Whither Thou Goest

Chapter 4-1

Chapter 4“What are you going to do with us?” The skipper’s voice was once more contained.

“We’s putting you off in a boat, and youse takes your chances with them critters that live on Iwi Po’o.” Whitey continued to flap his gums.

I stopped listening to him. One of the lifeboat davits was empty, and I knew that must be the one the mutineers intended the skipper, Mr. Chetwood, and Nick to use. I peered over the rail. The lifeboat was riding gently on the waves that slapped against the hull of the August Moon. I swung a leg over the side, caught a rope, and shimmied down.

I sat down hard when I saw Charley and Hildy huddled in the bow. He put his finger to his lips to forestall my questions and raised a tarpaulin. Beneath it were three rifles and six rucksacks and canteens; he’d never doubted I would be one of their party. Later I learned that the rucksacks contained what food and other supplies he and Hildy could gather on the spur of the moment.

“Stay out of light, Johnny. This way they no know we here.”

I nodded and crawled to the stern. Then the three of us waited in the darkness.

“G’wan, get over the side before we throw you over.”

“Where’s Johnny?” There was panic in my lover’s voice.

“We’s keeping your nancy boy, Chetwood. Mebbe we’ll let the fishes have him. You ain’t gonna want him when we’s done with him.” Coarse laughter followed that statement, and I felt sick. But I’d die before I let anyone other than Mr. Chetwood touch me ever again.

“You—”

“Church, no!” The words were hardly out of Captain Johansen’s mouth when there was a sodden thud. What was going on up there? “Nick!”

“Aye, aye, Skipper. I got him.”

“Oww! Hey!” Whitey cried out as someone must have struck him.

Dutch snarled, “Let that be a lesson to you, Whitey. I dole out the punishments on this tub.”

I surged to my feet and grabbed the rope, about to climb back up to see what they’d done to my lover.

“No,” Charley warned in a harsh whisper, diving toward the back of the boat and seizing my wrist in a bruising grip. “You stay. Skipper and Nick get your man down safe. You go up, they take you, we all die.”

“Why?” I asked sullenly. “I’d be the one going back.”

“Mr. Chetwood no leave without you. Skipper stay for his friend, I stay for Skipper.” He hefted his cleaver, which I hadn’t seen before. “We all die.”

“Please don’t go, Johnny,” Hildy piped up quietly. “I don’t like those men.”

“All right.” I gave in to their request, although that was the last thing I wanted to do. My fingers itched to grab a rifle and start firing, but I’d never used a gun, and I knew I’d do no one any good with such a headstrong action.

Hildy scurried to me and burrowed against my side. “Thanks, Johnny. Those men scare me. They’re like the ones in Selamat datan Daddy wouldn’t let come near me.”

I was relieved to hear her father at least had some sense.

“All right, Skipper,” Dutch said. “You’d best be on your way.”

The lifeboat pitched as Nick dropped into it and struggled not to go over the side. Then the skipper lowered Mr. Chetwood down.

“I’ll take him,” I said in Nick’s ear, and he jerked and nearly dropped his burden.

“You? You’re here?” Apparently Nick hadn’t realized the lifeboat was already occupied.

“You think I’d stay on board without him?”

“I thought they’d got you.” He squeezed my arm. “I’m glad they didn’t.”

“Thanks,” I said gruffly. It never failed to amaze me that he accepted me because Captain Johansen and Mr. Chetwood did. “You’re still bleeding.”

“It’s nothing. Head wounds bleed like a bastard.” He rubbed his sleeve across his forehead to mop up the blood. “It’ll stop soon.”

Just then, my lover groaned, and I sank down onto my seat with him in my arms.

“It’s all right, Mr. Chetwood. I’ve got you,” I whispered, pressing my lips to his ear.

“Johnny.” There was something in his voice… He turned in my embrace. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Not likely. You know me. I’ll always turn up like a bad penny.”

He slid his arms around me and held on tight. “Johnny.” He’d never said my name that way before, like a caress.

The boat rocked as the skipper slid down the rope. “What about food? Weapons?” he barked at the men above him.

“We let you have your lives. Now, row for ‘em.” Dutch turned away from the rail.

Someone laughed harshly and fired a pistol at us. The shot went wide. It was followed by the sound of blows.

“You’re a rotten shot, Whitey, and you’re wasting ammunition.”

“Oww! I’m sorry, Dutch. I was just trying to throw a scare into ‘em, I tell ya. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell it to the Marines. G’wan, beat it. I’m sick of the sight of you.”

“We better get while the getting’s good, Skipper,” Nick whispered.

“I’m not leaving without Charley,” the skipper said, ice in his words.

“No need.” Charley said something else in Chinese and touched his shoulder

“What the—Charley?” Captain Johansen was so surprised he almost lost his balance and sat on his cook. “Oh, my friend, were they insane to maroon you?”

“They no maroon Charley. Charley no stay with those bad men. I go with my—” He said a word in Chinese. “Let them eat their own cooking—they starve for sure, I tell you”

“Thank you. But I think we’re likely to starve also.”

The cook raised the tarp to display our provisions, and the skipper gripped his shoulder.

“Good man.” He spotted me and Hildy. “Mr. Smith. Miss Hildy. My, my. We have our own crew. Thank God.” He cleared his throat and said briskly, “All right, Mr. Hendriksen. Let’s shove off.”

Nick used one of the oars to push away from the August Moon, and together he and the skipper rowed, long, smooth strokes that took us away from the ship.

The sound of material being ripped disturbed the otherwise silent night, and then Hildy leaned forward. “Here, Nick. You can use this piece of my nightie to make a bandage for the cut on your forehead.”

