Against the Sea: Tales On and Under the Sea

by John E. Christ

  “What more can I want? I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  He decided to take a walk on the beach with the Uzi in hand as the sun turned a golden orange near the horizon. Aside from the seaweed on the beach, there was no sign of the recent storm. Nearly half way around the island, he found the Donzai resting snugly on the beach sand. Upon seeing it, he ran as fast as he could toward it. His joy was complete. Not only was unlimited power at his disposal, he also had a means to get safely off the island. Aside from a lot of water in the hull, there was little, if any, visible damage. Judging from the seaweed on the beach he knew at once how high the tide came in. He knew he would be able to get the Donzai afloat and running. It was just a matter of time.

  In the time it took for the tide to come in, he dug a deep channel around the Donzai and back into the water. As water encircled the boat, he pushed it back into the ocean. The first shove merely served as a warm-up since the boat barely moved at all. With persistence and careful additional excavations beneath the hull the Donzai slowly inched back into its rightful milieu.

  By midnight, the Donzai was floating 100 yards offshore in shallow water on a glassy smooth sea. There was barely enough breeze to be considered one. The silence of the night was broken by the thunderous rumble of the engine as it sprung to life. Assured all was in proper working order, Ruiz pointed the bow toward deeper water and pushed the throttles to maximum. The engine growled temporarily like a wildcat about to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. The hull nearly leapt out of the water surging forward, accelerating ever faster. In less than a minute ,he was bathed in a constant blast of tropical wind. Tossing his shaggy hair back and forth he laughed maniacally. He turned the Donzai sharply to port. Approaching the island, he reduced speed. He came as close as he dared and proceeded to circle the island in search of dockage.

  Although there was little ambient light, his eyes managed to accommodate to what was available. He found a small cove with dockage on the far side of the island in relation to the house. The water was relatively deep and the cove wide enough for a boat several times the size of the Donzai. Ruiz slowly maneuvered the boat next to the dock, secured it with several nylon lines and switched off the engine. There was no sign of anyone having been there recently; he sighed with relief.

  The path back to the house was marked with rocks on the edges. He walked cautiously taking in everything around him. Aside from the lush tropical foliage, he saw nothing of real interest or importance. When he returned to the house it was almost a relief from the monotony he felt.

  Ruiz stripped naked, took a hot shower, and fell instantly asleep on the first bed he encountered. During the night he dreamt of fame, fortune, wine, women and song. The dreams were indistinct but full of fuzzy bright colors. In the morning, when he woke he remembered none of the details; however, the feeling of expectant good fortune lingered and brought a warm feeling and smile to his face.

  The morning was one of those called perfect in the tropics. A cool breeze swept off the ocean giving the air a crisp clean flavor. Without getting dressed Ruiz made a pot of coffee, poured himself a big mug and walked out onto the beach. The breeze brought a wave of goose bumps to his bare skin. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

  “Isn’t this great!” He shouted. “I wish Maria was here to see me now!”

  The solitude crashed over him, bringing a deep sense of loneliness. What is paradise if you have it all by yourself, he thought. He tossed the unfinished coffee from the mug in a wide arc onto the sand. He had a schedule to meet; actually two; the first was for the cargo of the Donzai and the other was for himself. The sooner he finished the first, the sooner he could focus exclusively on himself.

  Ruiz redressed quickly into his old clothes before he realized they reeked of old sweat. Usually, this had never bothered him. He took the clothes off and searched the house for something suitable to wear. When he found nothing, he remembered REMAD.

  The computer was more than willing and able to create a set of clothes and accessories. The resulting effect of those clothes would make the most jaded gigolo green with envy. He stared at himself in a full length mirror primping for almost a half hour grinning from ear to ear.

  “Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet. I am going to knock you dead. I’m going to dazzle you!”

  With a few disco moves set to the music in his head, he returned to the mission at hand. He added several other items to take on the boat. REMAD performed flawlessly supplying multiple samples of weapons he would show prospective clients. As an afterthought, he also manufactured several gallons of the Scotch.

