Long Voyage Back

by Luke Rhinehart

  `We need some food and water,' Captain Olly went on. `You fellas know where we can get some?'

  `Where you headed, Mahn?' the officer whom Neil had seen grinning shouted back.

  `Puerto Rico,' Captain Olly replied. 'Where you fellas headed?'

  `You have permit for Bahamian waters?' the officer asked. `Shit, no,' Captain Olly replied. 'We're heading Puerto Rico.'

  `No weapons permitted in Bahamian waters,' the officer shouted. 'You have weapons aboard?'

  `No weapons,' Captain Olly replied, heading Vagabond into the wind and slowing her up some.

  `We will board you then for routine inspection,' said the officer, grinning.

  `You try to board us,' Captain Oily replied in the same

  easy-going tone, 'and we'll blast you all to kingdom come.'

  The white-toothed smile disappeared from the man's face.

  `We ain't got no weapons,' Captain Olly shouted as the two

  vessels continued slicing through the water side by side. 'So you don't got to inspect us.'

  0lly grinned. "Course if you do try to board us we'll have to sink all four of you fellas.'

  The officer turned to the shorter man at his side and they whispered together urgently. The two men at the machine-gun were staring back looking for orders.

  `What you have to pay for watah, Mahn?' the officer shouted.

  `Got a good Johnson outboard,' Captain Olly replied. 'Got some cigarettes.'

  `You have gold? Silver? Jewellery?'

  `Maybe,' said Captain 0lly. 'You selling water?'

  `We sell you fifteen, gallons of watah,' the officer replied. `You pay in gold, silver, or diamonds.'

  `Can't we sail in to one of these here little islands and get some water?'

  `Not without permit,' the officer replied, grinning. Tor permit you must go to Nassau and surrender all weapons.'

  `Need a permit for water, huh?' said Captain 0lly. 'Seems a little shitty to me.'

  `You have gold? Silver?'

  Olly frowned and looked aft at Neil who shook his head slightly in the negative.

  `Not a drop, sonny,' Captain Olly said. 'Got some fancy clothes, though, you fellas might like. You like fancy clothes? Also got a bottle of whisky.'

  Ì think maybe we trade, right, Mahn?' the tall officer said and flashed his smile.

  `Right, sonny, but you tell those two fellas with the peashooter to point it forward, okay?

  I get indigestion staring at the open end of a barrel.'

  After the two men manning the gun moved aft, the two ships eased in closer to each other, Captain 0lly bringing Vagabond up into the wind so that the two boats could tie up to each other. He instructed Jeanne to come up and help Katya prepare the fenders, the four other men maintaining their defensive positions. When the two ships were secured, Olly went down into Frank's cabin and brought back up two of his dress suits while Jeanne brought two packs of cigarettes and a half-full whisky bottle from the main cabin. After the goods were spread out on the cockpit seat, negotiations began. The launch crew had brought up on their deck five three-gallon containers of water. While the grinning officer came aboard to finger the material of Frank's suits and hold them up to his body to check size, Captain Oily dipped a finger into each of the water jugs to see that they were fresh and potable. They all tasted heavily chlorinated but drinkable. Olly grimaced each time he sampled the water.

  `Worst water I ever tasted, sonny,' he said to the Bahamian officer. 'This horse piss or what?'

  The black man just grinned.

  `Two suits, whisky and cigarettes for nine gallons watah,' he said.

  `No sale,' Captain 01ly replied. 'I'll give you that blue suit there for all fifteen gallons, including the jugs.'

  The black officer laughed and slapped his bare brown thigh below his clean white shorts.

  `You crazy, Mahn,' he said, glancing at Katya with a grin. `Watch is gold. This suit's just pretty shit. No way it's gold.'

  `Take it or leave it, fella. We got to get on to Puerto Rico.'

  The black man glared. sell you good watah, Mahn. You pay me whisky, cigarettes, and suits. You want me to arrest you?'

  `Now, now, fella,' said Captain 01ly, his wrinkled face breaking into its toothless grin. 'I got an army of sharpshooters in all four cabins. Unless that there peashooter can shoot in four directions at once you ain't arresting nobody, least not on this boat.'

