|
|
|
|
|||||
|
EXUMA TIDE 
It was dusk, only twenty minutes until pitch
dark. Cecil gave Max the order to take off. He
had hoped to use the last few moments of daylight
to navigate to the beach on the opposite side of
Normans Cay. In the best of circumstances Max
hated to drive his boat at night. This was much
worse, beginning to get dark, no moon to provide
even a hint of light, unfamiliar and very
dangerous water. And to make things worse he
could not use his navigation lights as this was a
stealth mission. There were ten miles between
this location and the beach on the opposite side
of Normans Cay. Max took into consideration that
he was part of a team that was trying to rescue a
helpless little girl. With that thought in mind
he stopped worrying about the boat, and the
props, and any other consideration for the
welfare of his boat. The stakes were much higher
than that. Bimini Twist moved through the water at twenty knots. Max was at the helm while Gaffer and Cecil huddled on the deck of the cockpit examining a chart of the waters surrounding Normans Cay, illuminated by a small penlight. The boat's current heading of 165 degrees would take them past the southern point through water that never became shallower than four feet at mean low water. Several shoal areas would need to be avoided as well as an area of coral heads just under the surface. According to Cecil's calculations at their current speed they were about fifteen minutes from the dangerous area. Gaffer joined his father on the leaning post at the helm. “This is going to be very tricky in a few minutes,” Gaffer warned him. “The water on the way to the point in not good.” Max asked, “Is the bad area in view of the marina on the island?” “Let me look,” answered Gaffer. He knew what his father was thinking. It was everyone's theory that the kidnappers were somewhere near the small basin that they had referred to as the marina. Perhaps there was a house or a building or some place where the kidnappers could hide out until the exchange was made. If they were out of sight of this basin when they entered the treacherous, coral-laced water, then it would cause no harm to shine a light into the water to help them avoid a meeting of the props with the coral heads. Cecil agreed that if the boat were out of sight of the marina that the use of the light would be a good idea. He and Gaffer poured over the chart again, drawing lines this way and that, studying the best route through. The good news was that there was no possible way to see Bimini Twist from anywhere near the marina. It was decided that they would chance it with the lights. Ten minutes later Gaffer tapped his father on the shoulder. “This is it,” he said. “Slow down. We've got a couple of miles of bad water.” Max pulled back on the throttles and brought the boat to eight knots. This proved to be a bad speed as the boat could not plane at that speed and the props tended to be much deeper in the water with the stern of the boat down and the bow up. He would have to either speed up to plane, or slow down to near idle. While idle speed would be the safest choice, it would take them too long to get where they were going. He decided to get up on a plane. He would have to be going fifteen knots to do that. It would be disastrous for the boat if they hit something at that speed, but it was also fast enough so that the boat needed less water to cruise. Gaffer lay on the bow with his light fixed on the water ahead of him. He strained his eyes to see into the water ahead of the boat. But they were going too fast. He snapped off the light and made his way back to the helm. “This won't work,” he told his father. “At this speed before I could warn you, you would have already run something over.” “Then there's only one thing to do,” said Max. He pushed the throttles forward and brought the boat to twenty-eight knots. “At this speed we really only need about a foot of water.” For an additional measure of safety he pressed the tilt button for the engines. The props tilted up about four more inches and the bow of the boat came further out of the water. “This is probably our best angle,” he said. “But if we hit something, it won't be good.” To try to encourage him Cecil said flippantly, “Then I suggest you don't hit anything.” Max's breath was coming is short bursts. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and from time to time he could see large dark objects pass under the boat. He did not know if they were coral heads, grass patches, shoal areas, or what. He just kept going, nervous, jittery, and worried to death. It would not be so bad if a prop touched bottom. They could bend or break, but they were easily replaced. But if they ran hard aground, not only would that destroy the boat, but his passengers could be badly injured by the sudden, jarring stop. Those dark objects passing under the hull were making Max very nervous. He gritted his teeth against the crunch that he was certain would come. Gaffer offered him water, or something else to take his mind off the current problem. But nothing calmed him. This was too scary. Cecil also saw Max's nervousness but he decided to let the man alone with his thoughts and leave the rest up to fate. Gaffer joined Cecil for another look at the chart spread out on the deck. Gaffer ran his finger along an imaginary line from where they began their trek across the banks to where he thought they could be five minutes later. It appeared that in another two or three minutes they would be back in the good water and only two miles from the beach where they were to let off the men. He returned to the helm and told his father the news. Max seemed visibly to relax. In a less than steady voice all he said was, “I hate driving at night.” Once out of the shoal area Max asked Gaffer to take over the helm while he and Cecil made one more check of the chart together. Each man wanted to be certain they understood where the rendezvous spot would be when the men returned from the reconnaissance mission. They agreed that one way or another the men would end up moving through the marina but, because of the uncertainty of what they might find on the island, they had to recommend against Max bringing Bimini Twist too close to shore. They selected a spot a quarter mile offshore and to the south of the marina entrance for the boat to wait to rendezvous with the team. Cecil and his men would try to be there within an hour. Max, barring a meeting of his props with the sea bottom, would be there within thirty minutes and would drop anchor to wait for him. According to the chart the depth at this location at low tide, which unfortunately it was now, was two to three feet with rock outcrops everywhere. As Bimini Twist idled at a snails pace into the beach, Gaffer shined his flashlight into the water. This was a perfect location for what they were doing. The bottom was pure sand and they would be able to bring the boat all the way up to the beach. As they did that and the bow touched land, the men all piled off the boat. As they jumped off the bow, Gaffer considered for a minute what the boots of the six men were doing to the gel-coat finish. It was just a momentary, natural reaction that he dismissed the instant all six men were safely ashore. The last man off the boat turned and shoved Bimini Twist back away from the beach. Max hit reverse with both engines for just long enough to put about a twenty-five foot distance between himself and the shore. From that distance he and Gaffer huddled on the deck to chart their best route to the rendezvous location. |
|||||
|
|||||
