by Ron Walden
“I’ll go help him,” Gwen said.
“I’ll give a hand too,” Sam said as he quickly followed Gwen from the wheelhouse.
The sea was calm allowing the Captain to get top speed from his craft. “We’re getting 38 knots now, but we’ll have to slow a lot once we reach the narrows where the water is much rougher. If we can get to the reef before the tide changes, we should have smooth water there. After we dump this thing, we’ll cross the narrows and hide behind the point. That should give us a safe place.”
Roger looked at his watch and began to tell the Captain the story.
Back at the Pig Receiving Station, Captain Deitz became frustrated with lack of information he was getting. The trooper was gathering information and evidence. No one had seen anything, or heard anything. Judging from the wounds, the two officers had been shot with a fairly powerful handgun—possibly a 9mm. The trooper had retrieved two spent cases and were now in the process of getting fingerprints from the forklift, door handles, and other areas. He was not sharing his findings.
Mike Deitz was known for his impatience. He had done all he could at the scene and was driving to the gate. George had given him full authority. He agreed, the option of placing the explosion on Bligh Reef was a good move. Once at the gatehouse, Deitz poured a cup of coffee and rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted; stress was the only thing keeping him going. He asked the officer standing near the check-in window, “Have you checked the computer and the security pass list for any strangers unaccounted for?”
“Yes sir, and George and I think we may have a possibility. George is writing the report now.” George Densow and Pat Morrison were the two officers on duty at the gate tonight.
Deitz was encouraged for the first time tonight. “Good.”
“We had a brand new TAPS badge check in tonight. His name is Warren Bystock.”
Had he known the shape of events in Valdez, Dan Webster would not be sleeping so soundly as he and Beth neared Seattle in the Alaska Airlines, Boeing jet.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Morning light filled the sky as the Alaskan Star made its way through the narrows on a direct route to Bligh Reef. Scattered clouds, warm air, slack tide, and calm seas allowed the captain to maintain a good speed. Bligh Reef’s blinking light was a temporary buoy held in place by an enormous chain cemented into a huge concrete and steel anchor.
The reef itself was a geological anomaly. The overlapping plates of the earth’s surface are not stable in this area and move with surprising frequency. A land mass broke off and shifted out to sea, and when discovered was called Bligh Reef. The phenomenon was extremely apparent during the great earthquake of 1964.
Valdez was totally destroyed in 1964. The land sank: a tidal wave swept into the shallow harbor through a narrow neck and carried railroad cars and fishing boats into the hills. To the north, Anchorage shifted and twisted. Turnagain, along the shore scuttled off the mainland and rode it’s slippery clay into Cook Inlet. Home owners watched in horror as the ground, which once belonged to them, fell into the sea along with their homes and belongings. The earth’s plates were shifting and Alaska’s face was changing.
Latouche Island, once the headquarters for a thriving mining and timber industry, began to sink on the north end. The south end of the island raised 50 feet in just under 7 minutes. The face of the earth is constantly changing, especially in this area of the globe. Here at the apex of the world’s great land masses, the continental shift and the movement of the great Continental and Pacific Plates make geological rearrangement a daily occurrence.
There is debate about the formation of Bligh Reef. Did it push up from the bottom? Did it break off the surrounding mountains, during some great earthquake, and fall into the sea? Was it a mountain that has sunk into the bottom of the sea?
Whatever its origin, it has been a natural stumbling block in the path of supertankers. The obstacle, like a hidden snare awaiting its prey, snatches at the careless. In 1989, the super tanker Exxon Valdez strayed from the designated highway in the sea. The inexperienced helmsman turned south too quickly and struck the reef thus creating the largest oil spill in United States history. And the reef remains—waiting.
The skipper reduced the power of the twin Detroit Diesel engines. Roger looked at his watch. Forty-four minutes remaining. As the small craft approached the lighted buoy, Donny the deckhand, began to lower the square front end of the boat. The boat was barely moving now, less than a hundred yards from the light. Donny lowered the front until the waves splashed over the ramp.
