The Boy Who Would Rule the World

by Brian Toal

  "We may have a gasoline spill on the lower deck." She stated, her voice level and controlled. "I'm going to check it out. You will hear from me in less than two minutes." She yanked open the door from the bridge and stepped into the connecting hallway.

  Officers don't run. In fact, they rarely hurry. It comes with the position and the white uniform with the gold bars and epaulettes that lend command and authority to the workings of a ship. Others may jump to their command and scurry about. Officers don't.

  Downstairs was the cafeteria galley. Below that the interior ladders to the other decks of the ship. The ten crew members washing dishes and preparing food within the kitchen stopped, astounded as their Captain charged through their confines. Her braided cap and white uniform were impeccable, her face impassive and she looked neither to the left or right as though they might not notice her speed.

  They did though, and a look of fear touched their eyes as she disappeared from view down the metal stairs to below.

  Terry knew there were three possible outcomes to the information she had received from the passenger. One: it was a hoax and there would be no spill of gasoline and then they would do their best to find the prankster. Two: a car or truck would be dripping a few drops of gasoline, which happened often enough and could be soaked up with some sawdust. Then a crew member would be posted beside it to prevent any further problems or...Three: there would be gallons of gasoline leaking from a vehicle which would necessitate an immediate response. They would have to flush the entire lower deck with sea water before they could allow the passengers to return. It had never happened before, but the procedures were written up in the training manuals. If they had to flush the deck, their arrival in Nanaimo would be delayed by an hour or more and interfere with B.C. Ferries' schedule for the rest of the day - something that was to be avoided if at all possible. She was totally unprepared for a fourth eventuality.

  She swung back the door leading from the crew's access and stepped into almost an inch of gasoline sloshing against the steel walls with the ship's movement. Every square foot of the hold was covered with gas. The stench overpowering, the fumes shimmering in the air. Rows and rows of cars sat with their tires puddled in the gas until, further away, the flat sides of transport trucks blocked any further view. Terry stood stunned in the doorway. One deck below her and partially under the waterline was the engine room. The engineers that worked within its confines complained constantly about water dripping from the bottom car deck into their level. What was dripping into the gigantic engine room now? The engine room with its massive diesel engine that ran almost a quarter of the ship's length and the innumerable electric motors and feed pumps.

  She spun on her heel, the door silently swinging shut behind her, and dropped down one further level.

  "Tsawwassen Control, this is The Queen of Selkirk. Come in please." The speaker blared in the glass enclosed control tower raised thirty feet above and to the rear of the loading ramps the Queen of Selkirk had left over an hour ago. The duty officer held his cup of coffee securely in one hand as he swiveled his chair over to the microphone that linked each BC Ferry with the terminal on a private FM channel.

  This is odd, he thought, as he looked up at the clock above him. The Queen of Selkirk must be in the center channel by now, more than half-way to Nanaimo. If they were going to be late, they should be talking with Nanaimo Control, not him.

  "Tsawwassen Control," he spoke into the microphone, "go ahead Queen of Selkirk."

  "We are declaring a class one emergency and are preparing to abandon ship."

  The coffee cup tilted in his hand, lukewarm coffee cascading across his black dress pants. He didn't even notice. Abandon ship! It had never happened before. Couldn't happen. It was only planned for in theory. The other officers in the control tower jerked upright in their seats, all their eyes fastened on him. He activated the mike again.

  "Queen of Selkirk, this is Tsawwassen Control, please repeat last your transmission." He had to hear this again!

  "Tsawwassen Control...this is the Queen of Selkirk, I repeat we are declaring a class one emergency and are preparing to off-load passengers and crew into lifeboats. There is a spill of thousands of gallons of gasoline on our lower decks. We have stopped ship's engines and are adrift. Please advise."

  "Hoolee Shit." One of the men to the rear of the room whispered.

  The duty officer reactivated his mike. He knew who captained the Queen of Selkirk, it was Terry Gowers. The voice on the speakers above his head was a man's voice. "Queen of Selkirk, this is Tsawwassen Control. We have received and understood your last transmission. Where is Captain Gowers?"

