Authors: Luke Rhinehart
Jeanne seemed to have been affected by Katya's death, her own wound and her killing a man in a slightly different way. She appeared more pensive and puzzled. Neil could see that she too was less desperate than they both had been most of the earlier time, but could see that as she watched each day for signs of illness in Lisa, she hadn't quite decided how she would or could take such another blow. Neil and Jeanne spent more time talking, not just about the day-to-day details of survival but also about the blame for all that had happened, both large and small. Although Jeanne saw that her killing 'Larry'
had been-in self-defence she argued quietly that if they hadn't attacked the pirate estate her life might not have had to be defended. When Neil reminded her that the pirates had kidnapped Katya she hadn't replied, and Neil felt griefagain: they had retrieved Katya only to sail her to her death.
As they talked on their third afternoon at sea Scorpio was visible two hundred yards off to starboard. Both boats were moving smoothly in the brisk trade wind, sailing slightly to windward but not enough to create heavy slamming. Neil was at the helm steering, Jeanne on the port seat of the now open central cockpit. The sky was clear, the day already warm. Jeanne was dressed as she usually was in shorts and a bikini top, Neil in cut-off jeans. She noticed the tendons in the back of his legs showing and became aware again that he had lost weight. His severe face was made more severe by the deep lines that now creased it. It saddened her to see him thus, so near to her, yet so far away.
`We're failing,' Jeanne said to him impulsively. 'We're divided and failing. We're making all the same mistakes that led to the war in the first place.' Like everyone aboard she referred to what had happened beginning in mid June as 'the war', not the Third World War or anything else. To her, to them, it was 'the war', all previous wars being insignificant skirmishes in comparison. It could take no number because it had no predecessor and couldn't conceivably have a sequel.
Neil turned to look at her but didn't reply.
`We're failing,' she repeated.
`We're alive, Jeanne,' he finally said. 'We're not yet starving to death. We're now sixteen people sailing away from -danger. We've made mistakes but we've avoided worse ones.'
`But what's the sense?' said Jeanne. 'To get food for a week or two, Philip and I are shot. To escape, Katya dies. We must be doing something wrong.'
Neil winced. 'I know it seems that way,' he said, easing Vagabond slightly away from Scorpio. 'But illness, violence and death are the new norm. They can't be avoided.'
'And there's Frank,' Jeanne said, as if the single name summarized an entire problem. She searched Neil's face to see if be had an answer for her and, nodding to her, he gestured with his free hand for her to come to him. She went to his side where he took her hand.
`Frank hasn't asked us to stop loving each other,' Neil went on. 'Although that's the only thing that would change things for him, he's asked us only not to make love. For the time being, with Frank as weak as he is, that's a restraint I'm willing to make for him.'
Ì know,' said Jeanne. Tut as you first said, it's really no solution. It doesn't stop him from resenting you . . . us.' `No, it doesn't.'
`That's what I can't stand,' she said. 'You and he were friends. He and I . . . Now . . When she looked up at him he returned her gaze sternly and removed his hand from hers. He sighed.
`You expect too much of us, Jeanne,' he said. 'Good people hurt each other. It's built into the universe.'
`There were only ten of us,' Jeanne persisted. 'Surely we're capable of creating a happy life for ten people.'
`No, I don't think we are,' Neil countered. 'Not when those ten are forced to live with each other whether they like it or not. Not when those ten are threatened with death every day. No, Jeanne, be thankful your children live, that I love you, that people like Olly and Philip and Sheila have come into our lives. For the rest, conflict and suffering and death will be the air we breathe for a long time.'
But if there was peacefulness in Neil's heart there was none in his fleet. In the late afternoon of the fifth day out of Anguilla Tony and Oscar, who had asked to come over to have a conference with Neil, arrived on Vagabond. Frank had visited Scorpio at midday while Neil was taking the noon sunshot, and he was to be in on the conference too. Although the main cabin would be hot and stuffy Tony suggested they go below for privacy, forgetting that Philip was berthed there. They sat. instead behind the wheelhouse area. Actually the wheelhouse had ceased to exist; only the plexiglas windows forward remained. Neil had ordered it torn down so that the six-byten plywood and fibreglass roof could be sawed in two, glued together and fibreglassed over to make a new daggerboard. The walls had come down, too. Vagabond now had open cockpits running the entire breadth of the boat aft of the cabins in the three hulls. Two small sun awnings were rigged up to give protection from the sun over most of the area, but it was all open now to wind and weather.
