Captain Raven issued curt orders to the other men on the bridge to keep the buoy tender as steady as possible in its location. To Tilley he relayed a request for the registration number of the stranded boat.
Their momentum and the current had brought the buoy tender closer to the wreck. As the captain gave instructions to move it back, Caddie again studied the island with the aid of binoculars.
She caught her breath. The damaged vessel had the same lines and colors as the one she and Aven had seen the Waller brothers working on at Anton Larsen Bay. Not only that, one of the men on shore had the same hulking shape as Spruce Waller. “Sir?”
“Yes, Lyle?”
“That boat, sir. The one on the rocks.”
“What about it?”
“I. . .think I’ve seen it before, sir.”
Thirteen
“I can’t be sure from this distance,” Caddie said, staring through her binoculars at the boat on the rocks. “But when we get the number. . .”
“Where did you see it before?” Captain Raven asked.
“Moored in Anton Larsen Bay, getting a paint job.” Quickly she told him about her expedition with Aven and the deputy U.S. marshal’s quest for the Waller brothers.
Raven’s eyes narrowed. To Lindsey, he snapped, “Get the registration number from Bo’sun Tilley now.”
He resumed his vigil with his binoculars until Lindsey called to him a few minutes later. “Captain, the name on the hull is Miss Faye IX, and the registration number is not currently assigned to any registered boat.”
“Check it against the boat registered to Clay Waller of Larsen Bay.”
A few moments later, Lindsey said, “Only one digit is different, sir.”
“I should have sent more men on this detail.” Raven turned to Caddie. “If you were closer, could you swear it was the same boat?”
“I think so, sir.”
“And the same men?”
She gulped. “Maybe. I only saw them from a distance and in pictures.” Her concern lightened as she realized she had the deciding evidence in her possession. “Sir, I have the photoson my camera’s digital card in my cabin.”
“Get it.”
Five minutes later, she puffed back up the final ladder to the bridge. Captain Raven was again consulting with Tilley via radio as rain sheeted off the windows.
Caddie approached him with the digital card, and he waved her toward the communications desk. She held it out to her friend, and Lindsey took the little square card and popped it into a slot on the computer console.
“We can’t let him see the ones you took of me.” The tension in Lindsey’s voice prompted Caddie to swing around so that her body blocked Raven’s view of the computer screen until Lindsey had located and enlarged the best photo of Spruce Waller standing beside his brother’s boat with a paintbrush in his hand.
She turned to Raven. “This is the man I told you about, Captain. He’s Spruce Waller, the one who started the fight on the Molly K last June that led to the boat’s being impounded. This other man, I’m told, is his brother, Clay.” She pointed to the second man in the photo.
“He’s the one who owns that boat out there?”
“Yes, sir. If it’s truly the same boat. There’s a better picture of the boat they were working on that day.” She asked Lindsey, “Could you please bring up the picture before this one? I didn’t zoom in quite so much, and the lines of the boat are clearer. You can also see where they’ve primed over the boat’s name.”
Raven studied several of Caddie’s digital photos then straightened and went back to the window, staring out and scowling.
“Sir, Boatswain Tilley is calling in again,” Lindsey said.
The captain again went to her desk.
“I’ve told the crew of the craft in distress to prepare for boarding,” Tilley said. “They’re still objecting.”
“Approach with caution,” Raven replied. “We believe some of those aboard could be dangerous.”
“Captain, there looks to be only three of them.”
“Watch yourself, Bo’sun.”
“Affirmative.”
Tilley’s workboat now hovered only yards from the beached cabin cruiser, bobbing on the waves.
“Will they be able to land and remove the crew?” one of the petty officers asked the captain.
Raven rubbed his forehead and gritted his teeth. “That remains to be seen.”
The fading light obscured the details of Tilley’s maneuvers, but a few minutes later a seaman called in.
“Wintergreen, this is Wintergreen 1. Request additional personnel and equipment.”
