“So what did Jan do?”
“He nearly panicked, that’s what he did. When I got back up to the bridge he was sounding the bells for the third time. Three whistles,” Olaf said, “it meant they were to check down. When they didn’t respond after the third try, he thought about sending a couple deckhands back to see what the hell was going on. In fact, he went so far as to summon them to the pilothouse.
“I’ll tell you what,” Olaf continued, “the look on the faces of those kids said as much as anything about the shape we were in. We’d been at it for years, right? Jan and myself and Joe? But these kids were just starting out, just finishing their first season. It was the first big blow any of them had seen. When Jan told them to put on their life vests and they took turns looking out the window into that wildness, Jesus, you’d’ve thought he was sending them right to hell.”
“But he didn’t send them, did he?”
“Goddamn,” Olaf said. “I sure as hell didn’t want him to. I thought it was a suicide mission.”
“But you had to cross it.”
“I did, later. But it was different when he asked me to go because I expected to. I was used to those responsibilities. These boys just wanted to go to bed. As it turned out, not sending them cost them any chance they might have had.” Here his voice trailed off again. Noah could practically see the parade of crewmates passing through his father’s memory.
“Anyway, Danny finally called, and Jan lit into him like I’d never seen. ‘Goddamnit, Oppvaskkum, I almost sent two boys across that deck. Do you have any idea how dangerous that would have been? Do you realize ignoring calls from the captain — even in emergency situations, especially in emergency situations — is unacceptable if not outright insubordinate? We’re fighting a monster up here and you don’t have the time to heed my calls?’ ” Olaf was doing his best impression of a man with a much deeper voice than his own.
“But he was trying to contain the leak. It wasn’t his fault,” Noah said.
“You’re right, it wasn’t his fault that the line was leaking, but I can’t imagine what kind of trouble they were in — or how fast that trouble must have found them — to justify not responding to the bridge. We’re talking about one of the cardinal rules here.”
“So even if a guy’s up to his ankles in diesel in a place as combustible as that, it’s more important that he pick up the phone right away than figure out how to stop the leak?”
“The point is that by not picking up the phone, he jeopardized the whole order of things. Because he didn’t pick up the phone, two guys were about to be sent out into that storm. Because he didn’t answer the phone, the guy in charge of the ship was paralyzed, see?”
The line of reasoning was so familiar to Noah that he almost laughed. How many times had his father used the same hierarchical theory to make Noah paint the garage or shovel the sidewalk at their old house on High Street? “Aren’t there exceptions to the cardinal rules?” Noah asked.
“I’ve never seen one,” Olaf said. “And I’ve seen a lot.”
That was familiar, too, his father slapping down the trump card of experience.
“What did Danny finally say that made Jan send you across the deck?”
“Danny knew right away how serious the problem was. As far as I could tell — and I never knew for certain — the main fuel line had ruptured near the tank, which was in the forward half of the engine room where the coal bunker had been the season before. The leak was serious enough that the entire engine-room crew, including the porters and steward, were busy trying to clean it. It had to have happened so goddamn fast — gotten out of hand so goddamn fast — that there was no chance to even sound an alarm.
“When Danny finally got around to calling the wheelhouse, there was no question about what kind of shape we were in. I only heard one side of the conversation, but there wasn’t much doubt about our dire straits. Jan decided in an instant that we’d have to seek shelter, and his last words to Danny sent a hot chill up my back: ‘Double-lash anything that could cause a spark, and keep a couple of those boys at the ready with fire extinguishers, we’re going to come about.’
“Now, how’d you like to hear something like that from the boss’s mouth?”
“It’d scare the shit out of me.”
“Well, it scared the shit out of me, too. Jan and Joe and me got together in the chart room. Old Jan, he briefed us. We got our position figured out, and we decided to bring her around and head straight west for Thunder Bay, where the Lachete, Prudence, and Heldig were already at anchor.
“We had a little shelter from the worst of it, being as close as we were to the north shore, but it wasn’t like we could just tip our caps and wave good-bye to those seas. We were going to pay for it. The good news was that once we got around, the wind would have been behind us and getting to Thunder Bay would have come pretty easy. Anyway, it was the only option we had.
“Goddamn,” Olaf almost whispered, “I remember like it was yesterday. He had the engine going slow astern while he waited for just the right lull — it seemed like days — and as soon as he felt it, he ordered engines full ahead and the rudder full left. Everyone in the wheelhouse swayed and lurched and grabbed for a railing or something to hold on to as she slid down one side of a trough and up another. She listed bad for a second or two while a big swell washed over the length of the deck.
“We took a couple more waves before we got on course, but we did manage to get turned around. We were looking at two and a half hours,” Olaf mused. “Two and a half, maybe three. That’s nothing. It’s the amount of time it takes to play a baseball game or drive from Duluth to Misquah. It’s nothing.”
“But it was too long,” Noah said.
“A half hour would have been too long,” Olaf concluded, making to stand up. He planted his slippers two feet apart, rested his elbows on his knees, lifted his head from beneath his drooping shoulders, and straightened at the knees, still bent at the waist. As he labored, a spasm of pain must have shot through his stomach because he fell back into the chair clenching his guts.
Noah jumped from the sofa and found himself standing over the old man with his hands out. His father’s face was frozen and gnarled in pain. “What can I do?” Noah asked. “Can I help?”
Olaf took a deep, tremulous breath and rolled his head back. “It’s cold in here,” he said. “I was going to put another log on the fire.”
Without a word Noah opened the stove and put a heavy piece of wood in among the embers.
“I need a pillow for my back,” Olaf said. “Could you get one?”
Noah went into the bedroom and grabbed one of the down pillows from his father’s bed.
“Here,” he said as he helped his father forward, pushing the lumpy, uncovered pillow down between the chair and his father’s lower back. “Do you want some aspirin or ibuprofen?”
“Nah,” Olaf wheezed.
“A glass of water?”
Olaf looked up at him. “I could use a glass of water.”
Noah brought him the water. “Lift your head,” he said.
When Olaf did, Noah took the afghan from behind him. The old man’s head fell back and rested on the chair again, and the soft, white, wrinkleless flesh of his neck was exposed in the lamplight. Noah stopped and stared at it. He wanted to touch it, to feel it, to confirm that it was as delicate and velvety as it looked.