“This wasn’t part of the plan,” Larry said.
“Nothing that’s happened since we left has been has it?” Tara remarked.
“Nope. That’s sailing for you. Always an adventure.”
“And you never tire of it, do you?”
“Nope. But I will sure be glad to see my own boat again.”
“Not to mention your brother and your best friend, right?” Casey added.
“Yeah, that too. I shouldn’t have slept half the day. If we had left before the rain started, we would be that much closer to getting there.”
As it turned out, the rain showers were more extensive than they’d seemed at first. It was nothing like that night on the Gulf when he’d discovered Rebecca missing, but it was still enough to keep them waiting. Larry paced back and forth and impatiently went up and down the companionway ladder time after time to have a look around. The rain kept coming down, and even well after midnight it had not stopped. Casey was restless too, and she joined him in the cockpit when she gave up on trying to sleep. Larry was staring to the south, hoping to see a break in the weather when she startled him with a loud whisper:
“Uncle Larry! Look! There’s someone out there!”
Larry turned to the north, where Casey was pointing at something near the westernmost point of the island. A flashlight! Someone was waving a flashlight erratically back and forth and all around, and he could see someone else moving in its beam. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if whoever had the light was on a boat just off the shore. There was nothing on that side but rocks and reefs, so that didn’t make sense, but the light was real. And not only that, someone was ashore on the beach there, maybe more than one person.
“Quick, Casey! Get below and turn the lamps out! Get your rifle and bring me my shotgun!
While she was busy doing that, Larry reached inside the companionway opening and grabbed the binoculars Tara’s father kept in a rack there. Putting the strap around his neck, he stepped up to the highest part of the coachroof and raised them to his eyes to get a better look. It was very dark out, but the expensive marine binoculars were designed to gather what little ambient light was available. With them, Larry could see surprisingly well considering the conditions. And when he realized what he was looking at, his jaw dropped open in disbelief.
THIRTY-FOUR
ARTIE DRAGER WAS HAPPY despite being turned away from the Dry Tortugas. He had hoped, of course, that he would be reunited with Casey and the others there that very day, but despite all the optimism he could muster, he had been filled with dread too. What if they had entered the harbor and the Sarah J. was not there? It was a frightening prospect because then he would still be wondering if something had happened to them that dark, rainy night or if they had simply sailed on to the Bahamas thinking they were farther behind. At least now he knew they had been seen in these waters. Even if it meant a longer delay before they joined up again, that was so much better than not knowing. Now they could confidently set a course for the islands without second guessing their decision. The Sarah J. could not be in Florida so there was no need to linger there. The flip side of that coin though, was that this new development was going to make things much harder for poor Scully. If he was indeed trying to reach the Dry Tortugas in the kayak, as Artie was sure he was, he would either be turned away if he was seen or would slip in undetected only to find his hopes of meeting the two boats shattered.
“I feel terrible about leaving him behind,” Artie said, “but what else can we do?”
“Nothing,” Grant said. “We already know what will happen if we try to sneak back into Florida waters.
A tear rolled down Jessica’s cheek as she put her arms around Grant and her face on his shoulder. “Poor Scully. He risked his life for us and now he’s been abandoned.
“It’s not our fault,” Jessica. “If he had come out in the open when the spotlight was shining on the beach I’ll bet they would have let him leave with us. I feel really bad for him, but I know he’s a survivor. He’s going to be okay.”
“He is,” Artie agreed. “He’ll figure something out. I think the best thing we can do for him is try and find Larry first. He may have an idea, and even if he doesn’t, Scully will find a way to get to the islands on his own. I’m sure of it. But what I’m not sure of is how hard it’s going to be to find Larry. We’ve still got a lot of sailing to do, it looks like to me.”
Larry’s Bahamas chart book was in front of them as he said this. There were so many islands over there, and the Jumentos and Ragged Islands were way down in the southern end of them all, closer to Cuba than they were to most of the Bahamas.
“I’m glad I heard him discussing the route with Scully, because otherwise, from where we are, it looks like the logical thing to do would be to sail straight for Ragged Island and then follow the chain until we found them.”
“But we can’t because of wind.”
“Right. We’ve got to go all the way north of Andros,” Artie traced his finger over the chart, “and then work our way southeast. If we follow the Exuma chain down that way, we’ll be able to tell where we are from the islands we’re seeing and matching them to the chart.”
“That looks stupid,” Jessica said, “like going three times as far as we need to.”
“Yeah, but you know as well as I do by now that that’s how it is on a sailboat. We’ve got to work with the prevailing winds as much as possible. Larry and Casey would have had to do the same on the Sarah J.”
“Maybe we’ll catch them then, since the catamaran is so much faster.”
Artie didn’t think so, because he knew that the upwind leg once they rounded the north end of Andros would be difficult. The catamaran was a lot faster on a reach or run, but Larry had said the Sarah J. could point higher. That meant they could reach the Jumentos with fewer tacks, and besides, they had a good head start and Larry would not be following the Exumas. With his navigation skills and his sextant, he could find the islands on the more direct, offshore route.
