by LeRoy Clary
“Okay,” I said because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
He said firmly, “Listen, while our little task force is moving, we’ll stand off from you guys a half-mile or so, maybe take the lead now and then, and be ready to join in any fight. We owe you that. Do you have any other orders for us?”
Orders? He wanted me to give him orders? I shook my head and watched as the boat backed away and took up a position in the deeper water where it could watch for any boats coming our way. The man gave me a limp wave and a smile of encouragement.
The meeting inside broke up a while later. The people passed by me on the way to returning to their boats. Several muttered thanks or made small gestures with their hands in my direction. I suspected Sue or Steve had told them some tale about me and how I’d saved them all, which was a total lie. They treated me with respect, a new experience.
An hour later, the four boats headed north at a sedate pace. Sue cooked our salmon, Steve had the helm, and I sat in the stern and worried enough for all of us.
A fifth boat, a large open boat with a pair of huge outboards on the stern quickly caught up with us from behind. The pleasure craft with all the armed passengers intercepted it. Using the binoculars, I saw only two people in the open boat, and there was no place for others to hide. They talked for a short time, then the new boat trailed behind at a respectable distance, using us as protection until we accepted them, I assumed.
Sue came outside and sat next to me. She motioned with her chin and said, “That boat says they will follow until you allow them to travel with us.”
“Me?”
“You’re the commodore of this fleet. That was decided when we all met.”
“I thought I was the captain.” I tried to smile and failed.
She let her head hang back while her face looked directly at the sun that had appeared. “A commodore is higher than a captain, they said. You won the unanimous vote. Congratulations.”
I didn’t miss the grin she tried to conceal. Steve had the helm and Sue went back into the cabin to check on her cooking after cleaning the little salmon I’d caught. All was well until Steve said, “What the hell is happening?”
I sat upright. The sailboat that was off to our right dropped its sails, the main and jib. The open boat with the outboards roared as it accelerated directly at us. The cabin cruiser had been making a circle to our left where another small powerboat was speeding past. The cruiser had positioned itself between the other boat and us.
Now, it had turned and drove through whitecaps directly at us. Steve let the jib and mail sail flap. Our boat instantly slowed and plowed into the small waves until our forward progress stopped and we bobbed as we waited.
Sue threw the cabin door open and called, “You guys better get in here!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Steve and I raced into the cabin. Sue darted to the desk with all the radios. She had the volume up and people were talking over each other, some shouting to make themselves heard. The resulting cacophony of noise was almost undecipherable. Now and then a few words or a phrase came through clear enough to understand.
The three of us listened in stages of increasing confusion. From outside, a hail drew me away. I went to the stern and found ourselves surrounded by the four boats, including the new open one with the huge outboards. They all came to rest within fifty feet, with the Truant as the focal point.
The man I’d spoken to before on the cabin cruiser was standing on his bow, nearest to me. Another was at the helm keeping their position stationary to us. To my wary eyes, everyone looked confused—but at what? With my appearance, he called, “Captain, have you heard?”
“Too much confusion and too many people were talking at once on the radio,” I called back, seeing a few people on the other boats nod in agreement that they were experiencing the same.
He understood. “We’ve been listening since the beginning, more by accident than anything else. Up where that blockade was at the top of Whidbey. It just blew up.”
I started to smile. So, someone had defeated it and the way would now be clear for other boats. I was glad but still intended to continue north and sail through Deception Pass instead of circling around again. However, the expression he wore prevented my smile from developing. I said, “What else?”
“Ships.”
“Ships?” I asked, not understanding what he meant. He’d almost spat the word.
“Coming in from the Pacific. Big ships. All in a row. Troop carriers, they say.”
Finally, there might be some order returning and we could revive our civilization and that was also good news. I felt like dancing and slapping a few backs when Steve placed his calming hand on my shoulder. He called, “You’re holding back.”
The captain of the cabin cruiser visibly drew a deep breath and raised his voice so all on the other boats could hear, “They are troop carriers loaded with soldiers. Not ours. They are not flying any national flags.”
“What?” Someone asked in a shocked voice.
He said softer, but all heard every word, “We’re being invaded. America is under siege.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Everyone on every boat froze. One word had done it: invaded. Our waters were being sailed by troopships from another country. They had blown up the blockade so their ships could enter our waters.
The captain of the cabin cruiser waited while whispers were being exchanged and people were starting to comprehend the impact of his statement. He asked me, “Do you have shortwave on the Truant?”
I nodded. Then, to prevent misunderstandings, I quickly added, “But we don’t know how to use it.”
He consulted with a balding man of fifty or more, then called back, “Can I put one of my men onboard? He’s no expert, but he has used them before. Maybe we can get some accurate information.”
Steve nudged me. I said, “Sure.”
They put a little motorized boat in the water, and it pulled to our stern. We helped the man aboard. Without waiting for introductions, he asked, “Where is the radio?”
