The tide was still coming in, so they held off for several more hours. During that time the wind picked up a bit, but not to a level that would cause alarm.
Shortly before nine o’clock, they pushed the outrigger off the beach and into the bay. The waves were small, and with the wind coming from land, they were muted a bit. Raising the sail, which snapped taut once up, they turned the boat north and headed out of the bay. In less than five minutes they had cleared the mouth of the bay and were once again in the open ocean.
Karen, sitting in the bow, ordered Bill, at the tiller, to turn the boat so it was traveling northwesterly, toward the islands of the Bahamas. Their first passage, expected early the next morning, would be between Little Inagua Island and West Caicos Island, about 300 kilometers away, or, if they were lucky, fifteen hours of sailing. Bill figured that the 45 kilometers spacing between the two islands would be plenty wide for any passage, even if they hit a storm.
Karen had each of them stow their primary survival equipment, ensuring that the rifles were protected from the environment. They each kept a canteen available and Bill deployed the solar still. Other than that, all that wasn’t packed were the three Explorers, their clothing, and their survival knives which were strapped to the belts holding up their pants. Bill was glad of the latter, particularly the ventilated wide-brimmed hat the Corps issued to all Explorers. Not only did it shade his face, neck, and ears from the brutal tropical sun, but the ventilation allowed his head to remain cool.
Two hours into the voyage the wind began picking up even more, with high scattered clouds developing overhead. Bill watched the clouds scudding rapidly across the sky and began to get worried. He tightened the drawstring on his hat; Meri did the same. The gentle swells had started to throw some spray, developing into small whitecaps, and warm rain started to fall. Recognizing the futility of keeping the solar still deployed, Bill reeled it in and handed it over to Meri. She deflated and packed it away, after pouring out the water inside: as the wave action had mixed the distilled and salt water making it non-potable.
By an hour before sunset, perhaps five o’clock local time, the wind had become more than a breeze, it had developed into a full-scale gale. Bill estimated it to be Force 8, or about 65 kilometers per hour. The wind-created waves had become relatively large, higher than six meters, judging by the view of the mast tip to a wave crest when the canoe was in a trough. Fortunately, the waves weren’t breaking above them, but it still worried him.
Looking forward, he could tell that both women weren’t happy with the situation. Every time Karen or Meri turned around, he could see their faces taut with worry and fear. Meri’s knuckles were white as she gripped the gunwales. It was a good thing all three were tied to the boat and wearing life preservers.
What worried Bill more than the large waves was the possibility of grounding on an island they couldn’t see at night. He crawled forward to his wife and yelled his concern in her ear, asking her to pass it on to Karen. Karen looked back at Bill and gave him a thumbs-up and nod.
By nightfall, Bill estimated they were less than halfway to the passage between the two islands they were aiming for, so he passed on the suggestion to Meri that they should secure the sail and deploy a sea anchor and wait out the storm. Karen wanted to keep moving, but she agreed to reduce the sail even more, making it a storm jib in effect, and deploy a sea anchor. This was nothing more than an empty parachute pack. This action kept them going in a northwesterly direction slowly while still giving them control over the vessel.
By now the wind speeds had increased, approaching Force 10, almost a full-blown hurricane. The waves were now over ten meters tall and the sea was a froth of foam. The three were constantly bailing the boat. Bill forgot what it was like to be dry.
Nobody would be getting any sleep that night, as the wind, waves, and rain kept them all on edge. The boat would climb precipitously up a wave, then come sliding down it, the three crew hanging on for dear life. Groans and creaks from the boat were felt more than heard; nothing could be heard above the howling of the wind and the crashing of the waves.
By midnight, there was still no let-up in the storm. The waves, unseen but felt through the rainy, lightless night, continued to throw the Guppy around, just like the original SS Guppy in the first episode of Gilhooly’s Island.
Suddenly, there was a loud snap, and Bill heard something crash onto the boat. He yanked out his flashlight and turned it on. The mast had snapped in half and was dragging in the water. Karen and Meri shone their flashlights around, illuminating the scene.
