`Coast Guard's coming back,' he said to Frank, who simply gave him a wild look and put Vagabond into full speed forward. Neil stumbled into the wheelhouse and collapsed with a groan on the cushioned seat. Jeanne followed and knelt beside him, then called Macklin over.
Captain 01ly went to help Jim with the dinghy. He was pulling it off the open deck aft up over the cockpit seat into the cockpit. After the two of them had got it down into the cockpit Jim asked:
`Can we leave it here for now?'
`Sure. I'll lash it down,' Captain Olly said. 'Go help your dad.'
Jim took a long stride over the slightly squashed inflatable and went into the wheelhouse and stood beside his father. Jeanne ducked past them into the main cabin and then Jim leaned out to peer ahead into the rain.
They were motoring at full speed south along the western side of the inlet headed directly out to sea. They were already far to the right of the big ship channel and pounding into the steep swells that rolled directly at them. Jim's glance at the depthmeter showed it reading 'four feet' which meant they were in only seven or eight feet of water. Vagabond, with her dagger board up as it now was, but heavily loaded, probably drew a little less than four feet. There was a terrific slam and shudder as a big breaking wave smacked into all three hulls at once. Vagabond slowed seemingly to a halt and then surged forward again.
`Have we passed the point yet?' Frank shouted at Jim. `Look out your side!'
Jim stared out into the blackness off to his right, remembering that the point on which old Fort Macon and the
Coast Guard station were located was the last land to starboard before the open ocean. He thought he could see a few lights, probably the Coast Guard station, slightly aft of their starboard beam.
Ì see lights at about four o'clock,' he said to his father. 'I can't see anything directly abeam.'
Another breaking wave crashed into the trimaran, slowing her almost to a halt before she recovered and made good headway again.
`Two feet, DAD!' Jim cried at his father when he saw the depthmeter flicker at two feet, then zero, then three, then zero. 'Zero feet!'
White-faced and grimacing, Frank swung the wheel to bring Vagabond around towards the channel and deeper water, but also back towards the Coast Guard cutter. Ìt's just turbulence!' Neil shouted from behind them. `Does it stay steady at one or zero?'
he asked.
Ìt says "zero" now,' said Jim, frightened. 'And just occasionally a "two" or "three".'
It's turbulence,' Neil said, staggering up between Jim and Frank at the controls, Jeanne seeming to be trying to hold something against his arm. 'We should swing her southwest now. Away from the cutter.'
Ì'm not running her aground,' Frank said urgently, holding his course back towards the channel. He stared down first at the depthmeter, which fluctuated erratically between zero and now four and five feet, and then the compass, which showed them on a southeast heading.
`We're free, Frank!' Neil insisted, grimacing in pain. `We're out of the inlet. Head her southwest, even west. They'll see us if we stay on this course.'
Frank, frowning, his face, like each of the others, wet with rain and sweat, looked once briefly, fearfully at Neil. Àre you sure?' he asked.
`Head her west!'
`Six feet!' Jim announced.
Frank turned the wheel back to the right and Vagabond swung to starboard, first heading south, then southwest, where Frank straightened her. As they surged into the blackness, taking the swells now on their port side, Jim took a long look aft and saw the light sweep along the Fort Macon Point, then out towards them. A white eye blinded him as the wheelhouse filled with light, and then the light moved away out to sea. None of those standing in the wheelhouse spoke and Neil joined Jim in watching the subsequent movement of the light.
`They didn't see us,' Neil said quietly. 'Take her full west, Frank.'
Ì'll keep her on southwest,' Frank said, not looking at him. Ì tell you we're free!' Neil shouted.
Frank didn't answer.
`Five feet,' said Jim. All three men now looked at the depthmeter, which held at five feet for a few more seconds and then went on to six, seven, then ten feet. Frank eased the wheel a little to the right and slowly the boat swung more to the west until, after a half minute, Frank steadied her at 260 degrees, ten degrees south of west. Yet again the light, less bright now, exploded into the wheelhouse as the distant cutter swept the sea with its searchlight. Again it did not hesitate or return to Vagabond, which, at full rpm, sliced and ploughed away. For two or three more minutes the depthmeter read between ten and twelve feet, and then began climbing rapidly through the teens. Indeed, they were free.
