Covert Crossings

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Covert Crossings Page 18

by Frank Lazorishak


  “You will be in my prayers. I mean that.”

  I wonder how much she knows. If Nathan recruited her yet.

  “We’re going to walk up to the Lakeshore Deli for breakfast. We’ll do the pumpouts a little later.”

  “No problem. It’s quiet today.”

  * * *

  The Lakeshore Deli is almost a mile away, and mostly uphill, but it’s worth the walk. They have all kinds of goodies.

  We figure that this will probably be our last meal before we cross the lake, so we stuff ourselves appropriately.

  * * *

  The good news is that it’s pretty much all downhill back to the boats.

  As we’re walking along Erie Street towards our boats, we see another couple walking toward us along Seacliff Drive. Their timing is perfect. We all meet at the corner, and cross together.

  The other “couple” is – Nathan Tremblay and Abby Watson – the two CBSA Agents!

  They act like fellow tourists and introduce themselves. There is nobody else around. Barron and Katya met Abby When she played taxi driver to Paula’s. She smiles broadly. “We just wanted you to know that we’re around, and that we have your backs. This is my supervisor, Nathan. He’s the AIC, Agent in Charge, on this side of the lake.”

  “Abby’s right. We are here for you. And we’re happy to hear that Qasim is gone. Gone from your boat, that is. We do know where he is. He is number one on our list.”

  We walk together for a while. There are more people about as we approach the Ferry Dock. At Park Street, Nathan points west. “We’re going that way. Nice chatting with you.”

  They cross the street – and are gone. Barron looks a little shook. “That was a – surprise.”

  I smile. “The Canadians are –different.”

  We get to the Ferry Dock, make a left through the little lakeside park, and are back at the marina.

  As we walk past the Fuel Dock, I point to the pumpout station. “Why don’t you go first? When I see you leave here, we’ll head over, and you can go right back where you are.”

  “That works for us.”

  “Tell Raham to keep his people quiet and out of sight. I suspect that by now, Natalee has been told about our passengers, but they don’t know that for sure.”

  * * *

  Our pumpouts go without a problem. Natalee has a helper, and they pretty much do everything. All we have to do is move our boats to the pumpout station, wait for them to do the “dirty work,” and return to the D Dock.

  * * *

  We have about an hour before our departure time. Both Barron and I spend it making sure that everything moveable is firmly tied down. It’s going to be a rough ride.

  * * *

  I turn on the VHF radio, and switch to channel 68. “This is Morning Star calling the Leamington Dockmaster and the motor vessel Bella Fortuna.”

  I get two replies.

  “This is the Leamington Dockmaster. Go ahead, Captain.”

  “This is Bella Fortuna. Go ahead, Captain.”

  “Time to leave. I’ll go out first. I’m thinking west of Pelee Island, and then east, Barron.”

  “I agree.”

  The Dockmaster is still Natalee. “You guys be careful out there. I’ll worry. Call me when you get in.”

  “I’ll do that Natalee. But we’ll be okay. And know that if it gets too nasty, we’ll take refuge somewhere.”

  “Again, I agree.”

  “This is Morning Star switching to channel 16.”

  “This is Bella Fortuna switching to channel 16.”

  * * *

  And we’re off…

  CHAPTER 72

  We leave the marina and head south along the Pelee Point shoreline. This leg is easy.

  Because of the bad weather, there are no other boats in sight. I tell Yasin that he can let his people out of their cabins. He does. Suddenly, we have way too many people in the salon. It seats six comfortably. Not counting me and Kate, we have nine people in various degrees of uneasiness. Only one looks like he’s on the verge of being seasick, though. I point. “Yasin, that guy in the dark green hoodie looks like he’s getting a little queasy.”

  “That is Omar. He is new to boats.”

  “Tell him to go sit on the aft settee, and watch Bella Fortuna. It’ll help calm him.”

