Deadly Passage

by Lawrence Gold

  After three hours, Jesse said, ‘‘You look beat. Let me take over.’’

  ‘‘Okay. I wish we could use the pilot, but I don’t trust it in such high seas.’’

  ‘‘Have you seen the Coast Guard?’’

  ‘‘Gallup appeared for an instant several times. I think they sent the smaller patrol boats ahead.’’

  ‘‘Prophecy… Prophecy, this is Gallup. Come in.’’

  ‘‘Go ahead.’’

  ‘‘How’s it going, Andy?’’ Barney asked.

  ‘‘Just a pleasant day sail.’’

  ‘‘Right. Listen, I have all our best people looking at the wind and wave predictions at Flamingo. They think the wind’s going to shift aft and that it’s likely that the seas and winds will be directly behind you when you reach Flamingo’s entrance channel. It’s pretty shallow there, so you can expect a large swell.’’

  ‘‘That should get us there all the quicker.’’

  ‘‘Don’t be cavalier about this, Andy. That’s going to be a dangerous point of sail for an approach.’’

  Andy laughed. ‘‘Don’t tell me, Barney. When’s the last time you surfed a 50-foot sailboat into a marina?’’

  ‘‘Okay… okay. I’m only trying to help.’’

  ‘‘I know the dangers, Barney, but what choice do we have?’’

  ‘‘We can try to take you off Prophecy, and onto the cutter.’’

  ‘‘You’re going to launch a Zodiac in these seas? I think not.’’

  ‘‘They train us for this, Andy. It won’t be easy, but we can do it.’’

  ‘‘I don’t think so, Barney. I can’t put the lives of your guys at risk.’’

  ‘‘Let’s try to put ego and emotion aside, Andy. I want to make the best choice for all of us.’’

  ‘‘Thanks, Barney, but I think this is the best choice.’’

  ‘‘Let’s not rule out a rescue at sea, yet. You may want to change your mind when you see the entrance to Flamingo. Once you make the turn into the final approach with the swell behind you, going back will be as easy as changing your mind after you’ve left the diving board.’’

  ‘‘I know, Barney. Don’t rub it in. My stomach’s churning enough just thinking about it.’’ Andy paused. ‘‘Were you able to get more VIG immune serum from the CDC?’’

  ‘‘Yes. It’ll be waiting at Flamingo. How’s Rachel doing?’’

  ‘‘She’s feverish and a bit toxic, but no smallpox rash, yet.’’

  ‘‘How’s Jesse holding out?’’

  ‘‘She’s a trooper, and a great boat handler. I’m perfectly comfortable to have her at the helm, but if we survive this, I don’t think she’ll set foot on a sailboat again.’’

  ‘‘I don’t blame her, Andy. This weather sucks.’’

  ‘‘Those were her exact words, Barney.’’

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  The President turned to Preston Harding. ‘‘What’s happening with the preparations for Prophecy?’’

  ‘‘We are evacuating all nonessential people from Flamingo, Mr. President. Decontamination and quarantine teams from DHS and the CDC are on their way. They have everything necessary to control the spread of infection, and treat those on board.’’

  ‘‘Where will they set up shop?’’

  ‘‘Hurricane Wilma badly damaged the Flamingo Lodge in the fall of 2005, but they can probably use part of the building. If not, they’ll set up an inflatable hospital, and treat them there.’’

  ‘‘An inflatable in the face of a hurricane?’’

  ‘‘I know, sir,’’ Harding said. ‘‘They’ll try to make do with the existing buildings in the area.’’

  ‘‘How long before they arrive at Flamingo?’’

  ‘‘About two hours, but it’s not going to be easy.’’

  ‘‘What now?’’ The President asked.

  ‘‘They’re at the hurricane’s periphery. That puts them in the so-called dangerous semicircle, where the storm’s movement combines with the cyclonic storm forces to multiply the wind’s effect. They’ll be heading into shallow waters with big waves and winds behind them. Dangerous is the understatement of the year.’’

  ‘‘Can we do anything?’’

  ‘‘Captain Adams offered the crew of Prophecy a rescue at sea, but they refused. Andy Reiss wasn’t prepared to sacrifice the lives of Coast Guard crewmembers in an endeavor he thought was doomed to failure. I can’t say he was wrong, sir.’’

