I knocked on the door, went to hand him his motor back and he said, "I don't even want to see that. I filed my insurance and will get a new one!" I set the motor down on his front porch and walked away. I don't know what happened with him after that and as I was concerned it was a dead issue.
      
      This was the small boat in the story later that year with mom on the left and a family friend on the right.