Voyage of the Dreadnaught: Four Stella Madison Capers (5 page)

It was a very long way to Alaska.

However, the coast of British Columbia is a
wild one, with long stretches of wilderness places, and weather
that can change as fast as one’s feelings. There were a few
mornings they woke up enveloped by a thick fog (that Stuart
referred to as a “pea souper”), and had to wait until it lifted to
continue their journey. Something that had little effect on the
happy group. Whether it was because of the marvelous sea air, or
the fact they had enough supplies on board to get by for an entire
year if they had to, no one knew.

Because, not only were they all getting
along splendidly, they had become quite comfortable (and
proficient) in their respective “sea duties.” Even Stuart had to
admit the voyage was turning out to be one of the best he had ever
made. Mostly because of the food. With three women aboard who loved
cooking, the meals were fabulous. He even started to contemplate
the possibilities of taking on a few charters, after this trip was
over, in order to complete renovations.

But all that was before their first
storm.

Up till that point, most of the travel had
been motoring. Outside a time or two of raising the sails (in order
to keep up skills, as Stuart put it), the entire trip, so far, had
felt like nothing short of a delightful holiday cruise. For
everybody.

Even Gerald, who took his “turn at the
wheel” with the utmost seriousness and respect, was actually
becoming dependable. He stayed precisely on course, did exactly
what the Captain told him at all times, and was even getting a bit
of color back into his face. Of course, he had to make a few
concessions, considering his condition. He rarely left the main
deck (where his cabin was situated), and—except for the few steps
up to the wheelhouse—avoided stairs and companionway ladders,
altogether.

He was cold most of the time, too, but
solved that problem by wearing a black navy watch cap (both waking
and sleeping), as well as half a multicolored Mexican poncho that
was cut off at elbow-length so that he could still do his work.
Something that made him resemble the haggard form of Lincoln,
moving through hallways of the White House, during the last dark
days of the Civil War. Without the beard, and should you come up on
him from behind.

However, that part of sea—which funnels
through the straits from the “big water” (as Stuart called it)
outside the islands—can turn suddenly wild and dangerous with
hardly any warning. And considering they had known nothing but
idyllic conditions the entire way, all hands were caught
horrifically unaware when one of those famous storms crashed into
them. That is, all accept Captain Stuart.

Who knew exactly what to do in such
conditions, if he only had at least one person who could lift more
than fifty pounds in a full gale. He could only hope everyone else
could handle at least twenty, and still manage to stay on their
feet. This because the sea was so rough the engine propellers were
out of the water half the time, and the old schooner was much more
stable with her sails up than without them. After all, it was what
she had been designed for.

Meanwhile, everyone except the Captain was
seasick. Not counting the baby, who was never bothered by anything,
and having a delightful time bouncing wildly, back and forth, in
his “Johnny Jumper” attached to a cabin ceiling as he watched his
“Uncle Gerald” throw up into a bucket. His mother and Mason were
out on deck, doing their level-best at hauling the mainsail up, as
Stella and Millie grappled with “taking up the slack” in the
sheets.

This so Stuart could see to the sudden
banging noises that were coming from his engine, and the Colonel—by
sheer size and strength—struggled with the wheel to keep their ship
bucking through the waves instead of getting trapped in the troughs
between. All of which presented itself to Stella (even though she
was scared-stiff, and wet to the bone in spite of rain-gear) as
such a display of courage and cooperation that she would remember
it for the rest of her life.

One particular scene, especially.

It was the expression on the Colonel’s face
(when she looked up at him through the wheelhouse window) after the
mainsail suddenly tore in half and began flapping like thunder,
causing the lines to go slack, and send them tumbling toward the
rail when the boat began to roll. With the determination of a
weight-lifter contending for Olympic gold, He clamped onto the
wheel and began to inch the giant hull back up by brute force, in
order to save them from shipwreck.

But it wasn’t enough.