  "Captain Gowers is in the engine room. This is First Officer Riggins."

  "Queen of Selkirk, please advise as to the extent of the spill on your lower decks."

  There was a crowd around the duty officer's desk now. All standing silently as they listened. In all the history of B.C. Ferries, a ship had never had to be evacuated. Ships had run aground, even into each other, but no ferry had ever had to abandoned. The Queen of Selkirk only had lifeboats for five hundred, although she had numerous self-inflating life rafts. How many passengers were on board this Friday afternoon?

  "Tsawwassen Control, this is the Queen of Selkirk, the extent of the spill is unknown until the Captain returns to the bridge. It is on the Captain's orders we are abandoning ship." Then he paused, his voice changing from the flat monotone he had been using to report their condition. "It has got to be pretty major, Pete. Terry knows all the passengers can't fit in the boats. We’ve got a full load today."

  "Shit." The duty officer muttered. He turned in his chair, "Sam, get me a printout on the passenger numbers."

  "Sure thing, Pete." The officer dropped into a chair in front of a computer terminal.

  "Queen of Selkirk, please be advised to continue on your present course of action, until further notice. Have Captain Gowers contact Tsawwassen Control as soon as she returns to the bridge."

  "Tsawwassen Control...request permission to contact the Coast Guard and report our condition."

  The duty officer sat, his eyes focused on one of the Super Ferries from Victoria coasting into the dock at the Tsawwassen Terminal. "Queen of Selkirk...permission denied. I need to notify BC Ferries Administration and the Transportation Ministry first."

  "Pete...God, we got a real problem here. Can't the politics wait?"

  "Queen of Selkirk..." the duty officer's voice dropped, cold and authoritative, "we will notify BC Ferries Administration. Do not contact the Coast Guard until I have spoken with you again. And have Captain Gowers call me as soon as she returns to the bridge." Then he continued less formally. "Look, I'll make the call right away. I should get back to you in less than five minutes. Continue what you are doing, but the media monitors Channel sixteen and we don't want them reporting this before the Ministry knows. Give me five minutes."

  "Okay...but make it quick and I'll try to get the Captain up to the bridge."

  "Yes definitely. Get Captain Gowers back onto the bridge so that we can try and work this thing out."

  "You bet! But Pete, this isn't something anyone is going to be able to hide..."

  Alarm bells clanged incessantly on the ship. Passengers stood or sat in their places looking around uncertainly. Even the crew members working in the cafeteria clearing plates or patrolling the outside decks stood indecisive. Something was wrong. The alarm bells announced an emergency, but the feeling under their feet told them more. The engines had stopped, the ship still ploughing through the water, but turning slightly to port as the helmsman lost steerage. Something was definitely wrong.

  The crew in the kitchen flicked switches, shutting down ovens, stoves, dishwashers, deep fat fryers and other cafeteria equipment. Metal fire doors slammed shut between the galley and the cafeteria, sealing it from the rest of the ship.

  On the bridge, far away from the controls and under a plastic cover, there was a row of red buttons. First Officer Riggins raised th
e cover and painstaking pressed each button. Below him, on all three interior levels, over fifty metal fire-doors, two inches thick, slammed shut throughout the ship, blocking off elevators, windows, walkways - segregating the ship into portions.

  The couple that had sat beside Chris and his Aunt suddenly had their view blocked off as with a grinding crash, a steel plate slid through a slot in the ceiling and dropped over their window and four others on either side. The lifeboats-davits were above them and the metal plates would protect the boats as they were lowered, if there was a fire inside the ship. None of the passengers knew this, and all they could perceive was the ship was enclosing them, trapping them where they sat.

  Melody's two friends had given up waiting for her to arrive and were sharing a plate of french-fries in the cafeteria when the alarm bells began. With little screams of fear, they watched as the crew members, working in the cafeteria, dropped the dishes they had been clearing on the nearest table and ran towards the exits. The two girls sat stunned at their table as the other passengers began to mutter and stand up from their seats. Then with a rumbling crash the thousand-pound fire doors slammed shut, blocking all access to the front or rear.

