Glacier Gal

by L. Langdon

  Since she and Sven had become lovers though, the knowledge was downright painful, and she tried her best to avoid thinking about it. Today, however, she could not avoid these thoughts. This was her last full day in Alaska; her last day on the Glacier Gal; and, worst of all, her last day with Sven. She had vowed not to dwell upon it, or at least not to talk about it. Sven seemed to have reached the same conclusion. He didn’t talk about the future beyond today. But, as she stole sidelong looks at him in the pilot house, he seemed unusually pensive.

  At least this day would be wonderful. They had planned it meticulously. Sven had sold their last catch to a fish buyer last night. Now they had about a six hour run to get to Juneau. Once there, Gerri would visit Mrs. Kallek one last time to say goodbye and thank her for her advice and friendship. While she was doing this, Sven would be baking a blueberry pie—this morning’s walk had been devoted to berry picking. Sven knew where there were plentiful wild blueberries and they had more than enough.

  After she had seen Mrs. Kallek, Sven would take her to his house and they would eat some fresh blueberry pie. After that, and before Gerri went back to Mindy’s, they would make love one last time. Gerri was well aware of Sven’s aversion to commitment. How could she forget it? And she respected it. She would not say one word about commitment. But she would use whatever powers she had as a woman to make tonight an experience that he would never forget. Every time he went to sleep in his own bed, Gerri wanted him to remember her and remember their last night.

  Then, early in the morning, a doubtlessly groggy Mindy would drive a doubtlessly groggy Gerri to the airport to catch her flight. She would leave with a fat bankbook, gifts for her family, and memories that would last her a lifetime. She would also leave with a gaping hole in her heart.

  The weather, fittingly, was stormy. A southeaster had blown up and the seas were rough. Sven was using the weather to give Gerri a final exam, of sorts, in handling the boat. Even though it was fatiguing steering the boat in this weather, she was doing well. She glanced at Sven again. He was grumbling and rubbing his stomach.

  “My stomach’s acting up. I think those sausages are bothering me.”

  “I’m sorry. But you certainly ate enough of them.”

  “Only because you didn’t want any. I don’t want to leave any food on the boat. I’ve had them for a while—maybe I should have thrown them out.”

  “I checked them before I cooked them. They seemed OK.” Actually, Gerri was pretty sure that they were OK. They hadn’t always had reliable refrigeration on the farm and Gerri’s mother had taught her well. Nowadays Gerri could trust her nose to tell her whether something was edible. Still, it was possible that they were bad. Something had clearly not agreed with him. She hoped that he was able to purge them from his system before they reached Juneau.

  Sven cursed his luck. Normally, he had a cast iron stomach but today, of all days, he had overeaten. He wasn’t really that hungry—he just hadn’t wanted breakfast to be over. As long as they were sitting, eating, and talking it was like any other morning. When they finished, however, he would have to face it. Instead of motoring out to some fishing grounds, they would run straight to Juneau. There would be no more Gerri on the Glacier Gal. He didn’t want to think about it. So he sat there eating and talking about inconsequentialities.

  He didn’t know what was bothering him, but he knew that he had to get rid of it in a hurry. He had big plans for the evening. He didn’t know how he would find the exact words but, somehow, he was going to tell Gerri how precious she was to him. Dare he use the word ‘love?’ She had made it abundantly clear that this was a summer thing, and he didn’t want her going home with regrets or guilty feelings. He hoped that somehow the words would come to him.

  As time went on, Sven was feeling worse instead of better. The pain in his gut was sharper than ever. He actually considered sticking his finger down his throat to try to get rid of those infamous sausages. No, he would try to lie down for a while.

  The weather was rough and the Glacier Gal was fighting her way against the wind and sea as they headed through Icy Straight. Gerri was doing most of the steering and was handling the conditions well. Sven was glad to see that she had her confidence back and he had no qualms about leaving her alone at the helm for a while. He only hated that he was so weak.

  “I’m going to go back and lie down for a while. Are you OK here?”

