by Bob Rich
William watched Cole grab a battery-powered waterproof spotlight and shine it first on the cockpit and then into the waves.
“There’s a reef around here somewhere,” Cole yelled. “I can’t find the goddamn reef!”
Suddenly, there was a horrific crunching sound and William thought, I think the reef just found us. Once again they were taking on water. William figured that the jagged coral of the reef had stoved in their hull. Still he held on to the rod.
William heard Cole yelling into a radio, “Mayday, Mayday, Keys Disease calling, Mayday.”
Just then the boat lurched almost onto its side as another wave battered it into the reef. William looked up to see his brother lose his balance on the wet and slippery bridge, then lose his footing and tumble off the bridge ten feet to crash hard on the floor of the cockpit next to where William was trying to keep standing.
“Cole, Cole,” William yelled to his brother, who was lying facedown on the deck. Lightning crashed again and illuminated the sky as their monster marlin jumped into the electrical air not fifty feet away from them.
William looked at the fish, then at his brother lying crippled on the deck, and then at the rod in his hand. He shouted to the wind, “Okay, old man, you can have him. He’s all yours. Tight lines and rest in peace.” With that, he threw the rod, still hooked to the marlin, over the side and scrambled to his brother.
“Cole! Cole, can you hear me?” William shouted. Nothing.
The boat was lying sideways against the reef, and every wave that hit them was accompanied by a cracking sound of something else breaking.
William put his arms around Cole, pulled his head up out of the water on the deck, and sat him up against the tackle station built into the boat’s bulkhead.
Eventually, Cole grunted in pain, and his eyes opened slowly.
“Cole!”
“What happened to the marlin?” Cole asked.
“Broke off when we hit the reef,” William lied.
“Shit.”
“Can you move?” William asked.
“Don’t think so,” Cole said. “I think some of my ribs are broke.”
“We need life jackets,” William said.
“They’re in the salon under the seats,” Cole said.
William forced the salon door open, found two life jackets, and brought them back, carefully fitting one on Cole and putting the other on himself.
“Could this boat sink?” William asked him.
“Yeah, we’re wedged against the reef and eventually these waves will cause the hull to tear apart. There’s a life raft down below.”
“Okay, I can get it,” William said.
“No, that’s my job,” Cole said. “I know where it is. I’ll get it. You need to get up to the bridge and find a small portable transponder unit with a battery backup. It’s in a yellow waterproof case under the pilot’s console. There’s a flare gun in the case as well.”
The boat rocked wildly. “You gonna be all right?” William asked him.
“Yeah, just get that yellow transponder case and get back down here as fast as you can.
“And William . . .” he said as his brother turned to look at him.
“Yeah,” William said.
“Watch your ass, man. I don’t want you dyin’ before I get the chance to kill you.”
William laughed. “Likewise, Cole,” he said. “After all, you’re the only family I’ve got left.”
They both smiled.
The boat was now lying at a dangerous angle as the waves battered it against the reef. William tied the handheld spotlight to the fighting belt that he was still wearing, reached out and gripped the ladder, and with white knuckles slowly made his way, rung over rung, to the bridge. Lightning flashed all around.
William crawled on his hands and knees to the console and dug through the equipment hatch until he found the transponder in the yellow waterproof oilskin satchel. He threw it over his shoulder just as there came the horrible crunching sound of the boat’s hull buckling.
The water flooding the hull changed the sportfish’s balance and the boat rolled over on its side. William took a deep breath and dove from the bridge as another giant wave rose and crashed over the capsized boat.
William hit the foaming, black turbulent water hard, then flailed his arms and kicked his feet, struggling to reach the air. Finally, aided by his life vest, he popped to the surface gasping. William wiped his eyes and blinked to see that the Keys Disease had rolled all the way over and was now lying upside down against the reef. He tried to dive down to look into the salon window but his life vest was holding him up, making it impossible. He slipped off the flotation device and with the transponder still around his shoulder, grabbed the spotlight, turned it on, took the biggest breath he could, and dove to the window. In the beam of the spotlight he could see the closed salon filling with water, but there was no sign of Cole.
William resurfaced and swam around to the stern of the boat and dove again to the salon door, then, pulling hard, tried to slide open one of the sliding pocket doors. He couldn’t budge it. He shone the light in the window and from this angle saw his brother inside struggling to keep his head above the water and into the top bit of space to breathe in what looked to be about a foot of air trapped in a pocket there. He knew that air pocket wasn’t going to last long, as the water in the salon was rising fast.
Frantically now, William kicked to the surface to find something to use to smash the door in. All of a sudden some piece of debris hit him in the back of the head—it was the rosewood pistol case. He grabbed it and dove down again to the salon window. Holding the wooden case, he jammed it as hard as he could against the glass then held up the spotlight to see that he had cracked the window. Three more smashes of the box and the window shattered. Aided by the rush of water from the outside, he was able to kick in all of the glass before swimming into the cabin. William surfaced face-to-face with his brother, gasping for air in the small air pocket that remained.
“Forget it,” Cole said, “you can have the boat.”
“What about the raft?” William asked him.