Oscar and Frank sat on the aft seat, Neil and Tony next to each other on the port seat. In their gauntness, and with their beards and unkempt hair, the four reminded Neil of four derelicts gathering to share a small bottle of cheap wine. Only there was no wine. Sheila was at the helm.
`Well, gentlemen,' said Neil gaily. 'This is quite the formal occasion. You apparently have something you want to discuss.'
`That's right,' said Tony, looking Neil firmly in the eye. `This beating to windward is going to break Scorpio apart. We're pumping half the time. It's time to change course.'
`We've already discussed this,' Neil replied quietly. 'Jim, 01ly and I all agree the present course is correct. I've been sending Frank, myself and Mac over to help with the pumping and you won't accept Jim.'
`gut everyone on my ship except the old guy is in favour of sailing to Barbados,' said Oscar. 'And since Frank agrees we outvote you.'
`Take Scorpio and go,' said Neil quietly.
`No,' said Oscar. 'We don't want to split up if we can help it. We want to re-establish the normal order of things.' `Wouldn't that be nice?' said Neil.
`Tell him, Frank,' said Tony. 'First about the captain thing.'
Frank cleared his throat and slowly raised his eyes to Neil. Great grey halfmoons made deep hollows under both his eyes and the skin around his neck was loose. Sitting hunched over staring downwards had become his characteristic posture.
`When you announced you were the captain of Vagabond in the Chesapeake,' Frank began slowly, 'I went along with it. I went along because back then there were twenty or so madmen aboard and your speech shaped them up.' He paused.
`Nineteen madmen,' Tony interjected. 'Remember I was there then, too.'
Frank blinked once, cleared his throat again and went on.
`Now there aren't,' he said. 'Now me, Tony, Jim, Olly . . . even Sheila I guess ... anyone of us could be captain of Vagabond and run the ship. Maybe not as well as you, but competently . .
Neil held his gaze steadily on Frank but didn't respond.
Ìn becoming your First Mate I temporarily gave up my ownership of Vagabond,' Frank continued. 'In those times, with an untrained crew, it was probably a good way to do things. Now . . . I'm reasserting my rights as owner.'
Ànd I'm asserting my rights as owner of Scorpio,' said Oscar. Òh?' said Neil, choosing to look at Oscar, whose long hair and bushy moustache were tangled and streaked with salt, making him look the least reputable of the derelicts. 'And what does that mean?'
Ìt means I want Tony as captain and not the old man.' Ànd what's wrong with Captain 01ly?'
`He never gives any orders except those you give him,' Oscar replied. 'Tony and I run the watches the way we want anyway.'
Neil laughed. 'I'd say he sounds like a perfect captain,' he said. Ì want Tony,' Oscar returned sullenly.
Ànd what does your reasserting ownership of Vagabond mean, Frank?' Neil asked. He saw that Frank's steady gaze did not mask an uncertainty, fear even, that Frank was feeling.
Ìt means that the captain serves at my pleasure,' he replied slowly. 'It means that I set the course, the captain determines only how to get there.'
Ànd the same on my boat,' said Oscar.
Neil was surprised that he felt no anger or resentment, but rather a strange calm only slightly tinged with sadness. Very slowly he shook his head.
`No, good friend,' he said to Frank.
didn't take the ownership of Vagabond away
from you. The war did.'
`The war's over, Neil,' Frank replied. 'You don't seem to accept it, but it's over.'
`No, it's not, Frank,' Neil returned calmly. 'At least not the war that cancelled your ownership. And cancelled yours, too, Oscar. No, I'm afraid none of us owns anything any more.'
`That's convenient for you to say,' said Tony, 'since you don't own a boat.'
`Frank doesn't own Vagabond,' Neil went on. 'And I don't own my captaincy or my other skills. You don't think I'm free to do what I want, do you? Your lives sometimes depend on my skills, so I'm not free to withdraw them, no matter what my likes or dislikes. Our lives depend on Vagabond and Scorpio.
You two don't own or possess them any more than the man who happens to "own" all the water on a crowded desert island owns the water. By the nature of the situation all who need it own it.'