Part Three
WATER
Free. Except for the threat of radioactive fallout, of storms, of pirates, of their overloaded trimaran breaking apart, ofdeath by thirst or starvation or disease, of mutiny, of the antagonism that the whole rest of the world now felt against the white people of America and Russia, both of whom they blamed for the war, those aboard Vagabond were free to do as they pleased. They sailed south.
The war sailed with them. Although they increased their distance from the coast as they moved south, and the threat of fallout receded, its consequences in the bodies of Frank and Olly and possibly others remained. Frank looked much more haggard than anyone else, had lost ten pounds and was sick again after a three-day remission. Olly was 'better'
but still feeling 'poorly'. Even Neil still felt unaccountable nausea once or twice. Nevertheless, at sea after a whole day of adjusting sleeping accommodations, meal times and rationing, they settled into a routine. Their watches remained the same except that Katya sometimes spelled Lisa with Jim. Macklin and Tony were berthed together in the forepeak, Katya in with Jeanne, and Olly slept either in Neil's aft cabin or on the dinette settee.
Tony, in his big, bluff, self-confident way, had made himself thoroughly at home again. Although he spoke loudly the first day or two about his being forced to let his country down, after they heard a report about heavy radioactivity at Morehead City and the mass evacuation south of all who could move, he ceased to raise the subject. He flirted with both Jeanne and Katya, helping them in the galley more than any of the other males and turning out to be an excellent cook,
especially of fish - their principal food. He was also, Neil admitted to himself, the best all-around sailor of his crew.
Katya and Jeanne got along well together, and though Katya wasn't a cook she let Jeanne, Lisa and Tony instruct her. She was, as she had advertised, a good sailor and tough, usually volunteering to help with sail changes on any watch when she was awake. When Tony and Macklin began to come on to her she handled each of them in his own style. With Tony she was casual and playful; with Macklin quiet and direct. Neil never knew precisely what passed between her and Macklin their second evening at sea, but he saw him speak to her in the side cockpit with a tight smile, saw her flush and speak angrily at him. He sneered, said something back, and wandered quietly away. If Katya-was good at 'fucking' she apparently was in no hurry to prove it, at least with Macklin. Macklin himself rarely said or did anything to draw attention to himself. He blended in. On land he had stolen a case of canned fruit, a carton of cigarettes, and five six-packs of beer. Though the fruit was relegated to emergency rations, they worked their way through the beer at two a day, dividing it up and sipping at it as if it were a rare champagne. When asked where he had got these items he had simply shrugged and said he'd 'stumbled across them in some guy's cellar'.
Their destination was the West Indies, initially Puerto Rico. But with the southeast wind forcing them to sail directly south by the end of the third day Neil felt they were already so close to the Bahamas that they should make a landfall on Great Abaco Island. There they might barter for more food and water, even, if they found the right conditions, try to settle. However, radio Nassau reported debilitating food shortages throughout the islands, and Americans were not welcome. If the principal food 'was fish, t
hey might as well continue at sea.
Fishing was, in fact, the focus of each morning and evening's effort. They had two ocean rods and reels with good
line, but only five lures, one of which they lost on their second day. At dawn and dusk they usually trolled with both rigs, one from each cockpit. The rods were usually jammed into place with a strong drag on the reels so that no one had to sit and hold them all the time. When a fish was hooked the helmsman would bring the boat up into the wind to slow it down, and someone would stand by with both a gaff and a large net while the other man on watch duty, who was responsible for the rods, would begin to reel in the hooked fish.
Because such fishing was new to most of them and because their lives depended on it, the bringing in of a fish was a major community event. They caught three bluefish their first evening, a twenty-pound tuna the next dawn, two dolphin and a tuna that dusk, then inexplicably lost two hooked fish and a second of their lures during the next dawn. The third evening, however, they recouped with two more dolphin and a barracuda. Neil himself, with his arm in a sling from cracking his elbow on the Moonchaser, couldn'
t help with the fishing, but it interested him to watch the different styles his crew had in bringing in and gaffing the fish.