  Gerri cast him an anxious look. “I’m OK, but I’m worried about you. I think those sausages might not be the problem.”

  “You might be right. I might have caught some 24 hour bug.”

  She looked dubious. “I don’t know how. We haven’t been around people except briefly last night when we were on the fish buyer scow.”

  Sven paused as a stab of pain hit him. “I don’t know either, but I think a little rest will set me right.” He squeezed her shoulder and turned to go.

  Gerri was starting to get seriously worried. She didn’t find the ‘bug’ idea any more plausible than the ‘bad sausages’ idea. “Sven, wait.” He turned back to face her. She kept her eyes on the water ahead so that he wouldn’t see her fear. “Suppose… Just suppose this were something truly serious. What would you do then?”

  “Don’t worry,” he scoffed, “I’ll be fine.” He thought he sounded convincing. He would have been even more convincing if he hadn’t doubled over slightly while he was turning.

  “No, wait. Just as a hypothetical question, what would you do… Scratch that. What would any fisherman do if he had a heart attack or something?”

  Sven forced a chuckle. “Hypothetically? If you had a medical emergency, you would call the Coast Guard. They can pick a person up and fly him or her into Juneau, if necessary. But this is just a stomachache. I’ll be fine after I rest.”

  “OK. I’ll come and check on you.” She turned from the wheel and gave him a brief hug.

  After he left, she checked their position on the chart. The weather was slowing them down. They were still hours from Juneau. She wasn’t convinced by Sven’s reassurances. He had flinched noticeably when she hugged him.

  As part of her general education in seamanship, Sven had shown her how to make a distress call. Her lips drew tight. I might just be doing that…

  Gerri kept one eye on his cabin and, an hour later, she quickly darted back there to check on him. “How do you feel?”

  “About the same—maybe worse. I threw up a while ago. Maybe that will help. But it hasn’t yet.”

  Gerri wanted to try out an idea. “Let me see where it hurts.” She quickly pulled his shirt up and started probing gently. When she got to the lower right of his abdomen, he groaned and rolled away from her. Appendix, she muttered.

  Just then the boat lurched. Gerri raced back to the pilot house and adjusted the heading. She knew now that she wanted to call the Coast Guard. Maybe I should wait a bit longer. She knew she would feel stupid if this was a false alarm. But no—she was willing to feel stupid, but she wasn’t willing to take chances with Sven’s life.

  She felt better for having made the decision. She would tell Sven later, when it was too late for him to argue. After checking their position carefully—she didn’t want to be branded as a novice who didn’t even know where she was—she made the call.

  “This is the Glacier Gal. We have a medical emergency.” She gave Sven’s symptoms and the boat’s position.

  “Stand by one.” While she waited, she realized that her hands were shaking. Actually talking to the Coast Guard underlined the urgency of the situation. After what seemed forever, but was actually only a minute, the radio crackled again.

  “Sounds like your guess might be right. The cutter is about thirty minutes away from you and we’re starting in your direction now. Do you see an island on your port side?”

  “Yes, I do.” Of course she did. They sounded patronizing, but she was too worried to be offended.

  “Proceed to the cove on the west side. We’ll meet you there. The transfer and the he
licopter takeoff will be easier if we’re protected from the worst of the waves.”

  Gerri quickly agreed and turned the boat to the indicated direction. Her heart was still pounding, but she was relieved. They were taking her seriously. And the helicopter would get Sven to the hospital in Juneau much faster than even the Coast Guard cutter could.

  She idled the engines when she got to the cove and went to talk to Sven. She had to hurry because she could see the cutter already and she didn’t want Sven to make a macho scene.

  “Sven, I called the Coast Guard. I’m worried about you. They’re almost here and they’re going to fly you to the hospital.”

  But Sven didn’t have the energy to mount a serious protest. He looked at her rather foggily and muttered, “A mutiny. A mutiny on my own boat.” Then he flopped back down.

