that boomed so clearly across the ether, repeating the relative bearing
on the dial of the instrument on the Trog's cluttered bench.
Good morning to you, Golden Dawn, the lilting Southern twang of the
coastguard navigator came back. I would be mightily obliged for your
port of registry and your cargo manifest. This ship is registered
Venezuela. The Trog dexterously made the fine tuning, scribbled the
bearing on his pad, ripped off the page and darted into Warlock's
navigation bridge.
Golden Dawn is sending in clear/ he squeaked with an expression of
malicious glee.
Call the Captain/ snapped the deck officer, and then as an afterthought,
and ask Mr. Berg to come to the bridge. The conversation between
coastguard and ultra-tanker was still going on when Nicholas burst into
the radio room, belting his dressing-gown.
Thank you for your courtesy, sir/ the coastguard navigator was using
extravagant Southern gallantry, fully aware that Golden Dawn was outside
United States territorial waters, and officially beyond his government's
jurisdiction. I would appreciate your port of final destination. We
are enroute Galveston for full discharge of cargo. 'Thank you again,
sir. And are you apprised of the hurricane alert in force at this time?
Affirmative. From Warlock's bridge, David Allen appeared in the
door-way, his face set and flushed.
She must be under way again/ he said, his disappointment so plain that
it angered Nicholas yet again. She is into the channel already. 'I'd be
obliged if you would immediately put this ship on a course to enter the
Straits and close with her as soon as is possible, Nicholas snapped, and
David Allen blinked at him once then disappeared on to his bridge,
calling for the change in course and increase in speed as he went.
Over the loudspeaker, the coastguard was being politely persistent.
Are you further apprised, sir, of the up-date on that hurricane alert
predicting storm passage of the main navigable channel at 1200 hours
local time tomorrow? Affirmative. Golden Dawn's replies had become
curt.
May I further trouble you, sir, in view of your sensitive cargo and the
special weather conditions, for your expected time of arrival abeam of
the Dry Tortugas Bank marine beacon and when you anticipate clearing the
channel and shaping a northerly course away from the predicted hurricane
track? Stand-by. There was a brief hum of static while the operator
consulted the deck officer and then the Golden Dawn came back, Our ETA
Dry Tortugas Bank beacon is 0 1 3 0 tomorrow. There was a long pause now
as the coastguard consulted his headquarters ashore on one of the closed
frequencies, and then: I am requested respectfully, but officially, to
bring to your attention that very heavy weather is expected ahead of the
storm centre and that your present ETA Dry Tortugas Bank leaves you very
fine margins of safety, sir. Thank you, coastguard One five Niner. Your
transmission will be entered in the ship's log. This is Golden Dawn
over and out. The coastguard's frustration was evident, clearly he
would have loved to order the tanker to reverse her course.
We will be following your progress with interest, Golden Dawn. Bon
voyage, this is coastguard One five Niner over and out. Charles Gras
