Covert Crossings

by Frank Lazorishak

  “I agree with that. It’s nasty out here. Are you ready to head for Cleveland?”

  “We are. Let’s beat feet.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Can you take the lead for a while? I’ll follow.”

  “Roger that. I’ll head east south-east until I think the angle to Cleveland looks good, then turn south. My recommendation is to head into the Outer Harbour at Cleveland light, and then come back west to Edgewater.”

  “Sounds perfect. Let’s do it.”

  “Safe travels.”

  “Yeah. As soon as we’re underway, I’ll call the Coast Guard and let them know what we’re doing. Hopefully, they’ll quit worrying about us. And quit watching us.”

  “Sounds good. This is Bella Fortuna back to channel 16.”

  “This is Morning Star back to channel 16.”

  * * *

  Barron heads east. Slowly. Probably slower than I would go, but it’s not nearly so wet. Good choice, Barron.

  Everybody relaxes a little.

  I give it five minutes, then call the Coast Guard. “USCG Station Lorain, this is Morning Star. Do you copy?”

  “Morning Star, this is USCG Station Lorain. Switch and answer on channel 22A.”

  “USCG Station Lorain, this is Morning Star on channel 22A.”

  “State your business, Morning Star.”

  “We are underway to the Cleveland light, and then to Edgewater Yacht Club. We are following the motor vessel Bella Fortuna. We’re both okay.”

  “Roger, Morning Star.”

  “We have abandoned my Jim Buoy and the PLB attached to it. Can you please tell the world to ignore its distress signals?”

  “We can do that. The battery will run down in about four hours, and then it will go silent. If anybody picks it up and turns it in, we’ll let you know.”

  “Great. That’s all I have. Thanks for your concern during this minor emergency.”

  “That’s what we’re here for. Your tax dollars at work.”

  “Roger that. This is Morning Star, back to channel 16.”

  “This is USCG Station Lorain out.”

  I lost count of the waves. But it doesn’t matter much now. We pound on.

  CHAPTER 77

  And we pound on. The wind is still out of the north – and building. We’re pounding hard into the waves. We’re rolling pretty badly port and starboard now too.

  It’s hard to read my anemometer because of the roll, but it looks like the wind has built to well over forty knots. Gale force.

  Next comes “Storm.” And then, “Hurricane.” The average landlubber has heard the word gale, but doesn’t really know what it means. And they rarely know that a storm is even worse.

  “Storm” means winds over forty-eight knots – fifty-five miles per hour. I pray that it doesn’t build to that.

  I switch the VHF radio to the weather channel. There is a Gale Warning in effect. But no mention of a Storm Warning. In fact, the forecast is that winds will start to subside this evening.

  That doesn’t help us much, but it’s good to know that it shouldn’t get worse.

  * * *

  Kate was listening intently to the weather forecast. “Kate, are you okay?”

  “I’m feeling a little queasy. I don’t know whether it’s the gale, or losing Omar, or both. How about you?”

  “I’m like you. I’ve had enough. I want to say, ‘Come on, God. Give us a break.’”

  “I know. But look around. Our terrorists don’t look very terrifying just now.”

  I turn and look into the salon. Kate is right. They all look scared. And sick. And tired. “You’re right.”

  “Take the helm for a minute.”

  I get up. She slides into my seat. “Got it.”

  I step to port, and turn around. It feels good to just to stretch. Most of the “terrorists” are watching me to see what I’m up to. “I tried to convince your leaders not to do this. They wouldn’t listen. They demanded that I cross today.”

  I pause to let that sink in. “If and when we get to the U.S., if you’re not feeling too good, you might want to thank them.”

  One of the sicker terrorists looks horrified. His eyes have gotten very large. He looks about seventeen. He is scared. And sick. And, I suspect, sick of his leaders giving orders. “If?”

  “Bad choice of words. We’re in no real danger. It’s just way too rough to be crossing. It’s hard on the boats – and the passengers. But we are safe. We will get there.”

