Long Voyage Back

  `Damn pretty boat,' 0lly commented as he watched her go.

  All the hatches and door slides had been put in place earlier and now everyone except Neil crouched in the wheelhouse looking aft through the plexiglas window at the low wall of water growing out of the horizon behind them, the wall made visible by the huge hill of light which filled the low southern sky from the explosion over Norfolk. Ùntie me!' Macklin pleaded to Jeanne who looked past him at the approaching water. Neil had opened Vagabond's diesel to full rpm and Vagabond rushed forward away from the tidal wave at over nine knots, but the wall still grew towards them, a roaring sound now clearly heard as the wave smashed along the shore of Tangier Island. Neil had swung the boat slightly towards the island, but when the wave was only a hundred feet away he turned back to put Vagabond's stern directly to the racing sea. The first wave was over twenty feet high, a mound of water rather than a wall, a cap of white froth bubbling down its forward side. The roaring noise grew louder, the wave grew immense, and then was upon them, first lifting Vagabond's stern, then burying it as it struck at three times

  Vagabond's speed into her three hulls, a river of water ten feet high rushing across the whole boat, smashing through the rear of the wheelhouse, hurling the trimaran forward at twice her earlier speed, hurling 01ly, Jim, Jeanne and Frank in a heap against the wall and hatch-slide of the main companionway and tangling 01ly in Neil's feet where he stood clutching the wheel.

  Jeanne, crushed up against the cabin wall by the cold salt water swirling over her, choked and gasped as she struggled upwards in a nightmare of drowning, clawing at the wall as the water seemed still to pin her down. Frank grasped her arm and pulled her sputtering up into his arms, clinging himself to the control panel shelf. The water was up to her knees and she assumed that they were sinking, but then she saw Neil looking back over his shoulder with a look of concentration devoid of dismay. The roar was still all around and she felt they must be hurtling through the water at some fantastic speed, but even as she thought this, she saw Neil actually increase Vagabond's speed.

  `We'll anchor behind Tangier Island just as we planned,' he shouted to all of them. 'It'll take us a while to pump her out and clean up.'

  The water had already fallen to her ankles, some of it pouring into the main cabin through the broken hatch-slide and the rest draining out of the holes of the self-bailing cockpits and wheelhouse.

  Jim crawled forward to prepare the anchor, while Frank stared at the smashed fragments of plywood, fibreglass, and plexiglas that had been the back wall of his wheelhouse.

  `Not too many boats going to be floating after that ripple,' 01ly said to Neil with an uncharacteristically grim expression.

  `Check our main bilge, 01ly,' Neil countered.

  Jesus, what's the use,' said Frank. 'Every time we . . . `Go check your starboard cabin bilge,' Neil interrupted.

  `Jeanne, check your children. 'We've survived.'

  Vagabond had had ten tons of water sweep over her, had over half a ton in her three bilges from stove-in windows and hatchslides, and had a wrecked wheelhouse rear wall, but all her rigging had come through intact. In another half hour they had pumped or bucketed out most of the uninvited water and were anchored behind what was left of Tangier Island. They set up a rotation of two-hour watches and, numb, shell-shocked, exhausted to the point of not caring, all at last were permitted to sleep. 19

  Neil didn't waken until nine o'clock the following morning and thus had five full hours sleep, a luxury after the previous forty-eight. As he emerged from his damp cabin he could feel anxiety and irritation moiling within him. In the daylight he saw clearly for the first time the extent of the wreckage of the aft wall of the wheelhouse, saw 01ly's gaffs, fishing nets, oyster tongs and other gear still sitting unstored in the starboard cockpit, saw the wrecked cabin hatchslide, noted Frank sprawled asleep on one of the wheelhouse settees - it was Frank's watch - and felt a strong breeze blowing now out of the north. The thought that they had been sitting still doing nothing for almost seven hours rankled him and he had to stop on the aft deck to quiet himself.

