“I’ve been shooting folks to keep them from stealing things off of those boats, but I’ve been knowing all along I couldn’t hold them off forever. I thought about Keith and Lynn up there in Cajun country and wondered about trying to go to their place, but I knew I couldn’t do it on my own.” Bart glanced back at Jonathan and Andrew, to make sure Andrew couldn’t hear him as he continued on in a whisper. “That Daniel’s about worthless when it comes to doing anything with his hands, and the boy’s too young to be much help, even if they would have agreed to go with me. Now that you’re here, I know Shauna’s gonna want to go, at least as far as Keith’s, just so she’ll be that much closer to Megan.”
“I hope so. She’s got no business staying here, especially not if you’re going.”
“Well, you know I hate to give up my place here, and I wasn’t planning on letting it go until they killed me for it, but the way things are looking, that’s probably just a matter of time. Whether I die here or leave first, these boats are all gonna be stripped and the better ones will probably be taken if the fools can figure out how to launch them. I hate to make off with somebody’s boat myself, but I reckon if the owners aren’t here to get them by now, they probably never will be. I know for sure that the folks that own the one I’ve got in mind won’t be able to get here. There ain’t no way in hell.”
“Why not? Where are they?”
“Toronto. They’ve been keeping their boat down here since before I bought the yard. They’re retired now, of course and they come down every year after Thanksgiving and go to the Bahamas or Cuba for two or three months, then they come back up the river and haul out again and go home.”
“Sounds like a nice way to escape the Canadian winter.”
“Yep, but they’re several years older than I am; probably both pushing seventy-five if I had to guess. That’s why I know they’re not gonna be showing up to get their boat with things the way they are. They were already slowing down before all this happened and said they might skip it this coming winter anyway. For their sake, I hope they don’t try. First off, they’d have to get across the border and then somehow cross the whole country to get here. It ain’t gonna happen, if you ask me, so their boat’s gonna stay sitting where she is like all the rest of them. Another thing is that they don’t have any children, so they were probably going to leave it to charity anyway when they died, if they didn’t sell it first, and I don’t think the old man could have brought himself to do that. He’d probably rather see you take it to sea than think about that, and for what you want to do, it’s the best vessel I’ve got in the yard. She’s well-kept and well-equipped too, and it won’t take more than a few days to recommission her.”
Eric followed Bart through the rows of fiberglass sailboats and gleaming motor yachts to the back of the boatyard, where several larger sailing vessels were blocked up with their sterns to the chain-link fence at the back perimeter. All of the boats in this row were serious cruisers, and like the one Bart wanted to show him, were owned by folks who lived in other places and mainly sailed them in the winter months. When they came to the end of the row, Eric saw a hard-chined metal hull with a shallow full keel, everything above the waterline hidden by a full-length canvas cover. Two massive wooden spars were lying on sawhorses alongside the hull, and Eric noted the heavy, oversized standing rigging and turnbuckles.
“Steel hull?” he asked.
“Nope, all aluminum; custom-built. She’s a Tom Colvin design, built right here on the river in 1987 I believe.”
“The masts look like they’re both about the same length. Schooner rigged?”
“Yep, lots of sail options for all kinds of weather. She’s got a rebuilt 50-horsepower Perkins diesel in her too. Just with her onboard tankage, she’s got a 400-mile range under power. With all the Jerry cans we can scrounge up from around the yard, you could load her down with enough for a few hundred more. Hey Andrew! Jonathan! Give us a hand with this cover. Let’s get it off so we can have a good look at her.”
When the cover came off and Eric stood back to get a look at the schooner’s lines, he was impressed. The best thing of all was that she looked like a working vessel and not a yacht. Above the waterline, the topsides and cabin trunks were painted flat gray, almost the same shade favored by the Navy. Eric walked around to the stern and read the name on her transom: Tropicbird. It seemed fitting for a Canadian sailing vessel seeking escape to the warm waters of the islands. Bart got a ladder from under the jack stands and leaned it up against the starboard rail.
“Come on aboard, and see what you think.”
Eric already knew he was going to like what he saw. The helm was located in the well-protected cockpit between the main cabin and a smaller, separate aft cabin. It was a good layout for a large crew, which is what they would have if everyone at Bart’s house agreed to go. Like the topsides, the decks and deck-fittings were all business and no-nonsense. Cleats, stanchions and pulpits were welded in place, and other than the cockpit sole, which was planked with teak; the decks were painted with off-white nonskid. What really set her apart from the mass-produced sailing yachts more commonly seen was the fact that there were tabernacles for the two masts. Eric assumed the spars had been removed for long-term storage, but with this stepping arrangement, once they were reinstalled they could be raised and lowered from on deck without the help of machinery other than the onboard winches. It was a great feature and one they would need if they had to pass under low, fixed bridges. Even drawbridges built to open for vessel traffic would be inoperable now, so having the means to drop the masts was a huge plus.
“It looks like she was designed for serious voyaging,” Eric said, his appraisal complete even before he looked below decks.
“Anywhere you want to go, son; around the world if need be. This one hasn’t done it, but some of her sister ships have circumnavigated for sure.”