Sam stood near the bow, pulled his collar up around his ears and grasped a length of chain. Gwen stood near the front of the ultrasonic pig with the end of the cable in one hand and a large steel clevis and pin in the other. The Alaskan Star began to rock from side to side in the wave action against the reef. Donny took one end of the chain from Sam and moved out onto the ramp.
There is nothing in the open sea to give size reference. The buoy had seemed to be a small object as Roger viewed it from the wheelhouse. As they got closer to the light, it towered like a monster bobbing in the sea. It was plain this would be a dangerous task. The buoy rocked back and forth with its bell clanking and the Star seemed to rock in just the opposite direction. Donny stood on the jutting platform giving hand signals to the Captain as the boat inched closer.
No words were spoken as Captain Williams maneuvered the boat. Hand signals directed him. Donny’s closing fist signaled “Stop.” The giant buoy tilted and rolled close to the front of the boat. Roger thought it would hit the platform at any second and he felt helpless. It was up to them now. Thirty-nine minutes.
A thick steel ring on the front of the buoy had been used to tow the light into place. Donny deftly threaded the end of the chain through the steel eye. He pulled the chain through and snapped the hook around the chain, then pulled the slack from the chain. “This’ll hold,” he thought to himself.
Sam held the other end of the chain with a large steel ring affixed. He held the ring as Gwen assembled the clevis, and attached the cable. Donny watched, assuring himself the pin was securely in the clevis.
“Get back. Now. Behind the load. With the boat rolling like this, it’s very dangerous.” Donny yelled over the sound of the engines.
Sam and Gwen stepped back; Donny climbed onto a steel rack welded to the side of the cargo deck. He gave the okay hand signal to the wheelhouse. Everything was ready.
“Here we go!” the skipper said in a quiet voice.
Roger grasped the hand rail mounted below the windshield. The captain slowly pushed the throttles. The big diesel engines puffed black smoke and delivered maximum horsepower to the propellers mounted far back and close to the bottom. A good boat for working along the beaches and shoals.
The Alaskan Star picked up speed as it backed away from the light. When the cable became taut, the buoy swung slightly toward the boat, causing enough resistance to offset the weight of the ultrasonic pig. The boat backed out from under the titanium monster. The deck sloshed with water washing over the lowered ramp. The pig ground slowly toward the front of the ramp. The front of the boat pitched down from the 6,600-pound load. The nose of the pig was out over the water.
Suddenly there was a lurch and the boat stopped. Engines screamed and the propellers cavitated, splashing idly along the surface of the water. The craft listed slightly, and the load shifted to the right side of the loading ramp. Donny jumped from his perch. “Hold it! Hold it. A big flange is hung up on one of the cleats on the loading ramp. The props are out of the water from the weight; we can’t pull back any more,” Donny yelled at Sam. “I need that snatch block from the front of the wheelhouse.”
Sam found the pulley and Donny fastened it to the cleat on the left rail. “I’ll run some cable out from the davit. Pull the cable out and run it through the snatch block. Then hook the end to the rear of the load. It’ll swing and fall off. We don’t want a tight hook to the load from the davit line.”
As Donny revers
ed the davit winch, Sam pulled the cable and attached it. Donny knew the davit did not have the power to lift the heavy load, but it might have enough to swing it around. With the propellers out of the water, there would be little help from the boat.
Sam signaled and Donny began taking up slack on the davit line. He continued to add power to the line watching the mast for it’s breaking point. Sam saw a steel pry bar on the deck near the engine compartment door. He retrieved the bar and began to pry on the rear of the pig. It moved. Then it began to roll. The cable went slack and the pig rolled crosswise on the ramp—then stopped. Icy water, 2 feet deep was rolling over the ramp and onto the cargo deck. The davit cable slacked, so Donny left the winch controls and found another pry bar and helped Sam. Gwen found some small blocks to place under the pry bars to increase leverage.
Each man drove his steel bar under the pig. Gwen knelt down in the cold, cold water and placed a block under Sam’s bar. She completely submerged to reach the right spot. She repeated the process on Donny’s side of the pig. She stood, shook sea water from her face and hair.