  But as he gazed around the Bay an entirely different emotion flooded him. A house was floating only a hundred yards to the east; on the shore of Tangier Island were the remains of several wrecked houses and boats. On the island itself not a single building seemed to remain standing. Further to the south was another now familiar ghastly grey mass squatting in the otherwise clear blue sky like an ugly swelling toad. Whatever he didn't like about the condition of Vagabond she was afloat; she had survived. As he stepped down into the starboard cockpit to begin work he stopped, fear again slicing through him like an icicle. Where was Macklin? He'd been left still tied to the mizzen mast. Neil leapt down into the starboard cockpit, ran into the wheelhouse and then stopped: Macklin was seated nonchalantly in the sun of the opposite cockpit sipping coffee. Jeanne emerged from the main cabin and behind her he saw Lisa at the galley stove.

  `Good morning,' she said.

  `How'd he get loose? Neil asked grimly.

  Jeanne flushed in response to Neil's anger. 'He was free when I got up,' she replied. `Can I fix you something for breakfast?'

  Neil walked further into the port cockpit and saw with a start that the .22 was lying across Macklin's knees.

  `Good morning,' said Macklin neutrally.

  `May I have the rifle?' Neil asked.

  `Sure,' said Macklin. 'It's of no use to me.' He placed his coffee cup on the seat beside him and handed the .22 to Neil. 'But look, Loken, let me sail with you. Putting me ashore would mean death'

  `How did you get loose?' Neil asked quietly, noting that the .22 he had taken from Macklin was loaded.

  `Child's play,' Macklin replied with a sneer.

  `Why didn't you take the dinghy and escape?'

  Èscape, shit,' Macklin snapped. 'There's no escape out there. My only chance - I admit it'

  s smaller than a flea's cock -' he added parenthetically, glancing to his left at the blast cloud over the Norfolk area, 'is on this ship. Don't sentence me to die.'

  Àre you all right?' Neil asked Jeanne, turning back to her. `Yes. I thought you had released him.'

  He nodded, grimacing.

  `Would you like to eat now?' Jeanne asked again.

  `Thanks,' Neil answered. 'Use whatever's in the refrigerator first--bacon, cheese, other things that will spoil when we turn off the propane to conserve it for cooking. Don't cook potatoes, for example.'

  `Fine,' she said, disappearing down into the galley.

  `Cook for everyone,' he called after her. As he looked down into the galley he was pleased to see that although the area was a mess it was a functioning mess: Jeanne and Lisa had removed all the food from the bilge where some of it had been damaged by the previous night's deluge and were inventorying

  and restoring it. He noted too that Jeanne and her two children were dressed as neatly as for a quiet summer cruise, their white shorts and blouses seeming out of place with the big bluish bruise on Jeanne's cheek and the bloody bandage on the side of Lisa's head. Skippy was looking shyly up at him, clinging to one of his mother's bare thighs.

  `Can you keep an eye on Skippy for me?' Jeanne called up to him. Òf course.'

  But Skippy didn't need an eye kept on him since he remained with his mother down in the main cabin, clinging to her as if she were safe space in a game of tag. He ignored her suggestion that he go up with Neil and look at a comic book and limited his conversation to periodic statements to his mother: 'I'm hungry.'

  Lisa came up to where Neil was examining the wrecked wheelhouse wall to hand him a cup of coffee. The bandage on the left side of her face was immense and had a blot of red in the middle, but she told him that though it hurt and throbbed she felt no dizziness.

  `Here comes somebody,' she added unexpectedly, squinting off to the northeast. Following her gaze, Neil turned to see a small skiff motoring at full throttle towards them, a man standing aft, steering. Neil picked up the .22 again and crad
led it in his arm. At first he assumed the man was headed towards the village of Tangier, but the skiff kept coming straight in and coasted to a halt alongside the starboard hull. A small, deeply tanned young man about Jim's age wearing dirty khakis and a soiled cotton sweatshirt looked over Vagabond's coaming at them.

  `My father here?' he asked.

  `Who's that?' Neil countered.

  `Cap' n 01ly.'

  `He's sleeping in the forepeak, I think.'

  `Hey, pa! PA! It's Chris!' the young man shouted.

  After a moment the old man poked his head up out of the forward hatch and then emerged, his sparse white hair askew; he was dressed only in tee-shirt and underpants.

  `Well, you don't have to shout about it,' he grumbled, looking aft, and seeing Lisa standing twenty feet away staring at him, he disappeared back below to get his trousers on.

  "Pears you had some waves come visiting last night,' Chris said to Neil, nodding solemnly at the wrecked wall of the wheelhouse.

