Authors: Luke Rhinehart
He talked with as many sailors as he could and although many said they wanted to flee, all were as stuck as he. The only difference was that many of them had lost confidence in themselves or in their boat and were waiting, waiting, stuck in their own stuckness. Philip and Sheila Wellington were exceptions. They were determined to get away, and since their thirty-foot catamaran's mast was cracked they were trying to work out a deal with a man named Oscar White who owned an old fifty-five-foot sloop but had little skill or experience at sailing. Philip had become increasingly edgy over the week Neil had known him; he was convinced that St Thomas was about to explode and that they had to get away.
On their eighth day on St Thomas Neil met Philip again, this time on Oscar's sloop, Scorpio. The ship was an old racing boat, once queenly, now old and unmaintained, still solid it seemed to Neil, but with much gear in need of repair and all its varnish and bright work needing attention.
The three sat in the huge airy open cockpit in front of the beautiful mahogany wheel, alone polished and gleaming. Oscar was an intense, smallish man in his thirties, with wild long blond hair, a big handlebar moustache and narrow blue eyes. A former real estate broker he had left his job, wife and family for a fling in the Caribbean on a cheap yacht he planned to fix up and sail off into the sunset. The war had interrupted his idyll after less than two months.
His crew consisted of two young men who'd latched on to him in Fort Lauderdale. Gregg and Arnie were both wiry young men, much more laid back than Oscar, and apparently happy to go along with whatever he decided. They were also friends of Jim, Lisa and Katya. There were usually two or three young women aboard Scorpio but none showed up for the conference, nor did Gregg and Arnie, content to remain fishing off Scorpio's stern.
Philip and Oscar sat on one side of the cockpit and Neil on the other. Ìt's no use, Neil,' Philip said as each of the three sat holding a tall glass of water as they once would have held gin and tonics. 'There's no non-violent way to do it. Believe me, I'
ve tried.'
Neil stared gloomily at his drink of water. Philip was one of the few men he'd met who saw the situation since the war as he did: a struggle to the finish for individual survival. Or rather group survival, for Neil was committed not simply to himself but to Jeanne and to all who sailed on Vagabond, and now, although the commitment was unspoken, indeed perhaps unconscious, he was committed too to Philip and Sheila. 'But much as he liked Philip he was less enthusiastic about getting involved with Oscar and Scorpio, although if Philip were to become Scorpio's captain he would go along.
`So what dishonest ways are there?' Neil replied. 'I haven't seen much on St Thomas worth stealing.'
Ì've been thinking about our situation a great deal,' said Philip. 'As Samuel Johnson said, the prospect of hanging concentrates one's mind wonderfully.'
Ànd?' asked Neil.
`Both of us have two basic necessities: a large supply of food for a long voyage and weapons and ammunition,' said Philip. `Without these two there's not much hope in setting out.'
'Especially food,' said Oscar. 'We're already starving.'
'Weapons as well,' said Philip, flushing slightly but continuing to address Neil opposite him. 'To get south we're going to have to run the gauntlet: the twenty or so islands of the Antilles, each of them having a pirate ship or two operating out of them.'
'How can you know that?' Oscar asked.
I've been listening to the shortwave for a month. I've witnessed ships arriving stripped of everything but one sail. I've heard Maydays from vessels under attack. I haven't remained here because I'm afraid of the sea or of starving. I'm afraid of the land, of the men who come from it.'
All right,' said Neil, 'but where in God's name can we get
weapons? I thought you told me there wasn't even a black market for them.'
`We get weapons, old boy,' said Philip, brightening as if at last he'd come to what he wanted to talk about, 'from the pirates.'
Neil examined Philip's glowing face.
`How?' he asked simply.
Ì've discovered one of the pirate ships,' he answered, becoming serious again. 'It's a forty-two-foot Hatteras docked at Martin's Marina. Knowing what ships have been hit and when, and where Mollycoddle was at the time, I figured it out. That plus rumours in town and the unexplained wealth of her captain and crew.'
`Mollycoddle?' asked Neil.
Tit of a larky name for a pirate ship, what? Yet Forester and the others, with no assets other than that ship, never lack for petrol, food, liquor or barter goods necessary to buy women. They live like kings in a large estate they've taken over outside the city. Their sudden prosperity has only occurred since the war began, since the breakdown of government has made piracy almost a risk-free crime.'