`Bullshit!' Tony exploded. 'It's Frank's boat. All that intellectual crap doesn't change it!'
`You're right, Tony,' Neil responded mildly. `My intellectual crap doesn't change it. The world changed it.'
Frank was watching him, his uncertainty more evident. Oscar looked sullen, Tony angry and defiant. Neil rose from his seat, stretched his arms and yawned. Ìf you think you own your boats go ahead and think so,' he said and then turned to look directly down at Frank. `But if you try to act as owner, then the world, your friends, your family, will collapse. You can't reinstate the old ways by decree.' He watched Frank a moment - Frank was hunched over looking at the floor - and then turned to Oscar and Tony. Òlly is an excellent captain because he gives orders only to maintain order,' he went on.
'Tony here is an excellent sailor, stronger and quicker than Olly, and Tony would make an absolutely shitty captain. Tony would give orders not to maintain order but to demonstrate he was captain, and that's a perfect formula for chaos.'
`You conceited bastard!' said Tony.
`The war's over, Neil,' Frank said in a husky voice, looking up. 'You're still running, I believe you will always run, but it's over.'
It's not over,' Neil replied. 'And I intend to keep running.' `Dragging us with you,' Frank said.
`No. If enough people want to take a different course then we'll split up,' said Neil. 'The cowards can come with me, and the brave ones return to the West Indies.'
Ànd who determines which group takes which boat?' asked Frank.
`Not me, Frank. Not you. Vagabond should go to those who have to sail to windward. Scorpio to those who can best use her.'
Ànd who decides that?' asked Frank.
`The goddamn owners decide, is who,' snapped Tony in reply.
`There are no easy solutions,' Neil said softly to Frank. `Think about it, Frank. Would throwing me overboard really solve any of your problems?'
`We're not going to throw you overboard,' Tony interjected. `Good as the idea may be.'
`Think about it, Frank,' said Neil, still softly. 'Get away from these clowns and see the world as it is.'
Tony's fist caught Neil just below his left ear and sent him stumbling across to the opposite seat where he fell awkwardly, half on his knees.
`What the hell are you doing?' Frank shouted, standing and holding out an arm to keep Tony from Neil.
Neil glanced up at Tony looming over him a few feet away and waited for his head to clear and the ringing to stop.
`This bastard can't keep calling me names and expect me to take it,' Tony barked out in reply to Frank. 'If he thinks he's captain let him show it with his fists.'
Neil's head was slowly clearing and he stood up. He noticed that at the helm Sheila was half-turned, watching.
Ì'm sorry I called you names, Tony,' he said quietly. 'I
don't blame you for being angry.'
`You chickening out?'
Ì made a mistake in insulting you,' Neil went on. 'I apologize.'
`Jesus. What is this?'
Ànd if you ever pull something like that again I'll smash
the nose out the back of your head,' Neil concluded. He
brushed past Tony and left, going down into the main cabin. At the wheel Sheila held Vagabond steadily on course.
Over the next several days neither Oscar nor Frank renewed their request, and the ships seemed to return to a contented routine. They were proving lucky with the wind: it blew steadily much more northeast than usual and let them sail more southeast than they had hoped. Scorpio stopped leaking so rapidly. Other events encouraged Neil. Macklin had probed Philip's wound and removed the second bullet and his infection seemed to be subsiding. Jeanne's wound was healing perfectly. No one had fallen ill with the plague. A squall left them with a good supply of fresh water. The only continual source of anxiety was their food situation. Neil and Frank had rationed the two boats for a three-week voyage, rations that assumed they would be catching at least one fish a day. They weren't. Both ships were trolling all the time and hooking nothing. The seas appeared empty. Macklin had machinegunned a porpoise one dawn when he was alone on watch, but the mammal had sunk before he could manoeuvre to it. The bloodstained water had been somehow depressing to Neil and Frank who had rushed up at the sound of the gunshots.
Because they were sailing more southeast than expected they were well away from the danger of pirates. Although Vagabond was about two knots faster than Scorpio in the trade wind, Neil carried reduced sail and spent a day aboard Scorpio helping Olly get every ounce of speed out of her. At night Vagabond would sometimes get a few miles ahead of Scorpio and then heave to in the early morning.