“I already got it,” Cole said. “Let’s get out of here!”
Cole and William made their way to the window, pushed out the raft, then pulled their way out of the salon.
Reaching the surface the brothers kicked their way through the broiling sea. Waves crashed down on them, threatening to wrest the life raft out of their grasp, but they both held on to it as if fighting for their very lives.
When they got to a safe distance from the reef and what remained of the boat, they undid the snaps that kept the raft folded and Cole pulled the cord that released the CO2. They held their breath, then even over the storm heard the rush of air as the circumference of the little craft popped into shape.
William pulled himself into the raft then helped Cole climb in as well. He noticed that there were a couple of paddles inside.
It was obvious that Cole was in a lot of pain.
“How are your ribs?” William said.
“Not so good,” Cole said, “and I think I may have broken my leg, too.”
Cole also had a nasty gash on his shin that was bleeding profusely. Not a good thing, William thought, in shark-filled waters.
“Must have happened when the boat turned over,” Cole said.
“Well, we can cut up my shirt for a tourniquet and use those paddles and my fighting belt for a splint,” William said, “but it’s gonna hurt.”
“Go for it, Will. Just cinch it tight and let’s get it over with.”
William went about creating the splint: laying out the belt, cutting it in half with the knife from Cole’s belt, and preparing the makeshift device.
“You ready, Cole?” he said.
Cole put his hand on William’s shoulder and said, “Just do it, bro.”
William pulled the first strap tight around his brother’s leg and the paddles. Cole yelled out in pain and then passed out. William tightened t
he second strap, took off his shirt, and fashioned it into a tourniquet to try to stop the bleeding.
With Cole out for the count, William performed a close inspection of the raft. There didn’t seem to be any air leaks, and they were not taking on any water. Then he checked to be sure that the transponder was working. That done, he sat back for what he hoped wouldn’t be too long a vigil.
He reflected on everything that had happened in his life during the past week. Lightning continued to flash in the sky and thunder seemed to engulf the little raft. Almost instinctively, William said a prayer for his father’s soul and asked that he and his brother survive this storm so that they might get to know each other. Then as the storm raged around them, totally exhausted, he fell asleep.
CHAPTER 19
THE RESCUE
Next thing William knew he was waking up to the first light of dawn. The storm had moved through; he could see lightning way off in the distance. The bright stars of Gemini appeared between the drifting clouds in the sky. The churning sea had been replaced by huge dark swells, well spaced and regular, offering no imminent danger to their little raft.
He looked over at Cole, who was still out. His breathing was regular although occasionally he moaned softly. William put his hand on his brother’s forehead; it felt cool, as if he didn’t have a fever. Gently putting his thumb and two fingers on Cole’s wrist, he checked his brother’s pulse and heartbeat: regular. Then he examined the splint and the tourniquet, which seemed to be holding up fine. The gash on Cole’s shin looked ugly but it had stopped bleeding.
William sat back to wait, watching their transponder blinking silently. He looked out at the sea rising and falling around their raft and was suddenly shocked to see about six large black fins heading toward them. Sharks.
He felt it was time to wake up his brother for this. He said, “Cole, Cole wake up!” Cole didn’t respond. He put his hand on Cole’s shoulder and shook him. “Cole, please wake up.”
Cole opened his eyes slowly, then grimaced as he felt his pain. “What?” he said.
All William could do was point toward the approaching fins. Cole raised his head, took a look, and then put his head back down. “What’s the matter,” he said, “you afraid of a few bottlenose dolphins?”
Greatly relieved, William sat back to watch the approaching pod. Four large gray adults and their young, two small calves, greyhounding through the water toward the brothers and at the last minute diving under their raft, being careful not to hit or endanger them. Then almost as one, they turned, repeated the maneuver, and swam randomly around the raft as if they were saying hello, or checking up on them, or merely wanted to play.
William turned to his brother.
“How’re you feelin’, Cole?”
“I’ve felt better,” he said, “but I’ll make it. Thanks for all you did.”
“Just tried to think of what you would have done,” William said, “if you hadn’t killed me, that is.”
Cole flinched when he laughed and said, “That hurt my ribs, no more jokes.”
“So Cole,” William asked, “do you think we’ll get rescued soon?”
“Yeah sure, man,” Cole answered. “You’re such a big shot and now a media darling, I’m sure that the New York press has put out an all-points alert and launched a full-scale search. They probably want to know if you’ve shot anyone with those pistols of yours . . . like an indigent Keys fishing guide.”
“Great!” William answered. “How ’bout you playing dead then to help build up my image?”
“Sure, whatever I can do to help,” Cole said. “Seriously, with that transponder beepin’, I’m sure that someone’s tracking us and will scramble to come get us now that the storm’s over.”
“That’s good,” William said, “but I sure wish I had that mobile phone that you tossed in the drink.”
“Yeah, that was pretty good,” Cole said. “I guess that I hated you for so long, I was really trying hard to bait you into a fight so I could kick the shit out of you.”
“And now?” William asked.
Cole said, “Now we’re on the same team. I feel like you were with our father for his first life, and I was with him for his second, but I’m glad that we both had the chance to be with him in the end.”