  ‘‘They’re ready for some type of rescue operation, aren’t they?’’

  ‘‘It’s a tough call, sir. We’re balancing lives: the crew on Prophecy versus those of our Coast Guard seamen. If I know those guys, sir, they’ll rescue them at all costs.’’

  At Prophecy’s helm, Jesse struggled trying to keep Prophecy under control as the seas worsened and the wind increased even more. The sky was black and the sea was angry.

  Andy came from below. ‘‘I hate to say this, sweetheart, but since our final approach to Flamingo will be dead downwind, pardon the expression, we still have too much sail up. Control is going to be the issue, and I don’t think either of us can control the boat with this much sail. I need to put in a third reef.’’

  Jesse gasped. ‘‘My God, Andy. Look at it out there: it’s a mess.’’ She paused, and then held Andy as she wept. ‘‘We can’t do it… it’s too much…’’

  ‘‘I know, but we have no choice. We need to do it, and we will.’’ Andy paused, and looked out over the gigantic swell. ‘‘Since we’re so close to the wind, we’d best do it now, before the wind moves aft. Clip your tethers to the cockpit’s starboard and port rails. That way, you can control the helm, and move to the halyard. You have to keep Prophecy moving forward over these waves with the engine. If we fall backward, we’ll founder, and…’’

  ‘‘I’ll do the best I can.’’

  ‘‘I know,’’ Andy said, as he leaned over to kiss her wet, salty lips. ‘‘I love you, Jesse.’’

  ‘‘I love you, too. Please be careful.’’

  Andy hooked his tethers to the jack lines, and crawled along the starboard deck to the mast. When Jesse brought the boat directly into the wind, the mainsail shook violently, and the boat slowed. Andy quickly lowered the sail to the third reef point, and signaled for Jesse to tighten the halyard.

  By the time the smaller reefed mainsail caught the wind, Prophecy had slowed its forward motion dramatically. They were barely moving forward as they neared the crest of the oncoming wave. Jesse looked ahead in horror at the onrushing gigantic wave, looming overhead. Time stood still as Prophecy struggled inch by inch up the huge wave. Just as the cresting wave gripped the sailboat to toss it backward into the trough, the large 3-bladed propeller caught the sea, and the boat barely managed to hobbyhorse over the wave’s top. Prophecy hesitated a moment, and then raced down the back of the huge wave, gaining speed and control as Jesse allowed the small mainsail to fill, and bring the boat back on an even keel.

  When Andy crawled back into the cockpit, he was soaked and trembling from cold and fear. ‘‘That was exciting. Are you okay?’’

  ‘‘I have this warm sensation running down my thighs... I peed in my pants.’’ She smiled. ‘‘It feels great.’’

  With the triple-reefed main, they noted no significant change in boat speed. The major advantage would come when they turned downwind before the storm.

  Barney’s voice came over the VHF. ‘‘What in hell are you guys doing out there? We thought you were going to fall off that wave. It scared the shit out of me.’’

  ‘‘You? What about us?’’

  ‘‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Andy.’’

  ‘‘You’re spoiled, Barney, with that big ship, and all that power. When’s the last time you rode out a storm at sea in a sailboat?’’

  ‘‘Never did, and never will.’’

  ‘‘We had to reduce our sail area for the final approach, because, if your projections are correct, then we’ll be running downwind into Fla
mingo. At least now, with less sail, we may be better able to control Prophecy.’’

  About an hour away from the entrance channel, visibility deteriorated with heavy spray blowing off the wave crests. The wind, as predicted, was now coming off their aft quarter. Barney had been right when he’d assessed their situation.

  ‘‘Visibility stinks, Barney,’’ Andy said. ‘‘We’re going to have to follow you in. Is that okay?’’

  ‘‘Of course. I’m having our men place high intensity lights on the stern, and aimed at our wake. Lit like that, you shouldn’t have any problem following us.’’

  Gallup’s bridge had its full company of coastguardsmen as the boat turned downwind, past the sea buoy that marked the approach channel. It began about a half mile before the 75-foot break in the land, marking the marina’s entrance.

  ‘‘This is going to be exciting,’’ said Gallup’s skipper, who put his best helmsman to the job.

