Destination: Unknown: A Desperate Tale Of Survival

by Larry Dodson

  "This is Mike, and this is Jordan. These guys have never sailed but they've got the right attitude."

  No one responded to George’s comment as the group slowly selected a comfortable place to sit on Richard's boat.

  Judy took the opportunity to take mental notes of George and his crew. George looked to be in his early thirties. He seemed to exhibit an air of contempt for any ideas other than his own. His short height of 5’ 8” probably played a role in his overly aggressive attitude. Jordan appeared the exact opposite. Late teens or early twenties, the thin man was quiet and appeared respectful. If there was a rebellious bone in his body, it came in the form of having one too many tattoos on his arms. Mike, now there was a challenge. Overweight and unkempt, you just knew he didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything. He wasn’t the least bit interested in what was going on.

  The next couple of hours passed quickly as the group discussed plans to relocate to an island somewhere in the Exuma out island chain. They agreed to consult the charts on their individual boats and make a group decision the next day. As they shifted to more relaxed subjects Brandon pulled a cigarette from his pack and lit up.

  "Hey, you got a spare smoke?"

  It was Mike.

  Brandon came back with his favorite response, “Never bought a pack with spares, do they attach them to the outside of the pack?”

  As the group chuckled you could see Mike starting to turn pinkish red.

  “Hey Dude, I thought George said this was a share and share alike thing.”

  Brandon didn't like Mikes tone, let alone his message.

  "Listen my friend, I was just kidding, I don't mind giving you a cigarette, but they're not community property. You did bring your own smokes didn’t you?”

  You could see Mike’s face turning different shades of red.

  "Fuck you. Fuck you and your cigarettes.”

  He abruptly stood up and stormed back to George’s boat. George made no excuse for Mike's over the top temper tantrum. George and Jordan casually got up and left as well. George parting with, "I can see you two are going to get along just peachy.”

  Waiting until George and his friends went below deck everyone tightened the circle. Mark wanted to know what would give George, or his crew any indication everything was going to be split evenly among the group. No one actually knew how much food or fuel was carried on each boat. It wouldn't be right to penalize the one who provisioned their boat with an abundance of food and supplies and expect him to share with piggy’s who carelessly set out with nothing more than “attitude”.

  You never wanted to reveal exactly everything you carried to anyone. Richard, they assumed, would only invite people that had mentioned stowing a couple of months’ worth of supplies on onboard. It was looking like George had slipped through the cracks and saw the group as a way to make up for his lack of preparation.

  Everyone knew deep down, as harsh as it would appear, when you ran out of food you'd be expected to voluntarily leave the group. The small convoy really only amounted to little more than moral support. No assurances were ever made as to sharing food or supplies.

  The next two or three weeks would reveal whether George should remain, or be cast from the group.

  As the rest of the members began to leave for their boats you could sense the feeling of "what have we gotten ourselves into". It was assumed Richard would unofficially lead the group. Throughout the evening’s meeting George constantly suggested he should lead instead of Richard based on his ability to best protect the boats. His proposal felt more like a mafia protection threat than looking out for their best interests. Sticking with the group could prove as fatal as staying in the marina if George were to get out of control.

  Lying on her bunk, Judy reached over to turn off the interior light.

  Brandon, reflecting on the evenings events mused,

  "Who would have thought a cigarette could be the harbinger of things to come."

  Chapter 6

  Exit Strategy

  Brandon and Judy were early risers. They woke well before sunrise. They capitalized on being the downwind boat to hide the distinct smell of frying bacon. From this point on hiding food smells escaping Sparrow's small galley would be of paramount importance, only followed by stealthily disposing of empty cans and food wrappers. Both realized there would be occasions when a can of beef stew would have to be consumed cold to avoid its distinct aroma.

  Shortly after eating, Brandon dove overboard to enjoy a refreshing dip in the warm gulf water. Besides feeling cleaner, the sea water would also wash away any lingering food odors. Granted, the salt water would tend to mat Brandon's hair but found the dry salt water on his skin not all that uncomfortable.

  Judy motioned him over to the side of the boat. "They’re ready to start the meeting.”

  "Tell them I'll be right there", as he swam toward the swim ladder.

  Brandon and Judy had decided before going to bed to let the island selection be made by the larger boats. With Sparrow’s shallow three and a half foot draft, she could easily anchor anywhere they chose. Besides, they had just recently arrived from California and had no experience in Bahamian waters.

  As Richard and Mark went over a large paper chart, George appeared unconcerned. Like Judy and Brandon, he had resolved to let someone else pick the destination. With over a thousand islands to choose from, the only criterion ended up being an island uninhabited and having adequate depth to anchor in.

  Richard happened to notice Jordan staring at Amanda. It was obvious Jordan was attracted to his teenage daughter. Amanda was a petite thin figured attractive young women. Under different circumstances she could have easily landed a modeling career when she finished high school. Jordan was oblivious to Richard's smirk as he returned to the chart. Evidently Jordan didn’t fit Richard’s criteria as a potential suitor for his daughter. The decision was made. Richard turned to face everyone while Mark started to write the coordinates on small slips of paper. Richard, in a voice lacking emotion, informed the group the island was located approximately eight hundred nautical miles from their present position. Richard and Mark also decided to make a judgment call on whether or not to make a quick stop over at the Dry Tortuga's should the weather threaten their journey. He went on to say, sailing at a minimum of four knots would take them about twelve days.