Sue showed him inside. She went to observe but quickly returned and stood beside me. I got the impression he’d run her off. We’d see about that. I started to go inside, when the captain of the other boat called out, “As much as we’d like to stay with you, my first responsibility is to my passengers and friends. If you wouldn’t mind, you can keep the radio operator aboard.”
I paused, confused. “What are you saying?”
He pointed north. “We are going to go search for a safe harbor and wait things out.”
That he was leaving was a shock, but only the day before we’d had no escort, so things were no different in that aspect. I was tongue-tied. We had no right to demand anything of him. He was free to leave. The people on the other boats were whispering with each other, probably deciding to do the same.
When I said nothing to object, Sue stepped in front of me, then stood on the seat where all could see her. She faced the captain of the large cruiser from a distance of twenty-feet and with her fists balled and at her hips, she shouted, “What friggin’ good is that going to do?”
“It’s not your business,” he answered and turned to go back to the main deck.
“You just being stupid is none of my business. If we are being invaded by another country, and nobody fights back, how long will it be before they take control of the land and come to your safe harbor and kill all of you? A few weeks, or maybe two months? Three or four? But they will arrive before summer is over and then what? You’re all dead.”
He paused in his progress to the stern of his boat and looked at her over his shoulder.
Sue looked at the other people who were listening with mouths hanging open. “Go with him and you’re all dead. You should know that.” She waved an arm to encompass all the boats. “That goes for all of you.”
“Now, listen here,” a man on another boat began.
A woman’s voice talked over him. “The girl’s right,
you dumb-ass. They will come and kill all of us.”
That quieted all objections. The woman who had defended Sue called out, “What do you think we should do?”
Sue pointed at me. “You all know Captain Bill. He says that once the ships land and secure a beachhead, then fortify it, we have probably lost our nation. We all might as well learn Chinese, or Korean, or whatever is spoken by the troops on those ships.”
The woman nodded and said, “That makes sense. What does the Captain suggest we do?”
Sue shouted, “Kill them all before they can build that fort.”
People were looking uneasily at me. I’d never said such a thing, but they were seeming to listen, and I didn’t have the guts to stop the fourteen-year-old Hispanic hellion who was putting words in my mouth.
But Sue had their attention and refused to let it slip away. In a louder voice, she shouted, “Bill, our captain, told me that they are most vulnerable now! Not later when they have set up a base and their defenses. Now, before they unload their troops.”
The captain on the cruiser was paying attention, too. He said to me, “Bill what is your plan?”
“Tell them,” I muttered, too brain-dead to think for myself.
“Right! Captain Bill says we all have guns on all our boats, and we have radios. Someone said there are hundreds and hundreds of boats like us out here searching for a safe place to wait out this trouble. All of us have guns. He thinks we should radio all of the other boats, then intercept those ships and shoot anyone out on decks we can, and when they try to land soldiers in their small boats, we should sink them by attacking with ours.”
“That won’t stop them all,” a new voice called out.
“Of course, not!” Sue shouted. “We need to get all our friends and patriots on land to stop fighting each other and attack the soldiers wherever they are going to dock. Bill says if we can get enough of them to join with us, we can prevent the invaders from setting up a fort and push them back into the sea.”
The woman said, “Captain Bill is right. We could attack them and draw a lot of attention while we’re all on our radios calling for more help. Spread the word. Does anybody know where we can get some dynamite? I’d like to sink a few of those ships.”
A man on a small sailboat said, “I know how to make Molotov Cocktails. They might not sink a ship, but some of them lobbed aboard will do damage.”
Another man said, “Hey, Captain Bill, you want us to sail back down to the tip of Whidbey Island and wait for them? Attack them as they pass?”
I nodded, dumbly.
A new voice called, “I’m all for it. They ain’t going to pass right by me without a fight.”
More voices joined him. A man on the other sailboat called out, “I just got hold of three boats by radio that are already there waiting for us to join them. They are calling others to arrive too.”
Behind the captain on the cruiser, a man climbed into view and called, “I just reached a guy who is with a motorcycle club south of Everett. They’re riding with us and will keep watch from the shore if they sail past Everett to Seattle. Along the way, they’re going to recruit more people.”
Steve moved closer to me and whispered, “Nice of you to take charge like this, Captain Bill. Now, tell them the only three places logical for a fleet to land are Tacoma, Seattle, or Everett. There will be too many survivors in the first two that might put up a fight, to it’s probably Everett where there is a deep-water port ready for the taking.”
When I didn’t speak, Steve shouted the information as if I’d just told it to him. He then said, “If they pass up Everett, we can follow them south to another place they might land, but Bill thinks their goal is Everett.”
“Captain Bill has been right about everything else,” the woman with the loud voice said.
“Yup.” Someone on another boat agreed.
“Sure has,” another said as others silently nodded.
Sue was still standing on the bench seat. She shouted, “What are we waiting for? Use your radios and warn everyone on land and sea. Tell them to head to the navy place in Everett by foot or pickup, but let’s get there before they do. Invite all your friends to join the party.”
