Horizons Beyond the Darkness

by Scott B. Williams

  “Sorry can’t help wid de work, Casey. De AK bullet mess up de leg pretty good!”

  “Don’t be silly, Scully! You have nothing to apologize for! I’m just glad you’re alive and not hurt worse. I know it must hurt bad enough though, and I’m so sorry!”

  “Praise be to Jah, I an’ I gonna live! An’ you fatha, he seh I gonna walk again too. But he don’t seh how much time. Right now, it feel like mehbe de long time, Casey!”

  “I know, Scully. But we’re all going to help you any way we can. You just need to focus on rest and getting better. We’ll do everything else that needs to be done.”

  “Dis boat, I t’ink she on de bar pretty good. Coptain Larry seh he gonna lay her over by de mast. Dis is de best plan, but don’t know if dem got enough water to float her free. What you t’ink, Casey?”

  “I don’t know, Scully. It’s shallow, all right. You can see the bottom all around us. Rebecca must have been sailing at full speed to run so far onto that sandbar.”

  “Yes, an’ de Sarah J., she a heavy and strong boat. But main t’ing is de girl she got away an’ de bad mon, he dead. Not to worry too much. Larry get de boat free, but might take some time. Mehbe today, mehbe not.”

  “Yeah thanks to your new friends, that creep is dead. I hope they make it back here later today. I want to thank them again for all they did for you, and I know Uncle Larry does too. Tell me, Scully, how did you wind up sailing here with them?”

  When Scully had finished his tale of all that had transpired since he became separated from Artie, Grant and Jessica on the catamaran, Casey had a much greater appreciation of how lucky they all really were. If Scully had not chanced upon Thomas and Mindy and their little boat at the right moment, they would probably be dead and he would either still be in Florida or perhaps lost at sea trying to reach these islands in the kayak. Things had worked out well in the end, despite all the setbacks and worries along the way. Considering all that could have happened, it was almost a miracle they were all alive and together again. She hated that Scully had gotten shot, but she trusted that her dad was right in determining that he would recover fully. She gave him a reassuring hug and went back on deck to join Tara and Rebecca, who were standing by waiting as Grant and Jessica were heading their way in the kayak. She could see that the Casey Nicole was solidly anchored some 300 feet away now, and that Larry was paying out a long line that was attached to the stern of the kayak.

  “He said we were to shackle it to the end of the main halyard,” Tara said, as she loosened the cleat knot on that line and opened the shackle that was fastened around a stanchion eye to starboard. Casey could see how that would work. Once the halyard was attached to the line leading back to the catamaran, Uncle Larry and her dad could begin winching and the force would transfer to the top of the Sarah J.’S mast. Something would have to give once the tension was ratcheted up. If nothing broke and the catamaran stayed put, the lever forces would pull the top of the mast even farther down, forcing the hull to roll even farther to starboard. Casey sure hoped it would work. The high tide was in, but the difference was not a lot in these latitudes and the boat was still firmly embedded in the sand. Like Uncle Larry had said, it had unfortunately been close to high tide when Rebecca ran aground, so there was little hope of floating it off without somehow reducing draft.

  Grant brought the kayak alongside and while Jessica held it close against the lifelines he passed the end of the long line he’d been towing to Casey. It was a braided three-strand anchor line with an eye already spliced in the end, giving Tara a secure attachment point for the halyard shackle. “We’re going back to help with the winch,” Grant said. “All of you need to stay well clear of that line once we start cranking on it. Something could break!”

  “We will!” Casey assured him. She watched as the two of them paddled back, a part of her wishing she were the one in the kayak with him, but the more mature part reminding her that worrying about such things now was kind of selfish and silly. The chips were going to fall where they were going to fall when it came to that. Casey just hoped they could all be happy however it worked out.

  It was another ten minutes before Grant and Jessica were back aboard the catamaran and they were ready to start winching. Casey saw her dad take the first turn at the winch and watched as the long line snapped out of the water and slowly went taut. She held her breath as the winch took up the natural stretch of the nylon, and she hoped everything would hold. She and Tara and Rebecca had retreated to the cockpit and were standing under the bimini, peeking out. If the line broke it wouldn’t likely hit them there, and Larry had assured her something else would give before the entire rig failed and came crashing down.

  She saw Grant relieve her dad and continue cranking, and then she felt the boat began to lean in the direction it was being pulled. Maybe this was going to work! Tara and Rebecca were both grinning as the Sarah J. gave to the pull of the winch, and Casey leaned over the rail on the high side to try and see if the whole boat had moved or not. The heeling continued another five degrees or so, and then stopped. She saw that Grant and Artie were both on the winch handle, grinding away, but nothing seemed to be happening now. The Sarah J. was laid over so far that her starboard rail was nearly in the water, but she still wasn’t budging. There simply wasn’t enough water under her hull to float her off.

  Six

  LARRY CURSED UNDER HIS breath as he saw that his plan wasn’t going to work as well as he’d envisioned. He knew it was going to be tough without an unusually hide tide, which this one wasn’t, but he’d hoped the strategy of laying the boat over would be enough to make the difference.

