The Big Thaw - Donald Harstad [146]
“Fast as they can,” muttered Lamar.
The DNR iceboat accelerated rapidly, and came flying onto the concrete ramp at about 30 mph, lofting and skidding up the concrete slab for about 100 feet, before coming to rest behind a tin shed. The sense of relief was enormous, if fleeting.
As the Beauregard took on more and more water, her weight increased. As she settled deeper and deeper, the drag on the hull also increased. I was beginning to wonder if the yard engines were gong to be able to pull her in at all. So was Captain Olinger.
“It’s gonna be goddamned close,” he said.
As we watched, she began to glide toward us, but it was pretty obvious that she was going to be down a good amount before she got anywhere near the shore.
The hatchway doors along the lower deck began to open up, and passengers began to stream out toward the upper decks.
Suddenly, there was a belch of smoke from the two yard engines, and they began to move rapidly up the railroad tracks, being very careful not to gain speed too quickly. A few moments later, and the Beau had developed a noticeable movement. She was coming in.
She was also going down. The main deck was nearly awash for its full length, and the increasing angle at the stern had caused water to lap onto the rear portion of the second deck. It was going to be awfully close.
“If she strikes the bottom with her stern,” said Captain Olinger, as much to himself as anyone, “I don’t think the yard engines will be able to overcome the drag…” He looked at Lamar and said, “If that happens, we’ll lose her.”
The gunfire from the Beauregard seemed to have stopped completely, and many firemen were converging toward the area where it looked like she’d beach, if she was lucky.
“Do we have any fire trucks with really long extension ladders?” asked Adams. “She’s pretty close now …”
“Nope,” I answered. The tallest occupied structure in Nation County was three stories tall. Hook and ladder trucks weren’t available.
Suddenly, the Beauregard seemed to lurch, and swayed over to her left, before righting herself. I could see some ten or fifteen passengers lose their footing, and slip and slide into the water.
“Fuck!” Lamar yelled at Sally to get the rescue crews into the water with whatever boats they had available.
“Struck the bottom,” said Olinger, “but she bounced a bit.”
The bow of the Beauregard was about 25 feet from the ramp, and the emergency personnel were beginning to prepare plank, netting, and a short section of floating dock that they’d detached from a long, beached dock about 50 yards from the water. The Beau was also way down at the stern, with water beginning to lap around the glazing at the rear of the third deck.
Suddenly, both the General Beauregard and the yard engines stopped, with the tension causing the bow cable to sing.
“Back the engines down!” hollered Lamar, into his walkie-talkie. “She’s stuck … stop …”
Before he could finish, the cable snapped clear of the bow ring on the Beau, whipping and snaking through the air, flashing toward the yard engines. It struck one of the fire trucks near the ramp, rocking it, and throwing an extension ladder into the air.
Then, stillness.
The General Beauregard was stopped about ten feet from the end of the concrete boat ramp. We’d won.
Twenty-nine
Sunday, January 18, 1998, 1647
Let’s go,” said Hester, as she and Art grabbed a stack of papers.
“What are those?” I asked, heading for the door right behind them.
“Xerox photos of Gabriel, to hand out to the troops. We don’t want Gabe to slip by us, they gotta know what he looks like,” said Hester.
I figured Volont wouldn’t be too pleased. What the hell.
We ran all the way from the pavilion to the dock area.
Fire, rescue, and boat security personnel were busy preparing the portable ramps to carry the passengers to the dockside, and most of our officers were getting ready for a fight in case the suspects were crazy enough to resist. I was still very worried about that. Smart money would just surrender. But, then, smart money wouldn