CHAPTER TWELVE
The Captain headed the Elite south, keeping the ship just within visual range of the coast. A constant radar watch was kept to try and locate the wayward tanker if it was still at sea. Every time they saw signs of life ashore they halted and checked it out. Carefully. Twice the launch was fired upon before it got close to shore. The other times it was small bands of people eager to get aboard the ship.
Joshua was curious why the Captain wouldn’t let anyone else aboard. He overheard two of the officers discussing it. It was because of the reports they were getting of the levels of fallout along most areas of the coast. Most of those people that weren’t staying in shelters were going to die, most sooner, some later.
They tried stopping at a couple of the small towns and cities, to try to find additional food, but were rebuffed each time by the residents. Armed residents. Seemed that if the place was habitable, then the residents didn’t want any more drain on their resources and if it was abandoned it was still too hot to enter. As it was, those that had gone into Savanna Harbor suffered mild symptoms of radiation poisoning.
There were cruising slowly, just passing Hobe Sound when the sentry on binocular duty called into the bridge. “I see something. It’s definitely a tanker.”
The Elite made a sweeping turn and headed for the sound. The ship lay at anchor some distance from shore. The ship’s launch was grounded nearby on shore. There were no signs of life on shore or aboard the Giuseppe when Elite crew checked each one out. There were signs of heavy fallout, though rains after the fall had washed most of it off the decks of the ship.
Captain Bainseborough-Smith sent a team from the engineering section to see if they could get the ship in operating condition. It didn’t take long. Essentially it had been parked and the key turned off. Everything fired right up. With a couple of engineering crew aboard the Captain brought the others back and transferred enough operations crew to handle the ship.
Fearful of the radiation, the Captain took both ships back out to sea. While it wasn’t a super tanker by any means, the Giuseppe’s cargo tanks could keep both ships sailing the area for several years.
It was obvious, from both direct observation and reports from amateur radio operators that had survived, that the peninsula of Florida was a washout as far as replenishing the ships food stocks. With fuel not a problem, the Captain set the ships’ course south to the Caribbean.
They were able to replenish food supplies about as quickly as they consumed them. Those that had stayed aboard were committed to staying aboard. Those that had it contributed money and belongings to the Elite’s bank to purchase what wasn’t just lying around as they visited island after island. It was usually from small farmers away from the regular port cities.
They were not welcome in many places, especially those that already had a cruise ship or two at berth. The Giuseppe was always left out of sight of land with guards on board armed with shotguns when the Elite went in to shore try to bargain for supplies. It seemed many of the cruise ships were doing the same thing. Pickings were slim. And the demand for the Giuseppe fuel was high when it was discovered to be traveling with the Elite. The Captain headed them toward South America to stay out of harm’s way.
Stops were made every few days all along the Central American east coast. Additional food stocks were purchased from the locals, using anything and everything not tied down to the ship, including the clothing and possessions the deserters had left behind. When they reached Brazilian national waters they had more success, stocking up heavily on fresh food, including a great deal of meat that went into the ship’s freezers. People quit asking what they were having for the next meal, when they got the answers to the questions the first time.
It went well until the Brazilian authorities found out about the Giuseppe. It was ordered into shore. The Brazilians sent a patrol boat out for it, but Captain Bainseborough-Smith ordered it to head due east as fast as it could go. He turned the Elite to follow.
Though the patrol boat caught up with the tanker it only circled it a few times and left. The only thing Joshua could think of was that the Brazilian’s still had some infrastructure up and wasn’t willing to spill blood over the tanker. But the Elite and Giuseppe were no longer welcome.
It was winter in the Southern Hemisphere. The Captain turned them back north. They were able to pick up food again along the northern shores of South America and the eastern shores of Central America. When they got to Mexico it was a near repeat of Brazil. They were ordered in, but when they didn’t go, they were left alone.
They had accumulated three months’ worth of food. They headed for Texas. They found a good source of beef in one of the little Texas towns near the shore. This time the Captain had to trade diesel for it, but they got more than a year’s worth of beef and pork.
They’d taken on live chickens and goats when in South America, along with a great deal of feed, so had ongoing sources of chicken, eggs, and milk, to go along with the beef and pork that was butchered and frozen.
With those stocks of food, and the fish they were catching with tackle they’d traded for, they were good for well over a year. Now they needed a home base.
They found it in Louisiana near the Texas border. Houston and Galveston had been hammered with nuclear weapons, and with the other targets hit in Texas, the area received a great deal of fallout. But that was fading. There were very few residents left in the area. With the Captain’s permission, most of the passengers and crew opted to stay aboard the Elite. It had everything they needed, except for an actual source for food.
With the two ships in a small, safe harbor, The Elite survivors set up a presence on shore. It took days of exploration on foot to locate a working vehicle. When they found one it allowed them to scavenge in the surrounding area. They found what they needed to prepare gardens, including seeds. The Captain took the ship back to Texas and got more beef. On the hoof this time, to start their own herd.
