The Sea Shall Claim Them Read online

  The Sea Shall Claim Them

  Ed Teja

  Published by Float Street Press, 2021.

  Copyright 2019 by Ed Teja

  All rights reserved

  Published by Float Street Press

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  The Sea Shall Claim Them

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  The Sea Shall Claim Them

  The trade winds died suddenly; the sea calmed until its surface gave a flat, perfect reflection of the empty sky. On the deck of their thirty-five-foot sloop, Inca Pride, Tom and Sandra watched helplessly as the sails went limp and the boat slowed until she sat dead still in the water. A lifeless thing. Overhead, thick clouds began to gather from nowhere, layering themselves into a low hanging ceiling that intensified the glare from a now diffuse noon sun. The horizon, so distinct when they left Trinidad that morning for Grenada, melted into an ambiguous haze.

  Tom stood on the bow squinting into the painful grayness as if by staring hard enough he might see through it, glimpse the end of this sudden and disturbing calm. Inca Pride sat sadly, stubbornly still. Born for the breeze, the calm mocked her sleek lines. She needed only a puff of air to cut effortlessly through the water. Denied even that, she sat rooted to the ocean floor, an immovable object on an unmoving pane of glass.

  After a time of staring at the horizon, Tom finally shook his head; it was a gesture of both acceptance and frustration. "It's like being in the middle of a desert. I can't believe it; from plenty of wind and beautiful sailing to this damn deadness."

  Sandra, his sole audience, sat at the stern, her hand resting uncertainly on the useless tiller. She looked up, taking in the rigging and the treacherous sky, trying to will wind back into the sails. Finally, she released the tiller, gave a defeated sigh and wiped away the sweat that had formed suddenly on her forehead with the back of her hand. "Damn," she muttered.

  "What's that?" Tom called the question back, still facing out to sea.

  "Should we turn on the engine?" she asked. She thought of their plan of spending the night in Grenada; why abandon such a sensible idea just because the weather wouldn't cooperate?

  "Not yet." She heard his disappointment. He let go of the forestay he had been clutching and walked back toward the cockpit, saying, "Radio Antilles said that there was a tropical wave coming up behind us. That should stir up some air. Let's wait and see. You know I hate to turn on the stinkpot if we don't have to."

  She knew about the wave, and she knew Tom would prefer a week sitting becalmed to using the engine, so she refrained from mentioning what he already knew—that it would be at least two days before the tropical wave reached them. She pulled her tee shirt off over her head and wiped her face with it before tossing the shirt down the hatch. Even topless wasn't cool in this calm but the shirt felt suffocating. "I'll get us a beer," she said, thinking of the electric fan in the galley.

  RAINBOW WALKED THE length of the rotting pier, past the fishing boats and yachts and out to where his cousin Rudy kept his boat. He passed a couple of Rastas he knew and nodded.

  "What's happening?" one asked.

  "Fishing, mon."

  "We be jus' liming around," the other said.

  Nothing new in that, Rainbow thought as he climbed into the boat. Although the wind had died, he took off his multicolored beret, rolled it up tightly and put it in his pants pocket. He didn't trust the wind and had lost hats overboard before. He didn't want to have to get a next one; his trademark hats could be hard to find.

  He shook the big gas can that sat in the bottom of the boat. It gave a satisfying slosh. He had at least half a tank, maybe a bit more. He connected the fuel line to the big outboard motor, set the choke and pulled the starter cord. The engine gave a muffled cough then roared into life. Rainbow switched off the choke and sat down on the seat. With the engine in neutral, he let the boat drift away from the pier while he bailed some of the inevitable water out of the bottom. After he'd gotten out most of the water, leaving a bit down between the ribs, he put the engine in gear and cranked the throttle up halfway. The heavy boat gave an ungainly lurch forward then settled into a comfortable plane. It had far too big an engine for Rainbow's taste, but Rudy like to have the biggest engine he could afford. Just to show off.

