Valiant Lancer of Prince William Sound
Chapter 2
The ocean was covered with frothy whitecaps and aglow with the green
phosphorescence of plankton frenzied by the wind's fury and the lashing
rain. The waves, pounding on the rocks, sprayed the wildly whipping boughs
of the evergreen trees. Amidst the black sea, a pale-yellow light lit the
pilot house of a small fishing boat, roughly caught and tossed by the waves.
Inside the dimly lit cabin of the pitching vessel stood two men. One
gripped the wheel in strong, tanned hands and peered at the glass in front
of him in an effort to see through the curtain of rain and salt spray. His
blond companion stood next to him, legs braced against the motion of the
boat, wiping off the moisture rapidly condensing on the window pane. He
stopped for a moment, pulled some paper towels off the roll he held in his
left hand, and tried to stuff them in a crack above the window to stem the
flow of water down the inside of the glass.
"Wipe that window, Sam," his partner barked. "Every time
you stop, it fogs up, and I can't see a blasted thing."
"That's not my fault. I was just trying to stop one of these leaks.
Why don't you do any maintenance on this tub, Ted?" Sam yelled over
the storm.
"It costs money to keep these things running. She broke down last
summer during the best week of fishing. Cost two thousand dollars for repairs
besides what I lost from not having my nets out. That was expensive."
"Not half as expensive as getting caught creek robbing," Sam
replied. Silence fell on the two men as they remembered the disappoints
of the last fishing season.
A wave caught the black, starboard side of the Jolly Roger, rolling
the boat hard to port. In her cabin, the two men braced themselves; while
in her hold, a wave of oily bilge water soaked the still forms of two dogs.
The smaller one stirred and struggled to her feet, slipping on the greasy
hull of the boat. Whining and quivering with fear, Magic turned to Lancer,
for once seeking attention. Puzzled when he did not respond, she whined
again and then pawed him.
Lancer surfaced slowly from peaceful, black oblivion. Diesel fumes and
rank fish odors assaulted his nostrils; the labored, screaming roar of the
engine filled his ears. Disoriented and confused, he desperately fought
for footing with scum-blackened paws in the three inches of water that sloshed
through the hold. He arose and slipped back down, weakly fighting the violent
motion of the boat. Exhausted and shaking, he fell back to the bottom of
the pitch black, fume-filled hold. The strained, high pitched whine of the
engine screamed in his sensitive ears and filthy water washed over his once
bright coat.
The wind whistled through the cracks around the door of the Jolly
Roger's cabin as she rolled and pitched in the ever-increasing seas.
As the Jolly Roger drew abreast of Perry Island Point, the Esther
Island Light was barely visible through the storm. Wells Passage, Passage
Canal, and the small ex-army town of Whittier lay ahead. Sam stood with
the now diminished roll of paper towels in his hands.
"How are we going to get these mutts into Whittier and onto the
train without anyone noticing?"
"Those mutts are not mutts. They're valuable show dogs. Once we
ship them down to Washington with the false registration papers, they're
going to pay for some of those repairs you've been complaining about. Whittier
won't be a problem. We'll wash them off tonight and stick them down below
tomorrow until train time. If anyone asks any questions, we're just delivering
them to Anchorage for a friend." Ted replied.
A particularly frenzied gust caught the Jolly Roger and jerked
the wheel out of Ted's hand, spinning it violently. The boat pitched to
starboard and threw both men off their feet, leaving the boat broadside
to the waves. Ted managed to grab the wheel and spin the small boat around
before she was rolled by the combined effort of wind and sea. The dog bite
on his left hand began to bleed again.
The storm's getting worse. Port Wells is going to be nasty. I don't
like it, not at night. It's too dark. Let's go into Culross Cove. We don't
need to be in Whittier to meet that train until four tomorrow afternoon."
Sam nodded. His face was pale. He didn't care for storms. He didn't
care for any of this, but they needed the money to fix the boat.
The water in the cove was flat, although gusts of wind kept the Jolly
Roger swinging continuously on her anchor. The two men surveyed the
cabin's disorder in silence. Soggy paper towels, grey with grime, were spread
recklessly over scraps of polypropylene line, abandoned rubber boots full
of holes, tattered weather-worn charts, empty beer cans, rusty fish hooks,
a cold steel revolver, and a sandwich meat wrapper. Grimly, the partners
shook their heads and turned their backs upon the disarray. The dark haired
man fiddled with the warped wooden door, trying to get the broken lock to
disengage. Finally, in anger, he kicked it with his heavy hip boots. The
door emitted a cracking sound, swung free and slammed hard against the outside
of the cabin. The men walked out into the wind and rain pulling on their
foul weather gear. Together, they leaned down and lifted the top of the
fish hold.
At first, the dark hold seemed empty under the weak beam of Sam's flashlight,
but a back corner revealed the two wet, grimy dogs. They looked bedraggled
and scared. Magic stood pressed against Lancer's side. Lancer stood weakly
braced against the hull of the boat. His ears still rang with the whine
of the engine.
"The muzzle has come off the female, but she seems friendly enough.
Watch out for the male. He bites hard." Ted said.
"I'll get some dish soap and two buckets, if you'll get those two
out of the hold," answered his partner.
As Ted swung down, the two collies pressed further back into the hold,
Magic hiding behind Lancer. Ted reached down and swung the still weak, sixty
pound male swiftly up on deck. Carefully, he approached the female. She
shrank from his touch but showed no sign of aggressiveness. He gathered
her wet, matted body in his arms and quickly dropped her beside the male.
Dazed, Lancer stood where he had been deposited on the deck. He sniffed
the fresh air. It bore familiar odors. He had been here before. He and Ann
had run the beaches and romped in the meadows. But Ann wasn't here now.
The only people around were the two men who had hurt both Magic and him.
Magic stood beside him now. He turned to touch noses with her, then
walked over to the edge of the boat. Magic stayed close to his side. He
sniffed longingly at the wind. The night was too dark for him to see the
shoreline clearly. He whined and looked down at the black, wind-rippled
water. Having fallen off a twenty foot high dock when he was a puppy, Lancer
had developed a fear of swimming. He could no more have jumped in and swum
for freedom than he could have scaled a twenty foot wall.
As the two collies stood poised on the gunwale gazing out into darkness,
the two men approached, each carrying a bucket of water. Magic shrank against
Lancer as they neared. Lancer's tulip ears caught the sound of boots upon
the fishing boat's wooden deck, and he turned to face them just as the men
threw their buckets of water at him. Surprised by the wall of water hitting
him in the face, Lancer jumped back at its impact, the salt water stinging
his eyes. His feet found no firm deck under them, only air. He felt the
shock of the ocean closing over his head as he struggled to breathe - the
muzzle still firmly holding his jaws closed. He surfaced almost immediately.
Magic, seeing her companion leaving her and being faced with her two
enemies, leapt to join him sending him under once more. He surfaced again
and fighting panic, struck out through the cold water for the dim line of
land.
The two men stood on the boat open-mouthed. They had not anticipated
the collies' swimming. Swearing, they sprang into action, lowered their
dinghy into the windy water and mounted the old cranky outboard on her transom.
The engine refused to start.
Lancer hesitated as he gained the shore, looked back over his shoulder
at the flashlight's beams dancing on the wind-swept water, then turned up
the beach and disappeared into the dark rainforest. Magic struggled close
behind.