Raven’s gaze bored into Caddie’s. “Lyle, I’m calling for a law enforcement cutter, but we can’t wait for them to get here. Take six men in the Zodiac. We’ll issue sidearms.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
As she dashed for the hatch, she heard him say into the radio, “Wintergreen 1, we have Wintergreen 2 en route to assist you. ETA fifteen minutes. What is your current status?”
❧
Aven relayed to Mark Phifer and five other men the orders Lieutenant Greer had given him. “We’ll get in close and get an assessment. Be prepared to launch our boat fast, depending on the situation.”
The men all agreed.
“Greer will sweep the island with the ship’s guns if needed, but we want to avoid casualties if at all possible. Unfortunately, the Wintergreen landed some men and got into a confrontation. Shots have been fired, and they couldn’t get their men off the island. Our priority is to get those men off safely. If we can catch the Waller brothers, too, that’s gravy.” He didn’t know which personnel were involved in the melee. He hoped Caddie was safe on her ship. Too bad it was raining and nearly full dark now. The conditions would make their mission more dangerous.
As they quickly worked to make sure their small surf boat was ready for their operation, a seaman ran onto the deck. “The skipper sent me down to tell you, so he doesn’t have to say it on the radio, in case the smugglers can hear.”
“What?” Aven stopped checking their equipment and peered at him. Rain ran off his hood onto the deck.
“The Wintergreen sent out a second boat. They havetwo landing parties ashore now. . .or will have soon. The captain felt those ashore needed relief immediately, so he didn’t wait for us. Greer says use extreme caution. We don’t want any friendly fire casualties.”
Aven set his jaw and looked ahead, where he could make out distant lights in the storm. “Tell the skipper we’re ready to launch anytime.”
The seaman ran toward the hatch.
Mark clapped him on the shoulder. “Quit worrying, Aven.”
“They should have stood off and waited for us.”
“Like he said, they thought it was necessary to go in.”
Aven sighed, wishing the Milroy could go faster. He put his radio close to his ear. He heard what he had dreaded to hear—Caddie’s voice from the smaller boat that had deployed from her ship. “This is the Wintergreen 2. . .”
❧
The Zodiac, with Caddie and six other crewmen in it, rushed toward the island and Tilley’s boat in the twilight. Tilley would have left at least one man on his boat, she knew. The rain still poured down in torrents, and the wind whipped up the waves. Caddie hoped they were not too late to prevent violence. She recalled Aven’s account of his past confrontation with Spruce Waller. Even though the burly fisherman knew backup was only minutes away last June, he’d attacked Aven and his men.
Where was Aven now? No doubt hundreds of miles away. She hoped his ship was docked somewhere in a safe haven for the night.
She kept their course as steady as possible, headed for the Wintergreen 1. As they approached, she heard Tilley radio the ship. He reported to the captain that his landing party had been fired on and were pinned down on the rocks. Captain Raven instructed the seaman in the workboat to stand offshore further and told Tilley to keep his head down and wait for assistance.
Caddie di
dn’t enter the radio chatter, not wanting to clutter the airwaves. She assumed the smugglers on the island could hear them. Raven’s orders to the seaman on the workboat meant he would back off to avoid drawing fire. If the smugglers had thought of hijacking Tilley’s boat, that would stymie them.
She instructed Gavin, who was at the helm of the Zodiac, to bring them in on the side of the workboat away from the shore. The seaman on the Wintergreen 1 and two of the men in the Zodiac secured the smaller inflatable to the workboat so they could talk without using the radio.
“I’m going to land around the other side if I can,” Caddie told the seaman she recognized as Michaels. “Can you stand off a little farther so that you’re behind us and turn on your spotlights when we’re in position? Illuminate them for us. Shine those spots right in their eyes if you can.”
“I’ll do my best,” Michaels said. “But make sure you leave a guard with your boat. They shot at us when we arrived and took out a big window. Tilley told me to back off. I think they’ve got a shotgun. They might try to rush the Zodiac and get away in it.”
