This is episode eleven in the sixth novel of The Trace Troy Adventure Series. It is titled The Double-Cross in Paradise. Here are the links to The Double-Cross InmParadise: paperback, Kindle.
Big Storm
The sea continued to thrash The Tramp Islander. Trace held tight to the wheel and continued vigilant over the vessel. And Sage stood solid, close by, keeping vigilant over Trace.
“How ya doin’, partner?” Trace glanced over his shoulder at Sage.
“Don’t worry about me. Keep your eyes on the road, Captain,” Sage heaved his head forward.
Trace picked up the phone and rang the galley.
“What’s up, Boss?” Makani answered.
“How’s everything below?”
“Oh, we havin’ one heck of good time.”
“Can you bring a thermos of coffee?”
“Right up boss.”
Trace stared forward, fighting the wheel against the dashing waves and howling wind. He said to Sage. “I just want to get it mouth-to-ear from Makani.”
A couple of minutes later, Makani staggered and trudged up the steps. He carried a thermos under his arm, two cups in one hand, and two sandwiches in the other.
“You brought us something to eat?” Trace said, gratefully.
Makani wedged the thermos between the cushions of the bench and said, “You haven’t had anything in six hours. Egg, mayo, and sausage sandwiches, I made them before it started getting bad.”
“You’re a good man,” Trace said.
“That goes for me, too,” Sage said.
Makani handed the sandwiches to Trace and Sage. They chomped on them.
Trace said with a bite in his cheek, “How’s it going down there? You know the passengers and crew?”
“Paul and Tom do good,” Makani said. “Keep college kids calm and not give inch. They try get smart. That Paul and Tom smart guys.”
“How do you think the passengers are holding up?” Sage asked.
“They do good. They scared. They be glad when on land.”
“I be glad to,” Sage jokingly mocked Makani.
“Thank you, you speak so I understand,” Makani said.
“Look out!” Sage said.
The Tramp Islander’s bow dipped into a deep swell, and a tall, solid wall of water rushed over the bow. The Tramp Islander rolled starboard and turned that way. The sea washed over the pilothouse. It appeared as if they were gazing into an aquarium.
Trace grabbed two handles of the wheel. He strained and pulled port side. The wheel gave way. Trace plunged against the port side of the pilothouse. The wheel spun freely.
“We lost steering!” Trace shouted.
Trace grabbed the ship’s mic. “Everyone, life vests!”
“Sage, below,” Trace said, “see if everyone is okay.”
“What happened?” Sage staggered to the companionway.
“Broken steering cable,” Trace said and flipped the emergency warning radio signals.
“What you want me do?” Makani said.
Trace flipped on the radio and handed Makani its mic. “Call out, mayday, mayday.” Trace pointed to a digital display on the control panel. “If somebody responds, that’s our location. I’m going to see if I can find the break in the cable.”
Trace grabbed a flashlight from below the control panel. He swayed and staggered to the aft door. He strapped on a safety harness and nearly fell out the aft door. He attached the line of the safety harness to the railing. He struggled to keep his footing. He removed the bench top and shone the light along the cable. He grabbed it and pulled. It was tight toward the rudder and loose from there to the wheel.
Trace returned to the pilothouse and removed a panel near the wheel.
Makani continued to call out, “Mayday, mayday.”
Trace pulled on the cable. “I hope it’s in the engine room,” he muttered.
He dashed down the companionway steps.
Distress from the passengers filled the mess. Paul and Tom tried to calm everyone.
The Tramp Islander tossed a list in whatever direction the storm inclined it.
At the end of the crew’s cabins hallway, Trace pulled the engine room door open, and ducked in. He used the flashlight to follow the cable from where it entered from the pilothouse to along the starboard side. Four feet on the starboard side, he saw the broken cable.
On the port side of the engine room stood a cabinet of drawers with nuts, screws, bolts, and clamps. He pulled drawer after drawer open, sifting through the hardware for cable clamps. He rocked back and forth, banging his head against the cabinet. The engine rumbled from behind him. At last, he found them in a drawer. He grabbed six and staggered back to the broken cable.
He wedged the flashlight between an overhead wire and the ceiling and aimed it at the cable break. Fighting off the violet thrusts from the waves, he sleeved three clamps onto opposing sides of the broken cable. Then he wound the wires together and moved the clamps over the area he spliced. Using an Allen wrench, he tightened the screws on the clamps.
“Sage!” He bellowed. “Hold her steady. I’m coming up.”
Trace ducked through the engine room doorway and back up the pilothouse. He grabbed the wheel as Sage moved away.
“I got to get her tacked into the waves,” Trace said.
Trace shoved the throttle forward. He tugged and pulled at the wheel for no more than a minute. And The Tramp Islander settled into a steady roll with the waves. Though not pleasant, certainly better than the tossing from side to side that they had just gone through.
“Cancel the mayday,” Trace said.
Makani called out that all was now under control and canceled the mayday.
“Do you think the cable will hold?” Sage asked.
“If it breaks again, it will be in some other place,” Trace said. “We’ll get new cables as soon as we make port.”
“I’ll go in the forward holds and see if everything is okay,” Sage said.
He grabbed the flashlight and dashed down the companionway. He was met with a barrage of questions from the passengers. He assured everyone that everything was fine.
After a thorough inspection, he reported back to Trace that besides the cargo shifting, the haul remained in good shape.
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