Cold Choices

There was only one question, and Williams didn’t wait for Jerry to ask. “Give it another two hours and we’ll be ready for a test.”

“That’s good news, Todd. Thanks.”

His tour of the operations compartment now finally complete, Jerry headed for the XO’s stateroom and reported. Shimko, pale but still seated and working at his desk, said, “Good. That matches what he told me earlier. I’m glad he’s still on schedule.”

The deck shuddered, an unusual motion. Both Jerry and Shimko grabbed for support and waited until it had passed.

“The storm’s getting worse,” Shimko announced. It wasn’t news, but it started him talking about what was obviously an uncomfortable request. “I want you to go topside and look at the weather.”

Jerry smiled, almost involuntarily, and laughed, but only for a moment. “It’s hard not to look at the weather when you’re up there.”

“We’re starting to get more injuries,” the XO explained. “It’s mostly scrapes and bruises, but Garcia was actually thrown from his rack when he was asleep. The doc just put seven stitches in his forehead.”

Shimko spoke carefully, as if he’d rehearsed what he had to ask. “As long as we’re forced to remain on the surface, the Captain’s concerned about the boat’s ability to weather the storm. It’s bad enough that the storm’s moving slowly to southeast, but we’re heading northeasterly, almost perpendicular to its path. Read the latest weather reports, go up and look things over, then report back to me. Should we keep going, or slow and try to find a more comfortable course?”

The confusion must have shown in Jerry’s expression. Shimko explained, “Yes, this is the Captain’s decision to make. And yes, he and I both went up a little while ago. He used the sat phone to call Rountree’s parents. We both looked at the weather, but now he wants to hear your opinion as well.”

There was only one answer. “Aye, aye, sir. I’ll report back as soon as I can.”

Jerry went back to his stateroom, trying to work it through. The captain might be testing him, seeing what Jerry’s answer would be, but Shimko hadn’t acted like this was a training evolution. The XO also hadn’t hinted at his own opinion.

Rudel was an expert sailor. Certainly nobody aboard Seawolf would question his decision, whatever he chose. So why was the skipper taking a poll? Was he second-guessing his own judgment?

After changing into his thermals and several layers of warm clothes, Jerry worked his way to control and told the chief of the watch he needed to go up. He hadn’t been topside since he’d inspected the damage with Shimko after the collision. Since then, qualified conning officers had taken one-hour watches topside, while the deck was manned in control.

An auxiliaryman met him on the first deck with the foul-weather gear, boots, pants, and a heavy coat, and helped Jerry climb into them. Standing on one leg was impossible with the motion of the boat, and Jerry sat on the deck to get the pants on. Getting up was strangely easy, a matter of waiting, then simply pushing up as the deck fell away beneath you.

A parachute harness went over everything, and the chief of the boat, EMCM Hess, double-checked the clips, as if Jerry was planning to jump from a plane. Then he helped Jerry into a bright orange life vest. “Sir, use the first clip, right at the top of the ladder.” Master Chief Hess’s tone was earnest, dead serious. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but we almost lost someone because he didn’t clip up quickly enough. He wanted to close the hatch first.” As he talked, the master chief checked the emergency flasher and waterproof radio attached to the vest.

“Who?” Jerry question’s was automatic.

The COB shook his head. “I promised I wouldn’t say if he promised not to be a knucklehead again.” He grinned. “Besides, I could get in trouble speaking that way to an officer.”

Jerry suppressed his own smile and answered solemnly, “Just like you said, COB. Right away, first one at the top of the ladder.”

As he stated to climb, carefully moving with the motion of the ship, the master chief said, “Wait until we’re at the top of a wave. Most of the water’s drained out the cockpit by then.”

Jerry nodded and climbed the few rungs. He grabbed the hatch, then waited, feeling the bow pitch down once, then twice. On the third wave he quickly worked the mechanism, then, helped by the downward motion, threw the hatch up.

He spotted the clip at the top of the ladder and hurriedly secured his harness. Jerry was out of the ladder and closing the hatch when the first wave hit. Some of the water went down the access trunk, but Jerry slammed it as quickly as he could.

Tom Norris, the reactor officer, had the watch, along with Fireman Inglis as lookout. To their credit, both had their glasses up and were searching the ragged horizon. The sound of the wind and ice masked his arrival until the hatch clanged shut and Jerry yelled, “Permission to come up.”

Norris turned, one hand braced on the bridge coaming, and shouted back, “Granted. Watch your footing!” He pointed to the deck, and Jerry could see patches of ice on the wet surface.

Remembering the COB’s instructions, Jerry waited for a break in the waves before quickly switching his harness clip to an attachment point nearer the front of the bridge. He had to carefully pick his footing on the slippery surface while he braced against the ship’s motion and the wind tearing at him.

The wind came from the port side, trying to roll Seawolf over while it pulled them out of the cockpit, but the sail didn’t have enough area for the wind to work on. It drove the snow and ice ahead of it, making Jerry pull his hood around to shield his face.

A wave broke over the coaming. Jerry tried to dodge it, but the other two didn’t bother. After it passed, leaving half an inch of water splashing in the cockpit, Norris leaned over as far as his harness allowed and said, “It’s too early for my relief, but if you insist. ” He had to speak up to be heard over the wind.

“How is she handling the weather?”

Norris turned his back to the wind, and the two huddled side by side as they talked. “The wind’s come a little to the right since I got up here. The bow is starting to pound, and I’m worried about what happens if we strike a large ice floe. I’ve steered us around some really big ones, but I don’t know how big is too big.”

Jerry deliberately reassured him. “We’re okay since they welded the reinforcements in place. That’s still HY- 100 steel. We’d have to ram something bigger and harder than an ice floe to be in trouble.”

Norris shrugged, a gesture barely visible under the heavy clothing. “I hope you’re right, but once in a while we go deeper in the trough, or are slower coming up. That’s when these harnesses pay off. I’d recommend finding a smoother course, maybe we can turn more toward the southeast so we’re taking the waves from the stern quarter.”

“Understood,” Jerry answered, and backed up a little, ending the conversation. He stayed on the bridge for another twenty minutes, until the watch changed, watching the storm and how Seawolf rode it.

The pitch-down, the slide to the right, the shudder as the ice hit were all there, but more pronounced, the difference between a football game on a big-screen TV and seeing it live. Jerry saw the boat take a big wave. Instead of smashing over the bow it rolled up the hull, a gray-green wall that broke against the sail. All three ducked as the spray engulfed them. Some froze in midair, pelting them with wet ice.

Strangely, Jerry wasn’t seasick. The cold and the work of staying on his feet occupied most of his attention. The rest was focused on how Seawolf behaved in the wind-driven sea. For the most part, the beat-up boat was holding her own.

Finally the watch changed, two new victims climbing up while Jerry and the two watchstanders almost slid down the ladder. Their eagerness to get below was matched by the watch’s desire to get the hatch closed.

As Jerry took off his dripping gear, the smell hit him. Twenty minutes of fresh air had rebooted his nose, and the odors of one hundred men, ozone, oil, and vomit were thick enough to chew. His stomach flashed a warning, but was too tired and empty to react. By the time he’d climbed into dry coveralls, his sense of smell was numb again.

Jerry headed straight to the XO’s cabin. “Seawolf can handle the storm. We can stay on this course.”

“Good, let’s tell the Skipper.”

Rudel’s door was closed, but he answered quickly and was working at his desk. “Trying to get it all down