  Much to his chagrin he had created too many things to easily take to the Donzai. In that instance, he had REMAD make a hand truck which simplified things immensely. Even so it took several trips back and forth before he had everything moved to the dock. Since the Donzai was already loaded with cargo, it took him the greater part of the day to unload the boat, discard what was unnecessary, and reload everything he wanted. In the end, he was extremely fatigued and hungry. Worse yet, he had soiled his new clothes. Returning to the house he threw the new clothes carelessly away, showered, ate and settled on the nearest bed for a short nap.

  When Ruiz woke the sun was nearing the horizon. He collected a few edible supplies and went straight to the Donzai. Looking out over the water the waves sparkled like so many diamonds on a velvet carpet.

  “Too easy.” He chuckled. “Yes, too easy.”

  Of all the trips he contracted this was by far the most promising. If all went according to plan, he would never have to worry about anything again. Of course, there was the slight matter of how to deal with the owner of the house but that was a bridge he would cross when the time came. Out in the middle of nowhere there would be no problem of permanently disposing of any obstacles.

  With the turn of the key, the Donzai rumbled to life. After a few minutes of engine warm-up, Ruiz untied the lines from the dock and pushed the hull away from the shore. Engaging the clutch, he pointed the bow out into open water. A cool breeze came out of the southwest. When finally clear of the cove, he slowly pushed the throttle forward and accelerated. The island receded astern quickly as he laughed with joy, invigorated by the intensifying blast of air striking his face. In no time the island was a mere sliver on the distant horizon. There was nothing that could possibly go wrong.

  Ruiz watched the evening sunset with eager fascination as if he had never seen it before. He was giddy with self-importance and imagined power. He did not hear the approach of an unexpected visitor into his present world over the roar of the engine.

  ***

  Captain Luis Santos Martinez was a 10 year veteran of the elite Cuban Air Force. He prided himself in his airmanship and service to his country. There was nothing he would not do for his government. When he saw the Donzai streaking across the water below, he instantly recognized an enemy of the Revolution. Needing no other authority, he brought his MIG–21 around in a wide arc behind the speeding boat. Taking careful sight he launched a single missile. He watched the weapon home in on its target. In a flash of light, the missile struck the Donzai obliterating it instantly.

  “Too easy.” Captain Santos Martinez smiled as he turned his plane back home. “When will these people ever learn?”

  Upon This Rock

  A giant wave suddenly appeared in front of the bow striking fear into the helmsman, who having fought the storm most of the night was nearing total exhaustion. Almost as quickly as it had grown, the wave miraculously shrank, barely managing to crash over the bow. The helmsman immediately crossed himself for the answer to his prayers. After eight hours, the storm showed no sign of relenting even with the onset of dawn.

  The whaler, Esther II, was now two years at sea filling all available space with oil. Sailing from Nantucket down and around the Cape, she spent most of the time in the Pacific. Returning home was expected a relief for all the men. The voyage, although monetarily very successful, had exacted a severe price in human lives and feel
ings. Few, if any, of the crew ever expected sailing under Captain Frank Bell again.

  The wind out of the northeast slackened. The first mate, Nicholas Nicophorus, called "Nick Nick” by the crew, carefully assessed the rigging before issuing new orders. The crew had done their jobs well, as always, but he knew the Captain would be unimpressed. He was hopeful they would be home within a few days. To get away from the unpredictable insanity of the Captain would be more than enough compensation for what he had suffered since leaving home port. Approaching the helm, he noticed the firm determination of Indeo Jack fighting the sea, keeping the ship as safe as possible against disaster.

  “Good job, Indeo,” Nick Nick said warmly. “I have a feeling this won’t last much longer.”

  “God help us if it does.” Indeo turned the helm to port. “The summer is over. Only worse weather is to come.”

  “We will be home sooner than we think,” Nick Nick said flatly with no conviction. Aside from the storm there was still the Captain to contend and no one knew what he was thinking from moment to moment.