***

At the same time, down in the engine room,
the Captain knew exactly what was happening, topside, by the way
his vessel made the sudden roll to starboard and sent him crashing
into the bulkhead. Now, they had it, he thought to himself, because
not one of them up there knew what to do next. “Haul up that jib!”
he hollered, even though no one could hear him from down there.
“Get some way on before we lose her in this--”

BOOM! There was the loud bang of rigging as
the boat wallowed over onto her other side, caught in the steep
trough between waves. Which gave him a decision to make. Take the
few minutes to replace the broken belt and get the engine going,
again, or leave it to dash topside, and pull the foresails up so
the boat would at least have enough steerage not to founder. “God
help me!” he cried, heaving himself to his feet. “I’m at sea with a
bunch of idiots!”

It was at that moment a dark form darted
past him, and he distinctly heard, “Fix the belt-- I got the
sails!” in a tone of such confidence that his old Navy days kicked
back in, and he found himself “snapping to” without so much as a
care who it was.

He only knew he had a bona fide seaman
aboard, after all, and a flood of relief washed over him. In the
nick of time, too. Then it occurred to him he had never had such
immediate attention from the Almighty in his entire life. Something
which led to the disturbing conclusion that, either an angel had
just passed by, or…

The
Dreadnaught
had gone down,
already, and he was about to meet his maker.

6

A tumult of thoughts ran through Stella’s
mind during those moments. It wasn’t the first time she had faced
death, but it was the first time she had ever been able to stand up
to that terror with such peace and utter clarity. What happened
next, played out before her in a sort of dreamlike slow motion,
giving her plenty of time to react.

The first thing she did was to grab hold of
Millie as she tumbled by, and pull her to the safety of the rail,
where she could hold on. Then as the boat began to roll in the
opposite direction, she felt the line she had dropped begin to
whistle away over her feet, and picked it up. Just in time to wind
it around a nearby cleat (why, she had never managed the task that
fast before!), and stop the free-swinging boom from plowing into
Mason, who had his back to it, trying to tie off from the other
side. Disaster avoided. Almost like a miracle.

Which is just what she was thinking when she
saw the dark stranger come running past her, right out onto the
bowsprit that hung over all those wildly tossing waves. He peeled
the canvas back with quick agility on yet another sail that was
stashed there, and began hauling it up the stays. Only to be
stopped by a tangle of tattered mainsail that had wound itself
round the thick wire, about a third of the way up, when the big one
had torn loose.

“Lou!” called a familiar masculine voice.
“Ninja ladder!”

The girl was beside him in an instant, and
what Stella saw next was amazing.

He bent down long enough for her to climb up
onto his shoulders and grab hold of the bunched up sail, in order
to pull herself along the wire as he slowly stood up, again. Still
standing on his shoulders when she reached the place the tattered
pieces were wrapped around, he snatched a knife from his belt and
handed it up to her.

The wire was attached at the top of the
foremast, slanting down at an angle to the very tip of the bow.
Another miracle. If the obstruction had been any higher, she
wouldn’t have been able to reach it. As it was, she had the
offending tatters cut away and was back on deck in a mere few
moments.

At which point, Cole DeForio (Stella
recognized him the minute Lou Edna climbed up and down over him
with such confidence and familiarity), quickly finished hauling up
the large jib sail, while Mason pulled the trailing line attached
to it around a nearby winch-drum and tied it off. The boat
immediately headed back up into the wind, and regained enough
control for the Colonel to have steerage, again.

They were saved!

Less than five minutes after that, the
engine sputtered back to life, and the
Dreadnaught
continued
to plow steadily through the storm toward the nearest harbor, where
they could drop anchor and wait the thing out. A place not far off
from Alert Bay (which was not on their list of official stops), and
not a sign of civilization was in sight. But it was well protected
and safe. And more welcoming to the exhausted adventurers than any
waterfront town could have been.

The young couple disappeared almost
immediately after they got there, giving everyone else time to
collect themselves, and their thoughts, down in the galley. They
all needed to recuperate before the inevitable confrontation. At
the very least, there was a lot of explaining to do.

