Chapter 35 - East Ringer

Dunk was barely making way against the tide. After he'd thought about the dead puppy, he made up his mind to go on with the original plan, to motor by the sailboat looking for signs of Liz. Now Dunk was going as slowly as he could, approaching the Concordia from downwind. He hoped that way nobody would notice his engine noise until he was close aboard her. His skiff was well into Bunker's Hole, and he calculated BALI must be about 50 yards ahead of him.

Suddenly the report of a big handgun sounded from dead ahead, closer than he'd thought. Dunk cut his engine. He could hear a muffled yelling, some low voices, and splashing sounds. He began to drift down tide, away from the sounds, and spotted an unpainted buoy just off his stern. He quickly grabbed his gaff, hooked the buoyline, and walked forward with it until the line fetched up over his small foredeck. Part of his mind was wondering why an unmarked buoy was set out here, but the rest of his attention was riveted on the sounds coming downwind from BALI.

In the darkening murk Dunk faintly made out the loom of a white hull, like a whaler, drifting down on him, so he let go of the buoy and drifted too, maintaining the same distance. Someone was wrestling with something in the water alongside the boat, and when it tumbled aboard he heard, very faintly, a woman's voice.

"Mrs. Dow?...Liz?" Dunk spoke softly in his projecting voice.

"Oh!" Liz cried out. "Dunk.. is that you?"

Caldwell grabbed for the revolver, lying on the console, and spun round looking into the fog in all directions. "Who..." he said, "who are you talking to?" he asked Liz. He hadn't heard a thing.

"He has a gun," Liz warned loudly.

"Who.. have you gone nuts?" Caldwell demanded of Liz.

"It's OK Liz," Dunk spoke again. "He can't hear me." Dunk could just barely see where the whaler made a denser shadow in the night.

Liz shuddered, "Please don't take me back there, Caldwell. You saw how he was ready to kill me."

"I dunno," Caldwell shook his head, confused. "I think he's just scared the mob will kill us if we don't get the coke from Sum. I've never seen him like this. And I'm scared too."

"What if we came back in the morning?" Liz offered. "He'd have more reason to trust me.. and you. And he might be less high."

Caldwell stared at his feet, undecidedly. Lights suddenly appeared in the fog behind them. BALI's navigation lights, then a handheld spot swinging back and forth, making a brightness in the mist.. The lit-up sailboat was already 50 yards away, just a hazy glow. Someone started blowing BALI's foghorn.

"They're giving me a mark to come back to," Caldwell thought.

"Where would we stay?" he asked Liz. "How would we find our way back?"

Liz trusted her intuition. "There's a friend of mine just over there, she said, pointing downwind. He'll help us." Caldwell whirled round again, holding the gun, but he still couldn't see anything.

"It's OK, Dunk," Liz shouted. "He won't shoot." She looked at the gun in his hand, "You won't, will you?" she asked in a gentle voice. Caldwell put the revolver down on the console. He heard an outboard start, downwind in the fog.

Dunk engaged the Merc and motored up to the whaler. The gent he'd given a ride into Smithport was standing amidships, and Liz was huddled on the floor, hugging Jesse. The child was whimpering with cold. Dunk shut off his engine when the two boats rubbed sides, and he quickly lashed them together.

"Are you OK?" he asked Liz. She nodded she was, but he could tell she was barely conscious.

"She's soaked through, and the kid, too," Caldwell said.

"Can you take us to Mary's camp?" Liz asked faintly. She sounded about at the end of her strength. Dunk looked hard into Caldwell's face.

"I don't want to hurt them," he promised Dunk. Dunk looked at the 45. Caldwell picked it up by the barrel and threw it over the side.

"We moved her camp," Dunk said, "It's further away." He looked toward the receding glow of BALI. "They got another runabout?" he asked Caldwell.

Now the sailor was trembling with the cold and released tension. "N.. no," he said.

