Steady As She Goes: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 21)

by Wayne Stinnett

  Bosun Jarvis stood off to the side, as we approached the chopper and piped the high-low-high-low call honoring a shipmate leaving for the last time. “Attention on deck! Master Gunnery Sergeant Owen ‘Tank’ Tankersley, United States Marine Corps. Departing.”

  The entire crew had gathered along the port steps, on the flybridge, and even on the forward edge of the helipad. Charity, Chyrel, and Bud were already beside the bird. We loaded the casket in, making sure it was secure.

  Then we stepped away from the bird, forming a line.

  “Ha-and salute!” Stockwell commanded.

  We rendered honors, then I escorted Chyrel to the backseat. Bud and Charity climbed in, and as she began to spool up the helo’s turbine, we joined the rest of the crew around the flybridge.

  A moment later, the turbine ignited, and the rotors spun faster as Al and Jocko quickly released the tie downs and moved away.

  Charity stared at me, waiting. I nodded my head and she returned the gesture. The beating of the rotors got heavier, then the bird rose slowly from the deck, and Ambrosia slipped out from under it. Charity held it in place a moment, hovering over our churning wake, then slowly turned the bird in place, pointing the nose toward the west. The helo rose gently and steadily into the sky.

  “Are you okay?” Flo asked, stepping up beside me.

  I glanced at her, then looked around at the crew. “We have work to do,” I said. “Val, where’s the closest gas station?”

  “Grenada,” she replied. “I can make a call and arrange delivery to the dock.”

  “Mr. Troutman,” I said, turning toward Axel. “Resume course toward Grenada at cruising speed.”

  “Aye, Captain,” he said, then hurried off.

  “Dad?”

  “I’m okay,” I said, turning back to my daughter.

  Savannah and Alberto were beside her. “Did you arrange that?” Savannah asked, her eyes moist.

  “Arrange what?” I asked.

  “The flag and all that military precision.”

  I looked around at my crew. Stockwell and his guys were filing down the steps, returning the way we’d come, along the side deck. They probably weren’t even aware of it, but they were all in step. The others were breaking apart and going down the other side, a few taking the ladder down to the cockpit. Each had a job to do, and all were headed there in an orderly manner.

  I shook my head. “There wasn’t anything to arrange,” I replied. “Though he didn’t like being thought of as one, Tank was a hero. It’s what a hero deserves. This was just people doing what they’re supposed to do. Why don’t you take the kids and go on down to our quarters? I’ll join you there in a few minutes.”

  When I reached the bridge, Axel was already accelerating westward, running the diesel engines. Val stepped up beside me and handed me the Metis, which was open to the tankage app. Our supply of low-sulfur diesel was down to just twenty percent, meaning we’d need 12,000 gallons.

  “Can we get that much fuel there?” I asked her.

  “Already ordered,” she replied. “It will take two deliveries, but yes, it’s available. They just need to know when to deliver.”

  I had no idea what the fuel cost, but our little overnight run along the northern coast of South America had probably cost Jack a lot of money. And money was the one thing he’d forbidden me to talk to him about when I took command.

  “Let’s plan on staying a few nights,” I said, catching Ross looking over at Axel with a grin. “The crew needs a rest. Arrange the first delivery for later in the morning, after everyone goes ashore.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Val said. “I’ll pass the word to the crew and message Mr. Armstrong. He can arrange for customs officials to check passports at the dock.”

  “You have the conn,” I said. “But I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “I have the conn,” she replied.

  I went back to our quarters, wondering why Flo suddenly wanted to stay. We hadn’t really had time to discuss it. Was she having trouble in school? On the swim team? Did David crave the excitement of working full-time and she just wanted to be with him?

  When I opened the hatch, Savannah and Flo were in the little galley with their backs to me. They were shoulder to shoulder, working on something, instinctively knowing what the other was doing, needed, or wanted.

  “They’re making brownies,” David said.