When Frank was in charge of the gaffing there was shouting and confusion and irritability before Frank could get the man controlling the rod and reel to position the fish properly for gaffing or netting. Once the fish was flopping around in the cockpit there was always a delay and more shouting before Frank, looking pained, would knife the fish out of its misery.
When Olly was in charge everything proceeded as quietly as if all were in a silent movie, the only sound being Olly's soft talking to the fish. Olly never told the man at the rod or at the helm what to do, but by talking to the fish - 'Come on in a little closer, fella, my back hurts and I don't like leaning down none' - the man at the rod would know exactly what to do. When he had gaffed the fish, Olly would say something like Ùp you go, sonny, easy does it', as if the fish wanted to get aboard and all of them were involved in a co-operative
enterprise. Then, after the fish was aboard and flopping, Olly would take a minute to praise the fish to all the onlookers. `Look at those colours, will you? I ain't seen anything as pretty as that since my second wife bought herself that new dress', or `Now isn't that a big fella. Must weigh twenty-five pounds and not an ounce of fat. Bet he was an Olympic champ down below . . .
And when Olly killed, he always began talking to the fish again. 'Okay, big fella, afraid we got to quiet you down. I gave you time for your prayers but if you got anything else you want to say better say it now . . .' The fish would flop violently in response to this, or once, so everyone agreed, made some distinct grunting sounds, and then Olly, with one neat slice, would quiet the fish forever.
`Don't he look beautiful?' Olly would conclude. 'Just hope I look half as good when the Big Fisherman hauls me in and lays me out. I'm damn sure I won't taste as good.'
Conrad Macklin on the other hand gaffed and killed a fish with a fierce scowl as if involved in a life-or-death combat with a life-long enemy.
When Jeanne participated in the fishing Neil found himself focusing more attention. Her glistening dark skin and full lithe body distracted him considerably from the problem of boarding the fish, especially as she wrestled with the rod and reel or stuck her behind in the air to lean down to gaff, clad as she usually was only in shorts and a bikini top. She and Katya seemed to have the same effect on Tony, Macklin and Frank. Lisa's budding body, perhaps because of her shy dignity, was less observed, except by Jim. They were adapting to a world of scarcity. Neil restricted the use of their remaining two gallons of diesel fuel to the charging of the three batteries. Oil was now everywhere unavailable except to the military. To avoid having to charge the batteries any more than necessary, Neil used them solely for the shortwave radio. For illumination they used kerosene lamps, and, when necessary, flashlights. They had only four gallons of kerosene and that too might never again be easy to obtain. The two dozen candles aboard Neil stored as light of last resort. Even matches were scarce. Fortunately, no one smoked except Jim, who smoked marijuana and was abstaining, and Macklin, whose cigarettes had been confiscated by Neil to use in the West Indies as barter. But the bleakness of the land world and of shortages Neil and Frank and Olly kept to themselves. For all of them the sea represented a haven, a relief from the terrors and suffering they had experienced on land, and Neil wanted to try to keep it that way. For the first time there began to be casual joking among them that had been lacking before. On the second afternoon Neil had overheard Captain Olly teasing Frank about Vagabond.
`Yep,' Captain Olly was saying. 'You gotta good ship here, Frank. All you got to do is take off those two side boats you got, and the masts, and put a bowsprit on her and paint her black and she'd be right pretty. Might not even have to paint her.'
Frank laughed as he sat down in the wheelhouse with a small cup containing his daily ration of beer.
`Thanks,' he said to Olly, who was at the helm with his own cup.
`Don't be embarrassed your boat don't look like a boat,' Olly went on. 'Brazen it out. Pretend you got yourself a beginner's boat. You know, a three-wheeler so you won't tipover.'
Frank laughed again and even as he did, Neil realized that it was the first time since the war had begun that he had laughed. 'I tell people I got a special three-for-the-price-ofone deal that I couldn't pass up,' Frank said.
`Yep. Good story. Good story. Got to tell them something, that's for sure, so they won't know you're nuts,' Captain Olly concluded.
While Neil assumed responsibility for the sailing of the ship, Jeanne began to assume responsibility for how they interacted with each other. At dinner their second day at sea she
suggested that at every evening meal they observe a half-minute of silence before eating, and if anyone wanted to offer thanks for the food or for life, he or she might. Jeanne usually spoke, occasionally mentioning some specific individual she wanted to acknowledge. Often Katya or Jim or Frank would also add a brief word. More rarely Tony or Neil.
