At eight, when a soldier told Jim that Frank and Neil were outside, Tony went along to see what was up.
Frank and Neil were standing in the dusk at the side of the restaurant that was their evening's mess-hall. Frank quickly explained to his son about their decision to try to take Vagabond back out to sea.
:I'm coming,' said Jim.
`What the fuck,' Tony burst in. 'You're deserting? And you, Neil, how come you're not in uniform?'
`Wrong war,' said Neil, echoing his friend's words. 'Do you want to join us?'
Tony looked at Neil uncertainly, his loyalty to his country battling with the fear aroused by seeing others fleeing an approaching danger. 'I'm no deserter,' he finally said sullenly. Neil turned away. 'Let's go,' he said.
`Hold it!' Tony shouted. 'If you take Jim now I'll be an accessory or something.'
The other three stopped and turned to face him.
Ìf everyone acted as selfishly as you guys our society would be doomed,' Tony continued aggressively. 'It's my duty to report your plans to my superiors.'
`Come with us,' Neil said gently.
`You won't make it,' Tony countered. 'The Coast Guard won't let you out to sea. Don't go, Jim. They're shooting deserters.'
Ì was going to desert even if there weren't fallout coming,' Jim said. 'Im going.'
Ì'm not letting you guys . . .' Tony began, but then Neil's fist slammed into the side of his face. He staggered backwards into darkness.
14
The night was overcast as Neil had hoped, although on the northern horizon a few stars could be seen indicating an approaching high pressure system. With the wind blowing out of the east at fifteen knots the passage out of the inlet would be rough. By midnight they were putting the plan they'd developed into execution. Conrad Macklin had stolen a small abandoned fishing vessel named Moonchaser and stolen enough fuel to get it to where Neil wanted. They had tied and tacked Vagabond's blue carpets along her white port sides and decking to reduce glare and the chances of being seen by the Coast Guard's searchlight. They had even packed mud on the left side of the lower masts to cut down reflection there.
Neil and Jim were aboard the fishing smack, which was towing Vagabond's inflatable dinghy with its outboard motor tilted up. Frank was in charge of the trimaran, with Olly, Macklin, Jeanne, and Lisa as crew. Skippy was asleep in the port berth, Katya was on call, and Tony was tied up in the forepeak.
Neil had taken Tony back to the docks because he'd feared that he would get the authorities to investigate Vagabond. He had planned to leave Tony behind at the last minute, but Macklin had argued vehemently that Tony might still have them chased, and, besides, was the best sailor they had for a long voyage. When Frank agreed, Neil decided they could abandon Tony in the Bahamas if he wanted off or didn't work out. The escape plan was for Neil and Jim to scuttle Moonchaser on the eastern side of the inlet - at Shackleford Point - to draw the patrol launch over, while Vagabond would motor along the
western side of the inlet a quarter of a mile away, pick up Neil and Jim who would motor the width of the inlet in the dinghy to join them, and rush out to sea. As Neil steered the sluggish Moonchaser towards the inlet a light rain began to fall. Neil had decided that he and Jim should take the decoy vessel both because he had confidence they could do the job and because if Vagabond were seen and stopped, without him and Jim aboard the Coast Guard might let the ship proceed to sea, simply removing the deserter Tony. Of course he hadn't told Macklin or Tony this line of thought. As he brought Moonchaser to within three-quarters of a mile of the patrol path of the cutter he realized that with the rain falling he could no longer depend on seeing the unlighted buoys and stakes that he'd planned to use to stay out of the main channel to avoid being spotted. He'd have to stay in the main channel, hoping the rain would so cut visibility that he could get the old fishing smack scuttled before the Coast Guard came close enough to see them motoring off in the dinghy.