  He and Alberto were at the table in the living room, a chessboard between them. The dogs sat at opposite ends, seemingly intent on the game.

  I sat down beside David. “They do that a lot,” I told him.

  “Make brownies?”

  “It’s not about the brownies,” I said. “It doesn’t matter what they’re making or doing. They’re working something out between them.”

  “They’ve barely said ten words,” he said, looking toward the galley.

  “Flo spent nearly her entire life alone with Savannah on Sea Biscuit,” I said, my voice low. “And before that, she was in Savannah’s womb, while she was alone on the boat. Savannah told me once that she talked to Flo all the time then. Every word that could ever be said by either of them, has been. Now it’s a deeper form of communication. An occasional word to direct them, but it’s mostly about body language and expressions, as they do something together, like make brownies.”

  David looked bewildered. “Is this normal for moms and daughters? I never saw my sister help mom in the kitchen—ever.”

  “Normal behavior?” I began. “Wouldn’t that be the behavior between normal people? Do you think Flo is normal?”

  “Far from it,” he said, still staring. “She’s the smartest, funniest, and prettiest girl I’ve ever met. And she does it without even trying.”

  “That’s the way I feel about her mom,” I said. “And everything that Flo is and will ever be is on account of her.”

  He looked at me seriously. “I don’t think that’s exactly right.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “Flo told me she didn’t know who her real dad was for most of her life, but she’d always been sure it wasn’t the man her mom had divorced, Derrick Coleman. That’s why she changed her name to McDermitt. She didn’t want to be associated with him. I heard he was a bad person.”

  “He was,” I said, remembering how Savannah’s ex had died on Norman Island.

  “I know there’s a lot of you in her DNA,” David continued. “Like when your eyebrow went up just now. She does that, but Mrs. McD doesn’t.”

  “Still,” I said, “there’s far more of Savannah’s influence in Flo. They’re having a discussion right now, barely saying a word, and it’s probably about either you or me. Maybe both of us.”

  “Oh, you’re here,” Savannah said, looking back, then sliding a ceramic baking dish into the oven. She came and sat next to me.

  Flo sat on the floor beside Alberto, putting an arm around Woden’s neck. “Who’s winning?”

  “Nobody,” Alberto said. “They’re just talking about you and mom.”

  “Oh?” Flo’s left eyebrow came up as she looked at David.

  I couldn’t stop myself and sat back, laughing.

  “What are you laughing at?” Flo said, looking back and forth between me and David.

  David explained that we’d been talking about how he sometimes saw certain mannerisms in Flo that he could tell came from me, not Savannah.

  “We’re going to arrive in Grenada later tonight,” I said, changing the subject. “We’ll be there a few days, refueling and resting up. I’m giving the crew shore leave.”

  “Ugh, customs lines,” Savannah said.

  “No, Val’s contacting Jack to arrange for the customs man to come to the dock.”

  “Flo has decided to go back to Florida,” Savannah said.

  David looked at Flo, shocked. “But you said—”

  “I changed my mind,” Flo replied, cutting him off. “It’s a woman’s prerogative. But
you’re going to stay here.”

  “Wait…what? That’s not what we talked about.”

  Flo sat up straight, her hands in her lap. “It’s decided. I’ll fly home from Grenada, while you continue your work here. You promised Mr. Armstrong, remember? The first intra-squad competition is in six weeks, and our first SEC meet is against the Bulldogs four weeks after that. I’ll be able to train more and there are…arrangements to make.”

  “I’ll be flying home with her,” Savannah said.

  “What?” I was ready for them to conspire against David, but this was a surprise.

  She ignored me, looking past me at David. “Isn’t there something you want to ask Jesse?”

  All eyes—even the dogs’—turned toward him. David sat back, his own eyes wide. “Well…I…um…well, I wanted to ask him alone.”

  “You like Flo and she likes you,” Alberto said. “And you want to ask Dad if you can marry her. I’ve only been in this family a little while, but I already know everything is done together. You gotta get used to that, David.”

