“Good Christ, get out!” I yelled, moving to close the door.
“Aye aye!” he yelled back, receding down the hall at a lope. “We only got ten minutes to get to the boats or Benito will have our ass.”
I changed into my new boots and the heavier coat. I looked at the diminutive life vest. “What the hell do I need with a life vest?” I questioned the empty cabin. I tossed the thing onto my bunk, and then made for the corridor outside.
I followed the descending passengers down. At the end of the bottom berthing deck, a crowd had backed up into the hall. I eased my way through the packed mass, smiling and saying “Anthro Professor,” not having a clue as to why I was saying anything at all. A nucleus of staff crew stood near an open steel door. The water was visible just below the level of the door’s bottom. I could see Zodiac inflatables running in circles. Most of the opening was blocked by the bulk of our cruise director’s stout body, however.
“You,” her commanding voice echoed around the small area. Benito was pointing at me.
“Ah,” was all I got out, my index finger pointing at my own chest, like an errant school child.
“You’re late. You’re on the first boat out. Don’t screw it up. You get twenty passengers. Orbit till you see how some of the other boats do it, and then get your charges ashore. Your driver’s Felipe. He doesn’t speak English.” She grabbed me by the arm, and then almost tossed me over the side of the waiting Zodiac’s rubber pontoon hull.
“Where the hell is your life jacket,” she bellowed down at me, but Felipe had already gunned the outboard.
Soon, we were out riding across the tops of the waves. It was exhilarating. Twenty passengers stared at me as I got to my feet in the center of the boat. It was hard to stand. The floor was made of flexible wooden slats. The entire body of the boat twisted like the rubber it was made from. I didn’t know whether to go to the stern of the craft or the prow. I looked at Felipe. His Filipino face was dark, flat and expressionless. No clues there, I thought. I pointed to a spot near him, and then at the bow, then shrugged expressively. A great toothy white smile came over his features. He pointed at the prow, so I worked my way there, grabbing a line hanging overboard to steady myself when I arrived. I stood as best I could, rocking back and forth with the movement of the boat through the water, wondering in the back of my mind how a Filipino might come to have the name Felipe.
We circled aimlessly, while the other boats headed for the imposing shore. The sea was not raging like it had been beyond the protection afforded by the two close islands. We entered as the fifth boat in a line toward the shore. When we crested the swells, a small village was readily apparent ahead. Its structures were makeshift clapboard structures on stilts. Substantial enough, but also peeling and rickety. The town’s most remarkable feature, a huge water tank, sat near the base of a small stone jetty.
We orbited again, as the first Zodiac landed through the surf. Two huge flat angled stones next to the jetty acted like a wet dock for the landings. The Zodiacs rammed over a bed of stones, then on into a natural “V” formed by the rocks. The pilot of each boat gunned the motor to hold it fast up against the piles of shore rocks. After passengers offloaded over the bow, they backed directly out into the surf, taking wave after wave over the stern. Once out of the “V,” pilots swiveled their boats around, then ran hard back to the ship, sea water pouring out of the boat over the stern boards.
It was our turn. I looked back at Felipe. It had seemed easy when watching from offshore. Up close it wasn’t the same. Waves were breaking at a good four- to five-foot height. There was to be no gentle approach. Felipe did not wait for my direction. He aimed the bow into the “V,” then hit the throttle hard. We wedged in over the top of a breaking wave and slammed into the rocks. We all recoiled and then began scrambling over the rubber pontoon of the bow.
I stood to assist, which was unneeded until the last passenger. She was an older woman. She came over the rubber bow then plunged straight down onto the rocks. The boat lifted and dropped with each wave. I looked behind but all I saw was the disappearing backs of the other passengers. The surf and wind were too loud for yelling. I grabbed the woman by the shoulders, twisted her around and lifted. When I got her up I pushed hard from behind. She went up over the rocks and I went down, sliding under the hull of the boat.
