I was a little puzzled, at first, about why I was bouncing all over the ship. The captain was a little mysterious about it. Then, at one port about two-thirds of the way to Zapato, the first mate left to take command of another cargo ship. Imagine my surprise when the captain took me into his quarters/office and told me I was to be his first mate. Which explained why my assignment kept changing: he’d come to think I’d make a good replacement and he wanted me to learn the ship from stem to stern. Did I ever. But as first mate I got to know it even better.
And then there was the storm.
It was hurricane season by this time and we’d been lucky so far, but not that one day. We were between ports with nowhere to run and we were tossed around like a toy in the bathtub of a rambunctious child. When it was over we were listing heavily to starboard with all but one engine out and the captain missing. Nobody saw it happen, but he must have been swept overboard. He was probably all right; just a little shaken up somewhere on the seabed. We sent down divers but he was nowhere in sight, not that anyone could go or see very far. The dead can’t swim—no buoyancy at all—and the divers, all equipped with air bladders, had to remain tethered to the ship or risk being lost themselves. Searching was a useless, if necessary gesture; but with a little luck the captain should should have found his way to shore eventually. In the end, the Limbo had to limp on to the next port with me in command.
There was an investigation, of course, but the company’s panel of inquiry could only conclude that it had been a regrettable accident. They left me in command, even though for a while my ship was little more than a heap of scrap metal with propellers. The holds were unloaded and she was put in dry dock for repairs. Those repairs were so extensive that the company gave me the option of rechristening the ship if I wanted. I did, and so when she was relaunched she hit the water as the SS Lola.
YEAR 3
Pow
The Lambada was nearly to Puerto Zapato when the Lola was relaunched, but Glottis and his crew had really done a number on the engines and we flew through the water. In a manner of speaking. We started making ports ahead of schedule, which pleased the line no end. We had to extend our stops occasionally because our cargo wasn’t ready to be loaded, but even so we we began to gain on the Lambada. It wasn’t too long before she was just three ports ahead of us again.
As captain I had the ability to find out things more easily than I could as the cook, but I had to be even more circumspect. The line would not have been happy to find that they had a member of the LSA in command of one of their ships, and I couldn’t risk them finding out and finding myself stripped of command and put ashore. The LSA were getting a reputation as being terrorists. Our own propaganda was being drowned out in the press by official DOD statements and by unofficial surrogates, especially the Hearst media empire and Twentieth-Century News TV (all probably inspired by Hector himself, in my opinion). The situation eventually cut me off from the LSA entirely. It seemed too risky to continue to communicate through telegrams or any of the other conventional means available to me. I had to assume that everything—mail, telegrams, radiograms, whatever—was being screened. And even though I’d always operated on the fringes of LSA activity, it was possible that I was maybe on official DOD watchlists myself.
So we sailed on from port to port, taking on and putting off cargo, and getting closer to the Lambada. But when the Lola was two ports away from Puerto Zapato, the Lambada was already there. That was the end of the line as far as ocean travel was concerned. The Lambada would have an extended stopover before heading back to Rubacava, and it would make the return trip with very few passengers. Either Domino would take Meche off at Zapato, or they both would be coming back my way.
I still didn’t know why Domino had taken her on board the Lambada in the first place. If he had only wanted to sprout her, I assumed he would have done so when he found her. And since he and Don Copal had stolen her ticket, I couldn’t imagine why he would bother taking her to the end of the line. I also couldn’t see any point to making a round trip. And I still didn’t know why Domino had made sure I saw him with Meche.
At the port just before Puerto Zapato we crossed the Lambada’s path. In fact, she was docked when we arrived. Meche was not on the passenger list. Nor was Domino. So they both got off at Zapato. But why? Where would they go from there? Though I tried not to, I began to wonder if maybe Glottis had been right. Maybe Domino hadn’t dragged her on board. Maybe they really had been dancing, a couple of lovebirds celebrating their making the next stage of the journey. The idea was absurd, given everything I thought I knew about Domino, but I couldn’t help but have doubts.
Finally, nearly a year after leaving Rubacava, we reached Puerto Zapato. We sailed into the harbor and a tug nudged us into our berth. I was forward the bridge, shouting orders occasionally, but mostly just watching the crew scurrying around on deck. As we were coming into position to tie up, Ensign Arnold scrambled up to me. He was pretty new to the ship and was still falling all over himself trying to please. “Captain?” he said anxiously. “Captain Calavera?”
I just puffed on my pipe a second (diesel fuel and cigarette butts don’t mix, I’d found) before exclaiming, “Puerto Zapato, sailor! We’re here at last!” I shook my head in mute appreciation. “Beautiful port, isn’t she?”
“Yes, sir!” Arnold said, enthused. Of course, he’d agree with just about anything I said, raw as he was. “Uh, Captain, there are some customs officials down below, sir. They want to search the ship.”
That was a little out of the ordinary, but not unheard of. Customs agents usually waited until a ship was securely berthed, but sometimes they boarded from the tug just to keep you on your toes.
“Fine, fine,” I said. “We’ve got nothing to hide.” I nudged Arnold with my elbow. “No skeletons in our closets, eh?” No doubt about it: all this time away from Eva had definitely taken away my edge.
“Yes, sir!” Arnold gamely said with a smart salute, then turned to return below to relay my permission.
I turned my attention to the deck. “Secure the bow, boys!” I called out. “Like a rock this time!” Like I said, there was a lot of turnover on these tramp steamers, and you might be surprised at how attracted new hands where to deck furniture when it came to tying up.
I jumped slightly when there came a rattle of wings right past my head. I looked down and saw a pigeon settling itself down on the railing next to me. Its head drooping, the bird swayed side to side a little as it perched. It was obviously exhausted. There was the expected message tube attached to one leg. I took the message out of the tube and then the bird heaved itself back into the air, apparently knowing no reply was needed. I unrolled the little piece of paper and read the cramped writing.