  `We did,' Neil agreed. 'How about you?'

  `Well, most of the houses on Smith Island are a few hundred feet further north than they used to be and there aren't many people left to give a damn.' Chris glanced to his right. '

  Tangier must have really got socked.'

  Ì'm afraid so.'

  `Good morning, ma'am,' Chris said to Jeanne, who had come up into the wheelhouse.

  `Good morning.'

  `Well, what you want?' Captain 01ly asked when he came out on deck a second time, buttoning up his trousers. `Getting so a man can't even escape his own family out to sea.'

  Ì was worried about you, pa,' his son said. 'They said you went chasing pirates or something and then the tidal wave last night, and you didn't come back.'

  `Well, I'm back,' he said. 'Got myself two pirates. Woulda gotten more, but there weren't none.'

  `Where's Lucy Mae?'

  Ì sent her into Crisfield to pick me up some pipe tobacco.' Chris looked at his father uncertainly.

  `We had to cut her loose when the big wave was about to hit,' Neil explained. 'I imagine she's sunk.'

  `You okay?' Chris asked his father.

  "Course I'm okay. I been dying for two years now and

  chasin' pirates and dodging tidal waves ain't gonna affect it none. What you been up to? You remember the mayonnaise?' Ì'm going in the Navy, pa.'

  `What do you mean you're going in the Navy?' the old man countered, seated now on the cockpit bench near his son and pulling on his socks. 'Why you want to go in the Navy?'

  `Because I have to,' Chris answered.

  `How have to? Why have to? What are you talking about?'

  `The President ordered us to,' Chris answered quietly. Èverybody has to go. I'm taking a special bus this morning at eleven from Salisbury.'

  `What's the hurry?' Captain Olly said irritably. 'Navy got a ship needs bailing this afternoon?'

  Ì've got to go, pa,' Chris insisted.

  Captain Olly stood up and looked out across the aft deck towards Smith Island. He stood silently for almost half a minute while his son watched him patiently.

  `Well,' the old man finally said. 'Give me a goodbye kiss. Ain't every day a son goes puttputting off to get himself blown to bits.' He took a step towards his son and presented his grizzled cheek. Chris kissed him awkwardly. Captain Olly straightened up but remained looking down at his son.

  Òne of them H-bombs come after you, you remember to stay below,' he said.

  `You know me, pa,' Chris said, smiling boyishly. 'If I know one's coming I'll want to come on deck to look.'

  `Know you will, son, know you will. I figure in another week you'll come raining down into the Atlantic.'

  Chris stared at him.

  `Don't mind me, son,' 01ly said, tears glistening in his eyes. Ì just wish you'd stole a boat and sailed into the Atlantic like a respectable son would do. Or at least a live one.'

  Ì'm going, pa.'

  Ì know you are, but I'm not going to stop talking. You're just gonna have to go 'cause I ain't letting you go. 'F I had my `druthers I'd stay here talking to you 'dl this boat rotted and sank. I like your face, son, and the damn sky's gonna be empty without it.'

  `Goodbye, pa,' Chris said, and gave his skiff a gentle shove away from Vagabond and pulled the starting cord on his , outboard. The engine purred into life.

  Ì know you're going, son, but you can't stop me from talking to you. I been talkin' to you eighteen years and I ain't gonna stop now just 'cause you want to go rushing off to become a smithereen. The world's full of smithereens these days and I don't see why you think one more's gonna make the air smell any purtier, 'specially you smelling most the time like a blowfish after flies been at it a week. Why I remember when you . . His son was already fifty feet away, the sound of the skiff's engine buzzing gently back to them across the water and beginning to fade.

  Captain 01ly, tears dampening both cheeks, turned to look at Neil and Lisa and Jeanne who had been watching the separation from the wheelhouse. After several seconds delay he snorted: `. . You got breakfast ready yet, lady? I gotta get some eggs and coffee aboard my belly before I swamp us again with my dribble. Got any that whisky left there, Cap'n? I'm eighteen.'

  The three stared at him.

  `Nine o'clock in the morning and I ain't even pissed yet,' he went on. 'You got a john aboard this boat or can I pee off the side or use a bucket like real sailors do?'

  Òff the aft deck is fine,' Neil answered.