I slid completely down into the “V” and the boat came down on top of me. I tried to rise but only moved further under the pounding boat, its weight substantially lightened by having no one but the pilot aboard. I realized that if the boat had been a rigid hull inflatable I would already be dead. The boat continued to rise and fall with the passing of each wave. The water was icy cold, and I was in terror.
I could feel the propeller beating in the water at the end of the boat. The pilot could not see me. I also knew that I could last under such conditions for only seconds, yet there was nothing to be done. I was so far under the boat’s hull that I could no longer get any air. The water was icy cold, but my survival options were more chilling: either I was going to be ground up by the propeller or I would drown.
Suddenly the boat was gone. I was underwater, staring upward. I could see sunlight again. I felt relieved to know that I would die to see the sunlight.
Hands reached down and pulled me up. I struggled to help. Strong hands pulled and then turned me onto my hands and knees on the rocks. I crawled out of the beating sea. Strong hands let me go. I looked up from all fours to see Don and Dutch holding ropes attached to the sides of the Zodiac. One stood on each side, both laughing as they waved and signaled Felipe. Then they came trudging through the water to check me out.
I gasped, sitting on sharp edges of the upturned stone. I could not talk. They grabbed my arms to support me, as we made our way toward the only large building on the island.
“Thanks for saving me,” I gasped out of my barely open throat.
“Saving you? Hell, we didn’t know where the hell you’d gone. We didn’t save you. It was her.” Dutch pointed up to the stairs, switch-backed against the end of the building. The only person climbing the stairs was Marlys. She didn’t turn or wave.
“She pulled me out?” I gasped again, this time in awe. Marlys could not have weighed more than a hundred pounds. The hands that had closed over me, and dragged me from beneath the boat, had been talons of steel, driven by muscles of stone.
I stood on my own, waving them off, dripping wet and shivering with the cold. I stared the twenty-five feet up toward her as she reached the landing and turned back. Our eyes met. I nodded. She did not nod back. When she turned, I said “Yemaya,” loud enough for her to hear. She went through the door acknowledging nothing.
In the bathroom of the facility, I took my clothes off and squeezed them out. I stood before the full-length mirror next to the sink. I frowned, ruefully, in reviewing my condition. I was only battered a little by the near drowning. But I had old scars all over my legs and torso. I had been shot, knifed, poisoned and stung by venomous snakes and spiders, but I had survived. With clothes on, I looked unassuming. It was one of my greatest strengths. “No, not him,” was what came to other men’s minds when they looked at me. I did not appear threatening or macho at all, but I had been served Hell for breakfast many days of my life. And here I was, standing weakly in a cold bathroom on Little Diomede Island, as naked and helpless as a baby.
“Screw you, James Bond,” I said, mocking my own reflection.
CHAPTER SIX:
The Island
The washroom door swung open. Felipe stepped through the entrance, dropped a pile of dry clothes on the floor, and then looked at my nakedness. I had nothing to cover myself with. He stared for a few seconds, looking openly at the road map of my career, scars so intricately detailed as to resemble an AAA road map. His eyes met mine for the briefest instant before he was gone. The door gently clicked behind him.
I sorted through the pile. A ful
l set of green scrubs lay on the floor, booties, hat and all. A heavy ski jacket in dark black, with the name Dr. Murphy, off to one side. I dressed, held the Wellingtons up to the electric hand dryer for a bit, and then put them on. I wrapped the wrinkled wet clothes in my old coat and headed for the door, but it opened before I got there.
Don strode in.
“Doctor’s stuff,” he pointed his big chin at the pile unnecessarily.
I merely nodded.
“You gotta go into the hall and watch the dances. Later today, back on board, we’ll have to do a five-minute summation of the day. You can leave off the part where you went for a swim.” He grinned gleefully at his own joke. “The real doctor is already here. He heard about your accident. Maybe he’ll see you later.”