They got a good taste of the Casey Nicole’s speed potential the next day, when they practically flew across the Gulf Stream on a beam reach averaging better than 12 knots most of the time. With the wind blowing with the current, the seas were relatively smooth so there was nothing to slow the slim twin hulls as they sliced through the gentle swell. Artie was nervous about his navigation the whole way, but once they crossed the line from the deep ocean blue of the Stream to the turquoise waters over the banks, he felt much better about it. Andros was a huge island that he was sure he couldn’t miss. He would simply stay on this course until it was within sight and then keep its landmass to starboard until they were sailing southeast. He was certainly no navigator, but he felt he could pull that much off, as long as they were careful to avoid the reefs and sandbars that Larry said were everywhere around these islands. But avoiding them would be easier on the catamaran than almost any other boat. With just two feet of draft, most of the dangers would pass beneath their keels even if he didn’t see them in time. Artie had no intention of sailing at night while they were on the banks and near Andros. So when they finally sighted land later that afternoon, he told Grant and Jessica they would find a place to anchor around sunset.
“If we have another day of good weather tomorrow like we had today, we should be around Andros and on our way to the Jumentos by this time tomorrow,” he said.
* * *
With the anchor down and the wild-looking, mostly rocky shore of Andros about a mile away, Grant couldn’t resist the temptation of the transparent water beneath them. He stripped off his shirt and dove over the side despite the growing darkness and a slight concern about prowling sharks.
“How is the water?” Artie asked.
“Perfect!”
Despite his question, Artie stayed on board and headed to the galley to make some dinner. Jessica jumped in with Grant though. He was hanging onto the anchor rode at the bow of the boat when she swam up beside him and put her arms around his n
eck, pulling her body against him and kissing him before he realized what she was doing.
“I wish we were alone here, just the two of us sailing these amazing islands!”
Grant was taken aback by her sudden embrace and kiss, but on the other hand, was not really surprised.
“It’s a nice fantasy, Jessica. But be careful what you wish for. Would you really want it to be just the two of us alone, facing all the dangers and challenges we’ve been through? Just suppose we were. What if something happened to me? Then what? What would you do?”
“I don’t want to think about that, Grant. I just want to think about right now. Right here.”
“There’s strength in numbers, Jessica. We’ve got to find the Sarah J. and Larry and the others and stick together. We’ve already gotten separated; then we lost Scully. Do you really want something to happen to Artie too?”
“Of course not, I just don’t want this moment alone with you to end.”
Grant didn’t stop her as she pulled him close and kissed him again, and his free hand was around her as he clung to the rode with the other. Jessica felt really good against him, but he knew this couldn’t last. “It’s getting dark, Jessica. We’d better get out of the water. It’s really not safe out here at night.”
Grant tossed and turned in his bunk later as his conflicting feelings kept him awake. If this situation continued much longer, Jessica would be impossible to resist. He began to wonder why he was resisting anyway. Sure, he and Casey had more common interests, and had known each other longer. Jessica had been completely clueless bordering on useless at the beginning of this crisis, only coming around to reality after being forced to by circumstances. She was totally infatuated with him now though, or at least she seemed to be, whereas Casey had become a bit more distant rather than closer. Grant just wasn’t sure what to think anymore. But he knew what would likely happen if things were as Jessica wanted them—if it were indeed just the two of them here on this boat tonight. But Artie was here and Jessica was on the other side of the catamaran, in the port hull. If Artie’s rough calculations were correct, the three of them would have two or three more days and nights of sailing before they reached their destination. Grant was doing his best to wait until they found Casey and the others before making up his mind one way or the other. The sooner that happened, the easier his life would be.
The next day found them underway shortly after sunrise, reaching parallel to the coast of Andros in a 12-15 knot breeze. Although they took care to stay far enough away from the island to avoid attracting unwanted attention, there were no other boats or signs of people around anyway. The shoreline they were following seemed to match what was shown on the chart, so the navigation was not difficult. Grant was doing his best to learn this different kind of navigation, applying what he knew of pathfinding on land to this new dimension of open water. It was similar in more ways than not, but the marine charts had some distinct differences from the topographical maps he was familiar with.
When they reached an area of reefs and small cays at the north end of Andros, they took turns keeping watch at the bow for underwater hazards. Shoals were everywhere, but Grant soon learned how to judge the water depth by the color. This water in the Bahamas was amazing beyond any he’d ever seen and it took some getting used to in order to believe that it was really 20 feet deep in places where it looked more like two. But beyond Andros, they once again found themselves sailing over ink-dark blue depths, the water still clear but appearing opaque over an abyss thousands of feet deep.
“The Tongue of the Ocean,” Artie said. “We won’t have to worry about hitting anything out here. All we have to do now is manage to stay awake and keep the boat moving.”
