A Fine Cast of Characters - J. Dane Tyler [21]
“So? What’s the deal?” Sam spat, wringing her hands at her chest.
“Well … I dunno, ‘zactly,” Jurgen said, and gave a helpless shrug to Flanagan. “Skip, there weren’t nobody on deck, and no lights in the cabin, neither. We called, but nobody answered us. All’s quiet. But we decided one of us oughta stay aboard just in case, ‘cause she’s moving.”
Flanagan’s face went slack. “What?”
“What do you mean, ‘moving’?” Sam demanded, a line forming between her brows.
“I mean, it’s moving. Slow, but gaining speed. Don’t seem to be nobody aboard her, Skip, but she’s able to move. Didn’t get a good look at her rigging though, so I can’t say if she’s sailing or drifting, but we’re dead here, and she’s moving. Figured we’d come back and get the rest of you before it gets away.”
“Abandon ship?” Flanagan seemed stunned for a moment, but cleared his mind and stared at Willy. “How fast’s she going?”
“Can’t say, Skip, but if we don’t hustle outta here pretty quick, she’s gonna get lost in the fog, and Mr. Beaushanks didn’t look too keen on staying alone aboard her.”
“Damn it, Willy, what the hell are you—you forced my hand. We got no choice now.” Flanagan set his jaw and sniffed a sharp breath through his nostrils.
Jurgen dipped his head. “Didn’t mean to, Skip, but … we ain’t moving. She is.”
Flanagan sighed again. “Why’d you leave Charles alone out there?”
“We agreed on it. Figured if the boat drifted outta sight, we could at least call out and he’d answer. Play a game of Marco-Polo and track it. But, Skip? We gotta go now. See?”
Jurgen pointed toward the fading silhouette of the ship, wafting and waning into the fog, growing fainter.
Flanagan shook his head, jaw muscles twitching. “Yeah, I see, and we’re losing daylight. Awright, everybody get aboard the dinghy. Cripes, Willy, you shoulda talked to me first.”
“How, Skip? How could I do that?” Willy’s eyes pled for understanding. Flanagan’s face softened.
“Yeah, I see your point. Hell, no sense worrying ‘bout it now. We can come back for my boat when we make land.”
“Even if she’s only drifting on the current, the fog’ll lift and we can use the flares, Skip.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So what the fuck’re we doing, then? Going over to that other piece of shit boat? How the hell do we know it’s not sinking?” Sam crossed her arms and settled her weight on one leg, throwing her hip into Edward’s ribs and knocking him away from her.
“Well, we don’t. But—”
“‘But?’ You’re gonna say ‘but’ with that?”
“Honey, please, let the man—”
“Shut the fuck up, Edward, or the next trip you’ll take will be to HR en route to civil court.” She fired daggers with her eyes and Edward blushed and cowered.
“Ms. Whitaker, please. We ain’t got a lot of options here. We’re dead in the water, and that ship’s moving. If it were sinking, it’d probably be listing or leaning or something. She’s steady and stable in the water, and we don’t have a choice.”
“We sure as hell do,” she fired back, and stepped toward Flanagan. “We can wait out the fog on this boat just as well, and fire flares from here, too. At least we know this one’s not sinking. Don’t we … ‘Captain’?” She didn’t mask the venom in the last word.
Flanagan put his hands on his hips and squared against her. “Look, lady. I’m the skipper on this boat. We got a man alone over there on that ship, and it’s setting sail without us. I have to make a damn decision here and I say we’re going over. That boat’s moving, this one ain’t, and that makes the odds of getting help better over there. Clear enough for ya, Ms. Whitaker? If it ain’t, you and your boyfriend can stay aboard this one, but I’m taking the provisions with us. Now, are you coming or not?”
Sam’s teeth ground and her jaw muscles bulged, sank, bulged again. “Fine. But you’d better be right, or you’ll …” She huffed and turned from him.
“Yeah, whatever. Okay, get aboard the dinghy.” Flanagan nodded to Jurgen, who hopped back into the lifeboat and waited for the others, while the skipper held the bowline