Steve said in a louder voice, “I agree with Captain Bill. Sure, the ships might unload at Bremerton or somewhere else, but I think the invaders will want access to the mainland and the highways and railroads there. If they establish a military presence and hold it, they can occupy more area as they send in additional troops and ships. If they are successful with this first wave, you can bet more troop carriers will be on the way.”
That speech sobered them. Meaningful and wary looks were exchanged. Everyone seemed to understand that what was about to happen in the next few days or weeks would define their lives. The nearest sailboat pushed off and hoisted its jib, turning into the wind until it pointed back the way we’d come. Its mainsail caught the wind as the vessel increased speed and sailed back to Everett and the naval base there as if the boat couldn’t wait to return. The deep-water port had accommodated aircraft carriers and its support ships in a task force, so landing a fleet of troopships would be no problem.
I considered what little I knew of the harbor in Everett and realized Steve had been right. Besides, the ability to handle more than one ship at a time at the naval facility, the base was already surrounded by fences that could be guarded by the first troops to arrive. Railroad tracks were there for the transport of men and materials after the area was secured. The natural topography tended to isolate the area of the landing from the rest of the city, and thus make it ideal for a landing.
Of the three most promising places, I’d choose Everett if I was in charge. The other boats were pulling away, all heading south. We turned and followed, Steve at the wheel.
Sue poked me in my ribs. “Nice job, Captain Bill.”
Steve giggled and I had to laugh. If there was ever a more reluctant or inept captain, I didn’t know who it would be. Sue headed for the cabin and the radio, where the man we’d taken aboard was reaching out to as many people as he could.
She returned a few moments later. “He’s on the shortwave, has contacted dozens of other shortwave operators all over the country and told them what’d happening here. They are spreading the word. A group from Seattle is forming and getting ready to caravan north to Everett, and he even managed to reach an army reserve post just south of Everett. They have trucks and heavy weapons, and in case the ships do land in Everett, they hope to meet them.”
“The army has troops?” I asked.
“Recruits,” he called them.
I could imagine his recruits, but if they brought heavy weapons, whatever they were, he was welcome. The shortwave had also reached a guy near the port who claimed to have a cannon. I dismissed that one, and asked, “Where is the lead ship now?”
“South of Port Townsend, about four hours from the tip of Whidbey Island at the slow speed they are moving,” Sue said as if she knew what she was talking about instead of repeating what she’d heard. She went on, “If they turn east there, Everett is their destination. If they continue, it’s either Seattle or Tacoma.”
“How many ships?” Steve asked.
“Nineteen,” came her instant reply. “We got a report from a boat up there as they passed by.”
Steve hesitated as he calculated. “Say five hundred soldiers on each ship—that makes close to ten thousand soldiers. If they get to shore, it’ll be hell to defeat them, especially before reinforcements arrive.”
The other boats of our group were almost out of sight, all ahead and moving faster. An open-bow pleasure boat filled with five or six people came up from behind. I made sure my rifle was ready, but they passed by with wild cheering and shouting in the race to join with the others.
I looked at Steve.
“Going to the party,” he said in a droll manner.
The radio operator poked his head out of the cabin. “I got hold of a paramilitary group that claims they have ove
r two hundred men in the center of Everett. They have ten pickups and are going to shuttle their people to the navy pier along with weapons. They said everyone will be there in an hour, and they are sending out the word to another army they’ve been fighting.”
“Sounds good,” I ventured, for lack of something better. “There is also another group in Marysville and a lot of them ride motorcycles. Is there a way to contact them?”
His head disappeared.
I turned to Steve. “How is he talking to others with short-wave?”
Steve furrowed his brow. “Huh?”
I drew a breath and gathered my thoughts. “There is no power, to start with.”
“Oh,” he said with a smile. “These short-wave guys are volunteers who help in times of emergency. They have batteries and solar cells, these days. Usually, enough power and backups to last a week or more.”
Ten minutes later the radio operator emerged again, wearing a wide smile. “Your gang from Marysville is on the way, and so are five pickups loaded with men from Silver Lake, wherever that is. Both groups are due in an hour and are spreading the word that the invaders who set loose the blight on us are coming.”
Sue said, “That’s it! Radio everyone that the ships coming here sent the plague, the blight, to kill all of us, so they can take our land. If anyone wants to get even, head for the docks. Have them set up a safe route of passage through Everett for anyone wanting to help.”
I looked at her in confusion.
“What?” she drawled in the way her generation says it when older people don’t understand something they consider simple to understand. “Spread that rumor far enough, true or not, and even survivors in wheelchairs will be rolling to the navy base. Tell them Captain Bill said so.”
She was right again. All but the last. I ignored the giggle that escaped her.
Two powerboats pulled from the shore of Whidbey Island and turned south when they reached deep water. We raised our mail sail and picked up speed. I glanced at the radar screen and found at least fifty blips in front of us. Each was a boat. As we got nearer to the tip of the island, there were more, even some little aluminum fishing boats with little nine-horse outboards. There were sailboats, pleasure boats, fishing trawlers, cabin cruisers, and more. If it floated and had a means of motion, it was represented.
