by Scott Ely
“Lost his barges,” Richard said. “Maybe he’s out of diesel.”
Stephen scanned the deck of the towboat and saw there were figures on deck looking at them with field glasses.
“We’ll have a look,” Richard said. “Boy, you keep that shotgun close.”
Stephen chambered a shell and took a position behind Richard. Drexel was looking at the towboat through the field glasses as they drew closer.
“Women!” he shouted. “Ain’t nothing but women!”
Angela took the glasses from him and turned them on the towboat.
“He’s right,” she said.
Drexel snatched the glasses from her. They were now rapidly closing the distance between the two boats.
“Fine-looking women,” Drexel said.
“You just remember we’re looking for that pardon,” Richard said. “You insult those women and we’ll be back to chopping cotton.”
“I’m not gonna insult nobody,” Drexel said. “It’s probably been a long time since they’ve seen a handsome man like me.”
Now they were drawing close. Three women stood on the deck. One had a bullhorn in her hands.
“You prisoners stand off,” a metallic voice came over the water.
“We standing off!” Richard shouted. He turned to Stephen and Angela. “Put down that shotgun and get up here where they can see you good.”
Stephen and Angela climbed up beside Richard and Drexel.
“We rescued these children,” Richard shouted. “We looking to give this boat back to the Corps.”
“All right,” the voice said. “Come alongside so we can have a look at you.”
Stephen saw that one of the women had brought a machine gun out on deck. She was resting the barrel on the rail and covering them with the gun. Another woman was supporting the belt of cartridges.
Richard maneuvered the boat until it was alongside the towboat. The woman put down the bullhorn.
“I’m Captain Sullivan,” she said. “This is the towboat Sally James. Keep your hands where Chandra can see them. I know you don’t want to make her nervous. Now you come on aboard. Leave any weapons in your boat. Let the children come first.”
“We ain’t gonna do nothing to make Chandra nervous,” Drexel said.
He gave her a big smile, but Chandra, a thin black woman, gave him no encouragement. She looked like she was ready to sweep the deck of the bridge boat with automatic fire at any moment.
Stephen and Angela boarded the boat.
“Are those prisoners telling the truth?” Captain Sullivan asked.
She was a black woman. She wore khaki pants and a shirt with her name stitched on it with red thread. On her belt was a big pistol in a holster.
“Yes, ma’am,” Stephen said.
“They saved us,” Angela said.
It turned out that the Sally James belonged to Captain Sullivan and her husband. They were both retired army officers. Her husband was somewhere between this point and New Orleans, looking for a string of runaway barges. He knew her position and would return as soon as he found them.
“Just because a few hurricanes show up don’t mean it’s the end of the world,” she said. “Those barges are carrying soybeans worth a lot of money.”
The women manning the machine gun were the deckhands Chandra and Mary Jane. It was all the crew she could put together on short notice. The towboat had what Captain Sullivan thought was a bent propeller shaft as a result of an encounter with a piece of debris in the river. She had managed to get the boat out of the river and over the submerged bank and levee and into the lake. When her husband Henry returned, he would tow them back upriver to Natchez.
“Hey, Captain,” Drexel yelled. “Can we come aboard?”
Captain Sullivan looked them over one last time.
“What were you in Angola for?” she asked.
“Killed my wife,” Richard said. “By mistake.”
“Banks,” Drexel said.
Then he grinned as if he were proud of that accomplishment.
Chandra and Mary Jane giggled.
“Get that boat tied up right,” Captain Sullivan said. “Those convicts won’t know how.”
The deckhands put up the machine gun and caught the lines thrown to them by Drexel.
“We just want to surrender,” said Richard.
“And get our pardon from the governor for saving these children,” Drexel said.
“Come aboard,” Captain Sullivan said. She tapped the butt of the pistol. “But I won’t tolerate any foolishness.”
“We believe you,” Richard said.
They all climbed aboard.
Chandra made coffee. Then she stood off to one side with the machine gun. As they sat around a table, Captain Sullivan had Stephen and Angela tell the story of how they came to be on the bridge boat with the prisoners.
“Where’d you get that machine gun?” Richard asked.
“Belonged to the National Guard,” Chandra said.
Mary Jane explained how they had come across a wrecked bridge boat with what looked like a hole made by a rocket launcher in the cockpit. The crew was dead.
“Strange nobody took this machine gun,” Mary Jane said. “It was right there on the deck.”
“Maybe they killed each other and the other boat just floated away,” Richard said.
“We’ll never know,” Captain Sullivan said.
Stephen thought of the attack on the barge. He was wondering if Angela was thinking of that too. In that case too the dead had vanished.
“That’s when I realized the rising river and tornadoes and hurricanes weren’t what we should worry the most about,” Captain Sullivan said. “It’s people who’re dangerous.”
Captain Sullivan had talked with her husband on the radio the day before. He was going to look for the barges one more day and then return upriver. She had told him the bent propeller shaft had left her in a vulnerable position. The bridge boat with the dead soldiers had convinced her she should not stay in this isolated place too long. She wanted him to find those barges loaded with beans and hurry back.