  Yasin does as I asked. Omar moves. But he still looks unhappy. Oh well. One out of nine…

  Kate and I raised five kids between us. We dragged them along on our sailing adventures. Only one got seasick. We kept her well dosed with Dramamine. I’m not sure it helped her seasickness, but instead of whining a lot, she slept a lot…

  * * *

  All is well until we get to Pelee Point itself. We turn southwest and run for the west side of Pelee Island. It gets very lumpy; probably three-foot waves. But we’re running with the waves, so it’s dry. Only Omar looks like he has a problem. He’s holding on to the rail, and watching Bella Fortuna bouncing along behind us.

  * * *

  When we clear the south end of Pelee Island, all hell breaks loose. We turn east southeast, and we’re nose into the wind. It gets wet. Very wet. The waves look to be about four feet. As we drop into each trough, we burry the bow in the next wave, and we get a gush of water over the foredeck. The water smashes up against the windshield, and there is a great splash that runs past the salon windows on either side, and into the aft cockpit. All of the passengers in the salon look very uneasy. It’s noisy. It is a little scary, if you’re new to this. But at least they’re dry.

  Back in the cockpit though, Omar is getting the worst of it. In five minutes, he’s pretty well soaked through. He looks like the proverbial drowned rat. But he’s hanging on.

  * * *

  And we pound into the waves. One wave about every ten seconds. For two hours. That’s about 720 waves. We can do this. It’s not fun. It’s hard on the boat. It’s hard on the crew. It’s hell on the passengers. But we can do this.

  I pick up the VHF radio mike. Yasin looks wary. But he says nothing. “Bella Fortuna, this is Morning Star.”

  “This is Bella Fortuna. Go ahead Morning Star.”

  “Switch and answer on channel 72.”

  We switch. “How are you doing back there?”

  “It’s rough, but we can handle it. My ‘crew’ is having a glass of wine!”

  Kate hears. “Good for her. I may join her.”

  “How are your passengers doing?”

  “A couple are a little green around the gills, but they’ll survive. And yours?”

  “I’ve got one guy who is very green.”

  “I hope he’s puking his guts out. Sorry. It’s your boat.”

  “He’s not sick yet. But he will be soon, I think. He’s back aft getting very wet, so Mother Lake Erie will wash it away for me.”

  “That’s good, I guess.”

  “I figured out that we have 720 waves to pound in to, so we’re counting them down.”

  “Oh, goodie.”

  And so, we pound along. And count.

  CHAPTER 73

  “Kate, can you take the helm? You know what to do. We’ve been through worse.”

  “Sure. But why?”

  “I’m going to go see if I can do anything for Omar. We’ve got two hours of this ahead of us.”

  I’m wearing my foul weather gear, so I stay pretty dry. I sit next to Omar. “How is your English?”

  He grins – a little. “My English is excellent. My stomach is not so excellent.”

  “The Dramamine is not working, huh?”

  “I took no Dramamine. I did not want to defile my body with chemicals.”

  “You’re kidding…”

  He says nothing.

  “Well. There are bad chemicals, and there are good chemicals. But it’s too late now anyway. We’ve got about two hours of this. It’s dry in the salon if you want to move.”

  “I may vomit.”

  “Jim Croce once sang, ‘Don’t spit into the wind.’ That applies to vomiting
as well. Good luck.”

  I go back forward.

  Kate looks at me questioningly. “He ‘didn’t want to defile his body with chemicals,’ so he didn’t take Dramamine.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  Several of our passengers have been listening to our exchange. Yasin speaks for them. “It was his choice. I offered. He refused.”

  “Any other ‘fundamentalists’?”

  “No. Only him. I was surprised. No one on the other boat refused.”

  “Good.”

  And we pound into the waves -- 720 waves. We can do this.

  I pick up the VHF radio mike -- again. Yasin looks wary -- again. But he says nothing -- again. “Bella Fortuna, this is Morning Star.”

  “This is Bella Fortuna. Go ahead Morning Star.”

  “Switch and answer on channel 72.”

  We switch – again. “Still doing okay back there?”

  “We’re doing.”

  “I thought you’d enjoy this. My guy who is very seasick?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He ‘didn’t want to defile his body with chemicals.’ So, he didn’t take Dramamine.”

  “Jesus! What an idiot. He deserves to puke his guts out!”

