“You two in the water!” I shouted. “Your oars are floating ten feet behind you. One of you get them and the other get on the boat. You have ten seconds to decide.”
Earl spun around in the dinghy and nearly fell out. He crawled to the stern and felt around. “Fuckin’ engine’s gone!”
“That’s why I said get the oars. Five seconds.” One of the men in the water started splashing around, feeling for the oars. “Five feet further upstream is one. The other one is to your left.”
He found the first one and started toward the other one was as Earl shouted, “You’re gonna regret this, mister.”
I put the scope on him and said, “If you don’t do exactly what I say, I have no problem putting a hole in your forehead and leaving you for the gators. Now get that man out of the water.”
He helped his friend into the boat, gasping. As he rolled over, I saw his face. It was Handsome. That left Crooked Nose in the water looking for the other oar.
“Straight ahead!” Rusty shouted. “Five feet.”
Crooked Nose found the second oar and was struggling to get to the dinghy with them. When he finally got there, Earl took them and pulled him from the water.
The three men whispered amongst themselves, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Finally Earl said, “You expect us to row back the way we came?”
“You’re damn sure not going downriver toward our boats,” I said. “Now real slowly, I want you to dump everything on that boat into the water.” I could see the indecision on Earl’s face. He was wearing what looked like a gold doubloon necklace. “I could put a round dead center in that doubloon you’re wearing and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
He reached a hand to the necklace and realized that Rusty and I could see them somehow. Looking in my general direction he growled, “One of these days mister, you’re gonna regret you ever met me.”
“I already do. Now start dumping everything. Start with that revolver tucked in your pants. Real slow, Earl.”
He reached with his left hand and pulled the pistol out with just his thumb and forefinger then tossed it into the water. As I watched, he removed a large duffle bag and dropped it over. Then several sets of handcuffs and finally two Uzi automatic machine pistols and dropped them overboard.
“Very good. I’m going to throw a line to you and you’re going to tie it off to the bow of that dinghy. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” he grunted.
I untied the line from the mangrove tree, coiled it up, and threw it toward the dinghy, hitting Earl in the face. He almost fell out of the boat again, but finally got his balance and handed it forward to Handsome.
“What are you gonna do?” Crooked Nose asked.
“I’m afraid you boys would get lost out here without help, so I’m gonna tow you back to your boat. Once you get there, I’m sinking your dinghy and as soon as this storm passes, you’re going to weigh anchor and get out of here. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” Earl grunted again.
“Bravo!” I shouted. “Bring the Zodiac over and pick me up.”
“Roger that, Alpha,” Rusty shouted back, picking up that I didn’t want them knowing our names.
I watched the men as Rusty untied the other end of the rope, started the outboard and came across the creek. I climbed aboard and sat up high on the bow so I could see them clearly through the scope.
“Head up river,” I said and Rusty started us moving forward. When the slack was out of the rope, he gave it more gas and we moved up the creek at about five knots. “Way upriver,” I whispered.
Ten minutes later, we got to the opening into the bay and instead of turning right to go to their boat, Rusty turned left and continued up Shark River. It took the three men another fifteen minutes before the realized they were going away from their boat, not toward it. By then we were three miles up the river at a fork where another creek joined in.
“Where the hell are you taking us?” Earl shouted.
I ignored him and told Rusty to take the right fork. Another mile we rounded a curve and came to a small island in the middle of the creek.
“Beach ‘em on that island,” I told Rusty.
He swung around the island dragging the hundred-foot rope across the beach on one side. When their dinghy bottomed out on the sand bar, Rusty shut off the engine.
“Get out!” I shouted.
The men hesitated, so I shot the dinghy on the port side pontoon. The loud report of the rifle was followed by the hissing of air escaping from the dinghy.
“I said get out!”
They scrambled onto the sand bar and I put another round in the starboard pontoon. The dinghy deflated quickly.
“Do any of you idiots know how this river got its name?” I asked.
When none of them answered, I continued, “It’s called Shark River because it’s infested with bull sharks. They’re the only shark that can survive in fresh water. Any of you know anything about bull sharks?”
“They’re big and they’re man-eaters,” Handsome said.
“That’s right,” I said. “We’re going to leave you here on this little island now. You can use the dinghy as shelter from the storm. When it’s over, I’ll let the Coast Guard know where you are.”
“One of these days mister,” Earl grumbled as Rusty untied the rope from the Zodiac and started the engine. “When you least expect it.”
A moment later, we were up on plane headed downriver. We sped past the trawler and only slowed down when we got to the anchor buoy. I flashed my light at the boats three times and got a return flash from the bow of the Revenge.
Once aboard, Jimmy said that he got a return email from the Coast Guard saying that the Marine Patrol out of Flamingo was on the way in three boats and should arrive in less than an hour.
I pulled out a chart of the area and gave Jimmy the coordinates of the little island we put Earl and his buddies on and told him to email them back and let them know that only one man was aboard the trawler and the other three were stranded further up Shark River.