`You plan to get weapons from them?' Oscar broke in.
`Precisely. We'll hit their ship,' Philip replied.
Ìs this Forester - Michael Forester? An Englishman?' Ì believe so.'
`Jesus Christ, count me out. That guy and his gang are killers. I mean they've shot people on the streets of Charlotte-Amalie and no one does a thing. Even the blacks are afraid of them.'
can understand your concern,' said Philip, flushing, 'but when you hear my plan perhaps you'll change your mind.' `You plan to raid their ship?' Oscar persisted.
`Yes.'
`They'll outgun us three to one,' said Oscar.
`Not when there's only one or two men aboard.' `When is that?' asked Neil. Èvery night that the-ship's in port,' said Philip, again looking at Neil. 'They live on their estate. They always leave a guard on the Mollycoddle, often two, I think, but I don't consider one or two overconfident guards an insurmountable obstacle.'
`Do they have radio contact with the estate?' asked Neil. Ì believe they probably do, yes, in fact,' agreed Philip. `You think they keep their weapons aboard?'
`Some certainly,' said Philip. 'Some on the estate. But the ship will be much easier to hit.'
'Food?'
Ì'm sure the Mollycoddle is kept well-stocked.'
`You steal the ship's weapons and food and then what?' `We sail off into the sunset!' said Philip triumphantly. Neil frowned, considering.
`You're crazy,' said Oscar. 'There'll be a dozen well-armed pirates with a twenty-twoknot Hatteras chasing us to give us a cheery goodbye.'
'We scuttle the Hatteras,' said Philip confidently. `They have other boats,' suggested Oscar.
`They're not certain who hit them,' countered Philip. Oscar shrugged, scowling.
`Let's hope so,' said Neil.
Àlso, we are now two ships, both armed to the teeth, sailing side by side. A rather undelectable target.'
`Not when someone's mad,' said Oscar.
`True,' said Philip, flushing, 'There are risks involved in piracy. my boy.'
Philip was looking at Neil, his face glowing with excitement, while Neil watched the two young crew men aft become agitated as one of them reeled in a fish. Its too dangerous,' said Oscar.
'There are risks to piracy,' Philip repeated, looking at Neil,
'but not as many as in being the victims of pirates.'
'Screw it,' said Oscar. 'Those guys won't bother me. I
haven't got anything worth attacking.'
Grimacing, Philip continued to look at Neil. 'I'm depending on you to iron out the military wrinkles in my little plan,' he said to him. but point the way.'
Àny particular time-frame?' Neil asked after a silence.
WI, yes, that,' said Philip, suddenly frowning. 'I'm afraid we may decide there's a bit of a rush. Three things. First - I heard a rumour today - just a rumour so far - that quite a few cases of that plague have appeared right here in the city.' Neil stared at him in dismay.
`Not too pretty,' Philip went on. 'Secondly, let's face it, we're none of us getting any fatter. Our larders are already bare. I believe we should strike as soon as we can.'
Neil nodded. 'And the third thing?' he asked.
`The luxury cruise ship, the Norway, is scheduled to arrive here later this afternoon.'
`My God,' said Oscar. 'How do you know?'
`Fred Turner on the Spright told me an hour ago. The Norway had been hung up in Santo Domingo since the war began but the US Navy has given her a huge supply of diesel fuel from its supply on Vieques, and the Norway is now carrying about 500 Navy personnel.'
`What's it doing here?' Oscar asked.
`Well .. that we can only surmise. But clearly it will be taking on passengers. The sight of more rich people sailing off on a lovely white cruise ship is not likely to be greeted with enthusiasm.'
`Maybe we could get aboard?' suggested Oscar. Neither Neil nor Philip commented. Ìt would be a lot safer than messing with Michael Forester,' Oscar persisted. Ì wouldn't count on it,' said Philip.
`Well, all I know is that if it's a choice of starving or warring with pirates, I'll choose starving,' said Oscar, standing up.
Ì understand, Oscar,' said Philip. 'I respect your decision. But . . . if things work out, do you still want me to assume command of Scorpio?'
`You get me food and guns, Buddy, and you can sail Scorpio for the rest of your life.'
`Good,' said Philip.
Oscar wandered aft to check on the fishing.
`Well, Neil?' inquired Philip, leaning forward.