There was power on the towboat and plenty of food in the galley. They all took showers and washed their clothes. Drexel and Richard were much too big to wear any of the women’s clothes. But Stephen and Angela now wore some of Captain Sullivan’s khakis. Both of them cut off the pants to make shorts.
Stephen noticed that Drexel was lavishing attention on Chandra and Mary Jane. Captain Sullivan had noticed it too, but she did not seem to mind.
“Look at that fool,” Richard whispered to Stephen. “Thinks he’s a ladies’ man.”
“You could show him how,” Angela said.
“Those girls are too young for me,” Richard said. “I’ve been in prison a long time. I’d need to go slow. Start with the right sort of woman.”
Stephen wondered what that meant. When he had a chance, he asked Angela.
“Do you think he means prostitutes?” Stephen asked.
“I don’t know,” Angela said. “Maybe it’s men he’s used to.”
Stephen wondered how it was for a man when, after all those years in prison, the opportunity to sleep with women presented itself.
They had a good evening meal. Chandra did the cooking. Drexel had three slices of her apple pie and praised every bite. Both Richard and Captain Sullivan were looking on him with amusement. After they ate, he helped her with the dishes.
Once it grew dark Stephen noticed Captain Sullivan allowed the lights on the boat to be turned on. He recalled how he and his father had elected to live in darkness. The illuminated boat would be visible for miles. Maybe she wanted it to be a beacon for her husband.
They sat around the table and talked until late. Captain Sullivan tried to contact her husband on the radio again but failed. She then raised a National Guard outpost and gave them their position. The radio operator said they could do nothing for them now but noted their position.
“That oxbow lake below Luke’s Cuttof
f,” she said. “Are you writing that down?”
The radio operator told her he was.
Then Captain Sullivan set watches. The prisoners were not included in the rotation. She instructed them to go to a cabin and sleep.
“I catch you wandering about and I’ll lock you in the engine room,” she said.
Stephen was thankful that he would get to sleep unmolested by mosquitoes.
But when Mary Jane woke him for his watch, she told him that Drexel had stood Chandra’s watch with her.
“Are you going to tell the Captain?” Stephen asked.
“No, I’d have to wake her up,” she said. “Then she’d lock Drexel in the engine room. He don’t mean no harm. Besides, Chandra likes him. Her brother’s in prison. She ain’t worried about him being a prisoner. He never hurt nobody.”
Stephen walked about the deck with the Saiga. Now all the lights on the boat were off. He could see the sweep of the stars. Looking around him, he saw no lights in any direction. Somewhere out on the river Captain Sullivan’s husband had found a place to moor the towboat. In the morning he would continue his search for the lost barges. And there were nervous National Guard soldiers standing watch along the perimeter of the flooded, lawless land.
Angela had told him to come to her bed and wake her after his watch. They were another couple on the boat who were going to devote the rest of the night to love.
THIRTEEN
They settled into a routine on the towboat. It was so pleasant to have good food. Chandra made ribs and chicken and dumplings, biscuits, cornbread, peach cobbler, fried okra and fried chicken. She was particularly good at fried chicken. Drexel said he could eat it for every meal.
“Down at Angola they wait until a chicken dies before they cook it,” Drexel said.
And the watches were spread out enough so every night Stephen got plenty of mosquito-free sleep. After his watch he went straight to Angela’s bed. He liked going to sleep with his hand resting between her legs or on a thigh or breast. He was still awkward at lovemaking, but Angela was patient. She claimed she didn’t have that much experience herself. He wondered if she was telling the truth, but he thought it unwise to press her on the subject.
“So you think in four years I slept with every boy at LSU,” he could imagine her saying.
It was obvious to everyone that Chandra and Drexel were lovers. Drexel praised her food, even if it was just a bowl of grits. He kept the kitchen clean for her.
As long as the water level stayed right where it was, they could wait on the towboat for a long time. They had plenty of water and fuel and food. The very best outcome would be for a military boat to appear on the lake and ferry them to safety. After watching the helicopter crash, he was not eager to be airlifted.
Captain Sullivan kept trying to reach her husband, but by the end of their fifth day on the boat she had heard nothing. She had no luck getting the National Guard or anyone else on the radio again.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s gone all the way to Cuba to find those barges,” she said.
They were sitting at the table for the evening meal, eating Chandra’s fried catfish and slaw. She had used the last of the cabbage to make it.
“Yes, ma’am, I believe he would,” Mary Jane said.
“Stephen, what’s that ole Swamp Hog been saying these days?” Richard asked.
Richard told them about the prisoner who was broadcasting from some unknown location.
Stephen had not turned on the radio since they arrived at the towboat. It seemed to him that you needed to be out in the swamp to listen to the Swamp Hog, and he said this to the group.
“Yeah,” Drexel said. “You need to be hungry and dirty and the mosquitoes all over you. That’s when you dial him up. That crazy man will make you laugh and laugh.”
On the boat’s radio they heard the usual contradictory reports. Last night the governor had come on and asked everyone to remain calm, that soon order would be restored.