  He relaxes visibly. “Thank you, Captain. For the reassurance.”

  Yasin has been sitting on the port settee across from the helm. He has remained separate from the others throughout our trip. I look at him. He looks more than a little pissed. I suspect that he’s one of the leaders who I just disparaged. I pretend that I don’t notice his anger. “Yasin, it may be time for more Dramamine.”

  He says nothing. He just gets up and goes below.

  * * *

  In a few minutes, he comes back up topsides with a bottle of pills, and a couple of bottles of water. Our water. You’re welcome, terrorists.

  As he’s passing out pills, I take a couple of steps aft. “The Dramamine should help. The trick is to get it into your system before you start to get sick, and keep it in your system for as long as necessary.”

  I get a couple of thank you nods. “I know this is not fun. It’s not fun for us either. But we will be in Cleveland harbor in a little over an hour.”

  Big eyes rather sheepishly raises a hand. “Do you take Dramamine, Captain?”

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  “Because it makes me feel a little sleepy and a little dizzy, and I wondered…”

  “No, I am not on drugs. I don’t know why, but neither my First Mate nor I get seasick. We raised five children on the water. Only one got seasick. She took Dramamine. It helped her, but it made her sleep.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “You are welcome. What is your name?”

  “My name is Musa. It means Moses in my language.”

  “You are named for one of my heroes. I love the old testament.”

  Musa smiles, then realizes that he has said more than he should have. He looks down at his feet.

  “Be well, Musa.”

  CHAPTER 78

  We’re chugging along behind Barron. He turned south south-east about ten miles out. We’re running almost with the prevailing wind and waves, so it’s not too bad.

  I’ve been watching us get closer and closer to the Cleveland light on the GPS. All of a sudden Barron comes on the VHF. No protocol. He’s as tired and miserable as the rest of us. “I see the Cleveland light, Pete. We made it!”

  “Roger that, Barron. Take us in.”

  Yasin is still sitting on the port settee. He’s been there pretty much all day. “Yasin, under your seat is a drawer with a Richardson’s Chart Book in it.”

  He finds it, and holds it out. “No. Open it to the chart of Cleveland Harbor. I think it’s page seventy-two. Then bring it here.”

  He does, and I set it on the helm console in front of Kate. He stands to Kate’s left, holding on to the overhead rail. I’m seated to her right. Cozy… I point to where the GPS says we are. “Here’s where we are.”

  I point to Edgewater. “And here’s where we are going.”

  I point to Cleveland light. “But this is the safest way in.”

  I trace our proposed route with my finger. “We come in here, and turn right. This is called the Outer Harbor. It’ll be much calmer in here. The seawall will protect us.”

  I continue west with my finger. “The only bad spot is right here. This opening in the seawall will let the waves in. Getting past there will be rough – and dangerous.”

  He nods. I point to Edgewater Yacht Club. “Once we’re here, we’re safe.”

  He traces our route with his finger. “How far is this?”

  “A little over a mile. The Cleveland Outer Harbor is very large. Once we’re safe in th
e Outer Harbor, I’ll call Edgewater Yacht Club for dock assignments.”

  “I understand, Captain. Thank you for showing me your plan.”

  I point to what is known as the X dock. “Because of our size, they usually put us here. But they may already have boats there sheltering from the storm.”

  “Very good. I understand.”

  “Once we get into the Outer Harbor, we may see other boats. You need to have your people go below as soon as we clear the Cleveland light. And you need to call the other boat and tell them what we are doing.”

  “I will do that, Captain. May I borrow this – chart book?”

  “Of course, Yasin.”

  He walks back to the salon and joins his group – now seven instead of eight. He sets the chart book on the table and starts to explain. In English. That’s a surprise.

  * * *

  Kate hasn’t said a word since Barron called. She exhales dramatically. “We made it.”

  “Well, we made it through the rough water part of the trip, anyway. Thank God.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I glance over my shoulder toward the salon. They’re all looking at the chart. I lean toward Kate, and lower my voice. “Edgewater is always pretty busy. Plus, they’ve got a guard at the club gate. I don’t know how they intend to get off of our boats and out of the club.”