  `Would you like some bacon and eggs?' Jeanne asked.

  "Course I'd like bacon and eggs,' Captain 01ly said as he stepped up out of the cockpit to get to the aft deck. 'And toast and juice and potatoes and anything else you got cooking. A dying, orphaned man got to make the most of his last days. Least he can do is eat like a pig.' Turning his back to the ladies, who went below to prepare breakfast, Captain 011y pissed with dignity off the aft deck.

  20

  It was thirty minutes later, after they had all finished eating breakfast and begun sailing down the Bay that Neil, on his way forward to check the genoa, placed one foot on to the little step built into the cabin wall for climbing forward, and stopped. He stared at the cockpit deck. He felt horror. A thin, barely visible layer of something lay on the cockpit floor. He bent over and ran an index finger a few inches along the deck and looked at it: a grey smudge. He looked up at the sky above him. A thin haze marred the blue summer sky. He went quickly to the opposite cockpit: the same thin layer of ash lay among the fishing gear and other stuff from the Lucy Mae.

  He felt trapped. To the south lay a thick cloud over Norfolk; to the northwest the closer, more diffuse grey mass from the blast over Washington. And on the decks at his feet the first radioactive fallout.

  `Frank!' he shouted.

  Still bleary-eyed from weariness, Frank left the wheelhouse to come to Neil.

  `We've got fallout on deck,' Neil told him in a quiet voice. Frank looked down, reached an index finger to examine the ash, and then looked back at Neil. Èverybody should go below,' he said. 'I'll wash the fucking stuff off the decks.'

  Frank and Neil sent everyone below into the main cabin, ordering them to shut all windows and portholes and check for ash, wiping clean and throwing overboard any they found. Since every thickness of material between them and the radioactive fallout would give some small additional protection, Skippy was put on the floor underneath the dinette table and a jury-rigged piece of plywood used as a

  wall to create a cave. The table was covered with blankets and sleeping bags from the forepeak. Jeanne ordered Lisa to crawl under it too. Olly suggested Jeanne make a space next to the ,daggerboard well and beneath the cross beam for greater protection. Conrad Macklin went into the forepeak and covered himself with bagged sails. On deck Frank began washing down the boat with buckets of sea water and a longhandled brush. Neil disappeared for a while and then emerged wearing full foul-weather gear including rubber boots and the hood tied tightly around his face as if he were about to go
out in a gale. He handed a full set to Frank and took over the washing down of the boat while Frank put on his gear. Jim had checked the genoa and when he came aft Frank ordered him below with the others. He and Neil would stay on deck. As they set sail down the Chesapeake for the Atlantic a low-level dread hung over all of them in the main cabin. They talked in low voices as if at a wake. On the horizon to both north and south lay the ugly grey cloud masses seeming to creep up the sky to kill them. One was chasing down from the north and they were sailing south into the one over Norfolk. There was no escape.

  When Vagabond sailed past Tangier Village Neil looked dully at the wreckage. Two large fishing trawlers lay on their sides among three houses tilted crazily, as if all five were some child's toys carelessly cast aside. One of the buildings must have been the bar they had stopped at the night it all began, but even through his binoculars he couldn't tell which building it was. He saw no sign of life.

  To the east the shore was too distant to determine what had happened, but as Vagabond sailed out into the centre of the Chesapeake, Frank reported the capsized hulk of some motor yacht a quarter of a mile to starboard. Here also other floating vessels became visible, a boat sailing south like Vagabond and two other boats emerging into sight from the direction of Norfolk. With a sense of foreboding Neil realized that on the previous day the Bay had been crowded with boats, twenty-five or thirty being visible when he'd been searching for the sight of the stolen Vagabond. Not many ships had survived the explosion and tidal wave.

  It was Frank who spotted the first corpse: a limp wet lump of clothing floating face down less than fifty feet from Vagabond's course. Frank's first instinct was to alter course to retrieve the body, but then he quickly realized that the last thing they needed aboard was a corpse. There would be more.

  The two ships coming towards them remained close to the western shore and soon disappeared past them heading up the Chesapeake to God-knew-where. That they had survived at all was a surprise. The boat on the same course as Vagabond disappeared into a cove or river on the western shore. By late morning they seemed to be all alone on the vast expanse of the Bay.