have plenty to do without the volcano. We’ll be off Tapachula in twenty minutes.”

Remi went down the steps and then belowdecks to the cabins and knocked on doors. “We’re almost to Tapachula,” she called.

A few minutes later, the crew, the doctors, and the Fargos were all up and having a simple breakfast of coffee, eggs, and fruit on deck. It was difficult for any of them to keep from staring into the distance at the smoke from the volcano smeared across the sky. As they approached the city, they began to see the devastation — buildings that had half disintegrated in the shaking, leaving great piles of bricks beside walls that were, for the moment, still standing; long rows of telephone poles that had fallen, leaving electrical wires draped over parked cars or lying in the street. Here and there, in the panoramic view from the deck of the yacht, they could see small, steady fires that had probably begun when natural gas pipes had broken. One by one, they left the table to prepare to go ashore.

They had visited enough affected towns on their way down the coast to have improved their methods greatly. The three doctors, who had already replenished their medical kits, each packed two large backpacks with supplies they’d needed in the last towns. There were fires, so they brought burn medications and painkillers. There was fallen masonry, so they brought splints, sutures, and — for the worst cases — amputation kits. Sam, Remi, and George lined up the cases of food and water, loaded the first of the generators and gasoline cans. They knew from experience that their trip to shore would attract those eager to help as well as the desperate, so they included cases of flashlights, first aid kits, and tools for digging people out of collapsed buildings and for making temporary shelters.

At seven, while they were packing, they could already see people gathering on the beach to meet them. They loaded the heaviest items into the lifeboat before they lowered it to the water, then formed a line so they could hand the other boxes and packs from one person to the next down the ladder to the boat. When they were finished, the boat was a bit overloaded, so they had to carefully arrange themselves to keep it evenly balanced.

The trip to shore included the three doctors and Sam, Remi, and Miguel, who would run the motor and bring the boat in safely. Miguel used the waves judiciously, positioning the boat at the proper angle so it would be propelled in rather than rolled over. Just as the boat was near the shore, he turned off the motor and tilted it up to protect the propeller. As the keel scraped at the bow, Sam and Remi jumped out and hauled the boat ashore.

The local people were overjoyed to see what they had brought. The three doctors were immediately surrounded by people eager to guide them to the local hospital and carry their medical supplies. Sam, Remi, and Miguel unloaded the rest of the supplies onto the sand and pushed the boat back out to sea so Miguel could go back for the next load of food, water, and a second generator.

Sam and Remi went with the doctors to get the first generator up and running at the hospital and then returned to the beach to get the second generator, when Miguel returned, and bring it to a medical clinic that was still standing across town.

The work went on all day and much of the night. As they distributed their cargo to various parts of town, they heard many stories. People were working with shovels and tractors and trucks to clear the roads to cities along the coast. Others with homes that had remained intact were taking in those whose homes were destroyed.

Through the next five days, there were aftershocks from the enormous quake. The first few were sharp and lasted uncomfortably long, but they seemed to get milder and less frequent as the days passed.

On the evening of the sixth day, Captain Juan was waiting on the rear deck of the yacht when Sam, Remi, and the others returned in the lifeboat. His face was grave.

Remi nudged Sam. “I think we’re about to get some bad news.”

Remi, Sam, the three doctors, George, and Miguel gathered while Juan fidgeted and cleared his throat. “This afternoon I got a radio message from the charter company. They’ve been patient about things, but they want us to bring their yacht back to Acapulco.”

“Why?” asked Remi. “We’re still willing to rent it, and we haven’t hurt the boat, have we?”

“It’s nothing like that,” Juan said. “They’ve been nervous because we’ve been using a luxury yacht to haul supplies, but they knew it was necessary and that we can fix anything that looks worn. But they’ve got a schedule to keep. In four days, another group will arrive in Acapulco, expecting the yacht to be waiting for them. There are contracts.” He shrugged and held out his empty hands to pantomime his helplessness.

“How much time do we have?” asked Sam.

“They want us to leave tonight. That will give them a day to have the decks cleaned and polished, the engines serviced, and new supplies loaded. I’m sorry.”

“All right,” said Sam. “We’ve unloaded all the supplies we brought here days ago and now there’s no need for the yacht. What do you think, Remi? Want to go back to Acapulco with the boat and fly home?”

“Not yet,” she said. “I think we should stay a few more days. I’ve been hearing that the people who live near the volcano still need medical care and supplies.”

“Are you sure?” said Juan. “That’s not an easy trip. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve seen you both working when I was ready to drop. I’m proud to know you.”

“We all are,” said George.

“It’s been a pleasure for us too,” said Sam. “But we’d like to try to help the people on the mountain. Right now, we’ll go below and pack our things so you can get started for home.”

Dr. Martinez said, “I think I’d better go back with the boat, if I may. I’ve been away from the hospital as long as I can be.”

Sam turned to the others. “Dr. Garza?”

Dr. Garza said, “Dr. Talamantes and I are staying for a few more days too. And by the way, please call me Maria. We’ve been through so much together, I feel as though I’ve known you for years.”

“And call me Christina,” said Dr. Talamantes.

In a short time, the group was reassembled on the aft deck with their backpacks. George and Miguel helped them into the lifeboat and took them back to the beach. When the boat was empty again, Sam and Remi pushed it off into deeper water.

“We’ll miss you,” said Miguel.

“Good,” said Remi. “Friends should miss one another. But we’ll all have stories of adventures we can tell when we meet again.”

As the lifeboat putted out to the yacht, Sam picked up their backpacks, and he and Remi walked off the beach and up the street toward the schoolhouse that was being used for temporary shelter. He said, “You know we’re stranded now, don’t you?”

“Stranded in a tropical beach town with the man I love?” Remi said. “Big deal.”

“A very romantic thing to say for a woman who’s been shoveling gravel and asphalt into cracks in a runway. I just hope those adventures you were talking about are as much fun as you implied to Miguel.”

She went up on tiptoes and kissed him. “This will be fine, and we’ll do some small bit of good. If we weren’t here, we’d be at home, bugging the electricians and carpenters, so our house would never get finished.”

“You’re right,” he said. “Let’s go see if there’s room for us to sleep in the school. We’ll call Selma so she doesn’t get worried, and tomorrow we can ask around to see how to form a relief party to the mountain.”

Chapter 4

VOLCAN TACANA, MEXICO

By noon the next day, Sam and Remi were among a dozen volunteers sitting under the hot sun in the back of a flatbed truck, bouncing along the bad road toward Volcan Tacana. Beside them were their former shipmates Dr. Christina Talamantes and Dr. Maria Garza, and, on the other side, were others they had come to know during the past week. There were two brothers in their twenties named Raul and Paul Mendoza, who had been brought up out in the countryside near the volcano, and a tall, quiet man named Jose, who’d had a law office in Tapachula that had been damaged by the earthquake. Jose Sanchez had a thick mustache that veiled his mouth, so one seldom knew whether he was smiling or frowning.

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