  Jordan was to first to speak, "Why so long, shouldn't it take about five days?”

  Richard explained to the newbie "It could in a power boat, but sailboats rarely sail a straight line. We have to factor in wind direction and adverse conditions. Believe me, I've sailed there more than a dozen times, twelve days is a realistic estimate.”

  "Bummer", replied Jordan, "Give me a power boat any day.”

  No one felt like taking the time to explain the merits of using the wind to move as opposed to a future of non-existent fuel supplies.

  Richard continued, "We should try to stay together. Use the radio sparingly and whatever you do don't broadcast your position, or our destination. Keep your eyes peeled for other boats and don't lose sight of one another."

  George interrupted Richard, “No problem, I'm not going to let anyone stray very far from the group.”

  Coming from George that was an unsettling statement.

  "What if one of us chooses to strike out on our own?" Brandon purposely directed the question at Richard.

  George without giving Richard time to respond instantly came back with, "As long as it doesn't create a hardship on the rest of us."

  Brandon could feel George’s words tightening around their necks like a noose. He wondered if leaving the group with food on board Sparrow would somehow fit George's definition of a “hardship”. Freedom of choice was slowly withering away with every statement George seemed to make.

  Returning to their boats, the lines used to raft the boats together were freed. They slowly started to drift apart as sails were hoisted. George was last to get underway way. He comically made over exaggerated motions to his "g
reen" crewman getting more frustrated by the minute. It made Brandon smile to think the group wasn't distancing themselves from the craziness on shore, at this moment the craziness was bringing up the rear.

  The breeze was out of the East and starting to freshen.

  "Looks like we're off to a great start," Brandon commented as Sparrow sprung to life coursing through the small swells. Judy altered course slightly to port in order to maintain a comfortable distance from Mark. Richard led the pack with eased sails to equalize his boats superior speed with the slower boats.

  "Holding steady at five knots" Judy said, as the group settled into a diamond like formation.

  As future weather broadcasts no longer existed the sailors had to rely on cloud identification and barometric pressure to gather weather information. As it was late October the odds of running into a hurricane were low. Hurricanes aside, they still had to keep an eye out for thunderstorms which were practically a daily event. It wasn't the lightning they feared, it was the sudden forty plus mile an hour wind avalanche spilling out ahead of the front that played havoc with their sails. Best case wild ride, worst case getting de-masted. Everyone except the newbies were aware of the hazards.

  As evening fell, the moon gave off just enough light to keep track of the fleet. Radio chatter was nonexistent. If it was important they would report it, otherwise it was chalked up as routine. Judy and Brandon prepared for the evenings "two hours on, two hours off" routine for standing watch. Tonight would involve the additional burden of keeping the other boats in sight, avoiding collisions and scanning for intruders. When your watch was over you knew you wouldn't have trouble falling asleep.

  Judy volunteered for first watch as Brandon snuggled into his bunk "Wake me up if anything develops". Judy nodded in agreement as he closed his eyes.

  It's amazing how fast 2 hours pass when you’re tired Brandon thought as Judy woke him to "Your turn."

  “Anything happen while I was asleep?"

  "I lost track of George for a while."

  "It's too bad he showed up, I’d prefer he got lost from the group.”

  Brandon took the helm as the rest of the first night proved uneventful.

  Chapter 7

  Current Events

  Shortly after sunrise the radio broke the silence. "Everyone listen up, this is Mark, two boats at eleven o'clock. I think there moving away. Looks like one sail, the other power."

  George was first to respond, "I don't see anything. Let me know if they look like their heading this way. If they're looking for trouble they've found it, and by the way next time use your number not your name.”

  "I just got excited.”

  "Think before you talk next time. 3 out.”

  That was the first positive sign since leaving port to give the group reason to re-evaluate George's contribution to the fleet. His attitude over the radio not only sent a message of willingness to protect the group but also contained a certain air of bravado.

  Mark continued to scan the direction of the potential intruders until they disappeared over the horizon. Mark’s discovery of the boats reinforced Brandon and Judy's diligence on keeping a constant 360 degree lookout. If intruders were going to surprise the group it wasn't going to be due to their negligence.

  A number of dolphins joined the fleet as they made their way down the coast. They never failed to draw attention as they effortlessly swam just inside the bow wake of a boat. As their familiar antics were well underway the mood suddenly changed gears. The unmistakable sound of automatic gunfire came from George’s boat. You could hear his crew whooping and hollering as volley after volley of bullets pelted the water’s surface. The dolphins instantly disappeared back into the sea. Though separated by some distance Brandon and Judy could barely make out, "You got one. No. You got two." from George's crew.

  Richard, not wanting to believe what he had just witnessed, broadcast over channel 16.