Dawn broke gray, rainy and windy. Clouds scudded across the sky constantly, but the rain still came in bands. An hour later, we heard the sound of outboards racing up the river toward us. Jimmy and I went up onto the foredeck and through the rain we could see blue lights flashing. Two of the boats held off, while the third came up to the bow.
“Are one of you Captain McDermitt?” one of the officers asked. He wore the bars of a Lieutenant on the collar of his yellow slicker.
“I am,” I replied. “Did you get the update on where the three men are stranded?”
“Yes we did. How sure are you that the kidnap victims are aboard that trawler over there?”
“Not 100%,” I replied. “At least not 100% that it’s the mother and daughters from that kidnapping last week.”
“And how do you know this?”
“I swam over using a Drager rebreather and listened through the hull. I clearly heard them say they had three captives, but also wanted to kidnap the women we have aboard here.”
“A rebreather?” he asked. “You some kind of Navy SEAL or something?”
“No,” I replied. “Marine Force Recon.”
“Really? You said there was one man aboard that trawler? Is he armed?”
“The other three were,” I replied. “I can’t say for sure if that last one is or not. He’s a meth head, by the way.”
“Oh great,” the Lieutenant said. “Just what I don’t need, an armed tweaker. We’ll be back to get your statements.” Then he turned to the driver and said, “Let’s go check it out, Sergeant.” The three boats sped away toward the trawler. I hoped Tweaker didn’t put up a fight.
Thirty minutes later, the rain stopped and we could see the trawler through the mist. We hadn’t heard any gunshots, so that was good. One of the boats sped away, heading east.
Another fifteen minutes went by then we heard the unmistakable sound of a chopper coming in from the north. The ora
nge and white markings on the MH-65 Dolphin were clear against the gray morning sky. We watched as it came to a hover just ahead of the trawler’s bow about twenty feet above the water. A rescue swimmer jumped into the water and swam to the port side of the vessel, away from us as the chopper moved to hover above the aft work deck and lowered a basket.
One by one, three people were lifted up in the basket from the work deck, and finally the rescue swimmer was lifted in a harness and the chopper swooped low over the water and passed directly in front of us. As they went by the swimmer hung out the door and gave us a thumbs up, pumping his fist.
I heard the VHF radio squawk, “United States Coast Guard calling M/V Gaspar’s Revenge.”
I climbed quickly to the bridge and replied, “Gaspar’s Revenge to Coast Guard chopper, go ahead.”
“Congratulations, Captain. We have three souls aboard, hungry and slightly dehydrated, but they’ll be alright. The Marine Patrol has four men in custody. Do you need assistance?”
A cheer went up from behind me in the cockpit. “Negative, Coast Guard. We’re hunkered down for the storm. Thanks for letting us know they’re alright.”
He signed off just as the boat that had left was returning. It didn’t stop, but continued on toward the river across the bay. From my vantage point, I could see there were three men sitting on the deck with their arms behind their backs.
A moment later, a second boat left the trawler and took off after the first, with a fourth man sitting on the deck, trussed up like Earl and his buddies. After about fifteen minutes, the Lieutenant’s boat came over and asked to tie up alongside. Once they were aboard, I invited everyone into the salon.
“For the record, Captain, those men stranded up on the island said you shot at them. Is that true?”
“Lieutenant,” Rusty interrupted. “Are any of them dead?”
“No. Why?”
“Jesse here was a Marine sniper. If he’d shot at those men, they’d be dead. Did any of them see him shoot at them?”
The Lieutenant grinned and said, “No, they said they couldn’t see anything. One said you shot his only flashlight right out of his hand in total darkness.”
“Well there ya go,” Rusty offered. “There’s a storm blowing, maybe it was lightning.”
The Sergeant laughed and the Lieutenant said, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. What made you think those women were aboard?”
I thought for a moment about how to answer that question then Savannah said, “Those same four men tried to kidnap me and my sister several days ago. Captain McDermitt and our Captain fought them off. Last night, when they entered the bay, Captain McDermitt recognized them and swam over to eavesdrop.”
“That’s a long swim in rough water,” the Sergeant said. “But, for a Recon Marine, I guess it was like taking a Sunday stroll. Semper Fi.”
I nodded to the Sergeant and the Lieutenant asked, “Anything else you’d care to add, Captain?”
“No, that’s pretty much how it went down.”
“Well, congratulations, sir,” he said. “Mister Hendrickson, the husband and father is being flown up to Tampa from Key West to rejoin his family. You’re a hero.”
“I’m no hero, Lieutenant,” I said. “We only did what anyone else would do. Oh there is one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I guess you plan to move that trawler?”
“It will be impounded after the storm. Why?”
“You might want to put a diver in the water before moving her,” I said. “He might find the prop is fowled.”
The Lieutenant grinned, looked at the Sergeant, and said, “You Marines don’t take any chances, do you?”
“Not if we can help it,” the Sergeant replied.
The Lieutenant said the Coast Guard would want to ask me some questions, once the storm blew over, so I gave him my address at Boot Key Harbor and they left. It’d been a long night, so I suggested everyone try to get some rest. Josh and Tonia volunteered to keep watch for a few hours and I went forward to get a shower and a nap.
