by L. Langdon
As she moved, she looked around for a weapon. Her eyes latched onto one of those fifty pound, spherical lead sinkers resting on the deck at her feet. Briefly, she flashed back to her first encounter with Sven—wouldn’t that be a nice irony if she could use it… If she were Sven, she could throw it at Ferret-face and drop him in his tracks. But, though she could lift it, she couldn’t throw it with force. Then she saw a gaff hook clipped to the gunwale near her. She bent over to grab it. When she looked up, Ferret-face had darted around the hatch and was only a few feet away. Without thinking, she pushed the sinker with her foot as hard as she could, rolling it toward him across the deck. He wasn’t expecting that and, with his diminished coordination, couldn’t get out of the way. He yelled in pain as it hit his ankle and his arms started wind-milling for balance. She had only a second to react. Reaching forward with the gaff hook, she pushed him in the chest. If she could get him to fall down, she would have time to escape.
He stepped back instinctively, but his foot hit another sinker. He fell backward and, as Gerri watched, hit his calves on the gunwale. His legs buckled as he toppled over the side into the frigid water. Only then did she allow herself a smile of relief as she leaned, exhausted, against the one of the trolling poles.
___
Wally Trager put down his binoculars and blew on his hands. The weather was lousy. A raw wind was blowing straight down the channel toward him. And as he stood on the bridge between Juneau and Douglas Island, he had no protection from it.
He had heard about Sven from another fisherman, Jimmy Cavanaugh, who was monitoring the short wave distress channel. He had rushed to the boat harbor, but there was nothing that he could do for Sven now. The next thing was to worry about the Glacier Gal and—yes—Gerri. The rumor mill had said that she had refused help and was bringing the boat in by herself.
There was nothing that Wally could do to help. He’d tried contacting her on the radio, but she wasn’t answering. Probably because she’d turned the radio off to avoid the distraction. At least he hoped that was why.
But he could try to allay his fears by watching for the boat. It should be coming down the channel any minute and the bridge was high enough to give him a good vantage point and close enough to the boat harbor so that he could get there when—he didn’t want to say ‘if’—the boat arrived.
He could see one set of running lights a few miles down the channel, coming toward town. It was too far in the rain and the gathering dusk to make out the identity of the boat. In a few minutes—and when his hands were warmer—he would look again.
Finally, he saw it—the Glacier Gal. He took a deep breath of satisfaction and let it out slowly. He knew that Sven had been giving Gerri some training, but he didn’t know how much. Sven had bragged that she was a sponge for knowledge, but there were any number of ways that things could have gone badly for her on the way in.
As the boat passed under the bridge, he got ready to walk to the harbor. He paused though. He couldn’t resist the temptation to see how she would handle the docking by herself. He hoped, for the sake of the boat, that she didn’t mess it up too badly. Besides, he told himself, he wouldn’t get there in time to help anyway and he could see her attempt better from here.
A few minutes later, he was walking briskly toward the harbor, chuckling to himself. He had had his reservations about her at first—well, actually he had had his reservations all summer, but her docking was smooth as silk. If he didn’t know otherwise, he would have thought it was Sven himself piloting the boat. And at such a stressful time. He owed her an apology for doubting her, and he meant to give it.
On the way down the ramp to the boat harbor floats, he saw Cavanaugh again and called him over. “The Glacier Gal just got in. Walk with me. We’ll fill Gerri in about Sven.”
Cavanaugh fell in step beside Wally, who continued talking. “She docked it pretty as you please. It’s hard to believe that she didn’t know anything about boats at the beginning of the summer.”
“Hmmm,” Cavanaugh said. He acknowledged Wally distractedly, but he wanted to share what he felt was more interesting gossip. “You’ll never guess what I saw. Remember that Coastie, Knox? The bad news one? Well, I think he’s finally got in more trouble than he can handle.”
Wally made an encouraging grunt, though he knew it wasn’t necessary—Cavanaugh was going to share his gossip regardless.