  ‘‘I have the Chief Petty Officer on the horn, Skipper,’’ the radioman said.

  ‘‘Go ahead, Chief,’’ the skipper said.

  ‘‘Sir, we’re standing at the marina’s entrance… and sir, it’s bad. Real bad.’’

  Barney felt his stomach tighten.

  ‘‘Go ahead,’’ the skipper said.

  ‘‘We have 15 to 20 foot waves breaking over the entrance, and much higher ones than that, sometimes. I’m guessing that there’s a bar before the entrance.’’

  ‘‘What’s the water depth?’’ The skipper asked.

  ‘‘There’s plenty of water, sir, but these breaking waves make it especially dangerous.’’

  Dangerous for us, thought Barney, but suicidal for Prophecy.

  ‘‘Prophecy… Prophecy, this is Barney. Come in, Andy.’’

  ‘‘How close are you, Barney?’’

  ‘‘We’ll be inside in about 3 minutes, but we have a problem…’’

  ‘‘What now?’’

  ‘‘Our patrol boats are already in, and they report breaking waves over the marina’s entrance… big waves, Andy. Can you turn around?’’

  ‘‘No way, Barney. If we turn broadside, these waves will knock us over, and will dismast us for sure. After you get through the marina’s entrance channel, Barney, move the hell out of my way, and prepare your men to save our asses. We’re coming in.’’

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Gallup’s powerful engines easily met, or exceeded, the wave speed, as they charged toward the marina entrance. It looked impossibly small in the distance.

  The helmsman, Chief Petty Officer Cooper, continually adjusted his power and propeller pitch to keep Gallup ahead of the following waves. Even so, before they broke through the narrow entrance, the stern lifted dramatically, and then yawed to starboard. Cooper applied maximum power, and drove Gallup away from the entrance wall. In seconds, they sloshed down into the water beyond the threshold, and into choppy, but calmer, marina waters.

  The men on the bridge released their handholds, and smiled as the skipper said, ‘‘Hell of a ride, Cooper.’’

  Barney picked up the VHF transmitter. ‘‘Do you read me, Andy?’’

  ‘‘Got you, Barney, but I’m a little busy. We’d better make this our last transmission,’’ he paused. ‘‘That is, until we get into the marina.’’

  ‘‘I can’t tell you how to handle your boat, Andy. You know more than I’ll ever know about sailing, but, for what it’s worth, here’s my advice.’’

  ‘‘Shoot.’’

  ‘‘Keep up your boat speed, and when you reach the entrance, watch out for forces pushing you starboard. I don’t know if it’s the bottom, or a local wind shift, but something moved our stern dangerously close to the starboard side of the entrance.’’

  ‘‘Thanks, Barney, but there isn’t a damn thing we can do about changing our boat speed. What sail we have up is staying up. I doubt we’ll see such a shift of the stern with our large keel, but I’ll watch for it. Wish us luck; we’re going to need it.’’

  Andy and Jesse stared at each other, understanding the moment and their love for each other.

  He reached over, and caressed her wet cheek. ‘‘Make sure Rachel’s in her life jacket. Put one on Nicole, too. I want all of you to stay below while I try to get us inside in one piece.’’

  She squeezed his wet hand. ‘‘You can do it.’’

  ‘‘I want you and Rachel in the owner’s stateroom with pillows and anything soft on both sides. If we get thrown around, you should be safe.’’

  ‘‘What about Nicole?’’

  Screw her, he thought, but, instead, said, ‘‘Just tie her in place.’’

  Andy was relieved that they were running downwind on a port tack with the boom fully extended to the starboard side. Once they entered the marina, he’d have to turn hard left, and, with the boom already out, they would avoid a dangerous jibe when the boom swung from one side to the other.

  Each approaching wave lifted Prophecy, increased her speed, and set her down in the passing trough. The movement, while not unpleasant in the open sea, was dangerous, because each time it happened, he’d lose control of the boat for a few seconds. If he lost control at the entrance with following waves, it would be a disaster.

  Bravery for some, Andy thought, is simply the lack of imagination. His imagination was running wild as he visualized disaster.

  Let’s see, what’s on the menu? He thought. A following wave can pitch pole us, the wave could catch us on either side and slam us on the beam, or we could lose control, altogether, and miss the entrance entirely, or run into the channel wall.