  The boat moved through the lagoon, stirring up a hint of breeze as Rainbow headed for the Carenage where he had arranged to pick up Estelle. Passing the yachts anchored in the lagoon gave him a sadness in the pit of his stomach, a feeling of being outside what he wanted the most. Unlike most young men in Grenada, who favored speedboats, the sight of the sleek sailboats got Rainbow's heart pounding. They cost more money than he was likely to see in a lifetime, but a sailboat meant freedom, the ability to travel on the wind wherever he wanted. Such a boat could even provide income, for there was always room for another boat willing to take cargo from one island to another and forgo the formalities of customs declarations. A yacht wouldn't be as likely to attract the unwanted attention of the Coast Guard that a local boat did.

  "You been smoking ganja again, boy," is what Estelle said whenever he mentioned wanting a yacht. Money was hard to come by, that was fact enough. His job at the rum factory paid okay, but only lasted through the dry season when the sugar cane was being harvested. This time of year, he had to find a hotel job or make a go out of fishing in Rudy's boat when he wasn't using it.

  He spotted Estelle sitting on the jetty, chatting with some girlfriends and drinking a soft drink. Her legs hung over the side of the jetty and swung in time with a Calypso tune drifting in from the floating bar. When she saw him coming, she waved and, as if for the first time, he noticed the wonderful lines of her body. She was a girl to be seen with, for certain. Several of his friends had tried to take her away, but she stuck like glue.

  When he pulled alongside the jetty, she was still talking to her friend Mary. "Get in girl," he said impatiently. "Is too damn hot to be sitting still."

  She laughed and handed Mary the soft drink. "I paid the deposit," she said. Mary giggled and Rainbow wondered what it was that women talked about that made it impossible for them to keep a straight face when a man came around. Damn foolishness.

  "Where we going?" Estelle asked as she settled in on the middle seat, just ahead of him.

  Rainbow shrugged. "Where the fish be. Maybe up by Victoria. The Bonito been coming in up there, Viking Dave says."

  Estelle wiped the sweat from her face with a tissue. "It's awful hot."

  Rainbow pointed out to sea. "Should be cooler out there. It always be hot in town." He gunned the throttle taking the boat out of the channel and then turning north toward Victoria.

  SOMETHING ABOUT SITTING perfectly still made the heat intolerable, Sandra thought. After just an hour, the stifling heat had permeated the entire boat. Everything she touched seemed hot. They sat below decks staying out of the sun and reading to pass the time until the wind came up. A small fan mounted on the bulkhead noisily tried to stir up some motion in the air, but the air seemed too heavy for it. Sweat that should have evaporated from their skin, cooling them, formed an oily sheen. Taking off all their clothing hadn't helped. Sandra looked over at Tom, admiring his muscular body and noticing that he looked a picture of discomfort with his face twisted in a concentrated frown as if reading took monumental effort. Under these conditions, she thought, it did. She certainly couldn't keep up with the story she was reading. Already she had read one paragraph three times without knowing what she had read.

  "This is insane," she said. "I'm going insane in this heat."

&nbs
p; Tom looked up from his book. "It's unusual weather," he said. "I've never heard of the trade winds dying so abruptly this time of the year. Must have to do with el Niño."

  "Unusual?" She tried to laugh, but it came out choked. "I'd call this suffocating. And this is not a good time to exercise your famous understatement or to attempt to placate me."

  He laughed, disarmingly. "Fair enough. Anyway, I think the weather will change soon enough. Don't worry. We'll get some wind and have a fine sail into Grenada; then we will be glad we didn't give in and run the engine."

  "Meanwhile I'll die of heat exhaustion."

  Tom closed his book. "Look, in this heat, even if we ran the engine and got moving it wouldn't be much cooler." He thought for a moment. "Why don't you go for a swim? That should cool you down. By the time you get out I'll bet the wind is kicking up something fierce."

  "Do you want me to help you take the sails down first?"

  Tom looked out the porthole at the horizon. "We don't seem to be going anywhere. When the wind comes up, we'll just have to crank them up again."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Getting a bit lazy?"

  Tom shrugged and rose from the bunk. "You are the one who keeps talking about how it's too hot to do anything. Maybe I'm just thinking of you."