  Does he really resent me? Gerri wasn’t sure. Had she seen a small, strained smile playing over his face? Or was that scary looking scowl of his directed at her?

  If Gerri hadn’t been so worried about Sven, she would have found the performance of the Coast Guard cutter’s crew fascinating. The cutter approached quickly, slowing down at the last moment. They already had bumpers in place to protect the two hulls from scraping. Then, while the Glacier Gal was still tossing in their wake, several crew members swarmed down a ladder and tied the two boats together. They were impressively efficient.

  One, carrying a medical supply kit, looked at Gerri questioningly. She led him to Sven’s bunk and stepped back to watch anxiously. After a few moments of examination, he muttered something to another Coast Guardsman who went back out on deck. Gerri wondered about that, but decided to stay close to Sven. Her decision was rewarded when the medical officer turned to her.

  “You were right. It looks like his appendix. As bad as his pain is, it may have burst. We’ll fly him in to Juneau.”

  Gerri remembered the small helicopter tied onto the deck of the cutter. “How long will it take?” She realized that her voice was shaking.

  “No more than twenty minutes. We’ll call ahead for an ambulance.” He seemed to consider her situation for the first time. “Are you alone?”

  She looked at Sven. “There’s just the two of us.”

  The other man returned with a companion and a stretcher. Within seconds Sven had been carried out on deck and they placed his stretcher on a platform which been winched down while they were in the cabin. As much as she appreciated their speed, part of her was dismayed to realize that Sven was leaving her. She moved up to the stretcher and bent over him. His face was covered in sweat. She squeezed his hand and kissed his forehead. I love you, she wanted to say, but they were already winching him up to the cutter’s deck and she had to move quickly out of the way.

  The helicopter perched on a platform, raised above the rear deck of the cutter. Its rotors were already moving as they loaded Sven aboard. Gerri stood in the blast of the downdraft and watched the helicopter take off. She felt desolated and depressed. Sven was flying off to an unknown fate, and when the cutter had left, she would be truly alone. And she would bear the responsibility of getting the boat to Juneau through this nasty weather.

  Several crew members stood by the lines, waiting for instructions, while another man—an older man—climbed down the ladder. He looked around the deck and then extended his hand. “Miss Barton?”

  “Yes.” Gerri shook his hand.

  “I’m Captain Counselman. We talked on the radio. I understand that you’re alone on the boat.” At her nod, he gestured up to the deck of his vessel. “You’re going to need help. Crewman Knox has volunteered to ride into town with you—just to make sure that everything’s all right.”

  Gerri followed his gesture and stared with horror. Standing there looking down at her was Ferret-face. He tried, under the gaze of his captain, to project a benign smile, but Gerri could see a nasty edge of anticipation that he hadn’t quite concealed. “No,” she said vigorously, shaking her head. Was she even allowed to refuse? Bringing the boat in alone was a scary thought, but sharing it with Ferret-face—Knox or whatever his name was—was infinitely worse.

  “Are you sure? He said that you’re a waitress who is just riding with Mr. Halvorsen.”

  She bluffed more confidence than she felt. “No,” she repeated, “He is not welcome on this boat. I’m the first mate of the Glacier Gal. So, now I’m the acting captain. I can bring the boat in myself and I don’t want him on board.”

  Counselman frowned at her for a moment and then turned and stared up at Knox. “OK,” He finally said. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  With that, he swung back up the ladder, and the cutter was soon gone.

  Gerri contemplated her situation. Sven was in good hands—that was the most important thing. And she had dodged a nasty bullet. If she hadn’t seen who Seaman Knox actually was, she might have accepted the offer of assistance. She shuddered.

  But here she was. There was nobody to help. She had to navigate the Glacier Gal into the Juneau harbor in rough weather and approaching darkness. Darkness! Due to the long summer days, she hadn’t had any practice in navigating after dark. She raced to the pilot house. There was still a chance that she could get to Juneau before dark, but the days were getting shorter, and the rendezvous with the cutter had taken some time.