Jim stood beside him in the little wheelhouse, his face wet with rain from peering around the salt-streaked window trying to pick up the channel buoys and look for signs of shoal water. He could barely make out the flashing red light of the next channel marker, and beyond that he could see neither the running lights nor searchlight of the Coast Guard patrol. Neil was keeping Moonchaser to the left of the main channel, motoring slowly forward against the incoming tide. Then, at a little after one, he opened up the throttle and headed for Shackleford Point and the planned scuttling. Jim still saw no clear sign of the Coast Guard except for brief flashes of white which Neil said were the searchlight. The wind had picked up and seemed to be blowing the rain and seaspray directly into his face. Although it was a warm rain he was shivering. He had on a foul-weather jacket, but his legs were bare and cold beneath his swimsuit. Then he saw what Neil had said would be the last two lighted buoys before the Point: 'a flashing red and a flashing green'. He had to yell now over the noise of the engine to tell Neil.
Ì'll take us just to port of the red one,' Neil shouted back. `Get its number. And watch for the cutter.'
They seemed to approach the blinking red light on the red bell with aggravating slowness, but once there Neil steered to within a few feet of the loud mournful gonging and Jim verified that it had '16' painted white on its red. Almost the moment he looked forward again after they'd passed the bell, he saw the green starboard running light and sweeping searchlight of the cutter. It seemed to be a quarter ofa mile off in the blackness and wet wind, almost dead ahead. It was moving west across the channel - away from Shackleford Banks.
Jim shouted this to Neil who brought Moonchaser to a complete halt in the water, waiting while the cutter moved further west away from them. Once the light swept in their direction and over the smack, but rapidly, without pausing. Though the glare temporarily blinded Jim, the cutter apparently didn't notice the black hull. Jim saw Neil look at his watch, grimace, and increase the ship's speed. The rain was becoming sporadic, but the wind was gusty and blew in sweeping bursts of spray against the windshield. Ocean swells were now creating a pitching motion in the boat as they approached the open water of the ocean.
In another two minutes the cutter was a little more than halfway across the inlet and still heading for the far side. Neil gave the boat full throttle, his face in tense concentration, and Moonchaser pounded forward at seven knots into the tide and ocean swells. The ship rose and smashed down on one big swell that seemed to emerge out of the darkness like some living sea mammal to lift them momentarily and then toss them back into the water. Jim was thrown hard against the control panel and Neil was swung around - still holding the wheel - to bang against the ship's coaming.
`We may really need that Mayday,' he shouted with a grim
smile. Jim, shivering, felt a fearful exhilaration. He peered ahead and could see two flashing white lights one after another - the lights of a range that normally guided ships down the centre of the channel, but that Neil would use to guide them on to the sands of Shackleford Bank. The Coast Guard cutter was off to the right some place, but Jim couldn't pick it up.
`Bring the dinghy up closer,' Neil shouted to him, and Jim stumbled aft, falling against the stern coaming when Moonchaser plunged into another swell. Righting himself, he hauled in the towline to the dinghy until it was only a few feet - off the stern of the fishing smack where he re-cleated it. Returning forward he stared again into the rain and blackness, and realized Neil was easing the boat towards shore.
`Hold on!' he shouted. 'Here we go!'
With a harsh grating sound, the fishing vessel ran aground, slowing at first and then, as Neil killed the engine, stopping abruptly. Jim grabbed the deckhouse shelf and held on, looking to Neil for orders. As Moonchaser seemed to sit contentedly in the sand, Jim turned to get into the dinghy; a wave smashed broadside into the ship with a tremendous crash. Jim was flung to port into Neil and the two men smashed into the side of the deckhouse, then against the coaming, and then they were in the sea. It happened so suddenly a
nd the chill water of the ocean was such a shock that Jim didn't at first realize clearly what had happened. He was standing in four feet of water that suddenly became seven feet of water when a swell surged past.
`Get the dinghy!' Neil shouted from off to the left. Jim could barely make out the ship heeled over in the surf a few feet away in front of him, but he struggled to her stern and felt for the rubber dinghy. It was there, bobbing and tearing at her towline like a wild horse. As he reached for it, the end of the protruding outboard struck him on the shoulder. He swore, reached again to control the dinghy and was submerged by a huge swell that slapped him in the face like a lazy porpoise flipping its tail. He spat out salt water and felt a sudden panic. He couldn't get the dinghy. It danced away from him, then swung its engine shaft at him like a club.