I had already shifted from denial to resignation, hoping that the accident had not colored anyone’s opinion of my ability.
“There’s also a little girl who needs your services.” Don’s ready smile was gone, replaced by a worried frown that flitted across his face.
“My services?” I asked, hesitantly.
Don steadied himself and then pointed at the doctor’s name stenciled on the coat.
“I’m not the doctor,” I told him, pointedly. “I’m supposed to be the physician’s assistant.”
At that, Don’s big smile returned. He reached down and grabbed the green surgeon’s cap. “Better put it on. It’s expected of you.”
He tossed the scrap of material.
“I’m not gonna play doctor here,” I responded, catching the cap.
“Would you rather that the real doctor saw the poor kid?” He emphasized the word doctor when he spoke the words. My resistance crumbled and I then put on the close fitting cap, feeling like a complete idiot for the second time in under an hour.
“I’ll get your stuff,” he promised, again with an excess of glee, and he swept the clothing bundle from my grasp.
“I just knew you’d do fine,” he reassured me as we made our way toward the only large building, “and I also saw what nobody else seemed to.”
I walked in front of him to the base of the stairs. “And what was it that you saw?” I inquired, climbing.
“I saw you save that woman,” he replied. “If you hadn’t acted, then she’d have gone under the boat. And that would have been it for her, for us, and the rest of the cruise.”
We finished the three-story climb with Don breathing much harder than I.
“I’d appreciate it, Botany Bay, if you just forgot about that,” I said.
He seemed to agree, holding a door open for me, almost bowing in his obvious solicitation. More Don Quixote, I thought to myself.
“C’mon, I’ll take you to the girl. She’s in back.” Don muttered.
We walked behind the assembled passengers and other crew staff. They all sat on a basketball court in folding chairs. Native players sang and danced in front of them. Along the back wall, card tables were set up, covered with what appeared to be ivory carvings. The real doctor was among the tables, handling first one carving, then another. He never noticed Don and I walk by.
The girl was the only attractive human on the whole island. The Inuit are not known for terrific good looks. She sat on a cot off the main court, in what must have been a locker room, but one without lockers. I walked over to her, wearing the hat. I offered her my hand. She looked up into my eyes hopefully, yet rejected my hand.
Immediately, I saw red lines radiating down from above her left eyebrow, going around her eye all the way to her jaw. I placed my proffered right hand against the side of her head, slowly examining her scalp. As I had suspected upon seeing the lines, her hair concealed a laceration.
“She’s infected. She needs a tetanus shot, a shot of antibiotic, and maybe some salve.”
Don translated. A small group of natives in western attire counseled behind her.
“They said okay,” Don noted.
“Okay?” I asked, “Where the hell am I going to get supplies?”
Don pointed back at the door we had come through. I walked over. We both looked out to see the doctor still examining ivory carvings. On the floor next to him was a black, valise-type bag. Don went for the bag.
The doctor was oblivious when Don absconded with it. Inside, it was empty except for some injectors, needles, a vial of antibiotic, and some tubes of 1% hydro-cortisone cream. No tetanus anti-toxin. Giving the injection was quick and easy, with a bit of alcohol. The girl neither changed expression nor made a sound.
“Tell them to shave around the cut, wash it with soap twice a day and put the salve on three times a day.”
I returned the used syringe to the bag, bowed to the assemblage and headed back to the real doctor. I put his bag back where it was. Next, I locked onto Marlys’ eyes. She was staring at me to the point that I had to look away. I feigned taking in the native spectacle still going on when I saw her get up. She began to move directly towards me. My breathing grew shallow. I swiped off the ridiculous green surgical cap. She walked right up to me, looking radiant.
“I want to talk to you,” she stated without emotion, her eyes never leaving mine and never blinking. I was hypnotically frozen. I said nothing, though I did swallow, once. “Not here,” she went on, “later in Cabin 27. I’ll come that far.”