“I was standing at the foot of the ramp and I heard yelling from the Coast Guard cutter. Knox was on the float screaming and cussing. I don’t know what it was about, but he was ordered to come back aboard and he flat refused. Then he came storming down here past me.”
Now Wally was interested in spite of himself. “How long ago was this? I just came down the ramp and I didn’t see him.”
“Just a few minutes ago. He didn’t go up the ramp. He headed down toward the other end of the floats. I don’t know where he thought he was going, come to think of it.”
Wally suddenly had a very bad feeling. The other end of the floats—where the Glacier Gal just docked! Cavanaugh had heard about Sven decking Knox—Hell, everyone had. But nobody but Wally had been told about the connection to Gerri. He broke into a run.
“Hey, what’s your hurry? She’s not going anywhere.”
Leaving Cavanaugh without an explanation, Wally turned the corner to the Glacier Gal’s berth. The float was slippery from rain and he almost fell, so he slowed slightly. Then he heard a scream and a big splash and sped up again.
When he came into sight of the boat, he slowed to a walk. Gerri was leaning on one of the trolling poles, looking exhausted, but otherwise unharmed. He didn’t see Knox at first. He followed the sound of further splashing and cursing and saw Knox treading water beside the boat.
Maybe it was the relief that Gerri seemed unhurt, he didn’t know, but he started laughing. Gerri saw him and frowned. “He attacked me. He was going to…” She shook her head and waved vaguely at the cabin.
“I’m sorry, Gerri. It’s not funny. He just looks like such a fool. Are you all right?”
Gerri summarized briefly as Wally climbed aboard. Cavanaugh arrived, puffing. He was a powerful man, but overweight—this was probably the first time he had run in years.
Wally tossed him the gaff hook. Knox was trying to climb up onto the dock. “Kick him back in the water, Jimmy, but don’t let him swim away. He tried to attack Gerri.”
He then put an arm around Gerri. “Don’t worry about Knox. We’ll take care of him. You’ve had a rough enough day already.”
Gerri, reminded of the larger disaster, came into Wally’s arms. Her tears started to flow. “Oh, Wally, I feel terrible about Sven. If only I’d called the Coast Guard sooner, it might have made a difference.”
Wally didn’t process her words right away; he was too distracted. It had been a long time since he had had his arms full of friendly girl-flesh. He allowed himself the fleeting thought: Gerri—color-be-damned—felt every bit as good as any white woman he knew. But he dragged his mind back to the matter at hand and tried to comfort her. “Gerri, you did fine. I’m proud of you. Sven’s going to be OK. And it’s because of you. I know that stubborn fool would have waited until it was too late if he had been alone.”
Gerri drew her head back and looked at him. “He’s not dead?”
“Hell, no, he’s not dead. Did this asshole…?” He turned to look again at Knox. Cavanaugh had hooked the gaff through Knox’s shirt so he couldn’t swim away. Jimmy and I will make sure that this guy has the worst day of his life. He turned back to Gerri. “You know where the Coast Guard cutter is? We’ll take Knox back there. Why don’t you come over when you’re ready? I expect that they’ll want to hear your story.”
Gerri was so happy to hear that Sven was alive that she almost danced. Wally, as the immediately available object of her gratitude, again had the thought: Sven’s a pretty smart guy after all…
She quickly went to put her things together, while Wally joined Jimmy Cavanaugh in securi
ng Knox for delivery back to the Coast Guard cutter. As she was about to disappear into the Glacier Gal’s cabin, Wally called out to her. “Gerri. You did a hell of a job today, including the landing. I watched you dock the boat. Very nicely done.”
Gerri flushed at the unexpected words of praise. From Wally, no less. “Thank you, Wally. For everything. I’m leaving tomorrow morning, so…well…just thanks.”
Wally tipped an imaginary hat. “No thanks necessary. We fishermen have to stick together.” Gerri started her final cleanup of the Glacier Gal, feeling better than she had thought imaginable five minutes ago.
