Chapter 34 - CAULKING IRON

Jesse sobbed inconsolably in Liz's arms until he fell into an exhausted sleep. She had wedged herself up into the very bow of BALI, in among the sailbags, and was silently praying that Walker's anger would cool before he did anything to Jesse, or her. But Caldwell had closed the door to the forward compartment she was in, and seated himself in front of it on the starboard berth, ready to block any move Walker might make to attack them.

Walker had come in from the cockpit and reloaded his revolver. Then he'd waved it teasingly at Caldwell, while saying to Cyr, "Ol' Hacky's found hissef a dam-zel in distress. Doane he look grand an noble guardin the maiden?"

"An immense tribute to his class, and worthy of our humble praise," Cyr concurred. He had been more surprised than shocked by Walker's fit of anger. He'd seen his classmate act out before when they were cranked up on coke, and didn't really believe Walker would attack Liz or the kid. But he hoped to mollify the big cowboy before he completely alienated Caldwell. So long as they were all together in this, and on Hacky's boat, there was no sense picking a fight.

"I propose a toast to gallantry and the fair sex," Cyr proclaimed, snagging a bottle from beside the sink, and rapping a brandy snifter against it, musically. He poured a tot into the glass and handed it to Walker.

"Y'all can keep fair sex," Walker said. "Heah's tuh great sex and willin wenches." He raised the glass and swallowed its contents. Caldwell relaxed slightly, recognizing another of Walker's moods coming on. The Proud Cocksmith. Sure enough, Walker began to smirk, and tell a convoluted tale about one of his sexual conquests, involving three women and various racing harness. Caldwell was embarrassed that Liz, undoubtedly, was listening to the story, told in a loud voice, but he realized her presence gave Walker's bravado a dash of spice, and the cowboy was relishing her discomfort.

"Better he blows hard, if he leaves her alone," Caldwell thought.

Cyr began taking out ingredients for supper, lighting the stove, and heating water. He too hoped Walker would blow himself out bragging, and some food would help take the jangle out of them all. Soon the cabin began to smell splendidly of chicken breasts sauteed in lemon and garlic.

Liz was, indeed, listening carefully, but not to the disgusting details of Walker's story. As Cyr rattled pots and pans, Liz carefully lay Jesse down on the berth, then, kneeling on it herself, she cautiously undid the dogs on the forward hatch cover. Waiting for a clatter from the galley before she made each move. When there was a particularly raucous moment in the telling, Liz shoved the hatch cover up so it was just ajar, then slowly stood up on the berth, lifting it open. The blowing wet fog on her face was a relief from the smother and fear she'd felt, trapped in the bow compartment.

What should she do now? She could grab Jesse, slip overboard and try to swim for the island. They might hear her and recapture them, or she and Jesse might get hypothermic before they reached shore. She wasn't entirely sure which way the nearest shore was, although she gathered that Mary's camp was somewhere off the starboard side.. or had the tide turned? Maybe she could try to steal the boat they'd brought her out in. If she could just get it untied, and drift away in the fog...

Liz heard Cyr's voice in the main cabin, "Shall we feed our guests, gentlemen?" And she quickly shut the hatch, slipped the dogs loosely back in place, and was sitting on the berth next to her sleeping child, when Caldwell opened the door.

"Would you like some chicken and rice, Liz?" he asked kindly. "I can bring it in to you."

"Thank you, Caldwell," she replied. "That would be kind of you." Could she get Caldwell to conspire in her escape, she wondered, but decided he was too weak a reed to lean on. She would wait her moment and try to get away in the boat.

The supper was excellent, but Liz didn't wake Jesse to feed him. "Let him sleep," she thought, looking at his innocent face in smiling repose. "How could these men do this," she thought, her anger stirring again. But Liz kept her cool, and Walker chose to ignore her presence while they ate with the compartment door open. After Caldwell removed her dish and fork, she quietly closed the door, and engaged the catch on her side. Then she undogged the hatch and propped it up so she could open it swiftly. Liz sat on the berth and leaned with her ear against the door, listening for her chance.

"Nawh tell me abaught dis young woman, Cyrano," Walker said. "Y'all think she's lonely out heyah in th' dews an damps?" Liz clenched her fists. Was Walker going to try and grab Mary, too. Or worse? Her eyes cast about in the compartment for some weapon. It was almost dark, but she could see well enough to tell there was nothing resembling a weapon up forward. Unless.. She saw something black wrapped in what looked like a big ball of cotton, wedged between the cushions on her berth. When she felt for it, it turned out to be some kind of chisel, with a flattened top, the bottom edge flaring out in a wide V. She'd found Caldwell's caulking iron. Liz quickly put it under her sweater, stuck down behind her belt.

"One would imagine she'd appreciate some civilized companionship, Silver-toes." Cyr was saying.

"Ayh was hopin she maght preciate th' wilder kind," Walker mused. "Y'all think we could fine her in the dahk, skeepaire?" Even with the big skylight, it was getting dark in the main cabin.

Caldwell wanted nothing to do with capturing another woman, or whatever else the cowboy was plotting, but getting Walker off BALI for a while might be a good idea. Caldwell doubted his partners had noticed the tide turn, or that the Concordia now lay 180 degrees from the way she had when they arrived. If they went off to starboard, they might motor all the way around the island on that side, and never find the girl. Then, they might not find their way back, either.

"It's possible," Caldwell, said, considering his words. "You'd have to leave a mark on the ledge where you strike it first, so you can find your way back."

Hearing this, Liz was aghast. Was Caldwell telling them how to sneak up on Mary? She had to act NOW!

"You'll want a good light," Caldwell went on.

Walker, who'd been sitting on the port berth, stood up to turn on a cabin light, and at the same moment Caldwell felt BALI shift to starboard. A shadow passed across the starboard port lights. Walker cursed, "damned woman," and raced up the companionway steps.

Liz was swinging herself over the safety rail above the whaler, hanging on with one hand, while she held Jesse tight against her breast when Walker came charging into the cockpit. He reached out to grab her, but she flung herself backwards into the boat. It was still tied to a stanchion, though, and the cowboy leaped over the safety line, landing behind her in the boat.

Walker was laughing at her when she swung round and raked the caulking iron across his face. He fell back, shocked, blood springing from the cut, his hand to the wound. Liz stepped off the side of the boat into the water.

Walker, screaming with rage, was about to jump after her, when a gunshot froze him in place.

"No," Caldwell said, holding Walker's revolver, which he'd left on the table in his rush.

"You'll freeze to death, Liz," he called to her, as she tried to kick herself away from the boat. Her clothes were already full of water, and she was having trouble staying afloat. The cold was shocking her legs and groin. Jesse was wide awake and crying out, "Mama? Mama?"

"I'll come get you," Caldwell went on. "I'll see you're safe."

"Let the bitch drown," Walker snarled.

"No, we still have to trade her for the coke," Caldwell said. "Get out of the boat, and I'll go get her."

Walker gave Caldwell a long hard look. Caldwell still held the revolver, although it was now pointed at the deck."That's two," Walker said coldly. Then he grabbed the safety line and pulled himself up and aboard BALI.

Caldwell quickly undid the whaler's bow line, and jumped lightly aboard, pushed off, and used an oar to approach Liz. She was already stunned by the icy waters, and Caldwell had a hard time wrestling her over the side of the boat, still hugging Jesse for dear life. By the time he had her in the whaler, they were out of sight of the Concordia in the dark and fog.

"Please," Liz whispered, shaking with cold and fear. "Please take me away from them."