  “Frank’s people are here, right?”

  “I think.”

  * * *

  We follow Barron past the Cleveland light, and into the Outer Harbor. It’s calm. Calmer. I feel myself start to de-stress. I see it on Kate’s face, too. “Wow.”

  “I agree. Wow.”

  “Yasin, you need to get your people below. I don’t know what your plan is, but we’re going to be around boats and people soon.”

  “The plan is simple, Captain. Simple is always good. You dock. We wait until the marina is quiet tonight. We leave.”

  “Sounds easy. You do know that the yacht club gate has a guard?”

  “We know. Saif has a plan.”

  I say nothing. I pick up the VHF mike. “Edgewater Yacht Club, this is the motor vessel Morning Star. Do you copy?”

  “Morning Star, this is Edgewater Yacht Club. Please switch to channel 68.”

  I say one word, “Barron?” I hear Barron’s voice “sixty-eight.” I switch.

  “Edgewater Yacht Club, we just made the Outer Harbor, inbound from Leamington. You should have reservations for Morning Star and Bella Fortuna.”

  “We do. We have space for you on our X Dock. Are you familiar with our club?”

  “I am. I go between B and C Docks, correct?”

  “That is correct. It is relatively calm here, but be careful getting past the opening just east of us. But I guess I don’t have to tell you what the open lake is like.”

  “No, you don’t. It was a nasty trip. You’ll see us at the dock in a few minutes. We’re very glad to be here.”

  “Copy. The is Edgewater Yacht Club back to channel 16.”

  Barron has been listening. “Pete, your turn to go first.”

  “Okay, Barron. Let’s do this.”

  * * *

  We follow the seawall west. There is a funny little dogleg in the wall, then the opening, then the entrance to Edgewater Yacht Club. The trick will be to get past the opening between waves. I go dead slow; a crest passes right to left; I gun the engines. Big power boats don’t accelerate quickly. The next crest catches us. It pushes us south toward another piece of wall. We rock violently. I turn the wheel hard to starboard, and say a quick prayer. The props dig in; we shoot through the entrance to Edgewater.

  I back off on the throttles, and point us into the wind. We sit in the relatively calm water. I turn to watch Barron. He learned from watching me. He heads a little south and comes at the opening at more of an angle. He also stays back a little, and times his movement so that he’s going faster across the opening. He’s through! I can’t resist. I pick up the VHF mike. “Well done, Barron!”

  CHAPTER 79

  I turn Morning Star toward the opening between B and C Docks. We idle past several dozen boats on each side. There are a few people around, but not many. It’s just too nasty an evening.

  We come out into the opening in front of the clubhouse. On our left is the X Dock. It’s well over a hundred feet long, and there are no boats on our side. There is plenty of room for both of us.

  There is one boat on the other side of the X Dock – a fifty-year-old, fifty-foot-long, and slightly beat up looking Bertram. I see no people on board, but the cockpit canvas is open, so the boat is occupied. Somehow, the old Bertram looks just a little out of place at Edgewater Yacht Club.

  It’s flying a Canadian Yacht Ensign on the stern staff, but has no yacht club burgee. It has no registration numbers on the bow. Larger boats can be federally documented, and don’t need registration numbers. They are identified by their name and port of call. I can’t see the stern from here, so I can’t see its name or port of call. I’ll have to check it out after we get docked.

  * * *

  While I make an easy one-eighty to port, Kate readies fenders and dock lines. Edgewater does not have dock boys – of either sex – to help us. We’re on our own.

  I bring us close to the dock and move forward until we’re almost directly opposite the Bertram. When I cut the throttles and put the engines in neutral, the wind blows us up against the dock. We bump gently, and Kate jumps ashore. I slide open the door next to the helm seat. I go forward to throw her the bow line. We have done this so many times that we don’t need to talk. Kate has become a great First Mate.