  “Now what?” Grant asked, as he took a break from the backbreaking winch grinding he’d been sharing with Artie.

  “The only thing left to try if we’re going to do anything on this tide is to set the big anchor from the Sarah J.’s bow and see if we can spin her around and move her with her own windlass. Now that she’s on her side, it might be possible. It just depends on how much water we have. I’ll go with you in the kayak and figure out where we need to drop it to get the most effect from the anchor.” Larry then asked Artie and Jessica to stay aboard the Casey Nicole, as he would probably need them to use the catamaran’s winch to take up slack on the line to the masthead if the Sarah J. did begin to move.

  After all these weeks, Larry’s right arm was much better, but his strength was still a long way from a hundred percent. It pissed him off that he still couldn’t do everything with it that he’d taken for granted before, especially the hard work of grinding winches and hauling anchors. Paddling the kayak was still difficult too, so he took the front seat and let Grant do most of the work. The only consolation he had was that at least he knew it would get better. If not for his brother’s medical expertise, he might have lost use of his arm permanently.

  When they reached the Sarah J. he directed Grant to the bow, and with Casey and Tara helping from above, Larry managed to take the heavy Delta bow anchor and chain into his lap where he balanced it precariously until Grant paddled them in position to drop it. The spot he chose was at about a forty-five degree angle off the starboard stern. He hoped that pulling from that direction would pivot the hull around and break it free enough to allow them to slowly inch it into deeper water. When it was finally set and they were ready to try it, the next challenge was working the manual windlass with the deck at a near ninety-degree angle, making decent leverage nearly impossible. Grant was able to manage though, standing up in the kayak while Larry held them in position, but when the slack went out of the rode he still couldn’t get the grounded boat to move.

  “This isn’t going to happen on this tide,” Larry said. “It’s going to take at least a few more inches of water to do any good.”

  “Are you sure it’s maxed out?” Tara asked.

  “Yep. It’s slack now and going to start dropping again soon.”

  “Great! Now we’re really going to have a hard time living aboard. The bunks are sideways, La
rry!”

  “She’ll come back up to about where she was before we started once we slack off that line to the masthead. In fact, we’d better head back over to the Casey Nicole and do that now, Grant. We don’t want to wait until the tide falls, or she will stay like she is.”

  “So that’s it?” Tara asked. “You don’t have any more ideas?”

  “I’m thinking, Tara. We’ll get her off, but you’ve got to understand that your boat is pretty hard aground. Look at the bright side though. At least it’s sand and not a reef!”

  “Dad’s trying to tell us something,” Casey interrupted.

  Larry looked that way and saw Artie waving both hands overhead, and then pointing, seemingly at them. He couldn’t figure it out at first, at least until Casey yelled at him again.

  “It’s a boat! That’s what he was pointing at, not us!”

  Larry pulled the kayak farther forward so he could see around the bow of the Sarah J. to the open water beyond. Sure enough, there was a vessel approaching. It was good-sized trawler yacht, still a mile or so out, but coming their way at maybe 8 to 10 knots.

  “Dammit! Where the hell did they come from?” There hadn’t been a boat in sight when he and Grant had paddled over from the catamaran. Now the two boats were separated by a hundred yards and all of their weapons were aboard the catamaran with Artie, other than the old SKS that Russell had fired at them when he took off from Green Cay. With the Sarah J. immobilized and only the kayak to get back and forth between the two boats, there was no way to get everyone to the Casey Nicole in time, especially with Scully in the shape he was in. The only option was to bring the catamaran over here. The last thing Larry wanted to do was face an unknown threat with the two boats and their crews divided and limited in maneuverability.

  “All of you, get back to the cockpit and get ready to get inside the cabin before they get close! Grab that SKS Casey and be ready to use it if you have to. We’re going to get the Casey Nicole over here ASAP! Let’s go, Grant!”

  Larry’s mind was racing as the two of them paddled for all they were worth. When they were halfway there, he was already motioning for Artie to release the winch and slack the line holding the other boat on her side. It took his brother a couple of minutes to figure out how, but once he did, Larry glanced back to see the Sarah J. slowly rolling back up, now closer to forty-five degrees than to ninety. He also saw that the motor vessel was closing in—it was less than a half-mile out now and still approaching at a steady speed. He cursed the thieves that stole his binoculars; without them there was no way to see enough details to figure out the intentions and numbers of the crew aboard. The boat was coming right at them though, and from recent experience, Larry had to assume the worst.

  He was thinking fast as he and Grant paddled. Because they had secured the catamaran so well for the attempt to pull the Sarah J. off, it would take far too long to retrieve the three anchors and rodes they’d set. He was already yelling to Artie and Jessica to grab some fenders out of the cockpit lockers before he and Grant came alongside. The quickest way to move the boat was to let loose the anchors rodes from the deck, attaching a fender to the bitter end of each to serve as a marker float. They could retrieve them later; the important thing now was to bring the two vessels together so they could consolidate their defense or get everybody off the stranded Sarah J. if fleeing turned out to be the better option.