  The next few hours were among the most stressful of her life. As she piloted the boat, she tried to look everywhere at once. She consulted the charts frequently and memorized what to do if darkness fell. This was still wilderness. There were lighthouses that served as navigation aids, but they were few and far between. Then there was the problem of telling which light was which in the dark.

  Finally, she reached Point Retreat. She had passed here before—with Sven and in nicer weather, but now the name seemed daunting and a bit scary. But retreat was not an option for her tonight.

  Still clear in her mind was the advice that Sven had given her on the night she went overboard: She went well beyond Point Retreat and then turned quickly. This took her from a following sea to a headwind, but prevented the boat from being broadside to the waves for more than a minute.

  Now, she breathed a sigh of relief. The worst was over. The rest of the trip would be in more protected waters. And although she wouldn’t make Juneau before dark, she would be in sight of the town at sunset, and the city lights should make that final stretch easy. Now that she could relax a little, she could feel the soreness in her shoulders from holding the wheel for so many hours. She waved her arms around to loosen up.

  Once again, as she had every few minutes, she wondered how Sven was doing. She considered asking for information on the radio, but she didn’t know whom to ask. The Coast Guard wouldn’t know—after they had delivered him to the ambulance, they wouldn’t be involved any further. No, she would do the best job she knew how of getting the boat into the harbor. Then she would race to the hospital to see him.

  Finally, it was over. She reached Juneau and, remembering the speed limit, eased into the boat harbor. Since she had to moor the boat without help, she used a trick that Sven had taught her. After the boat was in Sven’s slip, she kept it idling in forward gear so that it pushed gently against the dock and kept the rudder turned hard over to keep it pushing against the side float. All this so that she could jump out and tie it up without it floating away. She allowed herself a moment of pride as she completed the mooring—she would definitely brag to Sven about this.

  After she shut off the engine, she took a moment to lean against the wheel and let the tiredness seep through her body. She took a last look around. Time to get to the hospital.

  As she was leaving the pilot house, she felt a slight rocking of the boat. Somebody was coming aboard. Maybe there’s news about Sven. She hurried out to the back deck.

  “Wally, is that you?”

  But the figure trying to climb over the gunwale was far less welcome than Wally. She registered the smell of alcohol as he spoke. “You bitch. You got me in trouble with my capta
in. You owe me. And now I’m going to collect.”

  Chapter 25

  It was Ferret-face! The Coast Guard cutter was much faster than the Glacier Gal, so they’d probably been in port for hours—enough time for Ferret-face to find some liquor and nurse his twisted grudge. Adrenaline flooded her system as she watched him. He was clearly unsteady on his feet, but still very capable of doing considerable harm.

  “Sven will kill you if you do anything to me.” Why she said that, she didn’t know. She had had some notion that she could talk her way out of this. That instantly proved futile.

  His advance was slowed as he caught his foot in a coil of line on the deck. He spoke scornfully as he tried to shake it loose. “Halvorsen isn’t going to kill anybody. He died on the flight in to town.”

  Gerri’s knees buckled. She couldn’t imagine a world without Sven. She couldn’t abide a world without him. Why didn’t I call the Coast Guard sooner? Sven had rescued her. Twice. And she had failed him. She tried to scream—in anguish more than outrage—but only a moan came out.

  Gerri desperately scanned the dock. No one was in sight. There would be no bystander to rescue her. And no Sven. Oh God, why hadn’t she told Sven how she felt? Even if he were commitment-shy, she would have wanted him to know how she felt about him before he died. If she could let herself believe in romance, she might imagine that that knowledge would have made him fight harder to live. Silly girl!

  She forced her attention back to Ferret-face. He had freed his foot, but clung to a guy line for balance. She would mourn Sven later; for now, it would take all of her strength and concentration to stay away from this beast. She moved to the opposite side of the open hatch. He would have to come around it to reach her. But he was between her and the float, so there was no escape that way. If she wanted to get off the boat, she would have to jump overboard into the frigid water. Not yet, she told herself. That was a last resort.