Nick looked down at his work as he answered. “She’s with her momma. We’re divorced.” Sadness drifted through Jason at the word, at the timbre of failure he heard in Nick’s voice. It suggested that the divorce hadn’t been Nick’s idea.
Jason nodded. “I know divorce, all right. And birthdays. That telescope we’re using—that was a birthday present from my dad. But I think his new wife picked it out for him.”
Nick nodded. “Divorce is hard on the kids. I always been thankful my parents had a good marriage.” He reached into his pocket, took out a box covered in muddy velveteen. “Here’s what I got for Arlette.” He opened the box. Jason leaned close and saw gold glowing bright, the glitter of diamonds and rubies. Some kind of flower thing. “That’s pretty,” he said.
Nick had probably picked out the necklace and earrings himself, too. Jason could tell by the pride in his face.
Nick closed the box and returned it carefully to his pocket. “I wanted to give it to her today,” he said.
“Well.” Jason glanced around at the river, the dense ranks of trees that lined the channel down which they traveled. “We’re heading in the right direction.”
Nick rubbed his face, brushed at the drying mud. “They’re worried for me. I know they are.” Jason felt an urge to be supportive. “We’ll get there,” he said.
“I just wish I’d used the radio last night. But I was so tired…”
“We’ll find another radio. Or a telephone. Or something.”
Nick shook his head. “I wanted to call her at breakfast. I wanted to get her before she went to school.” It didn’t seem like much, talk to his daughter before school. But it was very clear that Nick had counted on speaking to Arlette, and now that he hadn’t, he was so downcast that he couldn’t seem to get beyond his failure.
With something like a mental shock, Jason found himself wondering if his own father had been through similar agonies. His parents’ divorce had always seemed something they had chosen to inflict on him, yet another example of the random cruelty that adults always imposed on their children. That his parents might have been in pain themselves was a new and surprising thought.
“Fend off, there,” Nick said.
Jason snatched up a boat hook and pushed away a large chunk of frame building, a shed or chicken house, that threatened to run aboard the bass boat. His shoulders flamed with sunburn as he shoved the building away. Once the boat was out of danger, Jason put down the boat hook and sat again on the foredeck. He was surprised to see Nick watching him with sober eyes.
“Yes?” Jason said.
“You did a good thing back there,” Nick said. “You may have saved our lives.” Jason looked at Nick in surprise. He felt a flush mounting in his skin. He wasn’t used to adults finding reason to praise him.
“Thanks,” he said.
“A lot of people might not have figured it out. You knew how to put two and two together.” He looked down the river. “We’ll be okay if we just keep our eyes open.”
Jason nodded and felt awkward. He really didn’t know what to do when a grownup told him he was smart. It wasn’t as if it had ever happened before.
Nick brushed at his face again, knocking flakes of mud to the deck. He looked around at the smears of Mississippi ooze that covered the boat and its passengers. “Maybe we better try to clean up,” he said.
“Wash off some of this mud. Clean up the boat.”
“Okay.”
“And then put on some sunscreen. I found some in the towboat.”
“We’re going to need to fend off first.”
That frame building had come back, floating again toward the bass boat as if intent on climbing into the cockpit. Jason stood and picked up the boat hook. Nick’s praise made him feel stronger, more capable. Fired with purpose.
He leaned into the boat hook and drove the wreckage away.
Messrs. Cramer, Spear & Eichbaum Printers, Pittsburgh
Gentlemen:
Your being editors of the useful guide, The Ohio and Mississippi Navigator, induces me, for the sake of the western country traders to inform you as early as in my power the wonderful changes for the worse in some parts of the Mississippi river, occasioned by the dreadful earthquake which happened on the morning of the 16th of December last, and which has continued to shake almost every day since. As to its effects on the river I found but little from the mouth of Ohio to Neiv Madrid, from which place to the Chickasaw Bluffs, or Fort Pickering, the face of the river is wholly changed, particularly from Island No. 30, to Island No. 40; this part of the river burst and shook up hundreds of great trees from the bottom, and what is more singular they are all turned roots upwards and standing upstream in the best channel and swiftest water, and nothing but the greatest exertions of the boatmen can save them from destruction in passing those places. I should advise all those concerned to be particular in approaching Island No. 32, where you must warp through a great number, and when past them, bear well over from the next right hand point for fear of being drawn into the right schute of Flour Island, Island 33, which I should advise against, as that pass is become very dangerous unless in very high water. Two boats from Little Beaver are lately lost, and several much injured in that pass this season. Boats should hug the left shore where there is but few sawyers, and good water and fine landing on the lower point of the island, from there the next dangerous place is the Devil’s Race Ground, Island No. 36. Here I would advise boats never to pass to the left of the island and by all means to keep close to the right hand point, and then close rowid the sandbar on the lower end of the schute is very dangerous and the gap so narrow that boats can scarcely pass without being dashed on some of the snags, and should you strike one you can scarcely extricate yourself before you receive some injury. From this scene you have barely time to breathe and refresh, before you arrive at the Devil’s Elbow, alias the Devil’s Hackle, Islands No. 38 and 39 by far the worst of all; in approaching this schute you must hug close around the left hand point until you come in sight of the sand bar whose head has the appearance of an old field full of trees, then pull for the island to keep clear of these, and pass through a small schute, leaving all the island sawyers to the right, and take care not to get too near them, for should you strike the current is so rapid it will be with great difficulty you will be able to save, your boat and cargo.
The morning’s SITREP had a lot fewer unknowns on it. Information was starting to flow into Mississippi Valley Division headquarters. Most of the information was bad, but even bad news was better than waiting in suspense for the next unanticipated horror.
In addition to gathering information, Jessica had largely assembled her Joint Division Team, which would coordinate civil works projects and disaster relief throughout her assigned area. She’d appointed the JDT’s Chief of Staff, Subordinate Command Liaison, the Chief of Operations, the Staff Engineer, the Counsel, Contracting Officer, the Chief of Public Affairs—who would coordinate press briefings from a tent reserved for the purpose, provided of course that the press could ever find their way here through the disaster area.
As called for in the plan, Jessica had even appointed an official Economist. Rather more useful in the current situation was the Clerical Specialist, who was now assembling out of stores the inventory necessary for the JDT’s operation. The necessary inventory included Facsimile Machine (auto feed, programmable, plain paper); Binder Clips, large; Binder Clips, small; Correction Fluid, white; Forms, Tasking; and Rubber Bands, assorted sizes.
Jessica was pleased to observe a Pot, Coffee on the list. Before this emergency was over she planned to make a significant dent in the inventory’s Cups, foam, 8 oz.