Chapter 16


Cal was not that concerned about the swells. All they meant for him was going up and down. Sure it might have been up or down a three to four story building but, it was still something his vessel could handle. He even had some measure of control in that he could maneuver and change speed, to a point. They had three pretty powerful KHM, jet styled, engines in their boat. Cal knew they could get the job done.

What was bothering Cal, more than anything, was the ship they came out here to help. The Roby Celeste was not sitting all that far off of his bough at the moment. He had no choice but to keep trying to circle the tramp steamer. There was no sitting still in the sea tonight. If he cut his engines then the waves would move him so the choice was simple, maintain power and you maintained your only control.

The problem with that was his control was only limited. Unlike land vehicles, boats were under constant forces in motion and the least of which, on a night like this, was vessels own power plant. For every meter that Cal traveled forward his boat was also being pushed side ways a good meter and a half. Sometime it would be pushed to port and at others, to starboard. Part of that was from the constant winds and the other was just the water itself.

Such conditions made a close approach to any other vessel a near suicidal maneuver. If a swell picked Cal up and then dropped him back down there was always the chance he would wind up sitting on the deck of the Roby Celeste. The tramp steamer could probably handle that collision, even in her current sorry shape. The Ranger’s BVM-9 cruiser would turn into so many fiberglass shreds that would be washing up on shore for the next two years.

Every time they reached the top of a swell, Cal was always holding his breath. He would look for the freighter in his search lights and hope to catch a glimpse of it before they began their thirty foot drop back down. It was the only way that he knew how to adjust his course from one peak to the next. Even that was a best guess kind of thing. The BVM might be moving around like a cork on a waterfall but, so was the steamer.

Garcia had been out on deck trying to man a search light but, it was almost useless. When he got back in the pilot house he unclipped his safety line and nearly fell to the floor when they began another of their roller coaster rides down. Garcia finally got some footing and had to use hand holds to make his way over to Cal.

When Cal noticed the guy he told him, “we got a problem.”

“Ya think,” Garcia replied with no small amount of sarcasm.

Cal ignored it and told the kid, “Roby Celeste just radioed us. Her forecastle is completely underwater now and the waves are whipping all the way aft, up to the bridge. She’s going under any time now.”

Garcia thought about that for a second. Even when a steamer like that was fully loaded, which thankfully this one was not, the bridge was normally sitting sixty feet above the waterline. Roby Celeste was not just sinking, she was just plain sunk! Garcia caught his breath and asked, “are they abandoning ship?”

“To where,” Cal replied with no small amount of anger. “If this damn storm doesn’t let up they don’t have any place to go. Their life boats can’t handle this.”

Garcia just blurted out in frustration, “tell them to jump and we’ll pull them in.”

Cal actually looked away from the window this time, “and exactly how are we going to do that?” That was a legitimate question. Garcia had to admit that he had never even considered trying that kind of thing in weather like this. Cal also added the additional problems of, “and we can’t get close enough to them for that. Not to mention if that ship decides to take a nose dive then the tow is going to suck everybody around it right to the bottom.”

That made Garcia gulp. He had known that but, been too busy to think about it. He then realized, “Kent’s out there somewhere. What happens if he’s still in the water when that ship goes down?” One more time Cal looked at Garcia. He did not have to say anything. His face told the entire story. Garcia got angry and snapped, “that dumb ass!” 

Trying to think constructively he said, “does Shannon still have his beacon?”

“As of twenty minutes ago,” Cal replied. “I’ve been a little too busy to call her.”

“What about Tony?” Garcia was starting to think about ways to lift guys out of the sea. The chopper seemed like it might work better than the BMV.

That idea got nixed as Cal responded without even having to think about it, “Tony was getting too much cross wind and having to ride hard on the stick. He used up all but his fuel reserve so he turned back for the beach.”

Garcia nodded and then said, “I’m going below to call Chuck. They need to get that bird refueled and back out here pronto. I think I got an idea about how to get the crew out.”

It was like Cal was reading his mind, “it won’t work Garcia. If you try to pull them anywhere near our hull and one wrong wave hits, they’ll be smashed.”

Garcia responded by gritting his teen and then saying, “what about the basket?”

“Tony can’t get that low in this weather,” Cal told him, “and besides that only holds one man. They got nine still on board and Tony said at least four in the water.”

Garcia did the math and said, “thirteen, huh? No wonder they’re luck isn’t holding out.” Garcia laughed and slapped Cal on the shoulder as he made his way to the ladder. Cal even laughed despite the fact that the observation really wasn’t all that funny. Why not? They needed something to laugh at tonight.

Once he was down in the hold, Garcia made his way to the radio where he found Amy strapped in her seat and frantically working at the screen. Garcia did manage a wave to Bob who was still sitting over on one of the racks. Johnson actually managed a wave back before he pulled the bag back up to his mouth like it was a critical emergency. Garcia only shrugged. He supposed that for Bob, it was an emergency.

As it turned out, Amy seemed to have one of her own, “I can’t get Shannon.”

Garcia just winced in confusion, “what? Did something happen to our…”

Amy knew exactly what he was asking and he was barking up the wrong radio tower, “Gar! I checked everything on our end. It’s all working!”

“Yeah but,” Garcia replied, “a lot of things around that station might not be working right but that com system ain’t one of them. We got the biggest tower on the north shore and the most powerful transmitter this side of Doris Island.”

“I know,” Amy replied. She was looking a little more pale than usual and Garcia was starting to figure that it had nothing to do with the constant pitching. She squeaked with deep concern, “I can’t get anybody on the beach Garcia. What the hell are we supposed to do now?”