by Paul Byers
He had enjoyed his unexpected dinner with Tabatha last night but the evening was cut short because the network executives back in New York paged her and wanted to go over some upcoming events. After their goodnights and the hard day he’d had, bed was the most appealing option so he would have a fresh start on the new day.
Three hundred yards in front of them, he could see the lead tug straining on her towline as she struggled with her monstrous load in the rough seas. On the bridge, he could hardly feel the iceberg slowly rise and fall but looking at the tug was a different story. He watched as another tug off to their left would climb up the front of one wave then slide down the backside, her bow sending out huge sheets of spray as she landed in the bottom of the trough and then the whole process would start all over again.
He was mesmerized as he watched the struggle between man and nature when he suddenly jumped back, startled as a sheet of water shot up over the front of the iceberg and smashed against the windows. Embarrassed, Pike quickly looked around to see if he was the only one caught off guard. He was, but no one said anything.
“How high up are we Captain?” Pike asked.
“We have a free board of nearly thirty feet in calm seas, less when it’s stormy.” He replied with a smile.
“So I see.”
“Not to worry Mr. Pike, we’re perfectly safe up here.”
“He looked back at the tug just as it plunged deep into another wave. “I’m not so much worried about us as I am about them,” he said pointing to the tugs, “they seem so small.”
“The sea can be cruel and unforgiving, but I wouldn’t worry too much about them either though. Those are the newest Crowley boats out there, built especially to handle weather like this. They’re not so tiny either. Each is 146 feet long and 44 feet wide, plus they have over 10,000 horsepower to help them battle the waves. Now compare that to the Mayflower that crossed the Atlantic with the pilgrims on board, she was just 90 feet long with a 25 foot beam and she only had sails for power, so I think they can handle themselves. That’s the Rachel B. out there in front, skippered by Captain Pat Bair, one of the best.” Gregory said, pointing out the window. “Our escort to port is the Cheri B. and we have a trailer at the stern, the Alyssa B. They may get tossed around a bit by this weather, but they’ll be fine.”
Not sure if it was the weather or just the power of suggestion, but Pike was feeling slightly woozy so he decided he’d seen of enough of the outside view and thought it best to concentrate on the inside. Other than the helm and a radarscope, he didn’t recognize much of anything else that would tell him he was on the bridge of a ship. There were literally dozens of computer screens, consoles and workstations whose purpose he couldn’t even begin to guess. The whole room looked more like mission control for a space shuttle launch than the bridge of a ship.
“Captain,” Pike said, being careful to keep his eyes from wandering to the tossing waves, “as you know, I’ve been tasked with doing the final safety inspection before entering New York harbor. From a maritime point of view, how does this thing stack up against, say a super tanker of similar size?”
“We are much the same as any large ship. Even without the tug we can move and steer ourselves with the four ships underneath us, though it wouldn’t be pretty or fast.” He walked over to a large computer screen that showed a miniature top view of the iceberg. “Now this is something that other ships don’t have.” He tapped a command and over a dozen readouts popped up all over the iceberg.
“What are those?” Pike asked.
“Stress points. Notice how the numbers are all in green and fluctuate as the ship rolls? This gives us a good indication of how well she’s handling the seas and we can make course adjustments as needed.”
“I noticed that up here,” he said, pointing to the screen, “at the support towers for the tow cable, some of the indicators flashed amber every once in a while.”
The Captain nodded. “Yes. We measure four different levels of stress, green, amber, yellow and red. As you have guessed, green means everything is within normal parameters. Amber indicates stress and fatigue levels rising in certain areas but well within safety limits. Yellow indicates a potential problem. If the sensor stays yellow, then an appropriate action plan needs to be formulated. If a sensor flashes red occasionally, it is time for concern but don’t head for the lifeboats yet. If it stays red, then structural failure is imminent and action must be taken immediately. In this case, I would expect to see a few amber lights and maybe an occasional flashing yellow, all depending on the severity of the weather. Not to worry Mr. Pike, everything is under control.”
Just then another wall of water shot up in front of the window accompanied by a loud whack as the wave smacked against the bow of the ice berg. Pike jumped again but not nearly as much as at the first wave. He quickly glanced around the room and thought he caught a couple of raised eyebrows from the crew.
“What are these blue areas?” Pike was pointing at four small blues squares at each of the corners of the iceberg.
“Those are the anchors.”
“Anchors? I don’t remember seeing any anchors when we flew in?”
The captain smiled. “That’s the whole point, it was designed that way. Mr. Cain didn’t want such necessary evils as anchors distracting from the beauty of the iceberg so they’re hidden. Each anchor room is buried five feet under the main deck and is encased by a one-foot thick wall of ice at the entrance. When the anchor is released, it will easily shatter the wall as it plummets to the ocean. It should look quite spectacular when they punch through the ice.
Captain?” A crewman at the far end of the bridge called out. “Barometric pressure is at 28.91 and dropping fast and winds steady at 55 knots with gusts up to 80.”
“Radar?”
“We have a cloud mass forming and coming down out of the north sir.”