That night too she embraced and kissed each of the others still topside before she went below to her berth. Although all she said to each was 'Goodnight' and the person's name, Neil could see that the physical contact loosened the isolation each tended to feel. Even Conrad Macklin flushed and looked pleased. Among the men, at Jeanne's prodding, there were more 'good job, Frank', and 'thanks, Jim', and 'that's good, Tony', where before there had been either cold correctness or nothing.
Captain Olly had the most trouble adapting to the more affectionate routine which Jeanne kept urging upon them. When Neil relieved him at the helm at the change of watch and said 'Nice job, Olly', he testily replied: 'Can't expect me to run aground in five thousand feet of water.' When Jeanne gave him a goodnight kiss the second time he grimaced and grinned. "T warn't much of a kiss,' he said. 'If you want to get laid you got to do better than that.'
Jeanne looked surprised and then smiled, 'Don't worry,' she had said, her eyes flashing. '
When I want to get laid, the man will know it.'
Most of them found the meals repetitious and skimpy. They were rationing themselves severely on the last of their canned foods and some remaining fruits and vegetables, and salting and drying some of their fish steak for later. They were cooking in salt water and had cut their fresh water intake to a quart per person per day. The six adults were all experimenting with drinking a cup or two of sea water each day. To help avoid unnecessary gloom Neil became a censor. He permitted only Frank and Olly to listen to the shortwave and
transistor radios with him. The violent, anti-white, anti-Americanism he was picking up from stations in the West Indies they kept to themselves. The probability of mass starvation on many of the islands within a month they did not mention. Officially they were sailing for the islands untouched by the war. In his heart Neil knew that no place and no one and nothing would
ever be untouched by this war. Shortwave and transistor reports from the US mainland raised on the third day at sea a new spectre. A summer flu seemed to be afflicting many people in the west and southwest with an unusually high number of fatalities. One ham operator speculated that a biological warfare laboratory had been destroyed and that one of its germs had been responsible for the epidemic. In any case it now seemed to be killing more people than fallout. Typhoid had also become a problem. Of the fighting itself there was little news. The superpowers were still technically at war, but now like two exhausted and glassyeyed fighters who had landed such devastating blows in the first round that they seemed barely capable of standing, much less hitting each other. Thus it seemed that each day the ramifications and elaborations of the world disaster spread a little further, like a spilled bottle of black ink slowly soaking along a paper towel. Cuba had been heavily bombed by conventional means early in the war and when the Cubans tried to take the US Navy base on the eastern tip of their island, the US had used a tactical nuclear weapon to destroy much of the enemy force. Cuba's Air Force and Navy had allegedly been destroyed, but no effort made to invade. Guantanamo was being evacuated. Although nuclear explosions had destroyed -the Panama Canal, Miami, Cape Canaveral, American forces in Central America and oil refineries in Venezuela, the Caribbean area had been spared nuclear explosions since the third day of the war. Some rich Americans were flying to Puerto Rico and this influx of the privileged was being resented. Despite the presence of the US Navy, which, with the losses of its other Caribbean bases, now had its largest facility outside San Juan, pirate attacks were occurring on both private and commercial ships, both small and large. Food riots occurred on a regular basis in San Juan and smaller cities although officially there was as yet no starvation.
It was to this island that Vagabond was supposedly heading, but in the new world that all had experienced over the last ten days no one aboard expected anything. Neil set a course, they sailed on. In this new world the future was something that could only hurt or terrify or kill. To look beyond the next wave was dangerous. Neil set a course, they sailed on. To hope for more could only be done in whispers. On their third night at sea Lisa and Jim had the ten to two watch, with Neil awake in the wheelhouse. Near midnight Jeanne fixed some hot tea, one bag for three cups. Vagabond was still sailing due south with a good easterly breeze. An afternoon squall line seemed well behind them. With Jim now at the helm and Lisa watching the trolling rig in the side cockpit, Neil and Jeanne sat kittycorner from each other a few feet apart in the unlit wheelhouse, sipping at their weak tea.
Long Voyage Back Page 24