  He stared at Alberto for a moment, then his eyes flicked to Flo. He even looked at the dogs for guidance, though Woden’s expression was passive-aggressive at best. Then he looked at Savannah, and finally me.

  David’s eyes became calm. He sat up straight.

  “Alberto’s right, sir,” he began. “I want to ask Florence to be my wife. And I would like to have your blessing.”

  I tried hard to appear the menacing father, but I liked David and he was good to Flo. As long as he continued to do right by her, who was I to stand in their way? She’d told me that she’d made him read the Rules for Dating a Marine’s Daughter. At first, he’d thought it funny. But he’d been informed, in writing, that if he ever hurt her, there would be the consequences of Rule Six.

  I looked at Flo and smiled. “As an engagement gift, I’m giving you, and you alone, Rule Nine.”

  “Rule Nine?” David asked.

  Flo smiled. “Never lie to me,” she stated flatly.

  David nodded and continued. “On issues relating to you, he is the all-knowing, merciless god of my universe?”

  “Now she is,” I said, nodding to Flo. “Yes, you have our blessing.”

  “I think I’ll change that to Rule One,” Flo announced, putting a finger to her cheek, as if in thought. “And of course, ‘merciless god’ will have to be changed to merciless goddess.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to ask her?” Alberto asked.

  David yanked his backpack up off the floor, digging through its contents. Finally, he stopped and pulled a small box out. He glanced at Savannah and me, then rose and walked around the table, finally kneeling beside Flo.

  He opened the box and Flo and Savannah both gasped.

  “Flo,” he said. “If you grant me just one wish, I promise, I’ll never ever lie to you. Will you be my wife?”

  She jumped like a coiled spring, grabbing David by the neck, and rising up with him. Then she kissed him all over his face and neck.

  Alberto looked over at Finn. “I think that means yes.”

  “Yes!” Flo cried. “Yes, I will marry you, David.”

  He slowly pushed her back and took the ring from the box. Flo was practically bouncing as he knelt again and slid it onto her finger.

  I pulled Savannah closer. “You’re leaving?”

  “Sorry we didn’t have time to discuss it,” she said. “I’ll be back in two days. We’re going shopping for a dress.”

  Back during the Golden Age of Sail, what happened with David might have been referred to as being shanghaied.

  Ships often lost crew during a voyage, and able-bodied seamen were hard to find. Some died and others simply jumped ship while in some exotic port. Shanghai was one of the busiest ports of the Orient and enticed many sailors to miss their scheduled ships’ departures. As a result, quite a few able seamen could be found there.

  If a ship were short-handed, the captain might send a bunch of burly men out with the bosun’s mate in what was called a “press gang.” Sailors tended to congregate in the many bars along the Bund, the city’s waterfront on the Huangpu River, so that was where the press gangs would go, entering a bar at random, where the mate would smack a sailor or two in the head with a leather sap, and they’d be carried back to the ship. It was called an impressment. Whether they were already conscripted to another vessel anchored in the harbor or had stayed when their ship left didn’t matter much. They were pressed into service and often didn’t wake up from their sap nap until the ship was underway.

  Of course, I didn’t know the whole story. I figured David must have been dragging his feet. Maybe he thought if they were both aboard Ambrosia for a few weeks, he’d eventually find the right time. Savannah or Flo had seen through it and had plotted against him, simply hurrying the process along a little.

  While Flo and Savannah got busy making reservations and plans, I went back to the bridge with Alberto and the dogs.

  David stopped me just before going into the op center. “That wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen.”

  “Of course, it wasn’t,” I replied. “You got shanghaied, son. Those two will do that to you a lot. You’ll get used to it.”

  “They’ve done something like that to you?”

  “More than a few times,” I replied.

  “I was totally blindsided. I was just playing chess with Alberto, and really thought they were just making brownies. I did want to ask you properly.”