I breathed normally, wondering about her strange English diction. I laid it off to her Dutch accent.
“I’ll not be taking my clothes off,” she assured me, again as flatly as she had delivered everything else. I flexed my neck, repeatedly. Then she whispered something almost too quiet for me to hear, “Not unless you tell me to.”
She turned and went back to her chair as Don walked up.
“You look like you’ve been hit by a bus,” he laughed. “What’d she say to you?”
We both faced the dancing natives.
“Nothing,” I said, my head whirling. “Not a damn thing.”
Don just laughed. “And where is the trouble you’re supposed to get me into? Why do I have the feeling that she just walked away?”
I ignored Don and headed back to the boat landing. I’d seen enough and done enough for one day. Don stayed behind. Down on the landing, from atop the rough rocks, I noted Felipe circling his boat a hundred meters or so out from the breaking surf. He saw me and then unexpectedly headed the boat in. When the Zodiac was jammed into the “V” between the two angled stones, where I had almost died, I jumped aboard. I thought we would wait for the others, but Felipe backed us out into the waves, swinging around violently. He proceeded to the ship at full speed. The spray from our departure bit deep into me and the icy coldness returned to my center. By the time we got to the Lindy, I was shivering violently.
I hopped off the boat and headed for my cabin. My hands were shaking so badly that I almost could not get the key into the lock. Without even closing the door I stripped completely and stepped into my small corner shower. The water heated up fast. I stood under the deluge for a full half hour, marveling at just how great a benefit the shower was. Don had been right.
My shower curtain was pulled back. Benito stood there, with her hand holding the curtain aside.
“Are you done?” she asked in her commanding tone. I twisted the handles to off but did not step out of the stall. I was naked, with nothing to cover myself.
“Get the hell out of there and get dried off,” she ordered, in disgust, while handing me a towel. “You think yours is the first male body I’ve ever seen? And the Filipino’s right, you are one scarred-up mess.” Not knowing what else to do, I followed her instructions. “You screwed that whole landing up. I knew you were trouble. A smart-assed, know-it-all professor. Like we needed one more! Here, eat this.”
From somewhere she brought out a stick of butter wrapped in paper. It was a full quarter pound.
“What?” I exclaimed, dropping my towel, getting kin
d of used to everyone in the world seeing me naked.
“Your core temperature is down. Old Eskimo trick. Eat it.”
She jammed it at me. I mused to myself that things could really not get much stranger. I carefully peeled the stick and ate the butter with some difficulty, but less than I had imagined.
As soon as the butter hit my stomach I began to radiate heat. It was like I had some sort of electric unit in my center. It felt great. I sat down naked on the bunk, Benito towering above me.
“Don’t get your ass too comfortable. We got trouble. You gotta go save your ex-bunkmate from the natives.”
I looked up, still trying to lick the greasy butter from my mouth. I mumbled back to her, “Don’s in trouble?” My mind flashed to the supposed note he had received from his own Fatima child. “What trouble?”
“Seems that Professor Donald is accused of stealing a bunch of the native’s carvings,” she responded. “They want to know what he did with ’em or they won’t let him go. So I figured the best way to handle this situation was for you doctors to stick together. Go get his ass and be back here in an hour. We sail then, with or without you two.”
She went to the open door. I was surprised that the whole ship had not filed in to see me naked.
“Your broken body isn’t so bad.” With that faint praise, she left.
I threw a set of clothes on, my Wellingtons, and the doctor’s coat. Then I went into Don’s bag, pulled out my shaving kit. I removed the items inside. The bottom of the kit was false. I pulled it out. From a thick stack of hundred dollar bills, I peeled off forty. Then I ran for the boat deck. Felipe waited, orbiting, as usual. He pulled in quickly as if he knew that I was on a rescue mission. Passengers were all over the place and we had to avoid the returning boats. The real doctor waved from the bow of one of them. I reciprocated.
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