Flotilla
Page 27
Maybe they hit some pirates making their blind charge … they might have hit some Colony folks, too. I don’t really know. The ‘civilians’ … our friends on the Colony … they had to hold on for dear life while their homes were shredded underneath them. We heard also that the Navy was coming in to ‘secure the area’ long after it was too late. The Navy was unable to reclaim the Colony and, since they didn’t want the pirates using it for a base of operations, they cut loose some artillery and destroyed it.
I’m glad I wasn’t there to see it. Our little Colony was a tiny corner of the world and holding onto life as best as it could. It wouldn’t have stood a chance under some serious ordinance. I shiver now when I think about what a tremendous loss it all was. A boom town that grew to be a fledgling community and then gone again in less than a few minutes of sustained fire.
Ethan was right. The Colony was a boom town and a community like that couldn’t last. It makes me wonder if Dad knew that and deliberately involved himself in what would lead to its downfall. I wonder if he felt responsible for helping to kill the neighborly spirit that brought us here in the first place. To believe we could or should help rebuild the fish population. To believe we could all get along together just by believing in a common purpose. To believe that a common purpose was all we needed in a place like this. I wonder … I doubt if he thought about it all that much.
The radio eventually faded and all that was left was us, the rain and the steady grumbling of the engines. We were still heading north and already we were fifty miles away from the remains of the Colony. I could see that the idea of us getting up to Puget Sound was crazy. It’s over a thousand miles away … I just didn’t know what else we should do. I was beyond tired and into that weird, euphoric state where you’re running on adrenaline.
The storm passed and the sun came out around eight the next morning. I needed to rest and I couldn’t leave Madison to drive the boat alone. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t ask Madison to do anything … she fell asleep about seven and there was no waking her. What were we supposed to do? I was watching the GPS for a boat dock or a beach we could pull up next to. The coast north of the LA basin is rocky and dangerous. There are big tall cliffs, rocks and then water. We just kept going and going.
About four the next day, I saw something on the horizon that might work. We had skirted Vandenberg Air Force Base and other places during the day … now we were almost 200 miles from the Colony. The sun was setting when we pulled in and I tied off the boat on some pilings that were too tall for a boat dock.
The beach looked soft enough but I didn’t want to try beaching the Horner. I doubt I could get it off of the sand again. It took everything I had to pull up, put the fenders over and then tie her off. Stupid things that Dad had taught me, like knot-tying and basic boat handling, were saving us right now. It made it difficult to hate him.
I had just finished tying the last cleat down when I saw an old man in a rain slicker peering down at us curiously. He was wearing a green rain slicker with brown docksiders and carrying a fishing pole. We were tied up at somebody’s fishing dock.
“You guys alright?” he asked, pitching his voice over the noise of the surf. “Not the best place to stay.”
“I need to stop,” I called back. “I’ve been up for two days.”
“For two days?” he called back. He sounded impressed. “Where were you?”
“Down in the Colony,” I called back. “Off of the Channel Islands?” He nodded, understanding. “It’s gone now.”
“Gone?”
“Yeah … they killed it.” My voice was catching suddenly. “They killed the Colony and my friends and now I can’t find my Dad.” Tears were running down my cheeks before I could stop them.
Without a word, the old man his way over the chest-high rail and then worked his way to us to drop down on the forward deck. With practiced ease, he added expertly tied a few more lines to hold us even more tightly to the dock. “That’ll hold you for a while,” he announced. “You need to rest up a bit.” He noticed Madison and pulled out a phone to dial a number. Whoever answered his call was told to make arrangements for us to stay somewhere and get a hot meal. “Where were you going?”
“My Dad said to get to Puget Sound and he’d find us there.”
“Puget Sound?” he asked. “All the way up to Canada?” I nodded. “Wow…” he said, thinking hard. “Well, you guys won’t make it tonight, that’s for sure. You were supposed to get all the way up there on your own?”
“I guess so,” I said.
He shook his head, thoughtfully. “It’s dangerous, kid. That’s a tough job for grown men with years of experience. You won’t make it on your own.” He looked at me. “I guess you guys have had it pretty rough if that’s what he told you to do.” I nodded and wiped a few tears back … it was a relief to finally find someone who understood.
“Com’on,” he said kindly. “Let us help you figure this out.” We left the Horner tied up at the dock and piled into his old green pickup. After everything that happened I wasn’t ready to completely trust him, though. I didn’t bring the shotgun with me but I did slip a nasty-looking pocketknife into my jacket. It was one of my souvenirs from sorting through all of that junk with Mitch Cutter.
It was a dirty evening, foggy and cold. Eventually, it started raining again. The old guy was retired and lived with his wife in a home nearby. He had come to the docks to fish and distract himself from worrying about their family that they couldn’t get in touch with. That sounded familiar. “Then I found you,” he said.
We exited the parking lot of the beach and turned onto the highway. “Where is this place?” I asked.
“San Simeon State Beach,” he explained. Pointing off that way, he said “up there is Hearst Castle. Not a bad place to leave your boat … One of the richest men in the world has done the exact same thing.”
Beyond exhaustion, I managed to stay awake long enough to arrive at his home and eat the bowl of soup his wife placed in front of me. Then we sank into beds in their guest bedroom … just two more dirty, scared and tired children. Before I fell asleep, I wondered idly how we were going to get to Puget Sound and how we would find Dad. Our troubles weren’t over yet.
These problems were so large that I wasn’t even sure if there was a solution. Finally, bone-tired and burned out, I came up with an answer that would have to do…
I’ll figure it out in the morning.
Our current position is: Docked @ 35°38'27.17"N 121°11'16.32"W