  "Your crew wasn't shooting at the dolphins were they?”

  "So what if they were?”

  "They say its bad luck to kill a dolphin."

  "I don't believe in old wives tales. Besides, my guys need the target practice."

  "And what did they get out of shooting at a stationary target four feet off your bow?”

  "Can it #1. Stay off the radio unless it's important.”

  Richard's inquiry had unintentionally revealed George's attitude toward traditional beliefs and values. The dolphin incident would not be brought up again.

  The mild breeze gave way to a stronger wind as the morning progressed. The group managed to roughly stay in formation as their bows turned the oncoming swells into glistening white arrays of spray. Under different circumstances the sailing conditions would have been the epitome of why sailors are drawn to the sea. It's almost impossible to explain to a non-sailor the exhilaration you experience ripping along at six to seven knots by manipulating the awesome power of Mother Nature.

  Just before eleven o'clock Richard reported another sighting. "Listen up, large ship heading straight for us. What do you guys want to do?”

  After what seemed like a long silence Richard came back over the radio, "Look, we can't out run it so we have two choices, stay in place or scatter in different directions.”

  The choice of running away would not favor Sparrow, she was the smallest boat of the group, and lacking a diesel engine would be the easiest to capture.

  George was the first to submit an alternative, "Why don't we try to hail it on channel 16? What do we have to loose. I don't think a ship is going to waste their time messing around with a few tiny boats."

  He was right. Their threats would come in the form of smaller boats looking for resources to extend a not so certain future.

  "This is 2, I agree."

  "4, affirmative."

  "Works for us, go for it, 3 out."

  As Richard started transmitting on channel 16 the ship slightly altered course to its port side. To everyone’s relief the white ship revealed the unmistakable red stripe of the United States Coast Guard. The ship did not display any intention of slowing down.

  "This is the Coast Guard, over."

  "Is there anything you can tell us about what's going on? Over.”

  "We were informed a nationwide power outage exists. Over.”

  "Is there any place along the coast that's safe for us to anchor at? Over."

  "Negative. Over."

  "Any advice or recommendations for us? Over."

  "Avoid the coastline until order is restored. Over and out."

  The ship continually shrank against the horizon as quickly as it had appeared. They were obviously heading north at top speed for reasons unknown.

  Thanks to the chance encounter with the Coast Guard ship, the rumors that preceded their escape would finally have substance. This was real, and from a credible source worse, than they had feared. Any reliance on outside aid was obviously nonexistent. Their survival would totally depend on making as few mistakes as possible until order was restored.

  "Well guys, it looks like we're definitely on our own from here on out."

  Richard continued to lead the group in the direction of the Dry Tortuga's as the afternoon wore on.

  Judy caught a glimpse of Jordan cleaning a rifle aboard George's boat. The barrel periodically reflecting a flash from the late afternoon sun. "Looks like their preparing for a war over there.”

  "Yeah, let's hope it doesn't come down to that or we're toast.”

  One thing Brandon regretted selling in California was his guns. Originally planning to sail the Bahamas, Judy had read articles about people having their boats seized for carrying weapons. When everything you own is tied up in your boat, you can't afford to lose it. The closest thing to a weapon was their flare pistol. Brandon had joked about the only way a person would fear them was if they were soaked with gasoline. The joke was now on them. Just another reason to give George a little slack.

  As the sun settled below the horizon Brandon stood the first wat
ch. Over the last few days he had come to the conclusion an attack at night was highly unlikely. The moon didn't rise to illuminate the night till the wee hours just before dawn. Unless someone was careless enough to display lights you wouldn't see them at all. Brandon thought to himself, maybe that's why the Indians didn't attack at night, they needed time to size up the enemy. Still, scanning an uneventful area of the dark had to be maintained.

  Years before, Brandon had earned a pilot’s license to get over his fear of flying. One of the tricks he remembered from night flying was not to stare directly at an object in the dark. Any dim source of light would magically disappear. Our brains subconsciously fill in an object with the surrounding black sky. He did his best to use peripheral vision but with his failing eye sight he probably wouldn’t have seen the Titanic.

  What the scanning lacked, keeping track of the other boats in the group made up for. By the end of the watch your eyes were so tired that nothing was more rewarding than crawling into your bunk for a couple of hours sleep.

  Chapter 8

  Dry Tortuga’s

  The morning sun found them within a couple of hours of a well anticipated anchorage at the Dry Tortuga's.

  As they closed on the island destination, Judy started reading about the Dry Tortuga’s from their "Cruising the Bahamas" guide. She relayed a condensed version to Brandon.

  "The Dry Tortuga's were first discovered in 1513. The word "Dry" was added to indicate a lack of water. The United States built a fort on the island. It was also used as a prison after the Civil War. In 1742 the crew of the HMS Tyger wrecked just offshore of the island. The stranded crew lived on the island for fifty-six days before sailing to Jamaica in several small boats. Do you want me to continue reading?”

  Brandon shook his head no. Something dead ahead had caught his attention. He slowly raised his right hand to shield his eyes from the morning sun, turned to Judy and announced "Land Ho".