  “I agree. Talk to you later, Barron.”

  * * *

  Omar is the only one who is really suffering. The rest are in varying degrees of discomfort, but none are seriously ill.

  “How are you doing, Kate?”

  “I’m doing okay, Cap’n. But I’m not happy. If it was just you and me, I’d be agitating to duck in somewhere and sit this out, but I just want to be done with it.”

  “Believe me; we would be sitting it out. But I’m like you. I just want it to be over.”

  “How long yet?”

  “We’re just over an hour out. If it doesn’t get any worse, we’ll be oaky.”

  And so, we continue to pound along. And we continue to count.

  * * *

  But it gets worse. Suddenly. It gets much worse. The wind turns to out of the north.

  The seas get confused. We’ve got new waves out of the north riding over left over waves out of the east. It’s a mess. And it’s even rougher. The waves are piling up to five feet. It’s too soon to turn south and head for Cleveland. It’s too late to turn back. All we can do is hang on. And pray.

  I look back to check on Omar. He’s leaning over the stern rail. Probably throwing up. Better there than in the cockpit…

  CHAPTER 74

  We get hit broadsides by a huge roller. The boat lurches badly.

  I hear a scream from aft. I look back just in time to see a pair of feet disappearing over the stern rail.

  I cut the throttle back to dead slow and turn sharply to port. I make a one eighty and look. It’s hard to see. There is a lot of spray in the air. The waves hide much of the surface of the water.

  All of a sudden, I see Omar’s green hoodie going over a crest about thirty feet ahead and to the starboard.

  “Kate!”

  I point. “Do you see him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Take the helm. Go as close to him as you can. Keep him on the starboard side. I’ll go back and toss him the throwable.”

  I grab the radio mike. No time for protocol. “Barron, I’ve got an emergency. I’m stopping. Stop and standby.”

  I go aft and grab my Jim Buoy throwable life ring. I wait and watch. I see him. He’s flailing his arms and trying to yell. All that the yelling accomplishes is that it causes him to get mouthfuls of water. He’ll drown if he keeps it up. He’s panicking.

  Kate puts us within ten feet of him. I toss the Jim Buoy. The wind catches it and blows it away from him. He misses catching it by two feet. He doesn’t swim for it. It’s pretty obvious. He can’t swim. He flails his arms.

  By now, Barron has figured out what’s going on. He pulls up about twenty feet on Omar’s other side. Bella Fortuna provides a little respite from the wind.

  I see Katya in their stern cockpit. She has their Jim Buoy. But she doesn’t throw it. No point in it. She’d have to hit him with it, and they’re not close enough.

  I yell at Yasin. “Call the other boat. Tell them to give the phone to Barron. Then give me your phone.”

  He pulls his phone out.

  * * *

  Omar is tiring. He still hasn’t gotten to the Jim Buoy. He’s not trying. He’s going to give up.

  Kate is having trouble keeping us in position. She has to compromise between turning into the wind and turning toward Omar.

  Barron is having the same trouble.

  Omar goes down. Then he comes back up sputtering.

  My Jim Buoy has a Personal Locator Beacon, a PLB, attached. By now, it has triggered and is sending its position to overhead satellites, and to the Coast Guard. But it won’t do any good if Omar can’t grab the life ring.

  I go forward to relieve Kate. “You did good. But I think that we’re going to lose him. He can’t swim to the Jim Buoy. He can’t swim. I won’t allow anybody to go in after him. I should have made him wear a life jacket.”

  Just then, my radio comes alive. “Morning Star, this is USCG Station Lorain. Morning Star, this is USCG Station Lorain. Morning Star, this is USCG Station Lorain. Do you copy?”

  I grab the mike. “This is Morning Star. I copy.”

  “Morning Star, switch and answer on channel 22A.”

  I switch. “This is Morning Star on channel 22A.”

  And listen. And take the helm from Kate. “Morning Star, we are receiving a signal from your PLB. Do you have a man overboard situation?”

  “No, I do not. Repeat, I do not. My dingy broke loose in the wind and knocked my Jim Buoy overboard. I have my hands full trying to secure my dinghy. I have to go.”