`Cut the line!' Neil shouted, appearing beside him and handing him a knife. Jim swam the few feet to Moonchaser's stern and pulled himself up and slashed the towline. In an instant the inflatable pulled its line out of Jim's grasp, surged away on a breaking wave and was swallowed up into the darkness.
`GET IT!' Neil screamed, and Jim plunged away after it.
`Mayday! Mayday!' Olly's voice crackled urgently into Vagabond's radio-telephone as Frank stood by, operating it. `Damn engine went and killed himself. I'm aground on Shackleford Point. Mayday! Mayday! Do you read me? Over.'
Frank switched to receive, deciding that Captain Olly's unprofessional way of sending a Mayday was probably more credible than the scenario he himself had planned. He leaned backwards to look up at Macklin in the wheelhouse who was assigned to hold Vagabond motoring steadily into the tide barely inching forward. He nodded at him in reassurance.
`Roger, Mayday,' a distant static voice said from the radio. `This is the Coast Guard station at Fort Macon acknowledging Mayday. Identify yourself and your position. Repeat: identify your vessel and your position . . . Over.'
Frank switched the button and nodded at Captain Olly.
`This is Cap' n Olly,' he said irritably. `Moonchaser is banging on the beach here at Shackleford Point and getting swamped. I'm at Shackleford Point just south of the range. My ship is beginning to . . .' Captain 01ly banged his fist down on the radio table and shouted: Jesus! Help! We're foundering! Help!'
Frank cut the switch and they listened for the Coast Guard response.
`This is Fort Macon Coast Guard calling Moonchaser,' the voice said with more urgency.
'Please repeat position and clarify position. Over.'
Frank shook his head 'no' to Captain Olly and kept the button switched to receive. After twenty seconds, the voice came through again.
`This is the Coast Guard calling the Moonchaser. We have received your Mayday. Will send assistance. Do you read me? Over.'
Frank shifted the dial on his receiver off the frequency reserved for distress calls to the one he knew the Coast Guard usually used for routine transmission among their vessels. For twenty seconds there was nothing, but finally the same voice crackled out calling the cutter, Avenger. After they had established contact the voice said: À vessel named Moonchaser radioed a Mayday. Ship reports being aground and foundering off Shackleford Point. Can you provide assistance? Over?'
`Roger, Macon. Affirmative. Are you sure it was a genuine Mayday? Over?'
Àffirmative, Avenger. Sounded real to me. Over.'
Òkay Macon. Avenger headed to Shackleford to provide assistance . .
'I'm going up and get us moving full speed to the rendezvous,' Frank said to Captain Olly.
'Keep listening.'
After Frank had disappeared up out of the cabin Captain Olly lowered his head to the radio. For a minute or so there was nothing. Then: `. . Avenger now only about three hundred yards off Shackleford. No sign of a vessel aground .. . Okay, Macon, we've got our light on a black-hulled fishing smack aground and partially submerged . . . She's taking a pounding . . . Moonchaser? . . . It's Moonchaser . . . No sign of men aboard. We'
re sending the small launch to investigate. Stay tuned. Over.'
As the seconds ticked away Captain Olly became aware of Vagabond beginning to pitch and smash into the ocean swells
as she rushed at full speed towards the inlet. He heard Frank say something loudly to Jeanne but couldn't hear what. Two minutes passed before the voice spoke again from the radio. `This is Avenger. There's no one aboard the Moonchaser, Macon . . . When was your last radio transmission from the vessel? Over.'
`Just before we radioed you, Avenger. Over.'
Another long silence ensued, broken once by Fort Macon Coast Guard Station asking Avenger if it 'read me'.
Àffirmative, Macon. I'm waiting for my launch crew to report . . Another silence. Captain Olly realized that Vagabond had slowed and become stationary again. She was pitching and slamming more steeply into the swells. They must be at the rendezvous point. After another minute, the voice: ' Avenger to Macon. Something strange going on here. Launch reports there's no radio aboard the Moonchaser . . . How could she send a Mayday? . .