“Don’t you give out all your pardons,” Drexel said.
“That’s the governor of Mississippi,” Captain Sullivan pointed out.
Everyone laughed.
“Ask the Swamp Hog for a pardon,” Richard said.
“You’re looking for one too,” Drexel said. “You children remember your story.”
“I think the truth will do,” Angela said.
“Drexel wants them to say that he wrestled an alligator as long as the bridge boat to save ’em,” Richard said.
“There’s some big gators out in them swamps,” Drexel said.
“Dial in that station,” Richard said.
Stephen stepped up to the radio that was on a shelf by the window.
He turned it on and tried, but there was only static.
“Use your radio,” Angela said.
Stephen went to get the radio. When he returned, Angela was trying to find the station on the boat’s radio but was having no success. Stephen cranked the generator and then spun the dial to the station. To his surprise the Swamp Hog’s voice came in clearly.
“Listen children,” he said. “The deluge ain’t over. Great whales will swim through the French Market. Sharks are swimming through the streets of Lake Charles. I’ve seen ’em myself. Go inland. Don’t stop until somebody offers you a ride on an elephant. In the western mountains. The jungle in Death Valley…”
The voice abruptly descended into static.
“That’s how it always is,” Stephen said.
Captain Sullivan wondered where he was transmitting from.
“We’ve talked about that,” Richard said. “It ain’t the prison. That’s underwater now.”
“Duck Hill,” Drexel said.
“Hush up,” Richard said. “They don’t want to listen to your crazy talk.”
Chandra threw her arms about Drexel’s neck.
“He ain’t crazy,” she said. “Tell us about Duck Hill.”
“He’s right,” Drexel said. “I was just making up stories.”
“You ain’t been makin’ up anything else to me?” she asked.
“No, ma’am,” Drexel said. “No, ma’am.”
“You better be telling me nothing but the truth,” she said.
“That’s all I can speak,” Drexel said.
Richard laughed.
“He is truthful. Mostly.”
Then Drexel got up to help Chandra with the dishes. Captain Sullivan set the watches and went off to bed. Mary Jane had the first watch. She took the machine gun, which had a short belt loaded into it, and went out on deck. Captain Sullivan had ordered enough lights to be left on so the boat would be easy for her husband to find in the dark. Angela went off to bed. Stephen lingered at the table with Richard.
“Pour me ’bout half a cup of coffee,” Richard asked.
Stephen poured one for Richard and one for himself.
“Do you think the governor will give us that pardon?” Richard asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Stephen said. “After he hears what you did for us, he’s certain to.”
But Stephen realized he really knew nothing of the pardons. It seemed to him that Richard was a good man. He had had a lapse that cost his wife her life and him his freedom. He wondered how long ago that had been and what kind of man Richard was at that time.
Richard wrapped his big hands around the cup of coffee.
“I guess if I get that pardon, I’ll go to Memphis and find me a woman,” Richard said.
It turned out that was where he was born. His father worked for the railroad and made a good living.
“Memphis is probably full of refugees,” Stephen said.
“I expect it is,” Richard said.
Stephen wondered what the encounter between Richard and some prostitute would be like. It would be sad. Richard would be trying to make up for all those lost years with the hired body of some girl from a small town in Tennessee or Mississippi or Arkansas, a girl who had probably come to Memphis hoping for something else. He had
once heard Josephine say something like that about prostitutes in New Orleans.
“Then what will you do?” Stephen asked.
“I know about farming,” Richard said. “If I had some money, I’d buy me some land. But I won’t be able to do that. I guess I’ll work for somebody. Once the water goes down they’ll need folks to help get the land back in shape. I can drive a tractor. Do a little work on engines.”
Stephen thought of the paintings his mother was concerned about and how just one of them would buy Richard a small farm. He imagined slipping back into New Orleans and making off with a painting.
Probably get shot by one of those mercenaries, he thought.
He looked through one of the windows and saw Mary Jane standing on the deck.
“Drexel’s gonna have a hard time forgetting about Chandra if we don’t get that pardon,” Richard said.
Stephen imagined Chandra going to visit Drexel in some new prison. The water covering Angola might never recede.
“She won’t be able to do nothing for him,” Richard said. “She’ll just have to get on with whatever she was doing before she met him.”
“You’ll be pardoned,” Stephen said. “You’ve got to be.”
“It’s hard to accept things turning out different than you want. I put my hands on my wife. Drexel walked into a bank with a pistol. We weren’t born at some other place or time, so we wouldn’t have to do those things. We were at that place, at that time. Nobody else was there. Just us.”
Stephen did not know what to say, so he said nothing. He wished Richard goodnight and went off to Angela’s bed.
As he lay there with her in his arms, he found himself still thinking of Richard and Drexel.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
He told her about his conversation with Richard. And he added his fantasy of stealing one of his mother’s paintings and selling it to buy Richard some land to farm.
“Shot by one of her mercenaries,” she said.
“She’d probably shoot me herself if she caught me doing that,” he said.
She laughed.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “But she’d be mighty mad. Military school would surely be waiting for you.”