A Fine Cast of Characters - J. Dane Tyler [20]
“Think they’re having trouble like us? No ‘lectronics, no motor?”
Jurgen looked with trepidation at Flanagan. “I don’t … can’t tell. Looks like an old schooner maybe.”
Kelly listened, and tried to make out the larger ship in the mist. The silhouette drifted through wisps of fog in and out of view.
“Send up a flare?”
“Nah, save ‘em, he’s right there,” Jurgen said. He cupped his hands over his mouth. “AHOY! AHOY, SHIP! YA RAMMED US! ANYBODY HOME?”
His voice didn’t carry far. It died flat on the surface of the waves. Only the lapping of the water on the sides of the vessels answered.
“I SAID AHOY! ANYBODY THERE?”
Jurgen looked up at Flanagan, confused. Flanagan gave his head an uncertain shake.
“Well, hell.”
“Whatcha wanna do, Skip?”
Flanagan nodded, folded his arms over his chest and rubbed his stubble in thought. “I … try a light, Willy. Get a flashlight an’ see if we can get some attention that way.”
Willy bounced into the cabin. The others were lined along the gunwale, staring and muttering. Kelly hugged herself on the flying bridge. Something about the ship didn’t sit right with her. She shivered, and clenched her eyes shut.
Willy reappeared. “It’s dead, Skip. Just like the beacon and radio and stuff.”
“Aw, well that’s just … awright, then, suggestions?”
The passengers looked at Flanagan, Willy shrugged. “Board her? She’s adrift. They musta known something happened. Why wouldn’t they answer?”
Flanagan sighed. “Yeah, okay. Take a volunteer. Go over an’ see what gives.”
“Edward, you go with him,” Sam said, and elbowed Edward forward.
“Me?! Why me?”
“Be a man, for God’s sake!”
“I’ll do it,” Charles said, the welt still fading from his cheek. “I’ll go with ya, Willy.”
Jurgen looked at Flanagan, perked a brow. Flanagan gave a single affirming nod. “Thanks, Mr. Beausha— Charles. I appreciate that. Willy, go on over and see what gives. Come back with the raft when you got some answers.”
Willy nodded, and hopped over the gunnel into the raft. It skidded and squeaked under his boat sneakers, and he struggled with Beaushanks, helping him down. A minute later they were off, paddling into the dense fog toward the hazy shape of the ship sitting off their port side.
Kelly shuddered again.
Something struck her wrong about that ship and it chilled her insides deep. But she couldn’t put her finger on what.
Chapter 3
Kelly finished packing the plastic bottles of drinking water into a cooler, and stood upright. She winced and bent backward, stretching the complaining muscles in her lower back. She heard the thump of approaching footsteps and glanced at her watch as Flanagan drew alongside her.
“Got it all?” He inspected the rows of water in the royal blue box.
“All I could find, anyway,” she said, and settled her hands on her hips. “They’ve been gone a while. You sure there’s no way to get ‘hold of Willy?”
The corners of his mouth dipped. “Cell phone’s out. How ‘bout yours?”
She checked it, and sighed. “Nothing. Oh well. At what point do we worry?”
He shrugged. “This is a new one on me. Sorry.”
“Where are those guys?” Tension edged Sam’s voice as she stepped from the cabin, Edward close behind.
“We were just wondering that,” Kelly said, noting the needy touch of Edward’s chunky, sausage-like fingers on Sam’s elbow. She also noted when Sam gave his hand an absent swat and stepped away toward the bulkhead.
“Well, we don’t have all damned day. I wish they’d hurry the hell up.”
“They’ll be back soon, sweetie,” Edward crooned, and approached Sam again, but she moved away from his trajectory and stood beside Kelly.
“So how’re we going to—?”
“Wait!” Kelly said. “Listen!”
They turned in unison. They heard paddling approaching through the mist.
“Willy? That you?” Flanagan called, his eyes narrowed into the fog.
“Aye, Skip, it’s me.” The form of the dinghy materialized from the ashen haze and the voice seemed to echo from the water.
Flanagan scooted around the others to the gunnel and took the bowline on the raft when it bumped into the side of the charter. Willy