John Ringo - To Sail a Darkling Sea

“Sir?” Walker said.

“How the hell did you score a eighty-nine on the test?” the PO said. “We’ve got Master Mariners with tickets didn’t score that high.”

“I read the book a while back, sir,” Walker said. “And I’ve got a good memory. I’m not a master mariner.”

“Damned straight,” Paxton said. “But you’ve got the book down pretty well. The thing about the sea is, about the time you think you’ve got it figured out, it rears up and bites you in the ass. And the evolutions that they’re planning for with you guys are insane. You’re not going to be taking over boats immediately. You’ll be crew. But even then, what they are planning is crazy. But it’s got to be done. It’s the only way to complete the mission.

“So we’re going to train you, as well as we can, in three days. You will be on this boat constantly . You won’t be sleeping here but you’ll be eating here and otherwise living on this boat. Part of the class is how to survive in a galley. That’s actually what that portion is called: How to Survive in a Galley. And… Killian. What’s a galley?”

“The kitchen on a boat?” Killian answered.

“Or…? Bradford, what’s the other meaning of a galley?”

“I… don’t know,” Bradford said.

“I don’t know, Petty Officer,” the PO said.

“I don’t know, Petty Officer?” Bradford parroted.

“It’s a type of ancient rowboat,” the PO said. “And I need a cup of coffee. Find the galley that is not an ancient rowboat and fix me one.”

“Yes, sir,” Bradford said.

“Yes, Petty Officer,” Paxton said. “And we’re beginning with basic nautical terms… ”

* * *

“Which side of the ship is to lee?” Paxton asked. “Bradford?”

“The lef… Port, side, Petty Officer,” Bradford replied.

“Bradford, Killian, mount the fenders then standby with boat hooks,” Paxton said. “O’Toole, Rogers, on the grapnels. Martin and Bush, heave ho on the grapnels. Walker, you’re the captain. Which side are you going to approach?”

The group had been going constantly for the last two days from 0800 to 2200. Man overboard drills. Recovery from lifeboats. How to board a lifeboat. Fire drills constantly. Maintenance. How to survive going alongside another yacht first in harbor then at sea. How to cook in a galley, first in harbor, then at sea. How to stow things away so they didn’t come loose in heavy seas. How to come alongside a supply ship and “unrep” in the harbor. Now how to unrep from a drifting freighter. Live. At sea. The freighter had been “cleared” by Navy security and now they were, as a sort of final exam, having to come alongside, board, and pump out the freighter’s fuel into their tanks. It had been determined to be diesel which was not always the case.

For this one, there were additional Coast Guard personnel standing by in a zodiac. A previous class had managed to set their boat on fire doing this evolution.

“With your permission, Petty Officer, I’m going to circle the boat, first,” Walker said. “Port is sort of to lee. Wind’s off the starboard bow. I want to make sure I’ve got the best spot not only to tie up but to enter.”

“Go for it,” the PO said.

Walker circled the container ship then lined up for a run.

“Coming in with our port to its starboard,” Walker said. “Right aft.”

“Damnit,” Bradford said. He’d gone to starboard and had already started tying off one of the big balloon fenders. “You could have said.”

“You drop it, you get to go swimming for it,” PO Paxton said.

“With due respect, Petty Officer, I’d probably have him use a boat hook,” Walker said.

“So would I,” Paxton said, quietly. “But it’s incentive not to drop it.”

“O’Toole,” Walker said. “I want you forward. Rogers, aft.”

“Good choices,” Paxton said. O’Toole had shown a deft hand with the grapnels and getting the forward grapnel affixed was particularly important.

O’Toole made his connection but Rogers missed. As usual.

“Heave in on the forward line,” Walker said. “Bring us alongside. Bradford, tie off another fender forward. Killian, stand by with the boat hook.”

“What are you going to do?” Paxton asked.

“Go into reverse on the starboard engine and get it hove around,” Walker said. “Then have O’Toole put up the second hook. O’Toole, grab the other grapnel.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n,” O’Toole said.

“I can get it,” Rogers protested.

“I believe the acting captain gave you an order, Rogers,” the Petty Officer said.

O’Toole made the toss and the boat was alongside. It was bouncing and rubbing unpleasantly against the much larger ship, but it was alongside.

“Boarding ladder,” Walker said. “O’Toole on grapnel. The rest on heaving.”

* * *

The boarding ladder was up then there was the question of who was going to board the recently zombie infested boat.

“I’ll go,” Bradford said. “But I’m sure as hell not going by myself.”

“It takes three to heave up the pump safely,” PO Paxton said. “Killian, Rogers and Martin. O’Toole and Bradford will belay from the boat. Walker’s in charge.”

“I do not want to go up there,” Rogers said.

“Do you want to pass the course?” Paxton asked. “This evolution is sometimes necessary. We’re not even having you salvage the stores. Just get the fuel off.”

“Seriously,” Rogers said. “What if there are zombies? I mean, how do we know they got them all?”

“Get back on this boat quickly,” PO Paxton said. “They’re most likely to turn up when you start the pump. This is part of the job, not just tooling around on boats. Now, do you want to pass the course? Cause we haven’t got all day.”

* * *

Getting the pump up onto the deck of the freighter wasn’t just a matter of pulling it up. If they just pulled it up it would bang like hell on the hull and probably break it. The team on the yacht, therefore, had to pull it out from the freighter’s hull while the team on top pulled it up. There were problems. There was a bit of shouting. But they finally got it over the side and got fuel flowing.

“Stop the pump,” Paxton yelled. “Okay, this time, Bradford, you’re the captain… After you get it onto the deck without breaking anything.”

* * *

“How many pumps do you go through?” Walker asked, looking into the water. The pump had disappeared from sight in an instant.

“That makes five,” Paxton said, leaning over to look as well. “The mechanics on the Grace are getting pissy about it. But at least this time it didn’t hit the deck, break through, damage the hull which then cracks on the freighter’s hull and sinks the boat. Okay, Killian, what did you do wrong?”

* * *

O’Toole was sitting at the bar in the main civilian saloon on the Boadicea , holding a scotch in mid air with his head slowly drifting down then bobbing back up.

“I feel as if I should celebrate,” the former businessman said, then snorted a snore.

“Rob,” Walker said. “Go get some rest. We’re getting assigned in the morning and for all we know, we’ll be gone by afternoon.”

“I’m too old for this,” O’Toole said, downing his drink. “But at least we didn’t get zodiacs. Good night, Tom.”

“Good night, Rob.”

“The South Flotilla is already asking for more prize crews,” Isham said, looking at his notes. “They’re sending the boats they found back up here with all the refugees. The boats coming in are short on fuel. They haven’t found much. But that’s about it for prize crews and they’re short handed.”