Neil shrugged, then smiled and raised his now empty glass. Ì'd like to see both the Mollycoddle and their estate,' he said. Ìs that possible?'
Òh, absolutely,' said Philip, grinning and standing up quickly with surprising grace for such a bulky man. 'Sheila spent the morning casing the estate, and the Mollycoddle is moored at Martin's Marina. We've borrowed three bikes for the occasion.' Philip was grinning triumphantly.
`Rather sure of me, weren't you?'
`You're a sailor, Neil. This hunk of filth called St Thomas could no more hold you than a cinderblock could hold Vagabond at anchor.'
`You think I'll drag out to sea, do you?' asked Neil, smiling and standing.
`Drag, old boy?' said Philip, coming forward to clap Neil on the shoulder. `No, sir. You'll fly.'
`From the sound of your plan,' he said, 'I'd better.'
That night Neil explained to Frank, Jeanne, Tony and Macklin the plans he and Phil were developing for raiding the Mollycoddle for food and weapons. Although Macklin indicated approval, Tony, irritable, found half a dozen weaknesses in the plans. Frank, looking fatigued, simply didn't feel the possible gains justified the risks. After Tony and Macklin had gone down to the main cabin to prepare a small meal for themselves, Neil continued to pressure Frank.
`No, Neil,' Frank said, 'I just can't see it. Someone would get killed. Your whole plan scares me.'
`Frank, we've got to leave,' Neil insisted. 'There's nothing for us here. St Thomas is close to exploding. Hundreds of people will leave on the .Norway .
`There's St Croix, there's Puerto Rico . .
`Don't bullshit yourself!' Neil exploded. 'In these islands there's only chaos, revolution, starvation, madness and war. That's all we've found, that's all there is. It'll only get worse.
'
Ànd you think pirating another man's ship will improve things!'
Ì want all of us to survive. And without food and weapons we won't make it.'
Frank strode away from Neil and glared out across Vagabond's foredeck at the few distant lights on the hillsides of Charlotte-Amalie.
Ì'm not sure I want to contribute to a world of pirates,' he said.
`Then you'll be contributing to a world of starvation and radiation sickness and death.'
`We're still alive so far,' he said huskily.
`By outsailing the fucking war! And that's what we've got to do now.'
Ànd what about Jeannie and the children? They can't take the ocean. They need a place on land.'
Ì know that,' said Neil, shaking his head and grimacing. 'I know that, Frank. Believe me, I know that dragging everyone out to sea again isn't going to bring happiness, but this is probably our best chance. Philip's going to try to take the Mollycoddle whether we join him or not. Sailing in a fleet with him improves our defences against possible pirates. It would be nice if we could wait a week or a month, but we can't.'
`You're acting too fast, Neil,' Frank said, shaking his head wearily. 'Our food supplies are nil, our water low, and you want to solve all our problems, pirate a boat from pirates, raid their estate, load our supplies, and fly to sea all in the next couple of days. It's too much. It's too sudden. I can't do it.'
But you, yourself ..
'No! Leave me alone. I'm done. I'm sick. I'm exhausted. I'm going to my berth and sleep. I'm too tired to argue with you and too tired to agree with your plan. I'm sorry.' And he left Neil for his cabin.
Neil stared after him angrily until Frank had slid the hatch closed behind him. Fists clenched, he walked to the opposite cockpit and was surprised to see Jeanne's hatch open and Jeanne standing there looking calmly up at him. Her face showed her fatigue. She was wearing Frank's bathrobe. The two of them looked at each other expressionlessly.
'So we have to leave again . ..' Jeanne mused softly.
'Apparently not,' commented Neil, anger still in his voice. But you feel we should . . . steal some food and weapons and sail.'
'Yes,' Neil answered quietly, realizing that she had listened to the whole loud argument. '
I'm sorry. I just don't see how we could make a home anywhere in the West Indies.'
Jeanne still stared up at him, absently pulling the top half of her bathrobe closer to her neck. She glanced across to Frank's
cabin on the other side of the boat.
`Come down into my cabin,' she said, turning and walking down the ladder. Neil swung himself into the opening and descended after her. She stood facing him halfway down the narrow floor area of her cabin between her berth and that of Skip and Lisa, Skip's bare foot just sticking out off the edge of the furthest berth. Being alone with her here sent something warm through Neil, although the present situation was distinctly nonerotic.
`Frank's a gentle man,' Jeanne said.