“You get me food and guns, buddy, and you can sail Scorpio for the rest of your life.”
“Good,” said Philip.
Oscar wandered aft to check on the fishing. “Well, Neil?” inquired Philip, leaning forward.
Neil shrugged, then smiled and raised his now empty glass.
“I’d like to see both the Mollycoddle and the estate,” he said. “Is that possible?”
“Oh, absolutely,” said Philip, grinning and standing up quickly with surprising grace for such a bulky man. “Sheila spent the morning reconnoitering the estate, and the Mollycoddle is moored at Martin’s Marina. We’ve borrowed three bikes for the occasion.” Philip was grinning triumphantly.
“Rather sure of yourself, weren’t you?”
“You’re a sailor, Neil. This hunk of filth called St. Thomas could no more hold you down than a cinderblock could hold Vagabond at anchor.”
“You think I’ll drag out to sea, do you?” asked Neil, smiling and standing up.
“Drag, old boy?” said Philip, coming forward to clap Neil on the shoulder. “No, sir. You’ll fly.”
“From the sound of your plan,” he said, “I’d better.”
That night Neil explained to Frank, Jeanne, Tony, and Macklin the plans they were developing for the raid on Mollycoddle. Although Macklin indicated approval, Tony, irritable, found a half-dozen weaknesses in the plans. Frank, looking fatigued, simply didn’t feel that the possible gains justified the risks. After Tony and Macklin had gone down to the main cabin to prepare a small meal for themselves, Neil continued to pressure Frank in the darkened wheelhouse.
“No, Neil,” Frank said, “I just can’t see it. Someone would get killed. Your whole plan scares me.”
“Frank, we’ve got to leave,” Neil insisted. “There’s nothing for us here. St. Thomas is close to exploding. Hundreds of people will leave on the Norway…”
“There’s St. Croix, there’s Puerto Rico…”
“Don’t bullshit yourself!” Neil exploded. “In these islands there’s only chaos, revolution, starvation, madness, and war. That’s all we’ve found, that’s all there is. It’ll only get worse.”
“And you think stealing another man’s ship will improve things!”
“I want all of us to survive. And without food and weapons we won’t make it.”
Frank strode away from Neil and glared out across Vagabond’s foredeck at the few distant lights on the hillsides of Charlotte Amalie.
“I’m not sure I want to be an accessory to piracy,” he said.
“Then you’ll be an accessory to starvation and radiation sickness and death.”
“We’re still alive so far,” he said huskily.
“By outsailing the fucking war! And that’s what we’ve got to do now.”
“And what about Jeannie and the children? They can’t take the ocean. They need a place on land.”
“I know that,” said Neil, shaking his head and grimacing. “I know that, Frank. Believe me, I know that dragging everyone out to sea again isn’t going to bring happiness, but this is probably our best chance. Philip’s going to try to take the Mollycoddle whether we join him or not. Sailing in a convoy with him improves our chances against pirates. It would be nice if we could wait a week or a month, but we can’t.”
“You’re acting too fast, Neil,” Frank said, shaking his head wearily. “Our food supplies are nil, our water low, and you want to solve all our problems, steal a boat from pirates, raid their estate, and put out to sea all in the next couple of days. It’s too much. It’s too sudden. I can’t do it.”
“But you, yourself—”
“No! Leave me alone. I’m done. I’m sick. I’m exhausted. I’m going to my berth and sleep. I’m too tired to argue with you and too tired to agree with your plan. I’m sorry.” And he left Neil to go to his cabin.
Neil stared after him angrily until Frank had slid the hatch closed behind him. Fists clenched, he walked to the opposite cockpit and was surprised to see Jeanne’s hatchway open and Jeanne standing there, looking calmly up at him. Her face showed her fatigue. She was wearing Frank’s bathrobe. The two of them looked at each other expressionlessly.
“So we have to leave again…” Jeanne mused softly.
“Apparently not,” commented Neil, anger still in his voice.
“But you feel we should… steal some food and weapons and sail away.”
“Yes,” Neil answered quietly, realizing that she had listened to the whole loud argument. “I’m sorry. I just don’t see how we could make a home anyplace in the West Indies.”
Jeanne was still staring up at him, absently pulling the lapels of her bathrobe closer to her neck. She glanced across to Frank’s cabin on the other side of the boat.
“Come down to my cabin,” she said, turning and walking down the ladder. Neil swung himself into the opening and went down after her, sliding the hatch shut behind him. She stood facing him halfway down the narrow floor area of her cabin between her berth and Skip and Lisa’s. Skip was presumably asleep in the darkness, Lisa ashore with Jim. Being alone with her sent something warm stirring through him, although the present situation was distinctly nonerotic.
“Frank’s a gentle man,” Jeanne said.
“I know.”
“And Jim’s withdrawal from the boat and his… relationship with Lisa has upset him.”
Neil nodded, wishing he could see her face more clearly.
She hesitated. “And… us… that upsets him,” she went on. “He… he’s in no condition to make such an important decision, especially on such short notice. He’s an awfully good man, but at the moment…”
“Yes?”
“I think you should go ahead with your plan without him,” Jeanne concluded quietly, looking up at Neil. “I’d like to help in any way I can,” she went on. “And I think it’s important that Jim be part of it. And Lisa. And Katya.”
“If they’ll come,” Neil said sullenly.
“They’ll come.”
Neil watched her carefully. She stood there, clearly exhausted, but with the same air of regal authority she always seemed able to maintain.
“It’ll mean a long two-, three-, or even four-week ocean voyage,” he said. “A lot of it like the one we had from the Bahamas, slamming, slamming, slamming. There won’t be any escaping it.”
She looked back at him and smiled. “I’m used to it.” Then she shrugged a tiny shrug, her chin falling down. “But someday…” Tears had formed in her eyes.
Neil held her close and caressed her hair.
“Jeanne…” he said, holding her tightly. “When an animal is being chased, after a while all it wants to do is lie down and let the dogs take it. It wants it all to end.”
At first she held herself stiffly in his embrace and then collapsed against him, her arms returning his hug, her hair pressed against his cheek. Although she made no sound, in her fierce hug he could feel the tiny tremors of her crying.
“…Run…” she said.
“You keep running,” Neil said. “Later, if you make it, you can have the leisure to worry about what kind of a life you want to lead. Right now, for us, the dogs are still at our heels.”
Jeanne nodded, but she looked sad and beaten.
“I love you,” he said softly in her ear.
“Oh, Neil, how I wish we could…”
As she looked up at him Neil bent to kiss her, and as they kissed, lifted her up to put her on her berth.
“No…” she said mechanically.
He climbed up beside her on the berth, wishing he could see her face, her eyes. Groping at the head of the bed, he found a flashlight and turned it on, letting its light fall against the far wall. She was staring upward, not looking at him. Her expression was tense, withdrawn.