  The black man still glared, puffing out his chest and

  breathing heavily. The other three men looked on from the cockpit indifferently. The officer's eyes abruptly narrowed and he scrutinized Captain 0lly carefully. Ì sell you fifteen gallons without the jugs, for this blue suit, the whisky, and the cigarettes.'

  `With the jugs.'

  `With two jugs, Mahn. I cannot give you more.' Òkay, fella, you got yourself a deal.'

  Captain 0lly grinned and stuck out his hand. The officer grinned back and they shook hands heartily. The three men in the other boat began laughing and talking, the whole atmosphere abruptly changing. Olly asked Katya to bring up three empty plastic containers to take the water from the three jugs that had to be returned, and the Bahamian officer called one of his men over to admire his beautiful suit. Both men took a slug of the whisky and then handed it over to the last two blacks still aboard the launch.

  `Well, now, tell me, Cap,' said Captain Olly to the officer, after taking a slug of whisky himself when it was handed to him. 'Why's your government so fussy 'bout our landing and getting a little water.'

  Ì don't know, Mahn,' was the reply. 'Too many you Yahnkees, s'pose.'

  `But you got plenty of water here, don't you?'

  The man frowned. `Watah, yes, Mahn, but not food. Ships want food and can't pay for it. They take our women, too. You bettah keep your guns, Mahn, or you won't have your women.' He looked over at Jeanne and Katya and grinned.

  `Your government have other boats southeast of here likely to bother us?' Captain Olly asked.

  `Doan know, Cap'n,' the officer answered. 'But it's not us you 'av to worry about, it's pirates. South of here the pirates so thick, you can walk across their decks all the rest of the way to Puerto Rico. You ought to get to Nassau quick, Mahn. Pirates stay clear of Nassau.'

  `Who are the pirates?' Olly asked, frowning.

  Èverybody, Mahn!' the officer shot back, grinning hugely. Èverybody who's got a boat.

  'S only way a mahn can make an honest living.'

  01ly frowned again.

  `Well, thanks, Cap,' he said, and stuck out his hand again to the Bahamian officer. 'We '

  preciate your help.'

  `That's all right, Mahn,' said the officer, shaking hands and then getting back on to his launch with his other men. After placing his new suit neatly on a seat he turned and gave Olly a big grin. 'Welcome to the Bahamas, Mahn!' he said loudly, spreading his arms out wide, one holding the whisky bottle. `Right?'

  And the two vessels parted.

  As the Bahamian launch receded towards the entrance to Marsh Harbour, Neil emerged from his cabin, ostentatiously wielding his pistol. The others soon joined him in the starboard cockpit next to Olly at the wheel.

  `Well,' Neil said. 'We've just survived our first pirates.' `Shall we go to Nassau?' Frank asked, shaking his head and pursing his lips in disgust.

  `We can't risk it, Frank,' Neil replied. 'It's still on to Puerto Rico.'

  `With only twenty gallons of fresh water?' Frank said, startled. Ìf we go to Nassau we'll never get out. They'll take our weapons, make us barter away our equipment for food, and all we'll gain is extra water and two hundred extra miles to have to fight off pirates. It's not worth it.'

  `But who knows if it's any better in the Virgins or Puerto Rico?' Tony asked, joining them.

  `Puerto Rico's a lot larger,' Neil answered, 'and they're both presumably more friendly to Americans.'

  Ìsn't there a chance Puerto Rico will become involved in

  the war?' Jeanne asked. 'We've got naval and air base
s there.'

  Ànd we can sail to either of them from Nassau almost as

  easily as from here,' Frank added.

  `Not if they've taken our weapons,' Neil countered, tightlipped. 'We'd be sailing a thousand miles through a sea of pirates armed with Olly's gaff and a boat hook. I'd prefer dying of thirst.'

  Frank shook his head and paced away past Olly into the wheelhouse and then turned around and came back. 'In Puerto Rico you'd be a draft dodger and Jim a deserter,' he reminded Neil.

  Ìn a war in which all fighting will have ceased,' Neil replied, 'I doubt that by the time we get there anyone will care.'

  `But can we go on much longer with so little food and water?' Jim broke in. 'You told me yesterday we've got enough dried fish and water left for only three more days.'