“Okay!” she yelled.
The two men pried down with all their weight. Gwen waded to Sam’s bar and added her weight to his. The effort was enough. The pig began to roll slightly; then, the energy from the weight of the pig took over and the pig slipped over the end of the ramp. The other end of the boat dropped and the loading ramp surfaced. The action scooped up a wave, propelled it to the rear of the cargo deck and hit the wheelhouse. Then it rushed in the opposite direction to the opening in the front of the boat.
Donny was hanging on to the right side of the opening. He dropped the pry bar and clung precariously. Sam had lost his balance and fell back against the side of the boat. The rush of water knocked Gwen off her feet and she was washed back into the cargo deck and out again. She was bobbing around like a rag doll.
“Help!” She screamed.
Sam made a grab for her; he missed and quickly grabbed again. He grasped the steel hook on the end of the davit line and waded into the center of the opening and caught Gwen just as she was being carried through the opening. This time he caught hold of her jacket. He pulled her close and wrapped his legs around her until the water drained out of the deck and the two could stand again.
The two moved back while Donny raised the loading ramp. She coughed and brushed the wet hair from her face.
“Sam, you just saved my life.”
“All in a day’s work,” Sam smiled.
The skipper backed the boat away from the reef.
Roger was amazed at the efficiency of the three people, on the deck below. When the pig hung up on the welded cleat of the loading ramp, they had improvised and jettisoned the load. He had watched, in helplessness, as Gwen was tossed around on the deck below, and realized this was a very dangerous enterprise.
Eighteen minutes.
The crew quarters and galley were under the wheelhouse. The three, wet and very cold, made their way to the galley. Donny gave each towels and disappeared into the crew quarters to change clothes.
Gwen was shaking violently. Sam poured hot coffee.
“There’s dry clothes in there for you two. They probably won’t fit too good, but it’s the best I can do,” Donny said as he picked up one of the hot cups.
“Go ahead, Gwen,” Sam said. “I’ll wait until you are done. Coffee’s warming me up.”
Gwen looked at Sam and then began to cry. He put his cup down, held her close, and rubbed her back. “It’s okay, kid. It’s okay”
“Oh, Sam, I could almost see my own death. I’m okay now. I’ll be back in a minute.”
From the intercom; “Roger says we have 9 minutes. We should just make it around the rocks, and, I hope, behind the point before it goes off. The Coast Guard has cleared the area. They’ve been broadcasting an emergency message on the marine band for an hour. Everyone should be clear. Donny I’m going to need you to drop the hook. I want to anchor from both ends.”
“You got it, Skipper,” Donny spoke into the intercom. “We’ll be up in a couple of minutes.”
Captain Williams had the throttles pushed hard against the firewall. He hated abusing boat engines but this was different. He swung behind the rocks and got as close as he dared. “Gotta hide.” he told himself.
Gwen was composed and dressed in men’s pants and a naval sweater with sleeves too long for her arms. The cuffs hung down passed her fingers and she grinned sheepishly at Sam.
“You feeling better?” he asked over the rim of his cup.
“Yeah. Thanks. Comin’ topside?”
Roger smiled as Gwen stepped along side him. “You scared the hell out of me, lady.”
“If we live through this, I’m going to make you put Band-Aids on all my scrapes.” She joked.
“Best offer yet.” and Roger took a second look at this lady.
The skipper spoke to Donny, “I don’t want to beach the boat because I don’t know how big a wave the explosion is going to generate. We’ll anchor off that rocky beach ahead. Get ready to drop the anchor.”
“You won’t have time to get back here before detonation. Stay behind the shadow of the rail and don’t look at the flash.”
“Gotcha,” Donny replied as he hurried to the deck below.
Sam came into the wheelhouse as the skipper slowed the boat and then reversed the propellers to stop the forward motion. Donny released the forward anchor and ran to the rear of the craft and dropped the other small one that required being thrown over manually. He tied off the rope; he took a few steps to a place he could crouch between the rail and the wheelhouse bulkhead and got as comfortable as he could.