  “I like you, David,” I said. “You and I both love the same girl. Just don’t forget that, okay?”

  He disappeared into the tech-bowels of the ship, and Alberto headed straight to the sonar station.

  Ross handed him a headset. “Not much going on, buddy. I did hear a blue whale a couple of hours ago, though.”

  Val handed me the Metis. “Everything’s arranged. We’ll arrive at 2100 and the customs officer will be waiting. He assured me the inspection would take less than an hour.”

  “An hour? To process forty-one people?”

  “I mentioned that,” Val said. “He said no more than an hour.”

  “Interesting,” I said, with a slight shrug of one shoulder. “Would you arrange a late dinner ashore for ten? Somewhere nice and not too loud. And invite Mr. and Mrs. Santiago and Mr. and Mrs. Lopez to join us.”

  “Us, Captain?”

  “My daughter just became engaged, Val.” I looked back at David, working at his station. “Savannah and I would like it if you and Matt could join us to celebrate?”

  “Thank you,” she said with a warm smile. “I’d love to. I’ll go ask the others right now.”

  “I have the conn.”

  “Aye, sir,” she replied. “This will be fun.”

  After she hurried off, I stepped up between Axel and Ross. “I want you two on the bridge tonight,” I said. “Along with two of Travis’s men.”

  “Are you expecting trouble?” Axel asked.

  “Expecting? No. What happened yesterday was a fluke, an accidental crossing of paths. Tank’s death just compounded it. But these things usually come in threes.”

  “Old mariner’s superstition?” Axel asked.

  “Something becomes a superstition due to repeated cause and effect,” I said. “If you wrecked your car three times in a month and all three times, a different brown dog sat on the sidewalk watching you go by, what would you think?”

  “I think I’d avoid brown dogs,” he replied.

  “The dog didn’t cause the accident, but the effect of its presence makes you want to avoid them. The crash and the dog are just examples. A superstition is created when one thing seems to cause another, but there’s no earthly explanation for it. Is water turning to ice in the freezer a superstition? Not now. But a long time ago, some guy in a cave noticed it and he probably became superstitious about cold and went south.”

  “We’ll keep an eye out,” Ross said with a chu
ckle. “For brown dogs or icebergs. You can count on us.”

  “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow night,” I promised.

  “New contact,” Ross said. “First new one in three hours.”

  Alberto turned his head quickly toward me, smiling broadly.

  “Contact bearing one-seven-eight degrees,” Ross said, looking at the chart plotter.

  He zoomed it way out, to show all of the Caribbean and most of the Atlantic. He typed on his keyboard and thousands of little wedges appeared, each representing a ship.

  “Overlaying data from Marine Traffic and coastal AIS relays.”

  He zoomed out even more, until an icon appeared on the line in the direction he’d said. The coast of all of Africa and part of Europe was on the screen and there was only one green icon on the bearing line.

  Ross typed a few more strokes and the dual oscillators appeared on the left half. The sound waves matching perfectly.

  “It’s the super-tanker Excel,” Ross said. “Off the coast of Angola, almost five thousand nautical miles astern.”

  “Is that the farthest you’ve ever heard something?” Alberto asked.

  “By a long shot,” Ross said. “Until now, I’d never been able to pick up anything farther than two thousand miles. Which is still a really long way.”

  The day wore on with only a handful of new contacts. Although we were going to be taking a well-deserved break, we would continue the ship’s assignment all the way into port.

  I was off duty, a couple of hours after sunset, when we approached St. George’s Inner Harbor and the approach to Port Louis Marina.

  The steady hum of the engines diminished as I entered the bridge at 2045. We were right on time.

  “Ha, Cap’n,” Matt said. “Port Louis has four dock hands standing by, two forward and two aft.”

  Port Louis was owned by Camper and Nicholsons, a large, luxury marina operator with facilities all over the world. They specialized in catering to the largest yachts and wealthiest owners.