“That would be a foolish thing for them to do, but you’re right,” Caddie said. Desperate men took foolhardy action.
With the smaller Zodiac, Caddie and her party had the advantage of being able to land directly on the rocky island. She directed Gavin to take the craft around the islet to the side away from the damaged boat. Without running lights, they risked hitting an obstacle, but she felt it was critical to preserve as much surprise as possible. At the spot that appeared to have easiest access for a landing, Gavin nosed the Zodiac to shore.
In minutes, Caddie and five of her six seamen were ashore and climbing over the rocks toward the beached cabin cruiser. After some hesitation, she’d left Dee Morrison with the Zodiac and given her instructions to stand offshore until summoned in.
The islet was little more than a large pile of rocks in the bay, less than a hundred feet long at this stage of the tides, with a blinking buoy on the highest point. At high tide, it would appear to rest in the water. The jagged black rocks in the center hid the damaged boat from Caddie’s view, but she could see the stern lights of the Wintergreen’s workboat clearly.
She sent one of the young seamen, McQuillan, scrambling to the top of the rocks ahead of her. He jumped back down beside her, panting. “They’re holding the bo’sun and his men down behind the rocks on the left. Two-eight-oh degrees. I saw the bo’sun and at least one of his men. There are two of the civilians near their boat’s bow and one on board.”
Her heart thudded. “Did they see you?”
“I think so.”
Caddie nodded and prayed silently for wisdom and safety. The renegades already knew she and her crew were coming.
“What now?” Seaman Torres asked.
“They may not realize how many of us there are,” Caddie said. “Three of the Wintergreen 1’s crew are ashore. So far as we know, there are three hostile civilians. They may all have small arms.”
“Okay,” Torres said. “How are we going to do this?”
She crouched behind the boulders and motioned all the men in close. The rain still beat down on them, but the gale had declined to a stiff breeze. “I’m pretty sure these civilians are part of a smuggling ring. For some reason, they’re determined not to let us approach them or their boat, even though its hull is caved in. McQuillan says one of them is still on their boat. He’s probably monitoring our tactics on the boat’s radio. We can’t exactly ask Captain Raven or Bo’sun Tilley for instructions or they’d hear our plans.”
They all nodded in understanding.
“We six are all armed,” she continued. “I expect Tilley is the only one in his landing party with a gun.” Standard procedure was for the petty officer to carry a sidearm, but the seamen would not be armed unless danger was anticipated. “We have to assume all three smugglers are armed, though.”
“Right,” said Torres.
Caddie pulled in a deep breath. “It’s pretty dark now. I asked Seaman Michaels on the Wintergreen 1 to shine his spotlights on the enemy’s position on my signal. He’s trying to hold his position behind Tilley and his men. If we rush out of the dark, we have a pretty good chance of overrunning the enemy position or at least of relieving Tilley and his men.”
“Tilley will help as soon as we make our move,” McQuillan said.
“Yes, if he still has ammo.”
The men nodded soberly and checked their weapons.
“I’ll give them one more chance to give it up,” Caddie said. She pressed the call button on her radio.
“This is Wintergreen 2 landing party. Request Wintergreen 1 order hostiles to surrender, and if declined, go with our plan. Over.”
“Affirmative,” said Captain Raven. “Michaels, proceed.”
Seconds later, the seaman’s voice boomed out over the loudspeaker from the workboat, shouting down the wind. “This is the U.S. Coast Guard. Lay down your weapons and raise your hands over your head.”
Caddie and her men inched up the rocks and peered down at the other side of the island.
“Repeat. Lay down your weapons and prepare to be approached by Coast Guard personnel.”
A shot rang out from near the beached boat. A man popped up from behind the rocks that covered Tilley’s party and squeezed two shots from a pistol, then ducked down again.
Caddie’s blur of an impression told her that the man was not Tilley. Why was someone other than the boatswain shooting?
The men sheltering in and behind the Miss Faye IX let loose a barrage of fire directed toward Tilley’s party. The workboat’s floodlights came on, throwing the scene into bright relief.