___
Wally wore an appropriately grave expression, but inwardly he wanted to shout with satisfaction and relief. He had gone to Captain Counselman to complain about Knox after Sven’s encounter with him in the Arctic Saloon. Knox was a disaster waiting to happen. It wasn’t that Wally was worried about Gerri—frankly, she wasn’t on his radar back then. And it wasn’t that he was worried about Sven—Sven could take care of himself. But suppose it had been someone else who had the run-in with Knox?
But Counselman had not been sympathetic. He had talked to Knox and the crewmate that shared Sven’s swift chastisement in the bar. Both had denied that Knox had had a knife, and both insisted that Sven had started the fight.
Today was different. Wally told Counselman about Knox’s attack on Gerri. He even claimed to be an eye-witness (Wally wasn’t encumbered by legal niceties—and anyway, Gerri told him and he trusted her completely).
Counselman listened patiently to Wally’s account and then responded wearily. “Yes, Mr. Trager, I remember our conversation earlier this summer. Believe me, I wish I’d pursued it more aggressively back then.” He shifted uncomfortably and glanced at the two officers who were sitting silently with him.
“I can’t discuss his record with you in detail, but Seaman Knox has been in trouble several times before. When he offered to help Miss…uhh…” He looked at his notes. “Miss Barton pilot the Glacier Gal back to Juneau, I thought that he was trying to redeem himself. The strength of her reaction disturbed me. I talked to him again on the way in to port.
“He became angry. He claimed that she was a militant who was trying to get him in trouble because he had a southern accent.” He sighed. “That didn’t make much sense to me. I don’t even know what a militant is.
“What I saw didn’t look like a militant. I saw a young girl—very young—who was stressed and very scared, yet who would rather take her chances alone with the weather than to be stuck on that boat with Knox.
“To make a long story short, I re-interviewed the crewmember who was with Knox at that bar, and he admitted that Knox had been bothering a waitress at the bar that night. And the waitress was a young Negro woman. Meanwhile, I was concerned about her progress and she wasn’t monitoring her radio, so I had the crew keep an eye out for the boat. Shortly after they reported her arrival in the harbor, I was informed that Knox had left our vessel against orders. I sent a couple of men ashore after him, but they didn’t see him. We didn’t know that he’d stayed in the boat harbor.”
___
Of course, Gerri knew where the cutter was—its berth was right by the entrance of the boat harbor and it loomed over the other, smaller boats. As she approached it, she saw two local policemen walking ahead of her. She slowed her pace nervously; she had grown up being wary of white policemen. Would they listen to her? Or to the crewman who tried to attack her?
They saw her and waited. “After you, Ma’am,” said the younger one.
She had to smile at the salutation. The policeman who spoke—Officer Ryan, according to his nametag—frowned in puzzlement.
“Thank you,” Gerri assured him. Would I have gotten this courtesy from a policeman back home? I wonder. Then she leaned her head close to him. “I’m 22 and I’m not used to being called Ma’am.”
He glanced at the other officer, and then said quietly. “I’m only nineteen myself. Don’t say anything, but I’m kind of new at this.” Gerri couldn’t be sure in the dusk, but it looked like he was actually blushing. This was one policeman who was a breath of fresh air!
The other officer interrupted rather officiously, “Is there a problem?”
“Not at all,” assured Gerri with a small smile, “I’m just complimenting Officer Ryan on his courtesy.”
The meeting on the cutter was anticlimactic. They had agreed how to handle Knox before she even came. They agreed that, although Knox would be charged with assault, he would be remanded to the Coast Guard for discipline. Captain Counselman was at pains to explain to Gerri that this did not constitute leniency. Rather, the Coast Guard had more leverage in punishing Knox for this and previous offenses. The city police would be constrained by due process and the fact that Knox had not done physical damage to her. Gerri and Wally each signed a statement stating what had happened. Captain Counselman terminated the meeting with an apology to Gerri.
As they were filing out of the wardroom, one of the other officers couldn’t stand it anymore. He muttered, “Good old Knox. He gets beat up by a fisherman and he doesn’t know when to quit. So then the fisherman’s girlfriend throws him overboard.” Wally allowed himself a small smile.
