Steady As She Goes: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 21)
Page 26
“Ah, there you are,” Jack said, stepping out of the main office. “Right on time. Come in, come in.”
“What’s going on in the dry dock?” I asked, following him into the office.
“I’ll show you in just a moment,” he replied.
There was another man in the office, wearing a coat and tie. He had a lined face and wore a mustache with the ends waxed to extend straight out.
“Jesse, I’d like you to meet William Marshal. Will, this is Captain Jesse McDermitt.”
I shook hands with the man, noting a strong grip.
“Pleased to meet you, Captain. Jack’s told me a lot about you.”
“Will is a naval architect,” Jack said. “We’re building a new vessel.”
“What kind of new vessel?” I asked.
“Purely research,” Will said with a wink. “She’ll be three hundred feet and have a full-time crew of forty, with four laboratories, and room for twenty visiting scientists and engineers.”
“Was that the keel being laid?” I asked, jerking a thumb toward the dry dock.
“Yes,” Jack said. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to see you before you left.”
“All I do is drive boats,” I said. “I don’t know much at all about building them.”
“We’ll get to that part later,” he said. “And before we go any further, I just wanted to say thank you. Through your efforts and that of Ambrosia’s crew, a huge portion of Cartel de los Soles has been dismantled, putting a massive hit in their pocketbook.”
“Just doing our job,” I said.
“Nevertheless, several dozen people owe you their lives. DJ sent word that the man who’d contacted him weeks ago about the abduction of his mother, sisters, brother, and fiancée, contacted him again, and they have all been reunited.”
“What’s this new ship going to be called?” I asked, glancing out the window.
“We don’t have a name yet,” Will said.
“That’s something I’d like your input on,” Jack added. “I want you in command of this new ship when it launches next year.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. As Will said, it will be a full-blown research vessel, but it will also fill other needs, just as Ambrosia does today.”
I nodded my head in understanding. “I see. And it will be built in a year?”
“This shipyard is about to be overrun,” Jack said. “Once the keel is laid, dozens of shipwrights will be flown in from all over the world. They’ll be working around the clock to launch before the end of 2022.”
“Do you have a keepsake coin?” Will asked.
“Huh?”
“In the old sailing days, the mast was stepped on coins, usually provided by the ship owner and captain.”
“Yes,” I said. “I know of the tradition of stepping the mast.”
Jack reached into his pocket, then slapped his hand on the table, revealing a challenge coin with the seal of the President of the United States.
“I understand that you once took the man who gave me this fishing.”
How did he know that? It happened fifteen years ago.
“I have one just like it,” I said. “Given to me by that same man.”
“Call your wife,” Jack said. “Have her and Alberto bring your coin to be put with mine.”
I did. It took Savannah a minute to find it, but then she and Alberto hurried down to the dry dock.
A high-lift was in position and the five of us stepped onto its platform. A moment later, we were at the bottom of the dry dock, thirty feet below sea level. Giant steel doors at one end held back the sea. But the concrete deck was still wet in places.
Will led the way to the middle of the work area. Several men stood next to a large aluminum cross member. The other one, ten feet from it, had already been welded to two large aluminum panels. I could see that the hull would be an inch thick in this spot.
“What’s going on, Dad?” Alberto asked, looking up at the burly workers.
“This ship won’t have a mast, son,” Will said. “But the tradition we’re following is still important today. So, the coins will be placed under the mounts that will hold the power plant. In the early Roman days, the coins placed under the mast were payment to Charon, who was the ferryman to Hades in Roman mythology. The Romans believed the money would allow the ship to cross the River Styx into the afterlife, should an unfortunate event take place.”
Jack pointed to the hull plates where the cross brace was going to be welded. “See the two holes cut into the aluminum?”
Moving closer, I could see them, Two round depressions, no deeper than the thickness of the coin in my hand, and exactly the same size.
“Here,” I said, handing my coin to Alberto. “You place it in the hole.”
Jack bent and put his coin in place, turning the red, white, and blue presidential shield so that the top was facing forward. Alberto put my coin in place, and I bent down and adjusted it.
I felt something when I touched the cold aluminum plate. Almost like a spark, as if the plate warmed to my touch, becoming a smoldering ember, on the verge of catching fire.
One of the workers signaled the crane operator and the cross member was lifted a few inches. They guided it into place, aligning the edges with lines scribed in the two plates. Welders hit it with several spot welds, and it was done.
When the high-lift put us back above sea level, I kissed Savannah and told her I’d be along shortly.
Then I turned and looked at Jack. “Those engine mounts were only ten feet apart. What’s this ship going to have for power?”