“A storm brewing Captain?” Pike asked.
“The Captain nodded, “Yes.” was his simple answer. He gazed out the window, staring silently at the wind-tossed sea, watching, waiting, and listening intently as if it were speaking to him. The sea answered him in a not so still voice as another wave smashed against the berg, sending up another wall of water. This time Pike felt a small jerk as the towline between the tug and the iceberg had gone slack then tightened with the push of the wave. He looked down just in time to see nearly half the sensors on the towing support structure flash with an amber glow.
“Thompson,” the Captain said quietly, “get me Mr. Cain on the phone please.”
Suddenly Pike felt his stomach twisting into a knot, and it wasn’t from seasickness. The Captain turned to Pike, seeing the concern on his face. “No need for worry, Mr. Pike. As a precaution, I’m informing Mr. Cain that we’re setting a new course, heading south to try to get us away from this storm. After all, it wouldn’t do to have Mr. Cain’s guests getting seasick now would it?”
“That certainly would be some mess to clean up, huh?”
“Exactly.” The Captain smiled as he placed his hand on Pike’s shoulder. “A favor if you would Mr. Pike.”
“Sure.”
“Most of the people on board have never been at sea before, let alone in a storm. They tend to immediately think the worst and visions of the Poseidon Adventure or the Titanic jump to the forefront of their minds. So if you could mingle with the guests, telling them you’ve been on the bridge and talked to me and reassure them that everything will be all right, it will help calm their nerves greatly. They’ll believe it coming from you because they know you and trust you. Get them to the gaming tables so they’ll forget their seasickness and this nasty weather.”
“Sure thing Captain, I’ll do my best.” As Pike walked off the bridge, the captain turned to his radio operator. “Thompson, get me Dean Miles on the horn please.”
“Sir?”
“That’s right David, I need you to re-check the safety pins on all four anchor bridles.” Dean Miles said.
“But Mr. Miles, I
set those pins myself, they’re okay, beside I’m off in half an hour and it’ll take at least two to check them.”
“I know David, but we’re in for some bad weather and we need to make sure.”
“But sir...”
“David,” Miles said in a stern voice, losing patience. “I need those pins checked now!”
David turned off his walkie-talkie and stormed off down the passageway, his smoldering anger melting ice with each step. “David do this, David do that, David we need this over here, David we need that moved over there. You would think I’m the only one on this whole stupid barge who could do anything. Bad weather, huh! This thing is as big as an aircraft carrier and they’re afraid of a few waves. Hello,” he said as he hit the wall with his hands. “This thing is made of ice. Have you ever seen ice sink? Corporate idiots. They’re sipping wine and eating HOT food while I’m down here freezing my butt off so that someone up there could say that they took care of it.”
David Towers continued muttering to himself as he grabbed the rung of the first of three, two-story service ladders he’d have to climb in order to check the safety pins. “You should have stayed in school, but nooOOOooooo. At 20 years old, you were too smart for school, you didn’t want to be tied down, you wanted some adventure before you turned old and gray. You happy now Einstein?” His question to himself bounced off empty walls as he reached the top level. He paused for a moment, bending over as he caught his breath. “The hours suck but at least the pays isn’t bad,” he said, consoling himself.
Straightening up, he entered the forward port-side anchor room and immediately his breath was taken away by the frigid temperature. With no air circulating, as in the tunnels, the room held the cold like a deep freeze. Stepping back, he caught his breath, spewed out a few more choice words for corporate America then stepped in and flipped on the light switch.
He walked over to the anchor and grabbed the safety pin that held the locking mechanism, holding the anchor in its cradle. He jerked on it several times and it didn’t move. “See, I told you!” He shouted out loud to no one in particular.
Towers stood for a moment and looked out the front wall. Being only a foot thick, light filtered through it, casting a strange view of the outside world. From here too, he could feel the barge swaying back and forth with the rhythm of the storm waves. As he stood there watching, the front wall would grow darker for an instant then lighten up again. It took him a moment to realize what was happening; it was getting darker and lighter because the waves were splashing that high on the side of the barge.
He looked at his watch. He was supposed to be off in 15 minutes, he would never make it. He closed the door and headed to the starboard anchor room; he didn’t give it a second thought or realize that the waves were reaching 25 feet up the side of the iceberg.
He found the starboard bow anchor secure just as he had the port, and as he descended the three stories to start his journey aft, he felt his frustration growing on the inside as fast as the storm was growing on the outside. He wasn’t sure if it was just because he was hungry or because the weather was getting to him, but his stomach was getting upset, adding all the more to his sour mood.
Reaching the aft starboard anchor he found everything just as it should be, just as he knew it would be. Halfway up the ladder to the stern port anchor room, and an hour into overtime, his walkie beeped.
“Dave, are you done yet? The food is cold and the beer is getting warm. You need to get up here man, we have the place all to ourselves.” Towers looked up the shaft as if he could see his friend talking. He also heard laughter in the background and the clanging of a glass. They were up there having fun and he was stuck down here in the deep freeze. He sighed out of frustration; he could almost feel the warm air. “Yeah man, I’m so done here. I’ll be there in a few.”