“It wouldn’t make sense to go around; you’d just end up back here, wouldn’t you?” Jonathan asked as he and Andrew followed the two older men forward to check out the windlass and bowsprit.
“That’s right,” Eric laughed. “Exactly halfway would be much better. Then, we’d be as far away from here as possible.”
“Man, that sounds like an adventure! I’ll bet the fishing is great at some of those islands out there. That would be awesome!”
“I’ve been deep sea fishing in the Gulf Stream,” Andrew said. “My dad’s company used to charter boats like that one to take us out.” Andrew pointed at one of the sport fishing yachts blocked up in the yard. “We had our own boat too and we used to go out pretty far when the weather was good.”
“Have you ever sailed, Andrew?” Eric asked.
“No sir. My dad said sailboats are too slow and he didn’t have enough time off work to go that slow. He said life was too short for that.”
“Maybe before,” Eric laughed. “Not now though.”
“Sailing’s pretty cool, actually,” Jonathan said. “I’d never sailed either until I hooked up with Eric. I’ll bet a real boat like this is even more badass—especially crossing the whole ocean. That would be a trip!”
Bart opened up the two cabins and they all went below to explore the accommodations. Like everything on deck, the interior was sensible and well thought out, rather than showy. All of the interior woodwork was dark mahogany, hand-rubbed with an oil finish. There was a U-shaped galley with a four-burner propane stove and oven, and a deep stainless steel sink with foot pumps for both fresh and salt water. Eric made a mental note as he counted the bunks. There were enough to make it work, even with an extra crewmember. Getting everyone to Louisiana was the only consideration for now. After he found Megan, there would be other decisions to make about what to do next and who would go with him. At this point that was so far beyond the present it didn’t figure into Eric’s calculations at all. The only thing about that future he could think of now was whether this was the boat that would make it a reality, and after seeing it inside and out, he was certain th
at it was.
“What needs doing before she can be launched?” Eric asked Bart.
“Mostly just the usual maintenance; slap on a fresh coat of bottom paint, repack the stuffing box and change out the zincs, change the engine oil and put a couple of coats of vanish on the spars. That’s off the top of my head. We’ll check everything though. If it’s just you and me working, it might take four or five days. If your buddy here wants to help and knows how to work, that might speed it up.”
“I don’t mind working,” Jonathan said.
“When I met him, he was camping in the mangroves over near Jupiter Inlet. He’d been stranded there since somebody stole his boat. I told him if he wanted to help me sail over here that we might be able to find him another skiff of some kind. Jonathan’s quite the fisherman. All he needs is a boat and he’s set.”
“Until somebody comes along and steals that one too,” Bart said. “Or worse.”
“It’s a dangerous world,” Eric agreed.
“Hell, you can have my skiff after we leave,” Bart told Jonathan. “I won’t have use for it. You can stay at the house too, for that matter. If we all go, it’s just gonna be left for the looters to clean out.”
“I don’t imagine I can hold them off on my own,” Jonathan said. “Especially with just a .357 Magnum. I’ll probably end up living in the woods again, where I won’t attract any attention.”
“Or you could just go with us,” Eric said. “We could use another crewmember that knows how to sail. And when we get to Louisiana, I think you’ll find that there’s some damned fine fishing in the Atchafalaya,” Eric grinned. He saw the kid’s jaw drop at the offer. Clearly Jonathan had never expected an opportunity like this.
“Really? You’d take me with you?”
“If you’ll do your part, and if you understand the risks. I have no idea what we’ll run into up there, or even trying to get out of here. You already saw the blockade at Fort Myers, and you saw what happened off Biscayne Bay. You might be a lot safer staying here at my dad’s place, but then again, you might not. It’s up to you, bud.”
“Man, I don’t even have to think about it; I’m in! Just tell me what to do, and I’ll get to work! I can paint or whatever, I really don’t mind! It would be cool to see someplace new for a change, even if it’s worse than here. I’m not afraid of the risks. I could die here any day, like you said.”
“Good deal, welcome aboard then! I imagine we’ll get started on the work in the morning, right Dad?”
“Yeah, but we still need to keep watch over the yard at night, especially now. It would be just our luck that somebody would come along and do something to mess up the Tropicbird if we don’t.”
“I’ll do it, and give you a break,” Eric said. “Jonathan will stay too and swap shifts with me, won’t you Jonathan?”
“You bet! But how are we going to get a big boat like this out to the Gulf with that blockade down there at the mouth of the river? We can’t sneak this one through the mangroves, that’s for sure.”
“That’s a good question, but one we’ll worry about later. First we have to get it ready and get it back in the water. A boat on the hard is no boat at all, right Dad?”
“That’s right. But it is a good question. I don’t know if the waterway is open going east or not, but that would sure be a long way out of the way. Maybe it’s possible to negotiate with whoever’s in charge of that blockade. It sounds to me like it’s more about keeping vessels from entering the river than it is to keep someone from leaving.”