Joshua fretted, wanting to go look for Precious, but not willing to leave immediately. He felt a responsibility to help get a permanent presence set up on land. With the fuel they had they could live aboard ship as long as they had food. Joshua did what he could for the rest of that year and the next. During that time, he bought a whole head of beef with his Rolex watch, and made arrangements with one of the chefs to cut it up for him using the ship’s equipment, for the last of his cash.
He turned nearly an equal amount of the weight of the steer into beef jerky, trading other people specific cuts for more suitable cuts of meat to make into the jerky.
There were boats all along the coast for the taking.
Joshua couldn’t believe his luck when he ran across a sunken MacGregor 26 power sailor on one of his first exploration journeys. Every once in a while, in his past life, he went through a phase of wanting a boat suitable for the Missouri lakes. He’d been impressed with the MacGregor. It was a decent sailor and very good under power. Though it was down to the gunnels in the water, the boat was unsinkable.
He checked under the water for damage and found none. He salvaged a small gasoline powered pump and pumped the boat out, and began refurbishing it in his spare time between his work assignments for the community.
The outboard motor that had been on the boat was ruined, but he found a brand new Mercury four stroke 15 hp outboard. It would do until he could get the boat to a good marina and find a 50 hp to up engine the boat. It would be awkward, but Joshua intended to keep the 15 hp on board for emergency use.
Joshua was able to find dozens of the standard 6-gallon and 12-gallon marine fuel tanks on other boats, but gasoline was scarce. He made sure there were a couple of siphons on board the boat.
With the boat and jerky ready the spring of the third year after the war, Joshua was ready to start his journey to find his daughter, Precious. Having said his good-bye’s Joshua set sail eastward, headed for the mouth of the Mississippi.
He steered clear of any place that looked inhabited, b
ut checked every place along the shore that looked abandoned. He was looking for gasoline, guns and ammunition, and a water purifier. He had water for a week or more on board, but he wanted a way to treat more.
It took a great deal of time, but Joshua’s searches along the Louisiana sea coast, and then the Mississippi River banks finally paid off. He found gasoline here and there, and at one river marina, found an almost full case of 16-ounce bottles of PRI-G.
When he first saw the product he didn’t know what it was, but when he checked the marina’s fuel tanks there was a sign that suggested the PRI-G or PRI-D be used with all the marina’s fuel. He went back into the marina store, got the one bottle they had on display and searched the back room until he found the rest of the case. He grabbed a couple of first-aid kits on display. He didn’t have one.
Though he didn’t need it for the MacGregor, Joshua intended to be traveling by land vehicle at some point and took all the PRI-D he could find, too. There was no telling what he might find that would run.
That marina was a treasure trove in other ways. He found a Mercury 50 hp outboard on one of the boats docked in the marina. It was a struggle, but he got it mounted on the MacGregor, with the 15 hp drained, cleaned, and stored on the foredeck. It would only be used if the 50 hp quit on him until he could find another.
The marina store also catered to campers and hikers in the area. They had a small selection of water purifiers. He took all they had, all the replacement filters he could find, and all the accessories. Also some camping equipment.
He began to find more gasoline along one stretch of the river. From what he could see, it had residual amounts of fallout. He saw nothing moving except for fish jumping in the river. With the small chance of someone being around, he searched a little more thoroughly for firearms when he came to nice looking properties facing the river.
Joshua found what he assumed was a World War II vet’s house. It too, like the one marina, was a treasure trove. Joshua found the partially eaten human remains sitting in a chair in the living room of the house, an issue model Colt 1911 pistol in his hand. Propped nearby was an M1 Garand and a Winchester 97 12-gauge trench gun. Both the Garand and the shotgun had long bayonets attached.
The man had all the accoutrements. Cartridge box web belt and suspenders, with ammunition, holster and knife sheaths, a pair of canteens, and two double pouches for the 1911 magazines. There was also a butt pack, and a combat pack with entrenching tool and a machete strapped to it. The two packs were empty. A full dozen 80-round bandoleers with loaded ammunition in the Garand en-bloc clips where at hand. Joshua was doubtful that they were issue, but there were two fifty round leather bandoleers of 12 gauge 00 buck hanging on the top spindle of the chair.
Joshua searched the rest of the house. He found more ammunition for all three weapons stashed in a closet. There was also quite a bit of canned and packaged food. Joshua took it all. He made five trips from the house to the MacGregor, worried each step that he was staying in one place too long. But still he checked behind the house. Sure enough, there was a restored Willys Jeep. It had a D-handle shovel under one door opening and an axe under the other, and a spare tire and fuel can on the rear. Joshua took the tools and fuel can. It was full. He checked the shed. Six more cans of fuel.
He debated taking the jeep, but it was on the wrong side of the river, and he doubted he could make as good of time northward in the Jeep as he could the boat. Not to mention finding enough gasoline. He was in good shape now, with all his marine portable tanks full and the seven cans from the vet. A dangerous amount, in normal circumstances. He had fuel stashed all over the boat.
After he had loaded everything aboard, Joshua motored away at high speed. The place was giving him the willies.
Joshua was stopping in the heaviest cover he could along the banks for his night stops. He saw the occasional boat out, mostly rowboats, but none showed an inclination to contact him, other than a casual wave as he sailed past. He picked up sailing skills fairly rapidly, though he was far from being an expert.