"I'll run the boat," Dunk stated flatly. He fired the whaler's outboard, unlaced his skiff, and fastened its bowline to a stern cleat on Clouse's boat, put the motor in forward, revved it up until the skiff was trailing nicely, then made a wide turn toward Rogue Island. He pointed for Caldwell to get down behind the console, out of the pluming wet. Then he goosed the whaler up onto the step, and went racing down the wind, his skiff riding a white wave behind them.

"You better not be lying, mister," Dunk thought. "If anyone tries to hurt Mary.." but he pushed his rising anger aside. "Let's get Liz safe, first," he decided.

Dunk struck the East Ringer shore just outside the channel to their secret campsite, and he slowed down to make the turn in, then throttled down and shut off the motor. Through the fog he could barely see the radiance of Mary's campfire against the trees.

"It's me, Mary" he spoke to the darkness.

"Thank heaven," Marianne answered, "it didn't sound like your boat."

"It's not," he replied, "I've got Liz with me." Dunk had been polling into the gap between the ledges as he spoke, and now he could see Mary obscurely, clambering down to the small beach.

Liz and Jesse were sound asleep, or out cold, and Caldwell was stiff with the chill. He rose up, unlimbering himself awkwardly, and Marianne stepped back a pace, uncertainly.

"It's OK, miss," Caldwell said, seeing her doubt. They stared at each other.

Dunk was unwrapping Liz's arms from around her son. "Here, take Jesse," he said to Marianne, breaking the spell.

She took her nephew in her arms. "He's soaking wet, and frozen," she scolded, then she hurried up the rocks toward the fire.

"Liz?" Dunk was shaking her shoulder gently. "Liz, it's me, Dunk.. can you get up?" Liz mumbled something incoherent.

"I can help," Caldwell volunteered, but Dunk had slipped one arm under his teacher's knees and the other behind her back, and he stood up carefully, holding her.

"You could tie the boats over there so they don't ground out," Dunk said, nodding his head to where EQUAL'S was secured. Then he stepped carefully over the side onto the shingle, and walked up the ledge with his precious cargo.

Caldwell followed Dunk's instructions. For a moment he thought, "I could just get in the whaler and go." But he didn't see what the next step was at all. And he was too chilled and tired to try and figure it out.

When Caldwell got to the fire, Dunk and Mary were undoing Liz's jacket and taking it off her. Jesse was swaddled in a blanket near the blaze. Caldwell sat down on the opposite side of the fire, and turned his back to give them privacy. He hunched closer to the flames.

Dunk and Marianne quickly got Liz out of her wet clothing. Liz was only semi-conscious, and called out "Oh Sum.." as Dunk pulled her jeans off. He blushed red. Even in the firelight, he couldn't help noticing what a beautiful body Liz had. His eyes met Marianne's. Her's were filled with understanding.

"There's towels in the tent," she said kindly, and he hurried away to get them. She had her cousin completely unclothed and draped in a bit of canvas awning when he returned. While Marianne rubbed Liz vigorously with a towel, Dunk wrung out her clothing and Jesse's, and draped it over a teepee of poles he quickly constructed near the fire. He heaped more firewood on and the flames leaped up. Then he checked on the sleeping boy, whose hands and feet seemed back to normal temperature.

"I think I should get in my bag with her," Marianne said, "so I can be sure she warms up right."

"In the tent?" Dunk asked, and she nodded. Dunk scooped up Liz in his arms, canvas and all, and carried her over to the tent. Her bare flesh still felt cold where it touched him. Marianne got in first and zipped open the bag, lying it flat. Then she kneeled on it and helped Dunk lower Liz onto the sleeping pad. She stretched them both out, and Dunk zipped the bag up around them.

"There'll be other nights for us, Dunk," Marianne promised. He paused, and bent down to kiss her hair. Then he backed out of the tent, closing it behind him.

When Dunk got back to the fire Caldwell was cradling Jesse in his arms, rocking back and forth, humming a tuneless melody. The boy was sound asleep wearing a wide smile.

"All's well that ends well," Caldwell said.

"Is it ovah?" Dunk replied.