  Andy had watched Gallup’s stern rise and fall as it broke through the marina’s entrance. He had about 200 yards left.

  Each time he looked back, the following waves grew taller. It wasn’t his imagination, he knew; the waves were mountainous as they neared the shore, and more dangerous as they crested and rolled.

  Andy stared at the knot meter. They were moving at 9 knots, uncomfortably fast, but any slower, and the waves would overtake and swamp them. Winds blew at 35 knots, gusting to 50.

  The engine ran, and Andy kept the transmission engaged, but the RPMs low.

  Wind, foam, and sheets of seawater blew off the wave tops, soaking and blinding him to the gauntlet ahead. He blinked and wiped his hands across his stinging eyes.

  We’re going too damn fast, Andy thought as he reached the 100-yard mark. Prophecy was moving at 13 knots.

  13 knots, he thought. Shit, I just can’t control her at that speed. He thought of calling Barney again, but his hands were glued to the wheel.

  The boat speed increased to 16 knots.

  My God!

  Andy’s pulse raced. His mouth was dry as he licked salt from his lips. His pale hands, white knuckled, gripped the wheel.

  In seconds, the entrance loomed dead ahead. The stern rushed toward the starboard side, heading for the wall. He remembered Barney’s advice, and turned the wheel sharply to starboard, shifting the stern to port. Just then, his peripheral vision caught the huge wall of water following behind. The towering white, foamy wave crest was about to break over Prophecy’s stern, when Andy shoved the throttle forward for maximum power. The boat responded, and, suddenly, Prophecy was airborne as her bow jutted up, and the stern crashed down into the water not 5 feet from the entranceway’s wall. He held his breath as the wall came closer and closer. Andy whipped the wheel completely to starboard, and the stern moved away as the wave broke directly over Prophecy, and slammed the boat down on her port side. Andy, tethered to the midline of the cockpit, was suspended in the air, like a marionette, for 2 or 3 seconds, but he remained behind the wheel, and fixed to the boat.

  Fortunately, Prophecy had cleared the short entrance channel, so the mast smacked down into the open marina waters.

  As Andy hung, tethered in the cockpit, he counted, waiting for Prophecy to right herself. 10… 15… and 20 seconds extended to 40 seconds before gravity dragged the heavy keel downward, and swung the sailboat ever
so slowly back to the upright position.

  Andy looked around in disbelief. The seamen on Gallup stood on deck, waving and cheering.

  The VHF radio blared with Barney’s voice, ‘‘That was ugly, Andy.’’

  Andy picked up the handset. ‘‘You know what they say about landings, Barney: any one you can walk away from is a good one.’’

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Jesse stuck her head through the companionway. ‘‘What was that all about, Skipper? We wound up plastered against the port bulkhead.’’

  ‘‘Are you and Rachel okay?’’

  ‘‘Just a few bruises. I’m glad we stayed below. That must have been exciting.’’

  ‘‘We’re in, and safe. Come to the helm, and help me get the sail down.’’

  Jesse pointed Prophecy into the wind, and they let the sail drop onto the boom.

  When Jesse turned the boat toward the slips, the VHF sounded. ‘‘Over here, Skipper. Look to your port side.’’

  Andy looked to the left, where a group of yellow-suited figures were waving and swaying in the breeze. With broad gestures, they guided Prophecy to the space between the long finger dock, and the marina’s sea wall, as secure a place as the marina could provide.

  ‘‘Bring her in, Jesse.’’

  With the sails down, and in the smoother water in the deepest part of the marina, Prophecy slid alongside the dock. Andy threw the bow and stern lines to the awaiting figures.

  Reggie stood on deck, barking and wagging her tail.

  Andy stared. The men—he assumed they were men—wore bright yellow Tyvek protective suits, each with a self-contained air supply. The suit’s windage kept them reeling in the gusts.

  Andy felt like Typhoid Mary, the healthy carrier of that deadly disease, who died in quarantine in 1938. This degree of protection, thought Andy, is paranoia to the extreme.

  He opened the boarding gate, and stepped onto the dock. ‘‘Boy, does solid ground feel great.’’

  A tall man extended his gloved hand. Andy stared through the Plexiglas of the ventilator mask.