Hurricane (17 page)

Then one day it roared out of the dark corner and presented itself front and center.

They were sailing under a reefed main in twenty-five knots of wind, the jib was rolled in halfway and they were headed for the narrow opening into Hog Island, Broxton’s favorite bay on Grenada’s south coast. The waves were cresting at ten feet and it didn’t look like they were going to reach the protection of the bay before the storm was upon them, but it wasn’t the storm that had them worried. It was the white and orange Coast Guard cutter off their stern.

“
Won’t be long before they’re on us,” Broxton said.

“
Grab the main sheet. We’ll jibe and see what’s what.”

Broxton started hauling on the main sheet until the boom was centered, then he cleated it off. “Ready when you are,” he said.

“
Okay, jibe ho,” T-bone yelled and Broxton released the starboard jib sheet and started hauling hand over hand on the port sheet as T-Bone swung the boat around. “All right,” he yelled when the jib came over and Broxton released the mainsheet. “You don’t need me anymore,” T-Bone said as the boom slipped over the top and they were on the opposite tack.

T-Bone grabbed a glance over his shoulder. “They changed course,” he said, then added, “Let’s jibe back,” and they repeated the maneuver and were back on course for Hog Island.

“
What’s the plan, Captain?” Broxton knew if they were boarded T-Bone would lose the boat and wind up in jail, probably in Grenada. But he wondered what would happen to him. Were the long knives still out and looking, or was he yesterday’s news?

“
We can’t let them board, that’s for sure.” T-Bone said. “That would be very bad.”

“
They might not find it.” Broxton said.

“
Oh, they’ll find it. They’ll take one look at this old hippy and they’ll tear the boat apart. Now, if I looked like you I could probably bluff it out, but I don’t so let’s pretend we don’t see them and let out the jib.”

“
In this weather?” Broxton said.

“
Speed, we want speed,” T-Bone said.

“
You’re crazy. We’ll never out run them, they have four times our speed.”

“
We’d never let out the jib if we knew they were back there, would we?” T-bone said.

“
No.”

“
So let’s pretend we haven’t seen them and act like all of a sudden we’re in a hurry to get back.”

“
What have we got to lose?” Broxton said, and he took the jib sheet off the winch and watched as the big foresail unfurled. The boat leaned over and picked up speed.

And the Coast Guard cutter added power and started closing fast.

“
Will the white sloop ahead heave-to, and prepare to be boarded.” The voice crackling over the radio sounded young and inexperienced.

“
Shit,” T-Bone said and it started to rain. “Good omen,” he said, then he slipped the winch handle into a winch and started to crank on the jib sheet, tightening it, moving their speed from seven to eight knots. No match for the cutter, but it would get them into the bay five minutes earlier.

“
Are you going to answer?” Broxton asked.

“
Not just yet.”

“
When?”

“
When we get a little closer to land,” he said, then he started to move away from the wheel. “She’s yours, I’m going below.”

“
What?” Broxton instinctively took the wheel.

“
If they see me, we’re gonna be boarded. We don’t want that,” T-Bone said. Then he slipped down the companionway, out of sight. “I’ll talk to them, all you have to do is wave.”

“
I repeat, will the sloop heave-to and prepare to be boarded.” The young voice on the radio was more insistent.

T-Bone waited a few seconds with the mike in hand, then he clicked the talk button, “Negative.” He released the talk button. “Let’s see how they like that.”

“
This is not a request. Heave-to and prepare to be boarded.”

“
Guess they didn’t like it,” T-Bone said, “and they’re not going to like this even more.” He clicked the talk button. “This is the sailing vessel Obsession, bound for Hog Island. I repeat, I will not heave-to. Can you put on someone a little older. Someone that understands radio etiquette, and begin your next transmission by identifying yourselves. Obsession, standing by.”

“
Shit,” Broxton said. T-Bone was laughing. The wind picked up to thirty knots, their speed picked up half a knot and it continued to rain. Broxton wasn’t wearing foul weather gear, but the electric situation kept his mind off the wet and the cold.

“
This is Captain Andrews on the United States Coast Guard cutter Puerto Rico, operating in concert with the Grenadian Government, and we are ordering you to heave-to, and stand by to be boarded.” This voice was older and from the timbre of its delivery Broxton knew it was a voice used to being obeyed.

“
This is the sailing vessel Obsession, out of Hog Island. Captain Powers speaking. I am a sailing instructor and I have a sixteen-year-old student on board. Presently said student is below heaving his guts out all over the salon. I would love to accommodate you, but as captain of this vessel I have to put the safety of the crew and the vessel first. However I will gladly accept your boarding party in about thirty minutes, after we are safely at anchor in the bay.”

“
Negative. We will send a launch along side and board you under way if need be.”

“
If you send a boarding party over in these conditions you will be putting your young men at risk. If I was on this boat alone I’d follow your orders and heave-to, but I will not put the life of my student at risk. Surely the safety of your men is as important to you?”

“
I will evaluate the risk.”

“
Now I have to give him a face saving way not to board us,” T-Bone said up to Broxton, then he clicked the talk button. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll alter course to Prickly Bay. The water is deeper there, you should be able to motor in right behind me. By the time I get the anchor down you can have your launch in the water, and by the time I snub the hook your men can be safely along side.”

“
You say you’re out of Grenada?”

“
Registered in the BVI, but operating out of Grenada. I teach sailing. A lot of the charter customers that come down here need a refresher course before they’re qualified to take a boat out by themselves. If there was more people like me down here then there would be a heck of a lot less work for you guys.”

“
I hear that, Mister,” Captain Andrews said, seeming to warm to T-Bone. “Too many people come down here, charter a boat, get in trouble and yell for help. The charter companies should be more responsible.”

“
If they were then I’d be out of a job.” T-Bone laughed into the mike.

