“I asked to be awakened at three forty-five,” Neil said to him, hearkening back instinctively to the first act of disobedience, as if being locked in his cabin and threatened with a gun were less noteworthy.
“It’s over, Neil,” Frank said wearily, looking strangely beaten and resigned. “I… I’ve taken, retaken command of Vagabond. We’re splitting up.”
Tony had waved off a cardboard carton of food that Mirabai was about to hand him and pulled out his gun. He now came cautiously toward the place where Neil was standing, just outside the old wheelhouse area on the starboard side. Macklin’s gun was aimed at Neil now.
“And what’s all this transfer business?” Neil asked Frank, ignoring Tony.
“Lisa and Jim are being left aboard Scorpio,” Frank said. “Those who are still healthy are all coming aboard Vagabond…” Frank stopped, his eyes lifeless. He glanced at Tony.
“Jeanne’s elected to stay with them,” Tony said. “That’s where she is now. So has Olly. We assume you will too.”
“And you’re taking Vagabond to Barbados?” Neil asked Tony.
“That’s right,” Tony replied, holding the gun at his side. “And since most of the people are coming with us, and you and Olly think you can feed yourselves from the sea, we’re also taking most of the food. Besides, if things don’t work out on Barbados, we’ll have to keep sailing downwind until we find some island or some place in Colombia or Panama where we can make a go of it. I figure the weak little countries in the West Indies or Central America are a lot safer than places like Brazil. There are already a lot more Americans where we’re going too.”
“If you’re going to land and I’m staying at sea,” Neil said to Frank, “then you should let me take Vagabond. You won’t need either her space of windward oceangoing ability.”
“It’s settled,” Macklin said sharply. “We’re taking Vagabond. ”
“Scorpio’s not seaworthy enough for the voyage I recommend,” Neil persisted, “but she’s just as good for heading west. As soon as she stops having to beat to windward, she’ll stop leaking.”
“Mac said it’s settled,” Tony snapped back. “If you leave, you have to take Scorpio. ”
“He says it’s settled,” said Neil with a rush of anger. “I don’t.” There was another tense silence.
“Frank also says so, as the ship’s owner,” Macklin replied stonily. “And this gun says so too.”
“You’re choosing to abandon Jim?” Neil asked Frank.
“He chose to go to Salt Point,” Frank replied, looking dully at Neil. “He chose Lisa. He chooses you. He has to take the consequences.”
“He’s your son!” Neil said.
“He’s dying.” Frank said softly.
“Jim’s already got the disease,” Tony said. “His temperature’s already as high as Lisa’s.”
The two boats, rubbing and rolling, suddenly spilled rapidly down the face of a wave, and everyone staggered or stumbled to regain his or her balance. Mirabai spilled a box of food onto the port cockpit deck. As he regained his balance Neil felt a heaviness stealing into him, the heaviness of giving up, the heaviness he’d experienced after long days of battling a storm at sea when the body says “No more,” “I’ll do it later,” “Sink the fucking ship.” No matter how fast he ran, the forces of dissolution ran faster. He couldn’t believe that the West Indies or Central America would offer anything but slow death; he couldn’t believe that any land could be as safe as remaining out at sea for as long as possible. But with Scorpio he might no longer have such a choice.
“Sheila and Philip?” he asked, almost to himself.
“Philip’s too sedated right now to decide,” Sheila answered. “I feel… his life may depend on getting him to a physician soon. Scorpio… given the alternatives Tony has given us… I feel that… Vagabond…”
“You’re right, of course,” Neil said, nodding.
Captain Olly had turned Scorpio’s helm over to Janice and came over to the rail.
“Jeanne says she needs more of Vagabond’s towels,” he said loudly to all of them. Neil saw now that the left side of Olly’s face was badly bruised, his eye almost swollen shut.
“What happened to you?” Frank asked, frowning, and apparently he too was seeing Olly up close for the first time.
“I ain’t the ducker I used to be,” he said, sniffing.. “Sorry I let you down, cap,” he added to Neil.
“Tell her to use old clothes,” Tony responded. “We’re not parting with any of Vagabond’s stuff.”
“Get her some towels,” Frank said to Mirabai, who brushed quickly past Tony and went below. Macklin was about to stop her, flushed with anger, then let her go and didn’t comment. In a moment she reappeared with three rather ratty-looking towels from Jeanne’s cabin and handed them across to Olly.
“You win, Frank,” Neil said loudly. “I’ve decided I’m not going on that death ship either. I’m staying on Vagabond.”
Mirabai, who was passing from the cockpit to the galley with Scorpio’s food supplies, carried on indifferently when he said this, but everyone else who had heard him stopped and looked at him, Tony and Macklin with suspicion, Sheila and Frank with surprise.
“It’s a trick,” said Macklin. “Don’t trust him.”
“It’s quite simple,” Neil went on. “The doomed are going on Scorpio, and the winners are taking Vagabond. Although I may not be captain, I’m still free to choose the winners.”
“What about Jeanne?” Frank asked, looking at him with puzzled surprise.
“Yes, Frank,” Neil replied, staring at him intently. “What about Jeanne?”
“I mean… she… ”
“She’s doomed on Scorpio. ”
“Not if you’re with her,” Frank said.
“Let’s cut this crap,” Macklin broke in. “Neil’s sailing on Scorpio no matter what he wants.”
“No, Conrad, no,” Neil replied quietly with a half-smile. “That would be mutiny and perhaps murder. You’re capable of that, but Frank isn’t. Can I keep my same cabin, Frank?”
“I’m taking the aft cabin,” Tony interjected.
“I’m addressing the owner,” Neil said, continuing to look at Frank.
“You really want to stay?” Frank asked.
“As much as you do, Frank. As much as you.”
“Me too,” said Olly, who had been listening from the deck of Scorpio. Now he climbed aboard Vagabond with an exaggerated smile, rendered grotesque by his puffy face. “Gotten so I prefer three-wheelers,” he added.
“Get back on board Scorpio, ” Macklin shouted, nervous and angry.
“Course the company ain’t as nice here,” Olly said, “but I’m used to the stink of rotting things so—”
Tony instinctively lashed out at Olly with his gunhand. When Olly parried the blow and knocked the gun away, Macklin swung his gun into Olly’s chest, sending him back against the cockpit seat, groaning.
“Hey!” Frank yelled, rushing forward.
Macklin leveled his automatic and flicked off the safety.
“Hold it!” he snapped fiercely, backing into the corner of the cockpit and looking uneasily at Frank. Frank stopped only a few feet from where Tony was stooping to retrieve his gun.