  Leaving the kayak in the water and tied alongside, Larry and Grant leapt into action once they were aboard and began casting off the anchors. Artie hauled up the mainsail as soon as she was free and the Casey Nicole slowly rounded off the wind until Larry was able to jibe the main and bring her about.

  “They’re slowing down now,” Artie said. He’d bought their three best rifles up from below, placing them close at hand on the cockpit seats.

  “Yeah, they’re probably watching our every move. I’m sure they’ve got binoculars. Seeing that we’re armed might be causing them to rethink their strategy.”

  “Do you think they’ll turn back?” Grant asked.

  “Don’t count on it. They can see there are just three of us. And that we don’t have much protection on an open bridgedeck catamaran. And that our other boat is aground.”

  “Well, they are turning off a bit,” Artie said.

  Larry could see that he was right. He could also see now that it was a well-maintained and expensive vessel, unlike those in most of their bad encounters. Maybe they weren’t planning to attack after all, but then again, Larry knew the yacht could have been taken from its original owners and anything was possible. Either way, he knew the best thing the three of them could do was to get the Casey Nicole alongside the Sarah J. And because the approaching boat hesitated and then came to a stop, they were able to do just that while it was still a good quarter mile away. Grant hopped aboard the other boat and shoved three of their remaining fenders in between, securing them in place as Larry loosed the mainsheet, leaving the sail up and flogging in the wind in case they needed to make a quick escape.

  “Look! Someone’s launched a dinghy!” Tara shouted.

  Larry looked to see a small outboard-powered inflatable had started in their direction from the stern of the yacht. There was only one man aboard, and Larry could see that he was waving something slowly back and forth over his head. His approach was slow and cautious; as if he was afraid he’d get shot for his efforts.

  “It looks like he wants to talk,” Grant said. “He’s waving that life jacket like a flag of truce.”

  “I hope you’re right. But let’s not take any chances. I’ll go forward to the bow and wait and see. The rest of you stay low in the cockpit. Keep him covered in case it’s some kind of trick.” Casey and Tara were watching from the open companionway while Grant and Artie crouched on the cockpit seats. With the boat now leaning over like it was, it was easy to keep a low profile behind the coaming, but they knew the fiberglass and teak would offer little protection against bullets. Larry would be the most exposed as he went forward, but he was feeling better about the encounter now. The yacht was still idling where it had first stood by after it changed course, and now he could clearly see the face of the man in the dinghy, an older fellow about the right age to be retired and cruising such a vessel. When he reached the bow pulpit, Larry waved and signaled for the stranger to continue his approach.

  “HOWDY!” the man called, as he closed the gap and shifted his outboard into neutral, idling it down so they could talk. “We didn’t mean to alarm you! We saw that catamaran and knew it was a Wharram. We thought it might be friends of ours we’ve been looking for until we got closer. Theirs is a little bigger, but it looks just like that one. Is the monohull yours?”

  “No, the Wharram is. But we’re sailing together.”

  “This is a tricky area to navigate. I’m not surprised you ran aground.”

  “It wasn’t a navigation error,” Larry said, though he doubted the man would believe him.

  “No luck getting it off with the anchors, huh? I thought you could probably use some help, that’s why I decided to stop and say hello, even when we figured out the catamaran wasn’t the one we thought it was.”

  “We’re working on it, but there’s not enough water on this tide to pull her off. She hit the bar on a high tide, unfortunately. What’s the name of your friends’ boat? I may have heard of it. The Wharram world is a small one.”

  The Polynesian name the man answered with didn’t ring a bell though. Larry knew of a few Wharram owners he had crossed paths with over the years doing his deliveries, but this one was a Tiki 38 that the man said was based out of the Palm Beach area.

  “They had it built by a pro over there. Probably the most expensive Wharram ever launched, but it sure is nice! From a distance they all look the same and when we spotted your rig as soon as we reached the banks to the southeast, I was almost certain it was theirs. We’ve been hoping we would see them again. We’ve spent time with them every winter here in the islands for the last three yea
rs. I just hope they made it out of Florida.”

  Larry didn’t know about this particular Tiki 38 but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist. Sizing the man up, Larry believed he was telling the truth and that his offer to help was genuine too. Such a thing would not have been unexpected in prior times, before the world turned upside down with the blackout. Mariners generally went out of their way to help each other out. It was just that it had been a while now since anything like that had happened and Larry couldn’t help but be suspicious at first. The man was letting the dinghy drift some 30 yards away, keeping his distance as he talked. Larry was sure he’d seen that they were armed, and that even now Grant and Artie were watching him closely from the cockpit.

  “We could probably help you pull it off the bar,” the man offered.

  “I appreciate it, but I’d hate to hold you up like that. The tide’s already falling again, so we’re gonna have to wait until the next high to try again.”