“
All right, Captain Powers, continue on your course for Hog Island. We won’t molest you any further today,” Captain Andrews said, as the cutter motored along side the sailboat.

“
Put your hand to your mouth, like you have a mike in it,” T-Bone said to Broxton, and Broxton put his right hand up to his face as T-Bone clicked the talk button. “Thanks very much, Captain Andrews. Fair winds to you and if we meet somewhere down the line I’ll buy you a beer.”

“
And fair winds to you, Captain Powers. Maybe I’ll drink that beer someday.”

“
Wave,” T-Bone said to Broxton, who turned toward the cutter and waved. Several crew members on board waved back. It was impossible for Broxton to single out the Captain through the rain. Then the cutter turned off and Broxton knew that his friendship with T-Bone was soon to be put to the test.

For the past month he’d put the drugs on board and his past out of his mind. He’d been living and learning sailing. He hadn’t been off the boat and he hadn’t minded, but now it was time to move on, time to start putting things right. His enemies, whoever they were, were still out there. And they would still be looking. By now they must have figured out that he was no longer in Trinidad.

“
Okay, Billy Boy, let’s get her in before that storm catches us.” T-Bone came back up on deck.

“
I don’t know where you’ve been, my friend,” Broxton said, “but it’s caught us.”

“
Yeah, it is a little too windy out here, let’s roll in some of that jib.” T-Bone laughed and snapped Broxton away from his own problems.

Broxton grabbed a winch handle and started cranking in on the jib, but after a couple of turns it started getting harder to crank and then he couldn’t move it at all. He let a little out and then tried grinding it in again, but he met the same resistance at the same spot in the line. “I think it’s jammed,” he said.

“
It happens sometimes, the line bunches up on the roller. I need to change the lead, something I’ve been meaning to do. I’ll go up and fix it.” Broxton watched as T-Bone grabbed onto the running backstay and pulled himself out of the cockpit. He bent low to grab onto the lifelines but a wave crashed into the side of the boat before he got a handhold and he went flying over the side and into the water head first.

“
Shit!” Broxton threw over the life ring, then he grabbed onto the cockpit cushions and tossed them over, then the second life ring and the man overboard pole. He did a quick check to see if there was anything else that would float and threw over T-Bone’s life jacket. He wanted to give T-Bone as much to grab onto as possible, and he wanted the spot good and marked in case he lost sight of him. Then with nothing else to throw over, he went back behind the wheel and spun it to the right, away from T-Bone and into the wind, keeping his head turned toward his friend as the wind brought the boat to a stop. T-Bone was too far away for him to get a line out to, he was going to have to tack back.

He turned the wheel to the left and let the wind fill the head sail. The boat started to come around and Broxton let out a little of the mainsheet to allow the main to fill and the boat started to move. Broxton kept his eyes on T-Bone the whole while and shuddered each time a wave rolled under him, and he sighed with relief when T-Bone grabbed on to a floating cockpit cushion.

As he fell off the wind, the boat picked up speed and once he was on course for T-Bone’s position in the water, Broxton realized that he was going too fast. He had to reduce sail or he’d go right over his friend, and the headsail was jammed. With no way to bring in the jib, he’d have to drop the main.

He stepped out of the cockpit, holding onto the boom for support, and moved as quickly as he could across the slippery deck up to the mast. Like T-Bone he wasn’t wearing a life jacket. At the mast, he uncleated the main halyard and let the main drop. Even as it was falling he was making his way back to the cockpit. There was no time to tie the main onto the boom, it was just going to have to flog around on deck till he got T-Bone out of the water.

Back at the wheel, he pointed Obsession toward T-Bone, who now had a cockpit cushion under each arm. The wind was gusting up to thirty knots and he was still going too fast. For a second he thought about calling the cutter, but that was the last thing T-Bone would want.

He kept on course until he was two boat lengths from the man in the water, then he cranked the boat into the wind and lost sight of T-Bone as the headsail started flapping and blocked his vision. He could only hope as the boat slowed to almost a stop, but with the wind and current it wouldn’t stay stopped long.

He looked over the port side and saw T-Bone, close enough to throw a line to, and still hugging the cushions. He had both cushions wrapped under his left arm and he was waving his right hand in the air. Broxton tossed him a line and he almost screamed as his friend tied it around the cushions.

Then he started laughing. He put the line on a winch, and started grinding his friend toward the boat. Once T-Bone was alongside he pulled himself aboard and hauled the cushions up after himself. Then he grabbed Broxton and planted a wet kiss on his forehead, “Billy boy, you are the bloody best sailor in these waters, and I’ll knock the block off anyone who says different.”

“
The fucking cushions?” Broxton said.

“
Hey, I got a hard butt,” T-Bone said. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

“
And a harder head,” Broxton said.

“
Guess I better fix the jib,” T-Bone said, and he moved up forward and fixed the jam and raised the main. Then he stood there, holding on to the mast, with his long hair and beard blowing in the wind, and yelled back to Broxton. “You don’t really want to go back to Grenada, do you?”

Broxton shook his head.

“
Where do you want to go?” he yelled to be heard over the rising storm.

Broxton pointed up island.

“
You don’t want to wait for better weather?” T-Bone was laughing.

Broxton shook his head, no, and he was laughing, too, as he spun the wheel away from Hog Island and the protection of the bay, and out into the storm.

Chapter Ten

They motored along Grenada’s coastline, then sailed on a single tack until the mountains on the leeward side of Carricou killed their wind and they had to turn the motor back on. Julie watched everything Victor did, trying to learn as much as possible. Meiko just watched Victor.

Since they had only enough daylight left to make the southern Grenadines they decided to motor on to Union Island, where Victor raced the sun through the reefs. He won and they set anchor with the sun fading from the horizon.