  Neil frowned, frustrated at facing three unacceptable alternatives. 'I suppose we could try sneaking into one of the out-of-the-way cays,' he mused aloud. Ànd if they catch us without clearance, they confiscate the boat,' Frank said. 'There's no way we should try that.'

  `Can't we land on an island at night, get water and get away before daybreak?' Jeanne suggested.

  Àll the cays are buffered by reefs,' Neil replied. 'We can only get in and out during daylight hours when we can see the shoals and find the channels.'

  Ànd we'd be spotted during the day,' Frank added. 'The Bahamians probably have air patrol as well as cutter patrol.'

  No one spoke. They seemed to have reached an impasse. Frank again paced into the wheelhouse, this time sitting down. Jeanne looked at him and then at Neil, finally at 01ly, who stared forward humming lightly to himself.

  `We should keep going,' she said quietly. 'God's put us in the middle of the biggest supermarket in creation and if we can't learn to eat and drink what's out here we don't deserve to live.'

  When she stopped speaking Frank ran his two hands

  through his thinning grey hair and stood up. He stared absently at Neil.

  `The West Indies,' he said almost to himself. 'Jesus, I bet by the time we get there, we'll decide we have to go to Brazil.' He smiled mournfully at Jeanne. Neil moved for the first time since the discussion had begun: He lifted up one of the new water jugs.

  Ì think we might begin planning on it,' he said.

  `Well, Mac,' said Tony, a few hours later. He loomed over Conrad Macklin, who was seated in the side cockpit at the rolling rig. 'How do you feel about our captain's latest decision? You enjoy starving to death?'

  Macklin looked up at Tony neutrally, then idly tested the drag on the nylon line. 'Yes, I am,' he answered quietly. `You are?'

  Ì enjoy starving,' Macklin replied, causing Tony to stare at him uncertainly. '

  Considering the alternatives.'

  Ì still think we should try to dock in here and try to get some food.'

  `Be patient, Tony,' Macklin said, looking up at him and smiling. 'The thing you don't understand is that sometimes retreat and lying low are the best strategy. Our Loken's no fool: he's not afraid to do that.'

  `Yeah?'

  `Just like us, Tony,' said Macklin, still smiling. 'Just like us.'

  And so they sailed on, past the white sand beaches and gleaming emerald water of the eastern Bahamian cays and out to sea to the east, having to make long tacks against the southeast wind, Neil wishing it would shift, hoping he could guess which way it would shift, and sailing on to either San Juan or the Virgin Islands, whichever the wind and the radio reports made appear a more feasible haven.

  A new intensity came into the voyage. After their first escape from the mainland a certain exhilaration and hopefulness had accompanied them southwards. They had food and water, and though they rationed themselves for both, it was something of a game, merely 'contingency planning'.

  But now they had been turned away from a place they had seen as a source of supplies; now they had been sailing almost a week without a landfall and the contingency had occurred. There was no way to buy new food; no sure way to obtain water. For at least another week the ocean was the only store doing business and the skies the only water depot. Now they would sail successfully to Puerto Rico or the Virgins within two weeks or perhaps die. Now the billowing white clouds that flowed lazily above them represented not beauty but potential moisture; the colour of a dawn was watched for signs of an approaching low pressure system that might mean rain or a shift from the trade wind pattern heading them.

  Now the fishing was as serious an undertaking as war,. and when some huge fish snapped through the wire leader and took off with Jim's best lure leaving them with only three, he was left as pale and shaken as if he'd lost an important platoon in battle. Now that they were out of the Gulf Stream the fishing was much less dependable. In the first five days after picking up the Brumbergers they caught only two fish.

  Now they began the monotonous, unpleasant, bone-jarring bashing to windward into the seas that the tradewinds seemed to be building malevolently against them. Neil, since it was his decision that they sail on past the Bahamas with insufficient food and water, became obsessed with the battle to sail Vagabond to windward as fast as possible. Although one of his basic principles was never to criticize the wind, he found himself cursing quietly each time he awakened to find it still on their nose. He began to view the wind and waves as opponents he was fighting, an uncharacteristic attitude that he tried to check. Noting Lisa's thinness, Frank's weakness, recognizing a certain lethargy about everyone's movements - including his own - filled him with a rage to drive Vagabond eastward to a safe landfall where they could rest and eat and replenish their depleted stores.

