OUT OF THE SKY
Sandy reached out to touch them as if he didn’t trust the evidence of
his eyes. “The one for the back. And the two for the face—one for green
ink, one for black.” He shook his head amazedly. “And they were in that
box!” He felt the lead lining. “It’s as thin as paper,” he said. “They
must have made it that way to compensate for the weight of the
plates—to make both boxes weigh about the same.” He looked up at Ken.
“But they didn’t quite do it—they were a few ounces out.”
“Dad brought the plates past customs not knowing what he was doing.”
Ken spoke slowly, piecing together fragments of information. “They
never thought we’d find out—they never thought anybody would find out.”
He was rewrapping the plates and putting them back into the box.
Sandy got to his feet quickly. “And maybe nobody ever will, if we don’t
get ourselves out of this mess.”
Ken lifted up the mattress on the lower bunk and shoved the box under
it out of sight. “We’ll need that evidence,” he said, “and we don’t
want Cal to throw it overboard or something.”
Sandy dropped the plank back in place. “Let’s go,” he said. “We’ll have
to spell him for a while.”
The bargeman was still working away at the pump, but his strokes were
slower now and he was panting with near exhaustion. He made way for the
boys and leaned up against the cabin, clutching at it to maintain his
balance as the barge heaved and swung.
“Stay there,” Sandy ordered, “where we can keep an eye on you.”
Once again the seconds began to keep pace with the pump handle and the
stream of water spurted out of the outlet pipe. Back on the deck the
gasoline engine throbbed reassuringly, its pump cascading a flood of
water over the side.
Ten minutes passed by—then ten more. Ken was breathing heavily, his
arms like lead once more.
“Drop out,” Sandy ordered. “Let him take over.”
“What about you?” Ken shifted to a position against the wall and let
the bargeman take hold of the pump handle.
“You spell me in ten minutes.” Sandy’s jaw was clenched grimly as he
moved his powerful arms back and forth.
The engine coughed and died.
“Needs gas!” Cal let go of the pump handle.
“Keep pumping,” Sandy said. “There is no more gas. Whatever pumping is
going to be done on this barge—we’re going to do it.”
Cal looked at the water issuing from the outlet. “We’ll never make it.”
His voice was thin with fear.
A wave washed over them and drowned out the rest of his words.
When they were free of water again Sandy went back to work. “Save your
breath,” he suggested.
Ten minutes later Ken replaced Sandy at the pump and the exhausted
redhead got what rest he could by slumping against the cabin wall. Ten
minutes after that he took Cal’s place.
Round and round they went, fighting desperately against time, trying to
match their puny strength against the ponderous walls of water that
rolled down on them and swept over the bulwark.
By eleven o’clock it was plain that they had been losing ground
rapidly. The barge was growing more sluggish with each passing wave.
Her portside was noticeably down—it was becoming even more difficult to
maintain a footing on the slippery, sharply sloping deck.
Ken hung on to the pump handle as water washed over the side. “How
long?” he asked through clenched teeth.
Cal sputtered and coughed as the water receded. He pointed a shaking
finger to the cargo. “She’s shifting!” he gasped. “We’ll turn over!”
Panic drove him to the bulwark. He poised there ready to jump.
Sandy grabbed him and pulled him back. “Don’t be a fool! You wouldn’t
last out there a minute.” He held on to the man while he turned his
head to shout to Ken. “Go on inside and bring out the life belts—and a
length of line.” He thrust Cal toward the pump handle. “Get moving.
She’s not going quite yet.”
Ken was gone almost ten minutes. When he returned, sliding along the
tilted deck in a moment of comparative quiet between two waves, he
carried two life belts and a coil of half-inch line. He had already
fastened a life belt around himself.
He handed a life belt to Sandy and took over the pump while the redhead
worked his way into the canvas jacket. “Had to pick up something,” Ken
said. He poked at his life belt. “Got it fastened under here.”
Sandy took over Cal’s place. “Get into the jacket,” he ordered.
“Hang on!” Ken cried. “A big one coming!”
The barge took long, agonizing seconds to rise from under the weight of
water. Over the noise of the wind they could hear the rattle of stones
as still more of the cargo slipped toward the portside.
