Chapter Eight
The Race Is On!
"Is it just me," the helmsman asked, "or is it
getting lighter?"
"I think the wind's shifted," the Captain answered.
"More to the north. Maybe even a little west. It's blowing
the ash away from us. Let's pray we get a few hours of it."
The harbormaster came limping up the stairs. "Captain,"
he cried, "you've GOT to stop a couple of minutes. This
damned ash is fouling the air filters on the carburetors. They're
barely getting any oxygen. We changed them while we were at the
dock but we forgot the ones in the funnels. We've got to stop,
blow them out and change them or we'll flood the whole engine
room with dust."
"Then, there's nothing else we can do," the Captain
cried back. "I'll give you five minutes to get back below
and then order a dead stop. How long will it take?"
"We've got to have fifteen minutes at least," the
harbormaster answered.
"Take every precaution," the Captain warned. "Foul
those carburetors and we're all dead."
The man hurried below. The Captain counted the minutes and then
ordered full stop.
"No, wait sir!" the helmsman cried, "We're passing
those boats again and my God, look up ahead. I think I see a
flare! Somebody's alive out there!"
"Signal dead slow," the Captain ordered.
Slowly the ferry came to a stop almost alongside of one of the
bobbing boats. On its deck a ragged figure stood, waving a flare.
"Merciful Lord!" the man cried, "I saw you go by
before, but too late to signal you. I figured how long you'd be
and started lighting flares. I've got ten people on here still
alive and there's some in the other two bigger boats. Got to help
us come aboard."
"We've no time for that," the Captain answered,
"we can only stop for about fifteen minutes. Give me a line.
I'll come aboard and rig the other boats to tow. That's the best
chance you've got."
The man managed to get the Captain a line. He was about to go
over the side when the helmsman came up.
"Beg pardon, sir," he snapped, "but this is a
YOUNG man's work. I can move faster."
The Captain stepped aside and nodded. In moments the young man
was over the side and on the boat below. He worked with
phenomenal speed. Still they were a few minutes late when he
climbed back aboard. "They're gonna have a rough ride,"
he commented, "when we head between the Shoals."
There was a sudden boom and several objects hit the water around
them. One of the smaller boats completely disappeared with a loud
crash. "I think we'd better get out of here!" the
Captain screamed.
"That's been happening about every fifteen minutes,"
the man on the boat hollered. "I saw one big boat broke in
half."
Hail sized pebbles began to hit them. The man on the boat
scurried for cover. The Captain and the helmsman darted back into
the bridge. "Ahead slow!" the Captain ordered.
"Increase speed by quarters. We mustn't snap their
lines!"
"Aye, sir!" the helmsman answered.
Slowly the ferry picked up speed again, the boats behind her
following like a long, wagging tail. As they neared the Shoals
they were greeted by a barrage of soccer ball sized rocks, one
shattered a bridge window, and others shattered several windows
below, but by some miracle no one was hurt.
The Captain went outside and lowered the storm shields.
"Should have done that sooner!" he muttered.
When he bent down to the radar he leaned up and cursed.
"Dead!" he cried. He checked the boats following. He
couldn't believe they were all still there, though one of them
was missing half a mast.
The Captain called up the young Warlock. "How you
doing?" he asked.
"Good," the man answered. "It's a boy!"
"We can't take those boats beyond the sea wall," the
Captain remarked. "As soon as we're in he harbor take a fire
ax and cut them loose."
"Understood," the Warlock cried. He rushed below and a
few minutes later appeared on the stern, ax ready. The Captain
waited as long as he dared then gave two long blasts on the
whistle.
Barely were the boats cut loose than smaller boats were rushing
out of the harbor towards them. By the time the ferry pulled away
from the dock again they would be safely out of the way, their
passengers ashore and speeding inland.
Barely had the last child crossed onto the pier than the ferry's
engines were reversing. They'd had good luck the first run, they
prayed for the same the second.
A new radar unit had appeared like magic and the ferry was no
longer blind as she again began her desperate race for life.