“Now.” Caddie swung around the boulder that had shielded her and hopped to the next rock, holding her pistol before her.
One of the smugglers, crouching between their boat’s bow and a black rock, jerked around and stared toward them.
Caddie recognized the large, bearded figure of Spruce Waller. His long gun came up, pointing at her men, and Caddie let off a round in his general direction, not pausing long enough to get a good aim.
The man flattened himself behind the hull of the boat.
All around her, pistols discharged. She reached a fairly flat stretch of rocks and ran forward, brandishing her weapon. To her left, her peripheral vision caught the shadows of two men leaping up from Tilley’s position and running forward.
The man in the smugglers’ boat went down. Spruce Waller rose on his knees and fired, then jerked back onto the ground, his weapon flying to one side.
McQuillan tackled the third man on the jagged rocks, and two others ran to assist him.
Caddie hastily collected their adversaries’ weapons while her men secured the prisoners. “How bad is the wounded man?” she asked Torres.
“Petty Officer Lyle!”
She whirled toward the voice.
One of Tilley’s men waved frantically. “The bo’sun’s hit!”
Fourteen
Aven’s stomach churned as he waited for his orders.
The Milroy passed the much larger Wintergreen and drove steadily toward the small workboat near the rocky island in the bay. The radio chatter had lessened and all but stopped during the last few minutes. The rain seemed to let up, but a drizzle still dampened everything, and the cold wind kept working conditions uncomfortable.
His men waited with him on the dark deck, staring toward their destination—a pile of black rocks with a constant warning buoy. The temporary addition of small boats looked innocent from this distance.
A sudden glare of floodlights illuminated the island, and with binoculars, Aven could see figures moving about. The Milroy’s engine and the wind drowned any sound from the tableau, but from this side, it looked like a miniature battle. Had the Wintergreen’s crew forced a confrontation with the drug smugglers?
At last his radio came to life again.
A man’s voice drawled in an almost bored tone, “Wintergreen, this is Wintergreen 2. We
have two casualties needing medical assistance. One of them is a prisoner. Total three prisoners requiring transport. Request permission to transfer prisoners and our wounded to the Wintergreen. Over.”
Captain Raven of the Wintergreen replied, “Negative, Wintergreen 2. Law enforcement cutter Milroy approaching. Hand prisoners over to them unless critical medical care is needed. Transport our wounded personnel to Wintergreen.”
Aven’s adrenaline surged. One of the Wintergreen’s crew was wounded, as well as one of the prisoners. Was Caddie safe?
❧
Caddie hurried with Seaman Jackson to the place where Tilley and his two men had crouched behind the rocks.
Tilley lay on his side, both hands clamped to his thigh.
“They hit him right away,” Jackson said.
Caddie frowned at him. “Why didn’t you report it?”
“He didn’t want them to know they’d got him. They might have rushed us. And he knew you were on the way.”
She climbed over a rounded rock and knelt at the boatswain’s side. “Tilley, how you doing?”
Pain flickered across his taut features. “Not so good. It’s bleeding a lot.”
“We’ll get you out of here. I’ve got one of my men calling it in. We’ll transport you immediately to the Wintergreen.” She noted the position of the wound. To her relief, the entrance wound was on the outside of his thigh. Probably it hadn’t severed the femoral artery. “Do you think the bullet hit the bone?”
“Not sure. Maybe not. All I know is it hurts.”
“Let me put some pressure on it, if you can stand it. We’ll put you in the Zodiac and get you out to the ship.”
Engine noises nearly drowned her words and obscured the now-busy radio traffic. She turned to look down the bay and saw a ship approaching. Not the Wintergreen, but a patrol boat half as big. Reinforcements. She grinned. A law enforcement cutter. No doubt the crew was ready to land, armed to the teeth. She squeezed Tilley’s leg at the point of the wound. He groaned but didn’t protest. That’s good, she thought. Knowing him, if it were broken, he’d be cussing a blue streak.
Always Ready Page 14