“I take back every critical thing I’ve said
about Shortcake,” said Mason, holding one of the large mugs of hot
bullion Millie was handing out to everyone who meandered in after
changing into dry clothes. “Any girl who will hop-to like that in
an emergency is all right by me.”

“She lied to us, again, Mason.” The Colonel
was not one to give quarter to dishonesty. “Been hiding that young
man, all along. Where--I have no idea--considering how thoroughly
those officials went over this boat when we came through customs.
Imagine what could happen if they had found a stowaway.”

“I shudder to think about it,” agreed Stella
(another narrow escape!). She was sitting next to him at the table,
wearing a matching knit hat and scarf (periwinkle blue), with her
still-chilled hands hugging her own mug of bullion. Would she ever
be truly warm, again?

“When you’re in love, you do crazy things,”
said Millie.

“When you’re in love, you aren’t ashamed of
it,” Mason added. “So, he must be in some kind of trouble.
Again.”

“So…” The Colonel took a deep breath. “We’ve
been smuggling a criminal through Canada.”

This just as Gerald dragged in, still
somewhat wobbly, and so pale Millie immediately poured a large
splash of brandy into his bullion before handing it to him. “Better
sit down before you fall down, Gerry,” she whispered.

“E-gads…” He sank onto the seat beside
Stella. “Lou didn’t bring any drugs aboard, did she?”

“Of course not!” huffed Millie. “She’s too
good a mother to get wrapped up in that stuff. Look how she quit
drinking the minute she found out she was pregnant. And she’s as
loyal as my own daughter, too. In her own way.”

“We could sit here guessing, all day.” Mason
got to his feet. “Let’s get them in here, and talk, so we can
decide what’s the best thing to do.”

“Can’t see as there is a best thing,” said
the Colonel. His cheeks were growing rosy from the warmth of the
stove. Then again, he did have a bit more insulation than everyone
else, with all those extra pounds turning to muscle, Stella mused.
“Wouldn’t be right to dump him off in a foreign country,” he went
on, “and he definitely did the right thing when he had to.”

“Dump who off?” Gerald handed his empty mug
back toward Millie (who had just bent down to re-twist the yellow
towel she had wrapped around her wet hair), and knocked it out of
his hand against her hip, instead. “Tell Stuart I need a little
more time, Mil—I’m doing my level best!”

“Not you, Gerald. Our stowaway. Lou smuggled
Cole DeForio, aboard, and now we’re all accomplices.” She snatched
up the mug and refilled it, again.

“E-gads!” he replied, and took it.

At which point, Mason returned with the
contrite young couple following behind, whose youthful good looks
seemed absolutely striking in contrast to their bedraggled elders.
Lou Edna’s blonde hair was gathered into a band at the nape of her
neck, she hadn’t a speck of make-up on, and she was beautiful.

“Well, it was a snap decision,” she began
before anyone even asked them a question. “There were some bad
people after him, and I had no choice.”

“One always has a choice,” said the Colonel.
“There are other ways to help besides breaking more laws.”

“Let’s get something straight, right off.”
Cole met the Colonel’s gaze and pointed to his own chest for
emphasis. “I wasn’t the one who broke the law.”

“Do you have a passport, or don’t you?”
Mason asked him.

“To begin with I didn’t break any laws,” the
young man corrected himself. “Like she said, it was a snap
decision. I just didn’t have enough time to get one.”

“Bad people aren’t usually interested in
border regulations. What’s Shortcake talking about, here?”

“It was me that talked him into it, Pop. I
told him we could get good money at pawn shops for those
pictures.”

“What pictures?” asked Millie.

“The crazy art collection.”

“What?”

“E-gads, Lou…” Gerald moaned. “The ones
painted by E.J.’s first wife? They’d be worth a small fortune at
Christie’s
, by now How much did you sell them for?”

“Nothing, they disappeared.”

“After she spent the money they already gave
us for a down payment, too.” Cole wiped a trickle of water off the
side of his face that was coming from his wet hair. “You don’t
cross those kind of people. They’ll come after you for stealing
peanuts.”