Bill, at the tiller controls, could do little but watch as the women figured out what to do. He could see the two women talking, but couldn’t hear what they were saying over the roar of the wind. Then, Meri, closest to the mast, crawled out to try and resolve the dangerous situation. No way could they leave the broken mast attached to the canoe — it might cause it to capsize, especially in these high seas.
“We gotta cut it loose,” he yelled as loudly as possible.
Meri nodded, dug into a bag, pulled out a hatchet, and shoved into her belt. Making sure the rope holding her to the canoe was secured, she pulled on the rope and parachute sail, trying to bring the broken end of the mast closer to her. It wasn’t an easy task, doing all this by the light of flashlights held by Bill and Karen while the wind and waves caused the mast to sway and move erratically. At one point, she stumbled and fell back into the canoe.
Struggling to her feet, she tried to reach the mast a second time.
A large wave caused the boat to suddenly rise up, tossing Meri overboard.
Bill was stunned. In the light of his and Karen’s flashlights he could see the pale figure of Meri’s arm sticking out of the churning water. Just as he was rising to save her, Karen’s hand snaked out and grabbed Meri’s wrist.
Bill dropped his flashlight and joined Karen. As she pulled on Meri’s arm, Meri’s other arm popped up. Bill grabbed and pulled with all his strength.
Meri’s head popped up, and was immediately covered with the foaming water.
Bill leaned forward and grabbed Meri under her armpit, giving him more leverage. Karen did the same on her other side. Leaning back, they pulled her out of the water and into the boat. She collapsed on top of him, coughing and sputtering.
“Give me a sec,” she yelled, panting.
“Get back to the tiller,” Karen yelled. Even though she was only a couple of feet away, Bill could barely hear her. But he did, and giving Meri one last look, picked up his flashlight, then turned and crawled back to the tiller.
Karen watched Meri, until the younger woman nodded. Again, Bill couldn’t hear what was said, but seeing Karen’s tight-mouthed look and nod, he suspected Meri was going to try it again.
After a minute, Meri made a second attempt at the sail, this time managing to grasp it. Once she got the tip of the broken mast within arm’s reach, she held onto one end, drew her survival knife, and cut the rope near the tip. This allowed the sail to separate from the broken part. She reeled in as much of the sail as possible while the end of the broken tip floated away. Unfortunately, the mast hadn’t sheared. It was still hanging on by some wood fibers, which needed cutting.
Soon she had most of the sail in the canoe, and then began cutting the broken tip away. Meri climbed up the mast until she was almost at the level of the broken section. Holding onto the mast with one arm, she pulled the hatchet out of her belt and began hacking on the piece of wood holding the mast together. After several whacks, the mast came loose, but it swung around and slammed into Meri, causing her to lose her grip and tossing her into the violent sea a second time. The hatchet went flying, also landing in the water.
Yelling, “Man overboard!” Bill dropped his flashlight and lurched forward frantically, grabbing his wife’s safety line and pulling with all his strength. Fortunately, Meri wasn’t knocked unconscious, so she was able to swim toward the boat while Bill pulled. Kneeling in the canoe, he reached over and grabbed h
er under her arms as soon as she was alongside the boat. With strength borne of fear, Bill yanked Meri out of the ocean and plopped her in the boat. She was coughing and spit up salt water.
She held up her hand to Bill while coughing, indicating that he should not slap her back or do anything else.
After the coughing spell was over, she leaned over and yelled in Bill’s ear, “I’m okay. Save the sail!”
Bill began bringing in the sail, which had been partially dragged back into the sea. He soon had the sodden mass in the canoe, and, after giving Meri a quick kiss, returned to his position at the stern of the craft. He picked up his flashlight, which was rolling around in the water at the bottom of the canoe, casting an eerie light through the water, and turned it off. No sense keeping it on when there ain’t nothin’ to see he thought.