  The exit to the upper deck was clearly marked, but the two little girls rushed to the rear fire door instead. Their teacher was back there!

  The ship continued to slow and turn on its axis, the bow wave dropping to a gentle ripple. It would be another half-mile before it came completely to a stop.

  The public address system came on with an audible hum. "Attention please." It bellowed on every deck of the ship. "Attention all passengers and crew. This is First Officer Riggins. We have a class-one emergency on this ship. There is an extreme explosion hazard on the lower decks. All passengers and crew are to immediately extinguish all smoking materials in the nearest safe convenience. Do not throw any smoking materials overboard. I repeat do not throw any lit objects overboard. All crew are to report to their emergency duty stations immediately. All passengers are to make their way to the top deck. Under no circumstances are passengers to return to the lower decks. Crew, report to your emergency duty stations now."

  Twelve miles to the north, the B.C. Ferry, Queen of Purcell was also steaming to Nanaimo out of Horseshoe Bay, north of Vancouver.

  Suddenly there was a crackle of static from her bridge speakers. "Queen of Purcell, this is Horseshoe Bay Control. Come in please."

  Captain Spencer looked up from his position at the rear of the bridge. He shrugged his shoulders as he walked past his First Officer to the FM communications link with the Horseshoe Bay Terminal. "Wonder what’s up their skirts?" He asked idly as he pulled the mic towards him. Normally the B.C. Ferry Control Centers left the ships alone until they were within a few miles of docking.

  "This is Queen of Purcell to Horseshoe Bay Control. Go ahead."

  "Queen of Purcell this is Horseshoe Bay. You are to divert immediately to southerly course 155 approximate and increase engine revolutions to maximum. You will rendezvous with the Queen of Selkirk and assist in recovering passengers in lifeboats and rafts. Under no circumstances will you approach more than one half-mile. The Queen of Selkirk has a major gasoline spill on its lower deck and is in danger of exploding."

  The First Officer swiveled his head to look at his Captain standing in front of the radio. "Holy Shit!" He whispered.

  Captain Spencer nodded as he spoke into the mic once again. "Horseshoe Bay Control, this is the Queen of Purcell, we have received your last transmission and will proceed to rendezvous with the Queen of Selkirk. We have a full passenger load. What is the passenger load on the Queen of Selkirk?"

  "Queen of Purcell, this is Horseshoe Bay. The passenger load on the Queen of Selkirk is one thousand four hundred and fifty-four. Not including children under five."

  "Holy Shit!" The First Officer repeated.

  The Queen of Selkirk wallowed in the small swells in the Strait of Georgia. Eighteen hundred feet of cold grey water separated her from the bottom. On the lower decks nothing moved. The engine room was still and empty. The engineering crew and the Captain had climbed to the uncertain safety of the upper decks, where even now the passengers were slowly being herded to the very top deck. There they stood in long lines as the crew issued lifejackets. Parents with young children then moved to other lines where smaller lifejackets were fitted to size. Those that had received lifejackets watched as the crew began the laborious job of removing the railings and preparing the to swing the four lifeboats over the side. Everyone present knew four boats could not hold the humanity jammed together on the ship's upper deck.

  Some began to push their way forward.

  Three decks below, the tanker was almost empty. Small rivulets of gasoline dripped from its six open valves into the long lake of gasoline that rippled and shimmered between the steel walls of the ship. At the bows, gasoline ran in a small torrent out between the crack at the center of the massive bow door. The electric motors used to swing its bulk open stood, silent beside it.

  Further back in the hold, the refrigerator truck also stood silent. The temperature dial at the front of the unit was set to start the diesel-powered compressor when the temerature rose to twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit. Well below freezing. The L.E.D. temperature readout indicated the interior of the trailer was currently at twenty-two. The numbers changed to twenty-three.