“Then you two had better get some sleep,” Grant said. “I’ll wake you up in three hours.”
“Just try to make as much headway to the southeast as possible. We want to make sure we steer clear of Nassau. Once we know we’re far enough south, we can angle over to the Exumas.”
Grant steeled himself for what he knew was going to be a long slog and a lot of frustrating tacking into the wind. It was the part of sailing he liked the least, but it came with the territory so he had to suck it up. Everyone was tired now after the stress of working through the shoals, but at least they didn’t have to worry about that out here. The boat was moving well despite the less favorable angles, and Grant was sure they were making good time in the right direction even though he had no way of really measuring their progress out here where there were no visual references to be found.
He slept as well as he could while off watch and like Artie and Jessica, did his best to readjust to the around the clock routine. But being underway all night again just made him realize how nice it was when they were anchored on the banks with so much less to worry about. And as if sailing in the dark were not enough to make things difficult, it also began to rain. At first, it was just a few sprinkles. But as the night wore on, it was band after band of substantial showers. Not quite as bad as what they’d experienced that night in the Gulf when they’d lost sight of the Sarah J., but certainly enough to make sailing miserable.
Grant had come back on watch two hours after midnight and the rain was still coming down. The Casey Nicole was still moving well though, and he steered her as close to the wind as he could while keeping the sails full. Artie had put the boat back on the starboard tack, the angle that would take them closer to the Exumas and away from Andros, and Grant hoped that they would see land sometime the next day. He was standing at the helm, focused on the sails and the compass since nothing was visible out there in the rain anyway, when he heard something different in the noise of moving water all around him. At first it sounded like the distant rumble of thunder, but there had been no lightning accompanying these showers. The sound seemed to be growing louder, and it seemed to be only coming from one direction—dead ahead. Grant listened to it as he steered, and in another ten minutes the volume had only increased. It was then that he realized it was not thunder at all. He felt the big catamaran lifting in a new motion, the waves taking control of it in a way they had not in all those miles. It lifted and surged forward with a rush, all the while the thunderous sound getting louder. Then he realized what he was hearing. It was surf! The Casey Nicole was caught in it and was being pulled out of control. Grant put the tiller hard over to try and turn her back the other way but before it had any effect the hulls hit something solid and he was thrown across the cockpit and into the mast.
THIRTY-FIVE
THE MAN AND WOMAN on the tiny beach among the mangroves were standing there with their backs against the dark trees behind them as they tried to see where Scully’s voice was coming from. Neither of them even thought to reach for the dead man’s pistol that had fallen just few feet away, and Scully wondered how they had survived this long with a mindset like that. He was sort of relieved that this was their reaction though, because if one of them did pick it up, as frightened as they were, there was a good chance they would start firing wildly into the dark.
“It’s okay!” he yelled, as he began paddling in their direction. Since he’d had to intervene to save their lives, he figured he could spare a few minutes to stop and talk to them, to find out if they were okay and what they knew of the area. They stood there with their arms around each other as he paddled into view and landed. The man who had been dragging the girl was floating face down in the water. The other one who had fallen to his single shot to the head was piled in a heap on the beach. The man and woman were indeed young, Scully saw, probably in their twenties just as he’d thought when he decided to help them.
“We don’t have anything,” the man said, with a shaky voice.
“I an’ I not comin’ to steal, mon. Only passin’ an’ see what happen. Where dem two men comin’ from?” Scully got out of the kayak, as he asked this, leaving the AK in the cockpit to keep from scaring them further.
“They came out of the woods. I thought we were safe here,” the man said. “We
anchored here late this afternoon when we found this little beach. I didn’t think there was a way for anyone to get here without a boat, but they came through the mangroves from somewhere. We had built the fire because it was the first chance we’ve had in a long time to cook some fish. We don’t have any fuel left for the stove on our boat.”
“Where you comin’ from, mon? You an’ de girl live in dese island before de lights go out?”
“We lived in Key West. It’s about 75 miles west of here. When we found out we couldn’t drive back to the mainland and that the stores were all running out of food, we loaded my boat up with everything we had in our apartment and got out of town. There was a lot of looting and burning going on, so we thought it would be safer camping out on the boat. But we never expected to have to stay out this long. Now, we’re about out of everything, and we can’t find any safe place to go. It’s just getting worse all the time.”
Scully bent and picked up the pistol the dead man had dropped. It wasn’t a model he recognized but it felt cheap and the surface was rusty from exposure to saltwater. He removed the magazine and racked the slide to unload the chamber.
“Are you from around here?” the man asked.
“I an’ I from de islands, mon. But comin’ here wid my friend on de boat. De boat sailin’ when de cops comin’ in de night, an’ now I goin’ dat place we plan to stop, before sailin’ to Bahamas.”
“You’re going to the Bahamas in that?” the girl asked, pointing at the kayak.
Voyage After the Collapse (The Pulse Series Book 3) Page 21