Nick seemed flustered as he reached for it. “Thanks—uh—little girl.” He tied it around his head; it would keep the blood still oozing from his wound from dripping into his eyes.

“My name is Hildy,” she added shyly.

“Thanks, Hildy.” He smiled, then picked up the oars and slid back into the steady rhythm of Captain Johansen’s strokes.

“Here, Johnny. You’re going to need a strip, too, to keep your hair out of your eyes.” Hildy had torn off another piece of material and gave it to me.

“Thanks, honey.” I gave her shoulder a light squeeze, pulled my hair into a tail, and tied it back.

“No need to worry about starving, Skipper,” Mr. Chetwood said, although he hadn’t seen the rucksacks. “Once we get to that beach, we should be able to find the path that led to the tunnel through the mountain. We’ll manage fine.”

“Do you really think so, Chet? I hope you’re right.” He stared bleakly at the August Moon, as if trying to commit her lines to memory.

Suddenly there appeared to be a scuffle on board. There were shouts, a scream, and then a splash as the men threw someone overboard.

“Help me! I can’t swim!”

“How could any ship’s captain worth his salt not know how to swim?” The skipper shook his head. “Come about, Mr. Hendriksen.”

“Skipper, d’you think that’s a good idea?”

Captain Johansen gave him a look.

“All right, all right, coming about, sir.”

We rowed back to pick up the hapless seaman.

“I’m gonna drown! Save me! Save—” His cries were becoming waterlogged.

There was raucous laughter from the August Moon. “We got rid of a good captain, Lillegard. We ain’t gonna replace him with the likes of you.”

“Oh, damn. It would have to be Lillegard.” Mr. Chetwood straightened, then flinched and rubbed the side of his head above his ear.

“Do we have to save him?” Hildy shivered against my other side. “He’s a bad man, Johnny.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Hildy, but in good conscience, I can’t let him drown.” The skipper sighed.

“He might poison the fishes,” I muttered. Hildy laughed, but I could still feel the tension in her small body. She nestled closer to me. “It’s oke, honey. I won’t let him hurt you.” My lover gave me a strange look. “Mr. Chetwood?” But he just shook his head.

Flailing hands found the lifeboat and clutched desperately. Nick grabbed the Norwegian by the seat of his pants and yanked him into the boat.

“Thanks. Oh, God, thank—” Lillegard coughed, spewing sea water all over our feet, and met our cold gazes with a weak smile. He sank down to the bottom of the boat.

“You better watch it, Lillegard,” Nick snarled. “This is all your fault, y’ know. If you hadn’t gotten the men all riled up with those stinking lies about the skipper and Mr. Chetwood really looking for another saber-toothed tiger on that island, and being willing to sacrifice them to get it, none of this would’ve happened. I’d’ve told you, Skipper, but I didn’t find out about it till just before all hell broke loose. And then Dutch slugged me, and I hit my head, and who’d’ve thought the men would be stupid enough to fall for his line of bull?”

“What I’d like to know is how the August Moon wound up in these waters.” The skipper stared intently at Lillegard, who cowered before his gimlet eye.

“Why you looking at me? I didn’t do nothing.”

“Of course you didn’t. You’d just better pray we aren’t met with spears and knives. The natives had quite a way with them, if I recall.”

“They’ll help us,” Mr. Chetwood said with easy confidence.

“Do you really think so, Chet? I hope you’re right.”

“What are you talking about? After they stood around and let Cat get kidnapped… Skipper, they f*****g owe us.”

I poked his back.

“What, kid?”

I nodded toward Hildy.

He groaned softly. “Sorry, little girl.”

“That’s oke. I’ve heard it before.”

“Not from me.”

She smiled at him, but whatever she might have said was cut off as the breakers lifted the lifeboat high and hurled it toward the shore.

Nick shipped his oars and prepared to drop over the side, into the waist-deep water to drag the lifeboat forward. A swell tipped the boat, and he tumbled over the side and went under, to come up spluttering.

“Oh my God!”

“What…” I looked up, and in spite of the fact we were in the tropics, I felt ice cold. “Oh, hell.”

Hildy whimpered, and Charley said something in Chinese that didn’t sound like he was happy either.

“What?” Lillegard whined. “Why ain’t you—” His words changed into a thin, high-pitched wail.

The entire face of the mountains had sheared off, leaving nothing more than a wall of shattered rock. The beach and whatever had been beyond it were gone, either on the ocean’s floor or buried under tons of rock.

“This…this isn’t good.” The skipper’s gaze went from the open expanse of ocean behind us to the shocking stretch of land before us. “Those poor people who lived on this side of the mountain.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Didn’t Simon Holmes say the mountain he tracked Miss Catriona to appeared to be an ancient volcano?” Captain Johansen asked.

Mr. Chetwood looked thoughtful, then nodded. “That’s right, Skipper. He talked about the vents that provided enough steam so he could follow those…people without being seen.”

The boat listed as Nick scrambled to get back into it, and it took on a couple of inches of water.

“An earthquake? Maybe that volcano.” Mr. Chetwood gestured to the north, where a plume of gray smoke rose. “There were some rumbles even as we snatched Catriona and got the hell out of there.”

“Are you oke, Mr. Chetwood?”

“Yeah, kid. But oh hell, we are in trouble.”

“Mr. Hendriksen, we’re getting out of here.” Captain Johansen’s face looked as haggard as Mr. Chetwood’s.

“Aye, aye, Skipper.”

“Nick.” This time I poked him in the back. “Take the skipper’s oars. I’ll take your place.”