  THIRTEEN - THREE

  The announcements continued. "All passengers must move to the sun deck. The Queen of Selkirk is to be abandoned and all passengers must disembark from the upper deck. This is an emergency and all passengers must comply with any crew member’s instructions. There is an extreme fire hazard on the lower decks. No smoking will be permitted. All passengers must move to the top sun decks immediately..."

  "We have to leave." Beth spoke towards the object gleaming in the electric light. "The ship may explode. We can all smell the gasoline fumes and they are very strong."

  Chris now lay silent on the metal top, his arms and legs limp under Charlie's and Sharon’s grasp. Blood covered one side of his face, over-flowing his eye-socket and running down his cheek. Still the long probe worked deep within the confines of his skull, as small motors hummed deep within the machine.

  “We have to leave.” Charlie said into the air, his knees on either side of Chris’ chest, but no longer holding him down. “We must get off the ship, before they evacuate everyone.” From within the box the whine increased in intensity, as the golden rod slowly withdrew, blood drying on its sides as it swung away from Chris’ head.

  "Okay." Charlie muttered pulling Chris from the opening as the clamps within opened. Chris' eye still lay against his cheek, bloody red tendons attached to its rear, with the white cornea and the blue iris with the small black dot at its center smeared with blood.

  Beth knelt down beside him and, composed without compassion, she dipped her fingers into his eye socket, level to his cheekbones with blood and pulled his upper eyelid out the hole. "Sharon hold this." She commanded.

  Sharon moved past Charlie and knelt beside her sister. With only a moment's hesitation, she reached forward and grasped her son's shrunken eyelid between two fingers.

  Beth worked around her sister’s hand as she had so often done while assisting in surgery and took Chris' eyeball between two fingers. Then twisting it around to a position she presumed was the correct way up, she pushed it back into its bloody orifice. "There...that ought to do it."

  Sharon let go of her son's eyelid and watched as it slowly slid closed, pushing a coating of blood and scum before it.

  Beth slapped him across the face. "Chris! Wake up."

  There was no response. His head rolled but no noise escaped his throat. She reached down to his wrist to take his pulse, then hit him two more times.

  "Is he dead?" Charlie asked from behind them.

  "No. He’s alive." Beth answered. WHACK. "Chris! Wake up!"

  Chris continued to lay on his back his mouth hanging wide open as blood continued to ooze
from underneath his left eye.

  Beth pushed herself to her feet. "It may take him a while to regain consciousness. We can come back for him later."

  "Okay..." Charlie answered a non-verbal communication and nodded his head in understanding. "Well, the boy's knowledge is already proving to be beneficial. Apparently, there is an inflated zodiac, with an outboard motor on this level. It’s big enough for everything we need to take with us. Four of the others are coming down to help us move everything out of truck, if he doesn't wake up by then, then we can throw him in the zodiac. The rest are going to wait up top to see if there are any further problems.”

  Captain Gowers stood before the plate glass windows of the bridge. She was alone. The rest of the crew were busy on the upper deck below her, trying to organize the passengers into groups - six hundred to be loaded into the only four lifeboats on the Queen of Selkirk. The vast majority of passengers would have to leave the ship in rubber rafts.

  She picked up the microphone of the FM radio that linked the ship with the Tsawwassen Terminal. "This the Queen of Selkirk to Tsawwassen Control, come in please."

  Instantly there was a response. "This is Tsawwassen Control...thank God, Captain Gowers. What the hell is going on out there?" Terry smiled for a quick second, as she noticed the extreme radio formality was gone from Tsawwassen Control.

  "I’m declaring a class-one emergency and have ordered the Queen of Selkirk abandoned. We have close to an inch of gasoline on our lower deck and it is leaking into the engine room as well as our bilges. There is no way that we can contain it."

  "Queen of Selkirk, do you have any information regarding how this spill occurred?"

  "I have four crew members in breathing apparatus on the lower deck now, looking for passengers. They have informed me the valves on a Petro-Canada gasoline tanker, located on the lower level, have been removed. Its entire load has emptied upon the deck. We have no way of dealing with a spill of this magnitude and I have decided it would be unsafe for passengers or crew to remain aboard."