by Lopez, Rob
“I’m taking the boat out again.”
Eleanor studied her for a moment. “Are you sure that’s wise? Have you spoken to Carl to see if you should?”
“It’s my boat,” said Darla. “I don’t need anyone’s permission to take it on the river.”
Concerned, Eleanor said, “Need I point out how dangerous that is?”
“Nope.”
“Should I assume that there’s nothing I can say to dissuade you?”
“That’s a pretty safe assumption.”
Eleanor started to look seriously worried. “Darla, I’m not sure you should be taking this so lightly. At least get some advice on whether this is the right thing to do. A risk assessment surely —”
“A risk assessment?”
Eleanor bit her lip. “I meant an honest assessment. But, surely it amounts to the same thing.”
“Look on the bright side,” said Darla airily. “You’ll be glad to see the back of me.”
“A part of me, perhaps,” Eleanor admitted. “We were never going to be friends, but I’ll be happier knowing you’re safe out there. Can you not reconsider? Perhaps think it over more?”
“I’m done with that. I know what I need to do.”
“Could you at least talk to Carl?”
“That’s what I was going to do.”
Carl was the only one left by the graveside, looking absently down as he toyed with a pair of dog tags. Darla thought he looked more handsome than ever, his jaw clenched and his lips pressed tight together as he pondered some deep thought. He only needed a setting sun behind him and the rolling of credits.
“I hear you’re skipping out to Natchez,” Darla said to him.
Carl nodded once. “I have to get my men back.”
“Could have used you on my crew. Got a vacancy for a First Mate.”
“Well,” said Carl, “maybe in a different life that would have been interesting. I guess we’ll never get the chance to see if it would have worked out.”
“You’ve got your chance. I’m taking the boat out again.”
Carl’s steely jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”
“I can be.”
“When?”
“As soon as I can patch it up. Maybe tomorrow.”
“But why? What are you trying to prove?”
“That I can’t be pushed around. That I can do what I want and go where I please.”
“I’m not sure that kind of rebel chic is appropriate right now. We’re talking about real lives, yours included. I might have expected that comment to come from a teenager wanting to flip the bird to the older generation, but I thought you’d know better.”
“Is that all you see me as? Some immature idiot? Listen, Eric’s a real threat out there. You can all stick your heads in the sand all you like, but it’s not going to make him go away.”
“But he could go away. It’s a big river. There’s no logic in taking risks that don’t need taking. You’re safe here. Makes sense to keep it that way. I don’t know how long this thing is going to last and, crucially, neither do you. If it passes, if everything somehow gets back to normal, won’t it look stupid to have thrown away your life, or your boat, when you didn’t need to?”
“He’s not going to go away and you know things aren’t going back to normal anytime soon, if ever. He’ll wait for me for as long as he thinks I’m alive, and if he gets tired of waiting then he’ll come looking. I’m taking the fight to him whether anyone likes it or not, and I’m going to beat him, with or without you.”
“That’s insane.”
“If it looks insane to you, it’s probably better that you don’t come along.”
“This isn’t a game, Darla. You know what the likely outcome is going to be, even if you prefer not to think about it, but staying ignorant isn’t going to help. Why would you even think I wanted to come along? Why would anyone? What you’re proposing is suicide. There’s no other word for it.”
Darla gave up. “Listen, have a good life and I hope you get home okay. My home’s on the river and I aim to take it back. At least I can say I tried. Take care of yourself … if that’s what’s important to you.”
She turned and walked away. He didn’t call her back and she kept on walking.
By the side of the road, watching a horse graze in a field, Jacques and Zack waited for her, leaning on the fence. Taking her place alongside them, she set her chin on the white-painted rail, her jaw clenched. The other two glanced at her and, seeing that she was in a bad mood, went back to observing the horse, who continued to ignore them.
At the far end of the paddock was a barn where a group of trustees stacked hay. In the yard sat a large, multi-bladed plow, the type that would normally be hauled by a giant John Deere. Darla fumed, her thoughts spiraling around her disappointments and her uncertain future. Gradually, however, they focused on the plow, its blades gleaming in the sun, and little cogs began to turn in her brain.
“Zack,” she said suddenly. “Get over there and ask those guys what they plan to do with that plow.”
No longer surprised by unusual requests, Zack set off around the outside of the paddock toward the barn.
“How does it feel to be back here?” she asked Jacques, her eyes still fixated on the plow.
“I do not like the memories,” said Jacques.
“How do you feel about taking the boat out again and clearing up some unfinished business?”
Jacques gave her a shrewd look, his eyes glinting. “Oui,” he said.
“You know what it means, don’t you?”
Jacques slowly nodded.
“I won’t hold it against you if you back out.”
“When do we sail?” he said simply.
“Soon.”
“I will be there.”
Zack returned. “They can’t get any of the tractors working,” he explained. “They’re going to rig up some smaller plows that the horses can pull, but that one’s useless as it is. It’s too heavy.”