He was motoring along a stretch of the river with many twists and turns when he met a big Jon boat coming down stream under paddle power. The two men in the boat were as startled as Joshua. Joshua looked back. The Jon boat was going around the bend. But then he heard the motor that was mounted on the boat fire up and the boat came rushing back around the bend, under full power.
The man in the front of the boat lifted a shotgun and began to fire at the MacGregor. Joshua slammed the throttle of the Mercury 50 hp and sped away. The Jon boat, though up on plane, couldn’t keep up with the MacGregor at full speed, as the Jon boat’s engine began to sputter and then died, leaving them languishing in the MacGregor’s wake.
Joshua wiped the sweat off his brow and thought to check himself, the boat, and the engines for damage. From the looks of the pellet marks, the man had been using small shot. There were indentations on the motor housings and marks on the back of the boat. It was only when he turned back to face forward that he realized he taken a pellet in his left arm.
He waited until he found a place with a lot of overhanging vegetation, lowered the mast, and eased under it. Then he tended the wound. It wasn’t bad, but Joshua didn’t want it to fester. After sterilizing the blade of his pen knife, Joshua dug out the pellet. It hurt like the dickens, but Joshua managed to get the pellet out without screaming, but it was a near thing.
Wishing he had some alcohol, to wash out the wound as well as to use as a painkiller, he put a Band-Aid on the little hole and then extricated the MacGregor from the foliage and headed north again, at speed, until he decided he was far enough ahead of the Jon boat that it wouldn’t be able to catch him, even if they got their outboard going again.
Joshua kept his vigilance up as he traveled, keeping to the center of the river. There were places where people were on shore, and long stretches with no evidence of anyone. He had two more incidents of being shot at, but he was able to motor away with no damage.
He kept stopping at abandoned places along the river and continued to find small amounts of gasoline, and even some food to supplement his jerky. He used the sail whenever he could, to lessen fuel consumption, but he was fighting the downstream current all the time.
Joshua couldn’t figure out the apparent huge amounts of fallout that seemed to cover the ground in many places after he passed the southern border of Arkansas. It just didn’t look right to be radioactive fallout. Finally, somewhat against his better judgment, he pulled ashore at a place that was covered in the material. He picked up a handful. It wasn’t radioactive fallout; it was volcanic ash. Their shipboard amateurs had mentioned that Yellowstone had blown, but he hadn’t given it much credence at the time. He was a believer now.
Finally, he got close to St. Louis. His initial plan had been to stop below St. Louis, a probable target in the war, find a useable vehicle and go over land the rest of the way. But the more he thought about it, going past St. Louis and taking the Missouri upstream seemed to be a better idea. The MacGregor was doing well. If he could get past St. Louis on the Mississippi, and then take the Missouri River, he could go all the way to Kansas City by water. Another potential nuclear target was Jefferson City, Missouri, the state capital. It was right on the Missouri River.
Joshua decided to at least try to get to the Missouri. He searched for more gas, and managed to fill his containers again, this time from abandoned cars on the highways adjacent to the river. His siphon hose worked like a charm. All he had to do was punch through the anti-siphon block in the filler necks of the newer cars, and siphon the fuel into cans.
He began to see an oily sheen on the surface of the river the closer he got to St. Louis. He began to see damage to the structures near the river. He brought the MacGregor to a halt, using the engine to just hold him in place against the current. It took a couple of minutes to make up his mind. Joshua switched to a full 12-gallon fuel tank and ran the throttle up to full speed. He stayed on the east side of the river,
though well away from the shore.
He had to slow down to navigate across the fallen river bridges. Everyone in the St. Louis area was down. Joshua saw no one as he motored past the destroyed city. He saw the tanks right on the bank that were leaking diesel into the river. There was probably plenty of gas in one of those tank farms, but he was afraid the radiation levels would be too high for safety.
Joshua had a tense moment when he came to the Alton, Illinois Dam and locks. If they were closed, he didn’t know if he would be able to get past them. But his worries faded when he saw clear passage. He motored through and past, and then into the mouth of the Missouri. He felt ill after traveling two days up the Missouri and laid low for a couple. He couldn’t keep anything on his stomach for the entire two days. Most of his nausea resulted in dry heaves after that.
But he felt better after another day, though rather weak. Joshua admitted to himself that he’d received a pretty good radiation dose passing St. Louis. A week later he began losing some of his thick shock of hair, but it didn’t last long. He was seeing more people now, despite the evidence of the heavy ash fall.
He began to approach people, his acquired weapons at hand. He was able to trade for some fresh food at one place, for some of his jerky, and another place some gasoline for jerky. He sheared away quickly from anyone that showed any signs of aggression. He was a tempting target and knew it. Most of the other boats he was seeing on the river were much smaller.
If Jefferson City had been a target, it had been missed. He sailed past without a problem. He was on the last leg of the journey. Joshua was dismayed when he reached the northeast corner of the city. It was as close to the city as he could get on the boat. It wasn’t looking good and he began to worry about radiation.
Ozark Retreat Page 14