  One of my favorite pictures is of Kate and three of our kids sitting on the cabin of our first boat, a twenty-three-foot MacGregor cutter also named Our Adventure. They’re all wearing tee shirts that Kate had printed for us. Kate’s says “First Mate.” The three kids’ tee shirts say “Second Mate,” Third Mate,” and “Cabin Boy.” I took the picture; my tee shirt said “Captain.”

  We were quite a sight when we walked in to a restaurant “in uniform.”

  Anyway, we move to the stern, and secure that line. Then the spring line. We’re secure.

  I start to ready the shore power cord. Kate walks toward our stern. She walks past me and keeps going. “I’m going to go help Katya and Barron.” Barron is making his turn.

  I toss the end of the shore power cord onto the dock, then hop out and plug us in.

  I get back on the boat and move forward to the companionway. “Yasin, we’re secure. Kate is helping the other boat tie up.”

  “Excellent.”

  “We’re going over to the Fuel Dock to check in. Then up to the clubhouse to say hello. There are people about, so you guys need to stay below. Notify the other boat.”

  “Very good. We will discuss our plans when you return.”

  CHAPTER 80

  I jump on to the dock and head to my bow – and the Bertram’s stern. I make a show of checking my bow line. As I turn toward Bella Fortuna, I check the Bertram’s stern. Adventurer. Out of Port Dover.

  As I walk by, I check Adventurer out. She’s old -- and a little tired -- but she’s in an excellent state of repair. And she’s spotless. Somebody is taking very good care of her.

  By the time I get past Adventurer and Morning Star, Kate, Katya, and Barron are standing next to Bella Fortuna waiting for me. We walk toward shore. “Barron and I are going to go over to the Fuel Dock and check in. Will you ladies head over to the Clubhouse Bar and order us drinks? We’ve all earned them.”

  Kate and Katya both nod vehemently. Katya speaks for both of them. “Aye, aye, my Cap-i-tan.”

  When we get to the end of the dock, Barron and I turn left, and the girls turn right. The Fuel Dock is on the shore south of the Bertram. There’s about seventy-five feet of water between the X Dock and the Fuel Dock. It’s tight, but boats can come into the Fuel Dock, take on fuel, turn around, and head back out. Because it’s tight, they usually keep the south side of the X Dock
empty. Adventurer must be someone special.

  We go into the little office building, and give the attendant, Sam his name tag says, our Credit Cards and Vermilion Yacht Club Membership Cards. Sam says hello and welcome.

  He looks at our cards. Mine identifies me as a Past Commodore of VYC. Barron’s identifies him as the current Rear Commodore.

  VYC and Edgewater Yacht Club have a reciprocal agreement – we can stay here for one night at no charge. The Credit Cards are for incidental charges. Kind of like checking into a hotel and paying with points.

  Sam types stuff into his computer. We look around and wait.

  As Sam finishes typing, Barron mentions that we just came in from Leamington. Sam looks at us for a minute. “Did you check in with customs by radio as you crossed?”

  I respond first. “Crap. I was so busy fighting the weather, I forgot.”

  Barron’s look says he did, too.

  Sam continues. “You need to go to the Clubhouse Bar. You can use their phone.”

  “Can’t we use yours?”

  “No. You need to go to the bar. Frank will help you.”

  “Frank?”

  “Frank. He’s the bartender. For today.”

  And Sam looks at us as if to say, “You’re done here. Go.”

  So, we go. As we walk toward the clubhouse, Barron shakes his head. “That was a little weird. About the phone, I mean.”

  “A lot weird.”

  “Do you want to just go back to the boats, and call in on VHF?”

  “No. I think we need to go to the Clubhouse Bar.”

  After a minute, I continue. “The FBI Agent in Charge of this mission is Frank Simmons…”

  * * *

  When we get to the bar, Kate and Katya are sitting at the bar talking to the bartender for today -- Frank Simons.

  CHAPTER 81

  We join Frank and the girls at the bar. There is another bartender, but there are no other customers. When we sit down, the other bartender discreetly leaves.