Darla nodded. “Jacques, see if you can get me two of those blades. Talk to whoever you have to or find some light-fingered buddies who can acquire them. I don’t mind which.”
Jacques needed no further prompting and set off immediately. Zack gave Darla a puzzled look.
“Walk with me,” Darla told him.
They passed by a large lake. Two men, trustees or prison staff, sat in a boat, hauling up a fishing net.
“I think you could do well here,” Darla said as they strolled.
“Meaning?” replied Zack.
“You like to help out with stuff. Lot of work to do here, I imagine. You’ll fit in well.”
Zack halted. “Is this your way of saying goodbye?”
Darla turned. “I’m giving you a choice. I’m taking the boat out again and we might not make it back this time. There’s no reason for you to take the same risk.”
“Did you talk to the others about this?”
“Yeah, and I know them. You, not so much, and I owe you the chance to back out. You’re a nice guy, Zack, and you deserve a better future.”
“You make it sound like you don’t have a future.”
Darla grimaced. “It’s uncertain.”
“And if you do make it, what then?”
“I get to see my sister, I guess.”
“I’d like to be there for that.”
Darla looked at him. “That’s not a good reason. You don’t even know her. Think about what you actually want to do. This is dry land. For a guy who can’t swim this is a good place to be.”
Zack looked around at the fields, the lake and the distant compound with its towers.
“This is a prison,” he said. “It’s nice, but it’s still a prison. I don’t want to be buried here. I’ve become used to moving around. I don’t settle well. I’d like to see more of the river.”
“Zack, you could end up seeing the bottom of the river.”
“I could, but I’d like to stick with you guys. I don’t feel I’m do
ne yet.”
“What is it you’re not done with that’s worth risking your life for?”
“The team. I don’t feel I’m done with the team.”
“It’s called a crew, Zack.”
“And I feel a part of the crew. I don’t know what your feelings are on that, but it’s the first time in a while I feel I belong. Part of a larger social structure, you know?”
Darla didn’t think he was getting it. “Look, this isn’t some community project. We’re going to war. I’m going to find Eric’s boat and I’m going to take him on. And it’s going to be final. Do you understand?”
Zack gave her a dark-eyed look. “My wife didn’t die immediately in the crash,” he said. “She lasted three more days in the hospital, but she was brain damaged. She couldn’t see or hear me, and I couldn’t tell her our daughter had died.” Zack looked away. “She kept calling my name. I think she thought I wasn’t there.” He swallowed and paused for a moment. “I always imagined she thought I’d abandoned her. When the time came, I wasn’t really there for her. She died alone.”
Darla winced at what she’d provoked. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“No need to be,” said Zack. “When the time comes, I’ll be there for you. And the others. And if it’s my time, someone will be there for me. We won’t die alone. That’s what it means to be a crew, right?”
Darla appraised him, seeing him in a new light. “Yes,” she said, “that’s right.”
They resumed their walk.
“So you’ll take me?” he said.
“I think that’s settled.”
“What are the plow blades for?”
“You’ll see.”
27
They spent two days repairing the Mississippi Rose, plugging the holes and pumping the water out. Sandbags were stitched up and refilled and extra protection was built up around the pilothouse and boiler room. When the plow blades arrived, Darla welded them to the steel banding on the gunwale of the bow, lining them up together to create a sharp, pointed ram.
Amid the hammering and the sawing, Aguilar came to say goodbye.
“I think you’re crazy,” said the engineer.
“Come to talk me out of it?” replied Darla, lifting her goggles.
“No. You’re a big girl now. I just want to say thank you, on behalf of my crew, and to wish you well.”
“So you’re really going?”
“Yep. The warden’s given us some food for the journey and a couple of sidearms. If we stay out of the main towns we’ll be okay. It’s the walking that bothers me. Looks like I’m going to be losing a lot of weight.”
“Sailors don’t make good walkers,” conceded Darla.
“That’s unusually diplomatic of you.”
“What, you want an insult to send you on your way?”
“It’d be more you.”
“Get your fat ass out of here.”
Aguilar looked at the new ram on the boat. “Are you even going to get close enough to use that?”
“It’s just a precaution.”
Aguilar gave her a doubtful look. “When are you setting out?”
“Tomorrow morning, if the repairs hold.”
“You’d be better off going tonight and getting away under the cover of darkness.”
“Don’t want to,” said Darla plainly.
Again, the doubtful look. “You sure about that?”
“I’m sure.”
“I’m not even going to pretend to understand,” said Aguilar, coming forward to give her a hug. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
They embraced.
“It’s possible we could meet again, right?” asked Aguilar.
“It’s possible.”
Aguilar scrutinized her, clearly unconvinced. “Until next time then.”
“Sure,” said Darla.
Darla watched her go and waited.
She waited till nightfall, but Carl never came to say goodbye.
***
Darla struggled to sleep that night. Everybody’s doubts, easier to ignore in daylight, came back stronger in the darkness. By the early hours she was sweating with anxiety. Scenarios played endlessly through her mind, each one branching off into a variety of bleak possibilities. By the time she slipped into an uneasy sleep, she’d determined that she needed to call the whole operation off.