The wind continued to blow until late into the night, when it suddenly stopped without warning. One minute it was blowing the rain and surf sideways, then the next it was clear.
Bill looked up and saw stars shining brightly. It then dawned on him what he had been subconsciously thinking all night.
“Hey, I think we’re in the eye of a hurricane,” he said.
A bedraggled pair of women looked at him uncomprehendingly.
“What?” Karen asked, bewildered.
“Hurricane. We’ve been riding through a hurricane,” Bill replied. “And right now, I think we’re in the eye. Should we try and rig up a quick storm jib with what remains of the mast?”
“That’s probably a good idea. We’ll handle it; you stay at the tiller just in case.”
Moving as rapidly as their spent bodies could, the two women turned the soaked parachute sail into a small storm jib. This time Karen got to climb the mast. Using a length of rope, she created an eye to draw the sail’s line through so they could raise and deploy it. This took longer than they had hoped, and Karen was forced to descend and climb the mast several times, just to rest, before it was completed. She finally got the storm jib up, climbed down from the mast and then collapsed in the bow of the Guppy, not even caring that she was lying in water.
As they were finishing, the storm returned with a vengeance. One minute it was calm, the next minute clouds were sweeping over them along with the rain and Force 12 winds. The three hunkered down in the canoe, only sitting upright to bail.
Again, the wind and storm lasted for hours, keeping them awake. But this time, rather than increasing in intensity, the storm’s fierceness abated until, by dawn, they were floating on a choppy sea with only a mild gale pushing them. The modified storm jib had held, but just barely.
With bleary eyes Bill looked around and saw both women curled up, sleeping in the bottom of the canoe. He continued to bail until there was only a thin film of water left.
There was no land in sight. Bill dug the sextant out and took a sun shot. He calculated the latitude, then, based on their expected speed during the storm and the numbers Karen had generated the day Ben was killed, he roughed out their approximate longitude. He took into consideration the northeasterly direction of the hurricane and their reduced speed when figuring it all out. He guessed they had come approximately 200 kilometers since setting out the day before, which would put them approximately sixty to eighty kilometers south by southeast of the larger islands of the Turks and Caicos Islands, a bit more than halfway to their target passage.
Being extra careful, he pulled a tablet from its waterproof bag, activated it, and pulled up the imagery for the stretch of Planet 42 that they were sailing across. Zooming in on the imagery, he saw several smaller islands, or cays as he recalled them being called on Earth, between his estimated position and the larger islands.
I’ll have a better idea where we’re at around noon, he thought, putting the tablet back.
Using the sun as a compass point, Bill lined up the bow to face northwesterly in hopes of making landfall soon.
Bill let the others sleep while he sailed the vessel toward what he hoped would be a safe harbor. That got him thinking of a song his dad would often play on the old-fashioned CD player he kept in his car. There’s this one particular harbor…. kept playing through his mind. Yep, that’s what I’m looking for he thought. That one particular harbor.
Recognizing the need for fresh water, Bill got out the solar still and deployed it. He drank from his canteen until it was almost empty, and then used one of the smaller hand-pumped desalinizers to refill it. It took him almost an hour of hand pumping to fill the canteen. By the end, his arms were sore and he was sweating enough that he dunked his hat in the ocean to cool off.
A couple of hours later Meri stirred. Sitting up, she wiped the sleep out of her eyes and gave Bill an owlish look. He still couldn’t get over how blue her eyes were, despite the redness from lack of sleep and an overabundance of salt water rinsing.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey, yourself,” she replied. “Where are we?”
“Well, I’m not entirely sure, but we’re probably several hundred klicks north of Hispaniola and between fifty and a hundred klicks south of the larger Turks and Caicos Islands. If I’m correct, we should start seeing some islands soon.”
Meri looked at Karen, making sure the Survey Commander was breathing. Once she verified that Karen was still alive, she turned back to Bill.
“So, what’s the plan?”
“We continue sailing northwest until we can find land. Beach the boat, repair the mast, then continue on.”