Sandy looked forward anxiously. He stopped pumping and swiftly tied the
three of them together with the line, leaving twenty feet of slack
between them.
“Look!” Ken cried. “Blue sky!”
High overhead a small patch had appeared in the heavy overcast. As they
watched, the wind spread the clouds further and further apart and the
patch of sky grew larger.
“One patch of blue sky doesn’t mean the sea will calm down,” Sandy said
grimly. “It may take hours more for that to happen—days even.”
As if to prove his words another comber swept over them an instant
later, to bury itself in the gravel and add additional tons of water to
the load the barge was already carrying.
More gravel cascaded down toward the bulwark. The portside seemed a
scant three feet above water while the starboard side reared menacingly
in the air.
Sandy straightened up. “This isn’t accomplishing much,” he said.
“There’s no use kidding ourselves.”
“Abandon ship?” Ken asked.
“We’ll wait until the last possible moment,” Sandy said. “We’ll climb
up on the stone—way over on the starboard side. When she goes down,
she’ll roll to port. That’s when we’ll jump to starboard. We have to
clear the barge when we hit the water or....”
There was no need for him to finish the sentence. In silence, with
Sandy in the lead, they climbed up onto the pile of stone and made
their way to the top.
Overhead the sky was clearing rapidly. The sun had found a way through
the last of the scudding gray clouds. Even the wind was easing
slightly. But the waves were as high as they had ever been. From their
new vantage point the mammoth walls of onrushing water seemed even
larger.
Huddled on the rough stone, they watched the barge tilt more and more
as the minutes passed. The cold got at them now that they were no
longer straining at the pump handle. Their hands were numb, their lips
blue. Only tightly clenched jaws could keep their teeth from chattering.
The boys sat close together; Cal a few feet distant. There was no
conversation—there seemed to be nothing to say.
More stone slid down, carrying them toward the portside. They clawed
their way back up. Cal got to his feet.
“Get down!” Sandy shouted. “Nobody jumps until I give the word. Then we
all jump together.”
“She’s going over!” Cal swayed on unsteady feet.
Sandy hauled on the line until he had brought the terrified man down to
his knees. “Don’t—”
“Sandy!” Ken’s voice rang out above the noise of the wind and the
waves. “Do you hear it? A plane!”
“Where!” Sandy’s voice cracked in the middle of the word and his head
jerked upward.
Frantically they scanned the clear sky.
“There!” Ken shouted finally. Instinctively he began to wave his arms
wildly in the air. “They’ll see us, won’t they? And send the Coast
Guard?”
“We have to signal them—we need something big.”
Forgetting the rope that tied them together, Sandy lunged down the pile
of stone toward the cabin. Ken and Cal were pulled down with him as he
hurled himself around the corner of the cabin.
Before they could get to their feet Sandy was back, carrying a blanket
from one of the bunks. He scrambled up the pile of stone, hauling
impatiently at the line and waving the blanket even before Ken and Cal
could reach him.
“It looks like it’s coming closer!” Ken shouted.
The air-borne craft in the sky was dropping rapidly now. Blinking their
eyes against the glare of the sun, they could see that it was a
helicopter—a bare thousand feet above the barge.
Approaching from windward, the helicopter continued to lose altitude as
it swung in a circling maneuver until it was directly over the barge.
Then it began to descend in a straight line like an elevator in an
invisible shaft. When the machine was a scant thirty feet above their
heads a door in the underbelly opened and something fell seaward to
land on the pile of stone a few feet from where they stood.
“It’s a ladder!” Ken shouted. “A rope ladder! Come on!”
The ladder was swinging back and forth in the wind. Sandy made a grab
for it and caught at the twisting rope. The helicopter continued to
drop until it hovered only fifteen feet above them.
Ken looked upward. His father’s face was peering down at him from the
aircraft.
“Dad!” Ken began to laugh, almost hysterical with relief now that their
long ordeal was over. “Don’t bother to come aboard,” he shouted. “We
were just leaving, anyway.”
Beside him, one arm thrust between the ladder rungs, the other around
Ken’s shoulders, Sandy was laughing too.
------------------------------------------------------------------------