  “We have more oil aboard than any ship I have ever sailed,” Indeo said. “And still we don’t have enough. The Captain is crazy. He cares of nothing but himself and his oil.”

  The sky lightened and a short blast of wind accompanied by rain was followed by ever lighter seas. This was a clear sign the storm was relenting. Even the clouds receded. The various men at their stations automatically prepared the ship for more favorable weather. Nick Nick rarely had to tell the crew what was necessary. In that way, the ship functioned like a well-oiled machine.

  “What are you slackers doing?” The Captain appeared face flushed behind the helm.

  “The storm is nearly over, Captain,” Nick Nick said calmly. “I should have our exact position once the sun comes up.”

  “Piss poor,” the Captain sneered. “Piss poor.”

  “Is something wrong, Captain?” Nick Nick said slowly. He knew full well he was treading on thin ice. The Captain was always unpredictable, especially, when he drinking. As the Captain moved closer his breath reeked of alcohol.

  “A bunch of amateurs,” the Captain mumbled. “I leave for a few minutes and everything has gone into the drink.”

  “Everything is under control, Captain,” Nick Nick said firmly. “By my last readings we are well north of Bermuda coming near the Georges Bank. We shall be home soon.”

  “Aye, and then I’ll get a good crew.” The Captain snorted. “This whole trip has been a struggle against stupidity. I am surprised we’ve made it back this far.”

  Dawn brought not only increasing light but fair seas. In a matter of minutes the surrounding waves flattened to ripples. A break in the clouds to the east let a dazzling lance of orange light through. A peaceful day was certain to follow the night of perpetual storm.

  “Captain, may I have a word with you in private?” Nick Nick said slowly. “I want to settle a few things before we get home.”

  “Like what?” The Captain scowled.

  “In private.”

  The Captain lunged at Nick Nick and grabbed him by the collar. “You smell land and suddenly you get brave, boy?” He growled. “You had two years to have your say and I won’t hear it now!”

  “Aye, Captain.” Nick Nick did not flinch. “But I still think you should listen before it’s too late. There will be an inquiry. You don’t expect the men to remain silent do you?”

  “What do I care about what anyone says?” The Captain released Nick Nick’s collar roughly. “And besides, who is to believe the Captain or the pissant crew?”

  “There are too many witnesses to be discounted.”

  “And they are all liars!”

  “One man, maybe, eighteen I don’t think so.”

  The Captain turned and faced Indeo at the helm. “What do you think, mate?”

  Indeo caught off guard could not answer immediately. He sweated profusely with his eyes darting between the Captain and Nick Nick. He had discussed his feelings long before in the hope he would never be faced with expounding them aloud in a crisis situation. Nick Nick assured him there was safety in numbers and the closer they were to home the less possibility of unmitigated punishment.

  “Well?” The Captain shouted. “Speak up!”

  “We shouldn’t have done it,” Indeo said softly.

  “What did you say?” The Captain screamed.

  “We shouldn’t have done it,” Indeo said meekly.

  “A bunch of cowards!” The Captain raved. “Life is full of opportunities and challenges. Only cowards fail; only cowards lose; only cowards are blind to reality.”

  “What we did was wrong,” Indeo said somewhat louder. “God will punish us for the evil which we have done.”

  The Esther II had started her voyage two years previously on a calm late fall day. During the first few months, the crew of twenty-eight learned how to master the ship in all sorts of weather. Experience with capturing a whale was not forthcoming until they approached the Falkland Islands. Under almost ideal conditions, the Horn was passed without much effort. The Pacific provided an endless panorama of water punctuated by intermittent vistas of tropical paradise as they worked their way westward.

  The Sandwich Islands provided a welcome respite from the rigors of endless days at sea. Whales were plentiful near the islands which meant work. That work was rewarded with repeated trips ashore. Fresh fruits and vegetables were easily negotiated from the natives. A few men even negotiated bringing a woman on board without the Captain’s knowledge. When the Captain found out about the transgression, he had the women returned ashore and the violators flogged. One of the men died as the result of the punishment. The Captain rather than bury the man at sea ordered the body rendered for oil and the remaining meat salted for storage. No one took the Captain seriously at first, but when the first objection was raised the Captain had the dissenter flogged to death and rendered also.