Bewildered by the nightmarish suddenness of being pitched into the ocean and having the dinghy torn out of his grasp into the turbulent darkness, Jim had dived clumsily into the water and begun swimming in the direction the inflatable had disappeared. He took six or seven strong strokes and saw no sign of the dinghy when a rubber part of it bumped him in the back of the head as if teasing him. He grabbed a line on it just as another wave rolled indifferently over him. He found he could stand and, holding the dinghy and bracing himself for the next wave, called out into the darkness. Ì've got it! Over here!'
There was no answer and Jim could now see neither the boat nor Neil. He shouted again.
`NEIL! I've got it! Over here!'
`. . Jimmmm!' came an answering yell from off to his left and slightly closer to shore. Jim began struggling through the surges of water towards where the voice seemed to come from
and was startled when a huge fish splashed almost on top of him.
`Help me,' he heard Neil's voice say, and realized that the fish was Neil. He reached out with his free hand and grabbed hold of him. After a wave passed, Neil suddenly stood, choking and gasping for breath and clinging to Jim.
`My arm,' he said, grimacing. 'My elbow's killing me. I can't use it.'
The two men stood in three feet of water and braced themselves as another hill of water swept over them, slamming them a foot closer to shore.
Ì'll hold it now,' Neil gasped out. 'You get in. GET IN!' he shouted. In the ebb of a wave Jim quickly hauled himself over one side of the inflatable and plopped into the middle. It was filled with five or six inches of water. As he got on to his knees, he heard Neil shout: 'Start the engine!'
He turned aft and groped for the release lever that would lower the prop into the water. A wave smashed into the dinghy, jerked it sideways and spilled Jim against the left side nd almost out. He struggled up and groped again for the lever. When he found it, the engine fell with an abruptness that pinched his first finger and he gasped out a Frank-like oath even as he retrieved his hand and grabbed the starting cord. He pulled once but the engine didn't start.
`Start the engine!' Neil shouted again from somewhere in the water near the bow. Jim remembered the second time to pull out the choke and pulled again. No catch. Again. The engine sputtered and died. Again. No catch. Again: sputter, sputter - he pushed the choke in - roar: the engine was alive.
`Help me in!' Neil shouted, now emerging right beside the dinghy, one arm only over the bulge of inflated rubber. 'Grab the back of my belt!'
As Jim throttled down the outboard, another wave broke over them and smashed them into even shallower water. Neil
was then in only two or three feet of water and his whole torso now collapsed across the starboard side of the dinghy, permitting Jim to grab his belt and haul with all his strength to get him up and in. The next wave seemed to scoop Neil up and splash him down in the pool of the swamped inflatable. Jim shifted into forward and pulled out the th
rottle. The outboard roared and the dinghy exploded against the next wave, ploughing partly through it like a submarine rather than over it, then surged through fifteen feet of calm water before exploding through the next wave. Even with two men aboard and six inches of water, the boat was able to smash forward at four or five knots. Jim had no sense of direction except to get out of the surf and back into deeper water. Low in the plunging dinghy he couldn't see any channel lights and had only the vaguest idea of which way was west.
`Steer by the swells,' Neil shouted to him, kneeling beside him in the middle of the dinghy, one arm limp and held awkwardly in front of him. 'Keep them coming at you on the port beam.'
Jim had been heading into them but as soon as Neil spoke he realized that their destination of the other side of the inlet was simply across the swells at a right angle. He swung the dinghy to the right, squinted into the rain and spray, and steered at full throttle towards where he hoped to find Vagabond. A giant white eye suddenly peered at them from almost dead ahead, then swept away to the right. The Coast Guard cutter was coming directly at them.
`. . . strange going on here. Launch reports there's no radio aboard the Moonchaser.'
Captain 011y heard shouts from up on deck and felt something thud against one side of Vagabond.
Òkay, Fort Macon,' the voice from the Avenger went on. `We're leaving our small launch here to check ashore for survivors, but Avenger is now returning to patrol. Something's
not kosher about this. Over . .
Captain Olly hurried up the cabin steps and bumped into Frank scrambling across the wheelhouse to get to the controls and get Vagabond moving. Jim and Neil were visible in the darkness hauling up the dinghy into the starboard cockpit.
Long Voyage Back Page 23