Back on the dock, Wally turned to Gerri. “I know you have plenty to do before you go. Feel free to use Sven’s truck. I’m certain he won’t mind. And Gerri?” He stuck out his hand. “Good luck. I know I haven’t been the most friendly guy, but you’ve made a believer of me. I hope you can come back next year.”
Gerri transformed the handshake into a hug. “Thank you. I’ll try. It’s been a wonderful summer.” As she carried her bag up the ramp to shore, she played her last statement back in her mind. She had never been good at the socially correct lie. She’d love to be back, but in the real world, she doubted that she’d ever see this place again.
Chapter 26
Gerri sat slumped in a chair in a waiting room at the hospital, waiting for Sven’s doctor who—it had been promised—would be out shortly. Her body, it seemed, was at war with itself. One faction wanted to get up and pace the room; perhaps even to go find someone to whom she could express her impatience and her worry about Sven—her exhilaration at finding out that Sven was still alive hadn’t lasted long; he was still seriously ill.
The other faction wanted nothing more than to curl up on the chair and sleep. She had been operating on adrenaline overload and stress ever since Sven’s symptoms started this morning. And in particular, she had been in constant activity since Wally and his friend dragged Ferret-face, secured with duct tape, down the float toward the Coast Guard cutter.
The activity had helped to keep her worries about Sven in check. Well, no, not exactly in check, but at least controllable. She was reminded of an incident years ago when she was in high school. One of her mother’s cousins had died. They were not close—she had gone north before Gerri was born. Olivia Barton, however, had grown up with her. Olivia threw herself into a house cleaning project of uncommon vigor. When Gerri asked her about it, she had considered the question for a moment, and then said, “It’s busyness therapy, Gerri. I can’t think what else to do.” Now, Gerri understood.
And busy she had been. As soon as Wally left, she tried to clean up the Glacier Gal. After all, she didn’t know how long it would be before Sven was able to get back to it. She decided that the blueberries wouldn’t keep, so she divided them into two portions. She would give half to Mrs. Kallek and half to Mindy. Hardly elaborate gifts, but they were from the heart.
She then drove Sven’s truck to Mrs. Kallek’s home. Walking was all well and good, but Gerri couldn’t afford the time today. She had an interesting—though hurried—visit with Mrs. Kallek. They agreed to write each other after Gerri was back home. “Tell me about your experiences teaching,” Mrs. Kallek requested. Gerri dutifully promised to do so, though she feared that there would be little to report—Mr. Harrison had again told Gerri’s parents that she probably wouldn’t get a classroom in the c
oming year.
As she was about to leave, Gerri mentioned Sven and his illness. “I remember Sven,” Mrs. Kallek said. “He was a good boy. He never really applied himself, though. He was kind of a joker when he was young—he liked to construct some of the most elaborate puns. His last year, he seemed to have outgrown that. He was more serious, but he had so many distractions.”
Gerri borrowed Mrs. Kallek’s phone to tell Mindy that she’d be a little late and would explain when she got there. She didn’t look forward to that. For all she knew, Mindy would rejoice at Sven’s misfortune.
Then it was off to the hospital, where she waited. The ‘go to sleep’ faction of her body seemed to be gaining the advantage, as she sank into a light doze. She was awakened by a surprised voice.
“Well hello there.”
She opened her eyes and then blinked. Standing in front of her was a black man—one of very few that she had seen in Alaska. He was a good-looking man, slender and about 5’ 9”, with a moderate ‘fro and a short, carefully groomed beard. “Hello,” Gerri said in surprise. “Then she noticed that he was wearing a white coat. “Are you the doctor?”
He laughed. “Not you, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Gerri said, quickly gathering her wits. She could understand how people’s prejudices or their well-meaning ignorance would cause him to hear similar questions all too often.
“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her. “You look tired. Who are you waiting for?”
“Sven Halvorsen.”
“Ah, yes.” He put his professional face on.
“I performed an emergency appendectomy. His appendix had burst, so I had to clean out the area. He’s now on antibiotics and we’re watching him closely, but he should be fine. It’ll take a while to heal, of course.”
Gerri nodded, somewhat relieved. “Can I see him tonight?”