  So far away from home, everyone was dependent on the Captain. The thought of mutiny occurred more than once, but no one was willing to risk the possible consequences of failure. The Captain had full control at all times. The lesson of punishment was one not forgotten by anyone who witnessed it. Whatever respect the Captain gained on the outward voyage became tainted with fear and disgust.

  The following month was swallowed up in hard work. Whales were found wherever one looked for them. The crew did not have time to dwell on what the Captain had done. Sometimes things happen which were necessary and should not be judged by mortal standards. God works in mysterious ways, especially at sea.

  A sudden storm caught the Esther II far from land and blew her southward. Whales were nowhere seen, so the Captain set the crew to putting the ship in order for busier days. A few days turned into weeks and weeks into months with nothing but busywork. The crew became restless and grumbled endlessly. The Captain tolerated no criticism. At any infraction, he inflicted punishment of the severest kind.

  Nick Nick managed acting between the Captain and the crew as best he could. It was a job that at times put him in peril of his life, but he knew his efforts were necessary if they were to return home safely. At times, although against his better judgment, he would encourage the Captain to drink himself into a stupor. When the Captain was thoroughly soused he was more manageable. Anything less and he was a mean drunk. As long as the alcohol held out, Nick Nick thought, everything would work out in the end. And then, when all seemed settled, things got worse.

  Sailing south and to the west a large pod of whales was found. Three boats were launched and the hunt was on. The Captain led the group, manning the tiller of his own boat. Each boat crew competed against the others to capture the first whale. As expected, the Captain with his experience and select crew managed coming within striking distance first. The moment the harpooner took aim at the whale’s back, presenting itself under the bow, an unexpected wave slapped the side of the boat causing the harpoon to plunge harmlessly into the water. The Captain became furious, hu
rling expletive after expletive at the hapless harpooner. With the harpoon retrieved, the Captain assailed his crew to catch up to the escaping whale. In the meantime, one of the other boats had better luck having successfully attached themselves to a whale. This infuriated the Captain even more, increasing the tension in the boat to almost intolerable levels. However, the crew did their best under the circumstances. Unfortunately, they were unable to come close to the intended victim. Realizing the futility of his efforts, the Captain ordered the crew toward the boat which had successfully landed a whale.

  When the Captain and his crew reached the victorious whalers, the whale floated limply in the water with its blood actively changing the water red. A man yelled “shark” putting everyone in both boats on alert. The dorsal fin appeared near the bow of the Captain’s boat. Seeing the shark the harpooner grabbed his weapon and hurled it with all his might at it. The harpoon hit the shark across its snout and glanced off. Totally chagrined he grabbed another harpoon. The Captain pulled a pistol out of his jacket and pointed it at the man whose back was turned to him.

  “Gentlemen,” the Captain said loudly. “This is what I think of failure.”

  The harpooner glanced over his shoulder and blanched. “You can’t mean to shoot me,” the harpooner said weakly. “It’s not right.”

  The Captain stood frozen, pointing his pistol for what seemed an eternity. “No, it’s not right,” the Captain said and put the pistol back where it came from. The Captain moved forward toward the harpooner. All the men in the boat remained in silent expectation for another explosion. The Captain extended his hand out to the harpooner, who relinquished the harpoon without resistance. The Captain then looked out into the water as if searching for the shark. The harpooner relaxed slightly and turned to search the water also. Suddenly, the Captain swung the harpoon, smacking the harpooner square on the back. The man lost his footing and fell headfirst into the water. One of the men in the boat nearly yelled “shark” but decided otherwise when the Captain turned and scowled at the crew. The man in the water quickly swam to the side of the boat and was about to pull himself out of the water when the shark bit him. The crew started to move when the Captain pulled out his pistol again. “I don’t need any cripples on my crew,” the Captain said and shot the bitten man in the head.