“We’ll figure it out. Why don’t you take Andrew and go on back home and get some rest? Come get us at first light and we’ll drink some coffee and have breakfast with all of you at the house. I want to have another talk with Shauna and see if she’s on board or not, and then we can get back here and get started.”
When Bart and Andrew motored away in the skiff, Eric and Jonathan went in the yard office where Eric had stowed most of his gear from the kayak. Then, the two of them made a simple meal from the rations they’d lived on while sailing around Florida.
“Dude, I sure hope they all agree to go with us. What are you going to do if your ex-wife and her husband say they won’t do it? We’re going anyway, right?”
“Of course we are. They’d be foolish to stay here alone though. I know that’s what he wants to do, but Shauna’s smarter than that. Without my dad here to help them, they’d be in trouble soon. And I know Dad wants to go, because my brother’s up there, and he’s always been closer to him than me anyway.”
“That Daniel dude seems like a pain in the ass. I don’t know what your ex sees in him anyway. She’s pretty fine, man. Why in the hell did you let her go? If I had a woman like that at home, I wouldn’t ever leave the house!”
“I don’t know. I’m just stupid, I guess. What can I say?”
Twenty-four
THEIR NIGHT WATCH AT the boatyard turned out to be uneventful, and Eric was anxious to get back to the house and talk to Shauna when he heard his father’s outboard approaching at the crack of dawn. He hoped he could get a few minutes alone with her, away from Daniel, because he wanted her undivided attention so he could get his answers and get back to the yard to get started working on the boat. When Bart pulled into the slipway to pick them up though, Eric had his doubts.
“Everybody’s up and Shauna and Daniel are already making breakfast. Did you have any trouble out here last night? I didn’t hear any rifle shots.”
“Didn’t see a thing,” Eric said. “Did you tell Shauna about the boat? Did you tell her we’re going to get started on it today.”
“Yep. She asked me a lot of questions, but she really wants to talk to you some more. Said to tell you there’s some things about Megan you don’t know about.”
“I image there are. I haven’t seen her much since Shauna found her a stepdad. I was hoping he was still asleep. How am I supposed to talk to her now without him getting in the middle of everything? He’s going to say something that’ll piss me off, and that’ll be that.”
“Maybe, but he seems to be in a better mood. He was in a better mood when I got back there yesterday evening. Maybe they talked it over, who knows?”
“Or maybe he just got laid while everyone was out of the house for a while,” Eric said, eliciting a chuckle from Jonathan. Eric thought he didn’t care what Shauna was doing, but he knew deep inside that he still did in a way. Seeing her again yesterday brought back a lot of memories, both good and bad. She’d tried hard to make it work—she’d begged him to find another occupation and stay here in Florida with her and their child. He’d done his best at the time, but in the end, he’d left one time too many and that was that. He tried not to think about her and what might have been most of the time, and when he came here his only objective was finding Megan. Shauna wanted the same thing, but she didn’t want him, and Eric had to remind himself of that until it sunk in. Anything else was wishful thinking. Eric got his time alone with her to talk though. After they’d all eaten breakfast, Daniel stayed in the house with Andrew while Shauna walked with Eric down to the dock.
“He’s sure in a better mood today,” Eric said.
“He’s been under a lot of stress, Eric. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but his whole world has been turned upside down. He hasn’t had the kinds of experiences you have. Living off the grid like this is all new to him. He’s lost everything.”
“No he hasn’t. He’s got you, and he’s got his son. I’d say he’s a lot better off than most people these days.”
“We didn’t come here to talk about him though, did we?”
“No, but I need to know if you’re going with us, and I imagine that depends on whether he’s going or not.”
“He thinks it’s insane. He doesn’t want to think about it right now. He’ll come around, I’ve just got to ease him into the idea, just like with the idea of coming here.”
“Well, don’t go too easy. We’ll be launching the boat in three or four days. Maybe
faster if you two would help us. Whether you do or not, I’ve got to get Jonathan and Bart and get back down there before the morning is gone. What exactly is it that you want to tell me about Megan? Is there something you know that you haven’t told her grandfather? Do you know something else about where she is?”
“No, I have some ideas but I don’t know for sure.”
“What ideas? That she may be somewhere besides Colorado?”
“No, at least I don’t think so, just ideas about the people she might be associated with. I hope I’m wrong, but I’m worried that she might have put herself in more danger than she would be in otherwise.”
“What do you mean, ‘put herself’ in it? Why would she do something like that? She’s smarter than that.”
“She’s smart, but she’s also stubborn, Eric. I’m afraid there's a whole lot about our daughter that you don't know. You haven't been around her much at all since she was in her early teens. She’s not the little girl you remember.”
“She seemed pretty normal last time I saw her. She was eighteen then. What’s changed since?”
“She’s pretty good at hiding a lot of things, Eric. She wouldn’t get in a confrontational conversation with you, because she’d be afraid to. She’d rather just pretend than bring it up.”
“A conversation about what? I know she’s not crazy about what I do for a living, but she’s old enough to understand the necessity of it by now, right?”
Feral Nation - Infiltration (Feral Nation Series Book 1) Page 17