  "That swim sounds better all the time. With any luck you'll come in and I can drown you."

  "I think I'll stay on board." He went to the icebox and got out a Caribe beer. "Anyway I need this cold brew more than I do a swim."

  She shrugged. "Just remember that alcohol affects you more in the heat than it would ordinarily."

  He scowled. "Can't stop being a nurse, even out here, can you?"

  She grabbed a towel and got up. "Sorry I mentioned it." She started up the ladder, and then stopped, holding the towel out toward him. "This damn thing is already wetter than I'm going to get in the ocean." She tossed it past him onto the bunk.

  He gulped some beer and followed her up on deck. "Are you mad at me? Hey, don't be mad. I'm sorry." She looked over the rail, staring down at the water and he walked up behind her. "It's too hot to argue, or even discuss anything. Look, you go for a swim and I'll join you as soon as I finish my beer. After we swim, we can turn on the engine and head for Grenada. It's only about thirty miles away. We can have a nice swim and still be there for a shore side dinner."

  Sandra turned and put her arms around his neck, her breasts brushing his chest. "You can be so reasonable when you are forced to." Then she kissed him, turned and dove, making a smooth entry into the flat blue water.

  THE HEAT CONTINUED to build. Despite being almost out of sight of land, the sea breeze that Rainbow expected didn't materialize. The only movement of the air, a heavy and wet slog, came from the boat's forward motion. Still, it was better than sitting still, so he kept the motor running and trolled with hand lines, trying for one of those that Bonito Dave had said might be there instead of bottom fishing for snapper.

  "Ain't no fish today," Estelle observed. "They be home keeping cool. It's been a long time we trying to catch fish that ain't here."

  "Got somewhere to go?" he snapped.

  She shook her head. "Thirsty is all."

  Rainbow nodded. He had a thirst too, and the image of the soft drink that Estelle had handed Mary before she got in the boat had haunted him for the last hour. "The fish staying deep, all right," he said.

  "Yeah."

  He smiled. "So we go back and get ice cream." He turned the boat back toward shore. Grenada made a vague line on the indistinct horizon. "We a long way out, girl." He cranked down the throttle as she pulled in the lines. The boat's bow wave made the only marks in the flat sea. He wondered what had happened to the northerly swell so common this time of year.

  Estelle coiled the fishing lines as she brought them in and dropped them, lures still attached, into a bucket. "Don't forget to wash them in sweet water when we get back," Rainbow reminded her. "Then we gotta coat them in grease so they don't rust."

  She nodded and stared toward the gray shore.

  Once the lines were in and in no danger of fouling the propeller, Rainbow gave the throttle a twist. "Now we get going." The big engine coughed once, making the boat shudder. After a momentary hesitation, it lifted the bow higher. To Estelle's worried look he said, "Rudy don't never change no spark plugs." She smiled and then they both looked ahead, as if they could draw themselves toward the shore a bit faster.

  TOM LOOKED OUT OVER the still water to where Sandra floated peacefully on her back, looking cool and comfortable, at least for the moment. Watching her, he felt bad about arguing, even if it was because of the heat. He loved her, although he didn't always understand her, and if she drove him crazy with her nursing stuff, well that was because she cared for him too. Besides, he was aware that he was pretty set in his ways; fairly intolerant of change. He wished he had met her when he was younger and more flexible. Then they'd get along better.

  He drained the last of his beer. It tasted warm and salty and when he stood up to put the empty bottle away, he felt a little dizzy. Sandra had been right about alcohol in the heat. Well, the best thing for a dizzy head was a cold bath, or a dip in the clear blue Caribbean.

  "Okay mermaid, here I come," he shouted and threw himself over the rail in a clumsy dive.

  "Did you put down the swim ladder?" Sandra asked as he surfaced, feeling the bracing effect of cool water on his skin.

  "Oh shit," he laughed. "Now I'll have to pull myself up by the auto helm. You were right, you see. I'm a bit fuzzy headed from the beer."

  "As long as we can get back on board all right."