She woke when shafts of sunlight filtered in through the bullet holes in her cabin bulkhead. After such an agonizingly long night, the moment of sleep seemed too short and she felt drowsy and more tired than before. Climbing into her wrinkled clothing, she staggered out of her cabin and onto the deck, blinking at the brightness of the dawn and listening to the loud chorus of birds in the trees. Jacques was on deck at the tail-end of his watch, and he nodded to her.
She nodded back. It was a signal she was ready, just like he was.
She wasn’t ready, but as she breathed in the musky odor of the bayou, she knew she was committed. For good or ill. She didn’t feel at peace, but she felt better than she had in the night. The Mississippi Rose was going to sail, come what may. She’d made her decision and it was time to let the chips fall.
A buzzing in the air deepened to a drone that blossomed into a roar as the warden’s light aircraft flashed overhead, low over the trees. She looked up and the plane looped back, flying toward the prison, the engine tone fading to mute. She wondered why the warden would be up so early and whether it should concern her.
When the crew were all awake they gathered in the salon, which had been swept clean and scrubbed, the carpet removed and thrown away. A table had been put together from sawhorses and planks, and a table cloth draped over. The crew sat on boxes. Nobody said much. Enterprising birds flew in through the missing windows or perched on the frames, heads cocked as they tried to figure out the scene. Jacques had created a special breakfast this morning, with eggs and bacon he’d acquired from the penitentiary. Nobody had to ask why he’d lavished such special care, making the most delicious pancakes, waffles and bread, or brewing the finest coffee. Reminders that it could be their last were not needed, and they took their time, savoring every mouthful.
After breakfast Manny stoked the firebox to make steam and Darla inspected the bilges. The water levels were higher than she would have liked, showing that the repairs had only partially worked, but while the boat was still in the water there wasn’t much else she could do. Out on the deck she checked that the wood-armor cladding was secure and saw Carl come walking through the trees to the bank.
He had a backpack and an M4 rifle and he gave her a wistful look.
“Permission to come aboard?” he said.
Trying not to make it look obvious that her heart had skipped a beat, Darla played hard to get. “I thought you’d gone with the others?”
“I ordered them to go on without me. They’ve got families to get back to, but I’ve got nothing waiting for me in Natchez.”
“I suppose you’ll be wanting a ride on my boat.”
“It’ll be hard to help without that.”
“So now you want to help?”
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not going to admit I was wrong, if that’s what you’re looking for, but … well, let’s just say Captain Imlay probably wouldn’t have passed the logic test either. He’d have pressed on. Just like you.”
Darla’s defenses were melting, but she tried one more time. “It could be a one-way trip.”
“I know. I have a couple of ideas to swing the odds in our favor, though.”
“How so?”
“Eric went off the radar a couple of days ago, so we didn’t know where he was. The warden took me up in his plane this morning and we found him anchored by the Lower Old River lock. He’s got barges with supplies and a clear view down the river. He’s waiting for you.”
“I assumed as much.”
“Here’s the plan. A mile upriver from the lock is the Angol
a ferry dock on the east bank. I’ve asked the warden to station half a dozen sharpshooters there. If we can lure Eric closer to the east bank, we can get him within range and do to him what he did to us.”
Darla waited for him to continue. When nothing else was forthcoming, she said, “Is that it?”
Carl was disappointed with her response. “Well, yes.”
“I was hoping you’d say we had air cover as well.”
“The warden won’t risk the plane.”
“Of course not,” sighed Darla. “Okay, so we’ve got support from the bank.”
“I see you have ideas of your own,” said Carl, looking over the boat. Besides the prominent ram, a wood-framed bunker had been built on the Texas deck, reinforced with a double wall of sandbags and more on the roof, leaving thin firing slits. “It’s a good effort.”
“Increases our chances from zero to nothing. Still interested?”
“Wouldn’t look good to back down now.”
“But you can. I need your full commitment, because I’m taking this down to the wire and I’m not turning back.”
“I don’t expect you to. That’s why I’m here.”
Darla was unable to muster any more objections. “You’re as crazy as we are. Get on board.”
28
The Mississippi Rose nosed her way out of the bayou and into the river’s strong current. Darla hugged the east bank as she headed northward, testing the rudder and getting a feel for how the boat responded. The low freeboard meant the plow blades were cutting through the water, but it didn’t seem to adversely affect the handling. Darla had a sick feeling in her gut, but she was also proud of her boat. With smoke streaming and pennant flying, the old steamer looked more than ready to meet any challenge.
Zack and Manny worked the boilers while Jacques took up position with the Garand rifle in the turret-like bunker. Carl was in the pilothouse with Darla, arranging the sandbags to create firing positions. His backpack was filled with magazines.
“When you round the point,” said Carl, “you should be able to see Eric’s boat, but there’s an island in the middle of the river. If you can keep the island between yourself and him, we can minimize exposure and bait him into chasing us past the ferry dock.”