  “Roger, Morning Star. Can you recover your PLB?”

  A pause. I say nothing. “We will be standing by on channel 22A Morning Star.”

  I don’t answer. While I was screwing with the radio, I lost sight of Omar. I turn to Kate. “Where’s Omar? I lost him while I was on the radio.”

  She is sobbing. But looking. “He’s gone. He went down. He didn’t come up.”

  Just then, Yasin hands me his phone. “Barron. Do you see him? We lost him.”

  “I saw him go down. He’s gone.”

  “Shit. I should have known better. I should have made him…”

  “Don’t. It’s not your fault. It’s theirs. They forced us into this.”

  “But I’m the Captain. I…”

  Kate hugs me. Kind of sideways because I’m sitting in the helm seat. “Barron is right. It’s not your fault. You’re a good Captain.”

  “Now what?”

  I look again. “Now what, Barron?”

  “I don’t know. There is zero chance that he’ll survive.”

  CHAPTER 75

  Both Barron and I keep circling my Jim Buoy. The wind is blowing it south and the waves are pushing it west. I don’t have an exact position on where Omar went down, but I think we’re moving away from the spot.

  There is really nothing we can do. Research shows that a drowning victim typically dies within two minutes of submersion. It has been ten minutes. Omar will sink to the bottom of the lake and stay there for several days. We are in about sixty feet of water. His body will float in a couple of days, but chances are it will never be recovered.

  Yasin has been standing near the helm and hanging on to the ceiling rail ever since Omar went overboard. I turn toward him. “Omar is gone. Now what?”

  “Will his body float?”

  “No. Not for several days.”

  “Then we must leave before we attract more attention from your Coast Guard. Omar is a martyr. He will be rewarded in Heaven.”

  “Yeah. Right. Seventy-two virgins and all that crap.”

  Yasin says nothing for a minute. Then he recovers. “We must leave now.”

  Almost on cue, the VHF comes alive again. “Morning Star, t
his is USCG Station Lorain. Morning Star, this is USCG Station Lorain. Morning Star, this is USCG Station Lorain. Do you copy?”

  “This is Morning Star. I copy.”

  “Morning Star, it appears on radar that you and another boat are circling. What is your status?”

  I think quickly. I hope that Barron is listening. “I’m trying to recover my Jim Buoy and PLB.”

  “Morning Star, it’s got to be nasty out there. Are you in danger? Do you require assistance?”

  “Negative. We are okay.”

  “Weather shows waves approaching six feet. Are you sure?”

  “I am a forty-eight-foot Sabre. I’m accompanied by a forty-five-foot Azimut. We can handle the weather. My dinghy is secure. I think that I’m going to give up on trying to recover the Jim Buoy and PLB. We will be underway for Cleveland Harbor in a few minutes.”

  “Roger that, Morning Star. Call us if your status changes. This is USCG Station Lorain out.”

  * * *

  “Kate, do you want to try to recover the Jim Buoy? I can drive by and you can try to snag it with the boat hook.”

  “Let’s leave it. It’s too rough. I don’t want to join Omar.”

  “I agree. Let’s get out of here.”

  I pick up Yasin’s phone. It’s been sliding around on the control console. The fiddle strip has kept it from sliding to the floor. “Barron, are you still there?”

  “I’m here. I heard your talk with the Coast Guard. Now what.”

  “There is nothing more that we can do. Yasin said he’s a martyr now. Let’s head for Cleveland.”

  “So, we’re just leaving him?”

  “He left us.”

  We hang up and I give the phone back to Yasin.

  CHAPTER 76

  I decide to call the coast Guard one last time. But first, I call Barron on VHF. This way, the world will know what we’re doing. “Bella Fortuna, this is Morning Star. Do you copy?”

  “This is Bella Fortuna. I copy.”

  “Switch to channel 72, Bella Fortuna.

  “This is Bella Fortuna on channel 72. Are you here Morning Star?”

  “Hi Barron. I’m here. I’ve got my dinghy secure now. We’re going to give up on trying to recover my Jim Buoy. It’s just too rough.”

 

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