  "No problem. I'm in no rush to get out of this lovely water, and it isn't the first time I've gone in without putting down the ladder, although I shouldn't tell stories on myself." Then he measured the concern in her eyes. "I'll go put the ladder down if you like."

  "I wish you would. I'd feel a lot better. Thanks."

  RUDY'S BIG ENGINE WAS a gas hog, Rainbow decided, that was all there was to it. Grenada loomed larger now. He could see the markers outside the main channel, but the engine had already started sputtering, an occasional gloomy misfire. No big thing at first, but as time passed the misses grew more regular, the motor's hesitations longer.

  Rainbow picked up the gas can and shook it. "Ain't much." He sat it on the seat next to him to make it easier for the remaining fuel to pump into the engine.

  Estelle shot him a worried look but said nothing. Later she asked: "Is it enough?"

  "Don't know." Although pretty certain the gas in the can wasn't going to last long at all, Rainbow didn't want to frighten her. Besides, he might be wrong. Soon enough they'd both find out for sure.

  He backed the throttle down to conserve fuel, although he wanted to do about anything other than slow down. In the seat in front of him, Estelle fidgeted nervously.

  "Don't worry so much, girl. We be okay. It's the heat that's the problem here. The heat is bad, just making everything seem more trouble than it is."

  "It's running out of gas that's got me crazy, fool."

  The engine coughed again, catching after an interminable pause to make the boat stagger forward. He looked from the engine to Estelle's face and wondered if there was as much tension in his face as he could see in hers. Under other circumstances, he would have teased her about her silly face, the kind kids make when they are deliberately being goofy. But he knew Estelle wasn't feeling goofy right now. The motor coughed again. That's when he realized that she hadn't made a kid face at all; it was an old face, the face of a person who sees death coming.

  "It's no worry," he told her. "When the engine quits, we gonna row in."

  Estelle squinted at the shore. "Is a long way."

  "We gonna do it is all. Something else you got to do?"

  Estelle laughed and he saw the prettiness come back into her face. "I got lots to do, but I think I can help row."

  The engine gave its last gasp and the boat slowed, quickly coming to a stop. "I guess we be
tter start that rowing," she said. Rainbow pulled two oars out from under the seats.

  "What shit oars," he said. Estelle looked at them, simple poles with boards nailed on the ends. "It's gonna take a bit longer than I thought, is all," he said, smiling thinly, and then: "when we get back I gonna pound the fuck out of Rudy."

  "First we gotta get back, boy." She grabbed an oar from his hand and began.

  TOM SWAM TOWARD INCA Pride's stern in long, smooth strokes, heading toward the tubular metal frame protruding down from the autohelm into the water. In the past, he had climbed it like a kid on a jungle gym.

  More than once he had scampered aboard that way. The problem now seemed to be getting to it. As he approached, the stern drifted away from him. The tides weren't supposed to be significant here, but Caribbean tidal charts were best known for their inaccuracy. So maybe the tide had begun shifting. No big deal—the current wouldn't amount to more than a knot, but he would have to work a little harder than he had been. Damn timing anyway. If he had gone swimming an hour earlier the boat would be sitting dead still.

  He swam harder, determined to get back on board as quickly as possible. Sandra had been right. Turning on the engine and getting on to Grenada made sense. He kicked hard and reached the hull, but he couldn't get a grip on the smooth fiberglass. The hull moved away from him as the stern shifted again, moving faster this time. He had to swim hard just to maintain his distance from the boat.

  "Tom! My God!"

  Sandra's cry startled him. He stopped and looked around, losing distance on the boat. Sandra pointed up and he looked. His heart missed a beat. The breeze had come back, billowing the once slack sails. Frantically he thrashed through the water, vaguely aware that, behind him, Sandra had begun her own headlong swim toward the boat.

  A mouthful of salt water broke the rhythm of his labored breathing. He risked a glance at the boat and found that he had lost ground. Determinedly he put his face in the water and swam with all the strength he could summon, his meaty hands thrashing the surface of the water. If the breeze shifted at all Inca Pride might change course and come toward him, or she might luff, turn into the wind and stop moving altogether.