We arrived in Marathon the next morning before noon and I put the Hopper down just off the beach behind the Rusty Anchor. Rusty was expecting us and there were several people with him at the boat ramp to watch the Hopper waddle up out of the water.
Later, as Rusty, his wife Sidney, and Jimmy Saunders all sat with me over a couple of beers on the back deck, he asked about Tank’s funeral arrangements.
“He wanted to be cremated,” I said. “The service will be this Saturday, up on Grassy Key.”
“At their home?” Sid asked.
“It’s what Tank wanted,” I replied.
“You’re doing the eulogy?” Rusty asked.
“Chyrel said that was another thing he wanted,” I replied.
Though it’d been over a week since he’d passed peacefully while sitting on the beach in Brazil, it wasn’t easy to accept the fact that he was gone.
“How’s she doing?” Rusty asked.
“Day to day, I guess. She’s staying busy with work. She decided not to put the house up for sale.”
“Huh? That’s a lot of house for one person.”
“She’s not going to be alone for long, man,” Jimmy said. “She’s going to open it up to some of the kids from the Lodge.”
The Alex DuBois McDermitt Fly-Fishing Lodge on Grassy Key had been in business for over a decade now. Fly fishermen from all over the world came there to spend time out on the water. They paid exorbitant fees, knowing that the Lodge was a place for troubled kids from all over South Florida and the Keys, many of them fosters.
They weren’t ordinary fly-fishing aficionados, but people of wealth and power. I’d met a few and some had come from humble or tragic beginnings themselves. The kids sent there learned fly-fishing from some of the best guides in the Middle Keys, and also got to talk to successful people who’d started in similar situations in a much more relaxed atmosphere—sitting in a boat, rod in hand. It was sort of an Outward Bound kind of school, which my late wife had envisioned before she was killed. Locally, it was just called the Lodge, and Jimmy was one of the guides.
“Tank woulda loved that idea,” Rusty said. “And with the Lodge doing so well, I hear it’s been sorta crowded there.”
Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, man. And the housing isn’t exactly set up like a co-ed dorm.”
“They’ve made do,” I said
. “But going forward, any girls enrolled there will be staying with Chyrel.”
“That’s so sweet of her,” Sid said. “Do they have many girls, though?”
“Sometimes,” Jimmy replied. “But now we might get more. Chyrel can be a good influencer.”
“So, what’s this you said about Armstrong building a new boat?” Rusty asked.
I went on to tell them about Jack’s plan to build a new research vessel, bigger and more advanced than Ambrosia.
“Three hundred feet?” he asked shaking his head. “You gonna be able to drive it without hitting something?”
“He doesn’t drive it,” Alberto said, coming out the door with Savannah and the dogs. “The helmsman does.”
“Well, I hope you got a real good helmsman,” Rusty said with a chuckle.
“Mr. Axel’s the best,” Alberto replied.
“That big a boat’s gonna suck up a lot of fuel, dude,” Jimmy commented. “Will it have turbines like Ambrosia, that’ll melt your credit card, or just regular diesel power?”
“Neither,” I replied, taking a long pull from my bottle. “It’ll have a near-zero carbon footprint.”
Rusty’s eyes widened. “A three-hundred-foot sailing vessel?”
I grinned and shook my head.
“Phoenix will be powered by a miniature nuclear reactor producing fifty megawatts of power.”
But really just a pause
Jesse has a whole new adventure ahead of him in the next book in the series, All Ahead Full.
This book was huge fun to write. Bringing in new characters to an existing storyline isn’t always easy. And I thought surrounding Jesse with so many new characters would be doubly so. But Matt, Val, Marcos, Mayra, and the others made it simple, mixing new crew with what already existed before Jesse took command. In a way, they were all still getting to know one another and for Stockwell’s part, getting to know the new role and relationship. I think Savannah made that quite clear on the deck of the tender.
Not to worry, we’re not abandoning our friends back in the Keys. Ambrosia is a big yacht and visitors will come and go, and Jesse will go home often. And next year, Phoenix will be even bigger. Plenty of room for visiting guests.
Oh, and while I’m on the subject of Ambrosia, and because like many of you, I tend to doubt some of the things I read, here’s the skinny on this amazing yacht. Ambrosia is sort of real. She’s based on a Millennium Yachts 149 called The World Is Not Enough, which reached seventy knots during sea trials. I made Ambrosia fifty feet longer and not quite as fast. Check out The World Is Not Enough on YouTube.