  He searched out the boat for useless weight as he might have sought out spies. Overboard went the portable television set, overboard some rusted chain, overboard two dozen of the ship's trashy novels, old magazines, half-finished cans of paint, some junk wood, and nine or ten heavy bolts that Frank didn't have the slightest idea how they could be used. They also discussed removing Vagabond's diesel engine, both to lighten the boat and to create a private berth for Olly to ease the over-crowding. With Frank concurring, Neil decided that its possible future usefulness in a world mostly devoid of fuel didn't match its burden of six hundred pounds extra weight. In a six-hour operation that involved all the men, Frank and Olly supervised the unbolting and winching up of the heavy engine. By the time they were done they had had to use half a dozen jury-rigged pulleys hanging from the main boom, wheelhouse roof and mizzen mast. When the engine, from which they had removed the alternator, finally rolled off the aft deck into the sea, the men let loose a long

  cheer and, dirty and sweaty, confiscated a beer each as their reward. It was the first successful mutiny on Vagabond, and Neil, clutching his own bottle, accepted it with a smile. The trimaran gained an inch on her water line aft, and her trim was now much better.

  With the engine gone and no generator aboard, the batteries were unhooked from everything except the shortwave radio. Oily and Jim began to try developing a manpowered generator out of the diesel alternator, but with three batteries aboard it didn't seem pressing.

  However, after the camaraderie of removing the engine, the smashing to windward began to take its toll.

  All were being weakened by occasional seasickness and their diet. They were now eating primarily the fish steaks they had dried from a week before. They opened one can of fruit a day -for ten people. They boiled or baked two potatoes a day. For liquids there was only occasional tea, powdered orange drink. Except for one six-pack kept for 'an appropriate occasion' the beer was gone. They drank water.

  The tensions among them built. Everyone needed more private space than was available and the small ship became for some a claustrophobic trap. Tony exploded at Neil for assigning equal rations to everyone, arguing that a big man like him needed twice the food that Lisa and Skip needed. Neil replied that Tony still had twice the body fat and that until someone manifested symptoms of malnutrition the rations would remain the same. Both Tony and Macklin complained about sleeping in the
forepeak and Neil gave them permission to use his aft cabin or the dinette settee when either was free. Macklin complained continually of seasickness, but still somehow managed to eat his share of rations. Katya sometimes took his place as crew for 01ly.

  When Jeanne reported that a can of peaches was missing, Neil did nothing, but when she discovered a small can of chicken spread had also disappeared, Neil laid down the law: if someone were caught stealing food he'd be put on half

  rations and abandoned at the first landfall. Tony became angry again when Neil seemed to be directing his remarks primarily at him and Macklin, claiming Neil kept singling them out. Neil said the rule applied to everyone.

  Neil felt increasing irritation at such scenes, but he knew that if he'd worked things out with Frank and Jeanne his other burdens would be more manageable. But he hadn't. Although he and Frank treated each other with politeness, Frank's jealousy of Neil and Jeanne remained fierce. By words and glances he showed his anger or gloom at any closeness between them, while himself showering Jeanne with attention - in the galley, helping with Skippy, inviting her to crew with him and Tony. Although Frank was less sick than during the first ten days - he was now keeping food down and showing more energy - he still looked ill and Neil couldn't bring himself to do anything to hurt him. But his relations with Jeanne, already sobered by the depressing deaths of the Brumbergers and the by-passing of the Bahamas, and dampened by his obsession with getting Vagabond east to a safe landfall, were further curtailed by Frank's jealousy. Neil could feel a barrier building between himself and Jeanne.

  He longed to be with her, touch her, speak gently, but somehow such opportunities never seemed to arise. The few times they'd managed to be alone had found Neil absorbed in some boat problem and unprepared for intimacy: tongue-tied, abstracted, the barrier between them.

  The claustrophobic mood of the boat affected Jim and Lisa too. Depressed by the invasion of their privacy by Tony and the leers of Macklin, they withdrew from the others on the boat, becoming an island unto themselves.

  Vagabond sailed on, the mood of her ship's company heavy. The meagre meals - unvaried, repetitious, sparsely seasoned; the stink of the fish steaks drying in the sun; the stiffness of clothes washed always in salt water; the seeing of the same familiar grizzled faces and unkempt hair day after day;