“Better open the doors to keep concussion from breaking out the windows,” Gwen offered.
The Captain looked at Gwen. “Good Idea. It’s all safety glass but better to be safe.” He shut down the engines and turned off all electrical power. “Open that tarp; we can put it over us for some protection.” They had just settled against each other when the bright, ultra-white flash reflected off itself. The heat at the reef instantly vaporized the shallow water above it, turning it to a caldron of geysers of steam. The intensity turned the surface of the reef to molten lava.
Seven miles away, around the point, in the small vessel, the occupants huddled. When the flash occurred, a wave of electrical energy charged the air and shocked their bodies and raised their hair. Two waves of energy like two puffs of air, touched them. The sound came last. A rumbling; quickly building to a roar, and then a crack. The sound filled their chests first then their ears. They couldn’t get their hands close enough to their ears to help. Then there was silence. The sound was so intense it was beyond the range of human hearing. Sam later said it was like standing behind a jet engine, where sound waves were so extreme, there is no sound.
The sound came again, deadening the senses with its volume. Then total quiet. The gentle breeze became a gale, a shock wave. The opposite side of the rocky point from the boat was afire. Birds, squirrels, sea otters, seals, trees, every living thing was dead and burning. The wave generated by the nuclear blast was over 20 feet high, but once it escaped the narrow passage and moved into wider, more open, water, it lost its power and was reduced to a rolling 2 foot wave.
The familiar, mushroom shape cloud appeared over the hill, and the world returned to a dimension human senses could identify. The four people under the tarp began to move. Sam looked out from under the tarp. All seemed to be clear.
“Damn!” Roger exclaimed.
“You’re right Roger. My ears sure hurt.” Sam replied. “I’ll get my testing meters and check the air quality.”
He stepped out of the wheelhouse and descended the ladder to the deck level. The others began to survey damage. Two cracked windshields, but otherwise the little craft seemed to be intact.
Suddenly Sam called out, “You had better get down here, captain.”
“Let’s get him inside, on a bunk.” The Captain ordered. Blood oozed from Donny’s left
ear as he lay inert.
They carried the young man inside. Gwen began to examine him. No broken bones or internal injuries. She found a flashlight and checked his pupils; they weren’t reacting equally. “He probably has a concussion and a broken ear drum. He needs medical attention as soon as possible.”
The Captain turned to Roger. “Grab those cable cutters near the door and cut the rear anchor line. I’ll start the engines. I’ll need you back here to run the windlass to the bow anchor.”
“You start the engines, and I’ll run the windlass,” Gwen said as she stood up straight and stretched her aching muscles.
Sam remained with Donny. Roger used the sharp cutters to cut through the 5/8 inch nylon rope. He saw a small, bright red, rubber buoy hanging from the rail. He tied a loop in the loose end of the rope and attached the spring clip on the buoy to the loop before tossing the end from the boat. The skipper could pick up his anchor and rope later.
The skipper turned on the electrical power and turned the starter switch on the left engine. It caught and ran. He did the same with the right, and it too seemed to run perfectly. He switched on the radios. As each came to life, they were filled with static. He tried to call to Gwen through the wheelhouse speaker. That wasn’t working either. He poked his head out and shouted to her,
“Take it up.”
She began to wind the rope on the windlass. It wound up a few turns then stopped; the anchor was hung on the rocky bottom. The Skipper engaged the power to move the boat ahead. When the direction of pull on the anchor was reversed, the hinged steel anchor released its grip on the rocks below. Gwen wound the anchor up from the bottom, and the boat began to move from the protection of the rocky shore.
Roger went to the bridge and Gwen returned to the injured man. Roger looked out the window wondering what he would see when the Alaskan Star moved into the channel. As the boat moved past the rocks at the end of the point, he could see nothing where the lighted buoy had been. A huge gray cloud drifted over the spot; upward and dissipating as the wind pushed it out to sea. They would be bucking an outgoing tide as they motored back to the Marine Terminal. It would be a slower and less anxious trip. The radios were out of commission which made it impossible to report their survival. It would also be impossible to get an ambulance to the dock to meet them.