This statement hung between them as they swayed in the raft. In a while, Cole said, “By the way, I guess I didn’t help you much with that Jenny Hunter, did I?”
“No problem,” William said. “I’m afraid that that was a self-inflicted wound, just like the one on my forehead.”
“You know it’s bleeding again, don’t you?” Cole said.
“Yeah, I figured so. Guess I’d better have someone look at it when we get in.”
The life raft drifted for a while as the morning sun beat down on the brothers. William broke the silence with a short laugh.
“What?” Cole asked him.
“Well, I was just thinking,” William said, “you’re my brother and for all the time we’ve been together these past few days and everything we’ve been through, I don’t even know your last name. Is it McKay?”
“No,” Cole said. “It’s Snow. My mother chose it . . . it’s the street name for cocaine. She thought it was a big joke. I wasn’t much amused, so I decided just to go by my first name.”
“Yeah,” William said, “some joke all right. So tell me, Cole, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get home?”
Cole looked his brother in the eye and said without hesitation, “Go fishin’, of course. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. How ’bout you, Will?”
“Well,” William said after a long pause, “I think I need to do some work on discovering who I am so I can find my life. I’m going to start, though, by releasing four sharks who I’ve shared an office with. I think they’ll like getting out of New York and reintroduced to the ocean. That’ll be a first step toward finding my own happiness. What do you think?”
Cole didn’t answer. William looked over to see that his brother had closed his eyes and fallen back to sleep.
After about an hour, far off in the distance, there came a sound . . . a sound that William recognized from a long time ago . . . a helicopter. Cole opened his eyes, while William dug through their transponder bag to find the flare gun, raised it, and fired it into the morning sky.
A large long-range Bahamian coast guard helicopter soared in toward them, causing the water to rush around them and into the raft. Seeing Cole’s condition, the crew lowered a rescue litter basket, and William helped Cole into it. As they hoisted Cole out of the raft, William flashed back to some similar experiences he’d had with the helicopter evacuations of injured troops from the jungles and rice fields of Vietnam. Some of those results hadn’t been very good, so he forced those thoughts out of his mind.
With Cole secured, it was William’s turn. The rescuers lowered a yoke to him. He put it over his head and under his arms, gave ’em a thumbs-up sign, and up he went. Once on board, William saw that the medical crew had already hooked up an IV to Cole’s arm and were giving him a shot and attending to his injured leg. Cole looked at him and smiled as they hooked William up to an IV as well and handed him a plastic bottle of ice water.
As William enjoyed a long drink, a crewman looked over at him and said, “You are lucky, mon!”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” William said.
“No, no, no, mon,” the crewman said, “not because of de accident and de rescue . . . at de new hospital, we’ve got a brand-new lady doctor! Her name is Hunter, but she’s so fine, we call her de fox. She’ll take good care of you, mon.”
CHAPTER 20
THE FISHING DAY ENDS
As William and his grandson, Kyle, rowed toward the mooring dock of the Turtle restaurant, Kyle said, “Whatever happened to your brother, Grandpa?”
“Well, son,” William said, “we stayed at the clinic in Bimini for about three days until he was strong enough to travel and then returned to Islamorada. After our adventure,
I offered Cole a job and some stock in my company, but in typical Cole fashion, he declined. I believe his exact words were, ‘And be miserable like you? What the hell would I want to do a dumb-ass thing like that for?’”
• • •
Finally back in Islamorada, William gathered up his stuff and got ready to head for the airport in Marathon. Cole demanded to drive him down there in their dad’s old truck, broken leg and all. Cole was one tough cookie, William thought, as he helped Dorado clamber into the bed of the truck for the ride then climbed into the passenger seat.
When they got to Marathon Jet Center and pulled up to the G2, Captain Harding was waiting and even threw William a salute.
“Hand me my crutches from the back, will you, Will?” Cole said. “I want to get a view of this bird close up.”
Cole climbed out of the truck and the brothers stood together by the plane. “Last chance, Cole,” William said. “You want to reconsider my offer and fly with me to New York?”
Without hesitation Cole said to William, “When pigs fly out my ass!”
William laughed and put out his hand to him, then, instinctively, he dropped his hand and gave his brother a big hug. Cole hugged him back, his crutches falling to the tarmac. William looked him in the eye and said, “Cole, I’m glad to have you as my brother.”
Cole said, “You too, bro.”
William bent over and picked up the crutches and handed them to his brother, happy that his new sunglasses hid the tears welling in his eyes.
“Tight lines,” William said and walked up the stairs into the plane.
The plane taxied down the runway, turned, and took off. William looked out the window to see Cole still standing by the truck and waving good-bye.
Cole and William had vowed to stay close and take a fishing trip together every Christmas. In fact, they vowed a lot of things but both got busy and it never happened. They talked a few times on the phone but that was the last time they ever saw each other. One day, a few years later, William got a call from Mrs. Reno. Cole had been flying over the Gulf of Mexico with a friend spotting tarpon and apparently flew too slow, causing the plane to stall. It crashed headfirst into the ocean.