And a nuclear powered private research vessel, you scoff? While you’re over there on YouTube (which I can get lost in for days), have a look at Earth 300, a 300-meter superyacht/research vessel, currently being designed. None other than Bill Gates is involved in this project through a company he’s chairman of the board, called TerraPower. They intend to build miniature molten salt nuclear reactors that are hermetically sealed and transportable, to be used to provide electricity to small, remote communities. And ships.
As I write these closing remarks, it is now the first day of summer, Monday, June 21, and still almost two months before this book will be published. Unlike many people, I love the summer heat. The heavy, humid, oppressive air that drives most people indoors is what I relish. If there ever is an apocalyptic, long-term interruption in the power grid, I don’t think half the population will survive the first week.
I’d been anticipating writing this book for a long time. I had a vague idea what it would be about more than a year ago, when I was still debating writing a twenty-first novel in the Jesse series and tying the number with John D. MacDonald’s twenty-one Travis McGee books. So, the storyline literally fell off my fingertips. By the fourth week, I was more than a week ahead of schedule. By the eighth week, I was almost two weeks ahead, and by the end of the eleventh week of writing, I’d already passed the goal I set for all my books of 65,000 words. But the story wasn’t finished. When the thirteenth and final week started, I was 10,000 words over my goal, the equivalent of two full weeks of writing. I hope all y’all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.
As always, I owe a great deal of thanks to my family for their encouragement, as well as an apology for all the hours I spent at the Down Island Press office. Our youngest daughter, Jordan, manages the Down Island Press “Ship’s Store” online, where you can buy my books directly, either in paperback or ebook format, as well as T-shirts, coffee mugs, tote bags, and many other items relating to my books. She is also the producer of my monthly livestream on YouTube, Talk Write Podcast, where my audiobook narrator, Nick Sullivan and I discuss writing and narrating with author and narrator guests. It streams live at 6:30 PM Eastern, on the first Monday of every month. If you’re interested in a behind-the-scenes look, go to the link below and subscribe, then click the Notification bell to be updated when we go live.
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“Beta readers” isn’t quite the right term for the first group of people who see my manuscripts. They’re definitely the A-Team. Some are friends from my days at Eau Gallie High School, a few are experts in fields that are covered in my books, some are prior military, and some are lawyers, doctors, and law enforcement officers. All are very important in bringing the best, most accurate portrayal to you, the reader.
On this project, I had help from Kim DeWitt, Debbie Kocol, Glenn Hibbert, Rick Iossi, Dana Vihlen, Katy McKnight, Alan Fader, Jason Hebert, Drew Mutch, Tom Crisp, John Trainer, Chuck Höfbauer, David Parsons, and Deg Priest. Without their help and advice, this story wouldn’t have been nearly as accurate and entertaining as I hope you found it.
I do want to point out one thing though, that several of the above folks mentioned to me. There are no airplane hangars nor a large shipyard on North Bimini; just an old, abandoned seaplane base. But given the wealth and contacts that Jack Armstrong has, one could be built there in a matter of months. So, I’ve taken a little artistic license with that, just as I have with the Rusty Anchor Bar and Grill. Neither place exists in reality.
A special thanks to author Chelle Bliss for allowing me to include a mention of her latest novel, Singe, in a bedroom scene. At first, I had Savannah reading Fifty Shades of Grey, but a couple of my beta readers pointed out that she wouldn’t likely be reading that, and she couldn’t possibly “show” Jesse what it was about without having whips and chains.
Thanks also, to my friend and editor, Marsha Zinberg, for all the help in turning my sometimes-rambling thoughts into a story worthy of you, the reader. She was followed by Donna Rich, who has had the final critical eye on all my works since Fallen Out. And many thanks to my good friend and narrator, Nick Sullivan, who is also the co-host of my monthly livestream on YouTube, the Talk Write Podcast.
Finally, I owe a great deal of thanks to Samantha Williams, Ashley Lobocki, and the whole team at Aurora Publicity. Aurora takes care of all my advertising, formatting, cover designs, and provides technical support. Last year, Samantha mentioned that she would one day like to own a small publishing house to help authors realize their dreams, which has also been a vision of mine, as well as the next step in the evolution of my helping other storytellers become published authors. As of August 1, our goals have started to become a reality. Samantha is now the Chief Operating Officer and part owner of Down Island Press, the company I founded seven years ago to publish my own books. As of this writing, the announcement hasn’t even been made public, and I have no idea if we’ll have accepted any submissions by the time you read this, but I have a strong feeling that we will have.
Lastly, I want to again thank all of you readers. Some of you have stuck with me from the start. As I write this, that was eight years ago last week. You’ve provided feedback, ideas, and even guidance about what you like and dislike. I hope I’ve listened.
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