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.