The mast was less than half its original height. The modified storm jib was full, but there was room for more sail.
“Should I let out more sail?” she asked Bill.
“Yeah. It’ll help our speed if you can.”
Meri gathered in some of the sail near the bottom of the mast, sat on it to hold it down, and then untied the bottom line holding the sail to the mast. She let out some of the sail until Bill told her to stop, then she retied it.
The additional sail increased the speed of the Guppy a little, but enough to be felt.
Soon the craft entered shallow water, and the two could see coral reefs below them.
Meri woke Karen to tell her they might be near land. A short while later she spotted a couple of small islands, neither more than half a kilometer across, barely above the ocean, with wide, sandy beaches. Bill guided the broken craft toward the left-most of the two, sailing over water that was clearing from the recent hurricane, hoping not to run aground on any coral heads.
They finally beached the boat, and all three jumped out and hauled it onto the beach as far as they could. Being heavy, and laden with all their possessions, and especially lacking Ben’s help, that wasn’t too far.
There were no real trees on the small island, so they tied the dugout to a couple of the smaller bushes, hoping that would work to keep it secure.
“I doubt we’ll have another storm real soon,” Bill said once the boat was secured.
Due to Karen’s foresight to carry two spare masts, they were nowhere near as bad a situation as they could be. The first hour was spent removing the old mast, followed by several hours prepping and installing a new one. It was a couple of hours shy of nightfall by the time they were finished, so they elected to remain beached for the night.
Bill and Karen brought most of the equipment on to shore while Meri fished from the waterborne stern of the canoe. What could be spread out to dry was done on the beach and over some of the low-lying shrubs. The two found enough driftwood that was dry to get a fire going — just in time, as Meri had managed to land a couple of groupers. Before night fell, the three repacked and reloaded all the equipment into the canoe.
It was a mostly dispirited group that gathered around the fire that evening.
“I’m beginning to hate this fucking planet,” Karen said angrily, pounding the ground with her fist. “First the Monarch, then Ben, now this fucking hurricane. What next?”
“Maybe that’s it,” Meri said hopefully. “I mean, we’re almost to Ti’icham,
so we don’t have all that far left to go.”
“Not all that far?” Karen asked incredulously. “It’s another two thousand klicks to the Roanoke, and then another five thousand to the IP, and that’s in a straight line. News Flash! Ain’t no such animal as a straight line when traveling on rivers! And I’m not even counting the mountain ranges we’ve gotta cross!”
In an effort to calm her down, Bill mentioned that they had already come over 10,000 kilometers. “Yeah, we lost Ben, and we had some problems, but think about it! When have you ever heard of anyone trekking ten thousand klicks and living to tell about it? We’ve already done more than anyone else, and for the most part, we’re still in pretty good shape.”
Karen thought about it. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Even Janice only had to cross one continent,” she said, referring to Janice Goodland’s trek. Even so, Karen still seemed gloomy.
After supper, the crew packed up the gear, whether dry or not, and reloaded the canoe. Karen had them sleep on the boat, this time without a watch. Her rationale was that the island was too small to host any predators, the boat was tied up, and the hurricane was past. Even if the lines broke and they drifted out to sea, the change in motion would wake them.
Before going to sleep, Bill shot the stars and determined their latitude. Reviewing the data on one of the tablets he determined their possible location as a bit southwest of the passage they were aiming for.
For the first time in a month, everyone got a full night’s sleep. Bill awoke as dawn was breaking, and saw Meri already on the beach brewing some sort of concoction she would probably call tea. After his last experience with her tea, he decided to forgo it.
He climbed out of the canoe and did his morning ablutions on the side facing away from Meri. Despite all the time spent in survival training and on this trek, he still held a small modicum of decency and didn’t particularly like waving things around in front of the women while he relieved himself. Washing his hands in the salt water afterwards, he joined Meri at the fire.
The Corps of Discovery Trilogy Box Set: Books 1-3: A multiverse series of alternate history Page 38