Screw this, he said to himself as he switched off his walkie. The stupid pin is set just like the others were. He was halfway to the top and for a brief moment he thought about just going the rest of the way up and finishing the job, but then an image of his friends eating and drinking without him flashed through his mind, sending him straight down the ladder.
If he had taken just five more minutes, he would have seen that the pin in the starboard anchor was not in position like the others. It hadn’t been properly set in the first place and the swaying and rocking motion of the iceberg from the storm had loosened it even more; it was on the verge of falling out.
Chapter Twenty Four
When Pike entered the casino, he knew the captain had been right. The place was deserted. The gaming tables were empty and the dealers were all standing together talking as were the cocktail waitresses huddled by the bar. The slot machines still called out cheerily with their bright lights and happy chirps and beeps, but no one was there to listen.
He walked into the Crystal Palace and as he expected, found everyone standing by the windows, staring out at the storm. Tabatha was the first one to see him.
“How’s everyone doing?” Pike asked as she came over.
“A lot of people are worried though they’re trying to not show it.”
“Being a reporter, you picked up on that huh?”
“Very funny.” She replied as she hit him in the shoulder.
“I deserved that.” He said, rubbing his shoulder. “But seriously, what about you?”
She looked up at him and debated whether to tell the truth or play the tough, street wise reporter. “To be honest, I’m a little scared. A couple of times…..” Tabatha was interrupted by a startled shriek coming from someone standing by the window. They both turned to see spray shooting up over the side of the railing and splashing against the window. “…We’ve seen that happen.” She continued. “And it seems like the waves are getting bigger and splashing over the railing more often. I think everyone would be more comfortable if they had a steel ship under their feet instead of floating on something you put in your drink.”
“I just came from the bridge and the captain doesn’t seem concerned.”
“Yeah, well, neither did the Captain of the Titanic.”
Pike frowned and gave her a dirty look. “Anyway, we’re turning south to try to skirt the storm.”
“If everything is all right as the captain says, why are we changing course?”
“What, once a reporter always a reporter? Can’t you take anything at face value?”
“Sorry, but it comes with the territory.”
Pike frowned again. “Anyway I need your help in distracting these people from the storm. The more they stare at the crashing waves, the more their imagination will run away with them and the more frightened they’ll become.”
“Amen to that.” Tabatha replied, watching as another wave crashed over the railing.
“Everyone, can I have your attention please?” Pike shouted. He not only wanted to get their minds off the storm but to get them away from the plate glass windows in case they shattered. A few people turned, but most ignored him, still concentrating on the weather outside. Suddenly Pike thought his eardrums would rupture from the loud whistle that came from right behind him. Instantly everyone turned around. Pike turned and looked at Tabatha who was wearing a big smile.
“What?” she said innocently. “You said you wanted my help.”
“Yeah, I may need your help finding an ear doctor after that.”
“Ever try hailing a cab in New York?” She smiled.
Pike turned back to the crowd who was now paying attention, thanks to Tabatha’s whistle. “I’ve just come from the bridge and the Captain has assured me that everything is going to be okay.”
“Those waves look pretty damn big to me,” one man shouted.
“Yeah, and I don’t remember seeing any life boats on this giant ice cube,” another shouted. A low murmur started to spread through the crowd like a deadly mist.
“Where’s Cain? Why isn’t he here?”
“He’s probably long gone by now. Flew the coup in that fancy helicopt
er of his.”
“We’re perfectly safe, nothing is going to happen.” Pike tried to reassure them but hysteria already had a firm grip on them with one hand and was reaching up to choke out the last thoughts of reason with the other. He was losing them and he had to act fast. He was about to find out how good a poker player he was.
“Mr. Cain is still on board, and in fact he sent me down here,” he lied. “You all know what a gracious host Mr. Cain is and while he can do a lot of things, he can’t control the weather, yet.” There was a small nervous chuckle or two but not the tension breaker he was hoping for. “So to make up for this inconvenience, Mr. Cain will credit everyone’s account in the casino for $500.00. He wants you to have fun and this is his way of making up for the bad weather.”
This caught the attention of over half the people but there were still a few holdouts. “Hey, would the Blast from the Past lie?” He held up his hands and put on his cheesiest smile. More laughter, almost there. “Tabatha, is this right?”
“Yes, yes, it is.” She joined in.
“There, you see? She’s a reporter, and we all know that reporters don’t stretch the truth.” Laughter now filled the room; hysteria’s grip broken as they all started leaving the restaurant and heading back to the casino.
“Thanks for the backup back there.” Pike said as the last of the crowd shuffled by.
“You were pretty quick on your feet back there. Mr. Cain never said he’d give everyone $500.00 did he?”
Pike sighed then shook his head. “No, but one problem at a time for now. I still need your help.”
“Sure.”
“I need you to go out and play the gracious host for me. Keep everybody playing; keep their minds off the storm. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure, I can help the Blast from the Past, but it will cost you.”