Chapter Ten
I woke just before noon and went into the salon. Rusty and Savannah were watching the Weather Channel. Rusty said, “Tropical Storm Irene made landfall on Isle of Youth this morning while all the excitement was going on. She’s turned northwest and over mainland Cuba now.”
“Just like Rusty predicted,” Savannah added. I just nodded and headed for the coffeemaker.
“He ain’t worth a plug nickel till he’s had his lifer juice.”
Savannah laughed and said, “I assume ‘lifer juice’ is a euphemism for coffee?”
“If that means does it mean coffee, yeah,” Rusty replied.
“Did you two get any sleep?” I asked.
“I’ll get all the sleep I need when they put me under the ground,” my old friend replied.
“We stayed up with the Alexander’s,” Savannah added. “Rusty regaled us with your and his exploits in the Marines.”
Sitting down next to her on the settee, I said, “You can pretty much bet that anything he told you is a sea story.” I couldn’t help but notice the warmth radiating from her bare thigh next to mine.
“Sea story? Another Marine euphemism?”
“Kinda like a tall tale,” Rusty answered. “Gets better with each retelling. But actually, I kept to the truth. Well, pretty much.”
Jimmy stumbled up the steps into the galley then. He went straight for the refrigerator and got a bottle of orange juice, opened it and drank half of it in one long pull. We talked about the pending storm and any other steps we could take to minimize damage.
“If Jimmy’s up to doing a little climbing, some of the nearer mangroves have dead branches that we could cut away,” Rusty said. “Other than that, we’re pretty much set.”
We got to work and had all the dead branches trimmed away before nightfall, working between squalls. Once finished we showered and gathered in the salon to get the latest update on the storm. It had just moved off the Cuban coastline and into the warm, shallow waters south of the Florida Straits and was upgraded to a category one hurricane, with sustained winds of 76 mph.
By sunset, it had turned north by northeast and was heading straight for Key West. The east side of a hurricane is where the highest winds are usually located, which meant that the Middle Keys would take the brunt of the storm. We all hoped it wouldn’t intensify over the Straits.
We assigned watch again and this time Josh insisted on being part of it, so we were able to cut it to only a two hour watch for each of us. We changed the order so that I had the 0300-0500 watch and Rusty would take over after that. Knowing me as he did, he wasn’t surprised when I came back up after he took over with another thermos of coffee.
Friday dawned gray and the rain was steady now as the hurricane got closer. The wind had intensified to a steady thirty knots. All our lines to the many mangrove trees were secure and with three boats lashed securely together we were actually very stable. Looking south out through the windshield, we could see fairly large waves and whitecaps building out on the bay. Sheltered in the narrow cove as we were, with trees to the east and west, there was only a little wave action and very little wind. But, you could hear it whistling through the trees above us on either side.
Savannah came over from her boat, wearing her usual cutoff jeans, slicker, and bare feet. She brought her own thermos and offered us some of her Australian brew. We enjoyed it as we sat listening to the NOAA weather update on the UHF radio. It originated in Flamingo, which is out of range on normal radio frequencies, but only a little static on the UHF.
“It’s headed straight to Key Weird,” Rusty told Savannah. “Probably make landfall there in an hour or so. If it stays on that course and speed, the center’s gonna hit here this afternoon.”
“Are we prepared enough?” she asked.
Rusty looked around at the tree tops and ran his practiced eye over the many ropes holding us in place. “Yeah, I’d say we’re more than p
repared. It won’t be much of a blow and it’ll probably be long gone by morning.”
As the day grew longer, the wind grew stronger. The rain came off and on, but by Friday afternoon, we’d grown used to being wet. At 1500 the NOAA update out of Flamingo said that the storm had made landfall on the mainland just north of Cape Sable. By then the wind was blowing steady out of the east at more than 50 knots and we’d long since cleared the bridge. The kids were trying not to be afraid, but the howl of the wind kept getting louder with every passing minute. The rain was coming down in sheets that made so much noise inside the salon, we had to shout to be heard above it.
Suddenly, all sound ceased outside just as Jimmy yelled, “I hope it doesn’t get any worse!” His last two words were yelled into total silence and he started laughing.
“What happened?” the younger girl, Vanessa said, wide eyed with bewilderment.
“Eye of the storm,” Rusty explained. “It’s about a mile wide. If anyone wants to look outside, we have about four or five minutes before the wind starts from the opposite direction.”
I couldn’t resist and stepped out into the cockpit. The sun was shining and the sky was a deep blue directly above us. The others crowded through the hatch, everyone talking at once. I quickly climbed the ladder to the cockpit to check on everything. There was no damage. I looked quickly at our anchor lines and snub lines to the trees and everything looked good. Looking to the south, I could see across the bay and just beyond it, a wall of clouds that seemed to go all the way up into space.
“Here it comes!” I shouted. “Everyone inside.” I quickly climbed down the ladder and was the last one through the hatch. A moment later the howling wind was instantly upon us, torrents of rain beating on the starboard side portholes.
“I got an update while the eye was on us,” Jimmy said. “It’s increased forward speed to fifteen knots.”
Fallen Out: Jesse McDermitt Series, The Beginning Page 9