“No, man,” she said, smiling. The flash of her teeth illuminated her whole face. “Just came over on spec. This is Lloyd Saunders. Lloyd, Commander Peterson.”
“Lloyd,” said Commander Peterson. He looked at his watch. “I have a meeting at fourteen hundred hours,” he said to Jules. “What’s up?”
“Lloyd’s grandfather went to Pedro last Sunday, but hasn’t come back. We were wondering if your guys could ask around out there—you going out tomorrow night as usual?”
“Yes. About midnight. Captain Blake will be in command. Sure, no problem. He can ask around, but why don’t we just radio the base on Middle Cay? What’s your grandfather’s name?” he said to Lloyd.
“Maas Conrad, sah,” Lloyd said. “Conrad Saunders.”
“Him have a pet name?
“No, Maas Conrad is what them call him.”
“Him is a regular Pedro fisher? Don’t recognize the name.”
“No, sah. Him don’t go Pedro. Him more go California Banks, Bowditch. But him go Pedro last Sunday and him don’t come back.” Lloyd gathered his courage. He did not think radioing the Pedro base would work. “Me can go with the boat, sah? Me can find him. Me can crew if you want.”
The Commander laughed. “No, Lloyd, I’m sorry, but that can’t work. But don’t worry, my men will ask around. They know everybody on Pedro and if anybody out there knows anything, they will find out.”
“When they will be back, sah?”
“Boat turns around overnight. Goes out, takes out the new crew, brings back the men out there.”
“The boat don’t stay out there?”
“No. Goes out, comes back. Only a few hours out there, anchored off Middle Cay. You can check us Wednesday, late afternoon. Depends on the weather. I will radio out there now, get the men to start asking a few questions. The weather is not looking that good midweek, so—”
“But—” Lloyd said.
Jules put her hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Commander. Appreciate your help. If you hear anything, call me.”
“Your men will look out for him on the sea?” Lloyd said, despite Jules’s hand, warning him to be quiet and grateful. He knew the crew of the Surrey would be able to see much farther across the sea than the crew of a fishing canoe. Maybe they would see a boat with a dead engine in the swell and fall of the waves.
“My men always keep a good watch, son,” said Commander Peterson, and Lloyd heard the edge in his voice.
That night, he went again to the seawall after his mother was asleep. She seemed not to have noticed his disappearance all day. Boys were expected to be unruly and Lloyd knew it was enough for her that he returned home for the evening meal—that night a hearty chicken soup, made from chicken neck and back, with yam and cho cho and large solid dumplings. He had been hungry—Jules had forgotten her promise of fish at Gloria’s so his lunch had consisted of the snacks he had eaten at the Morgan’s Harbour Hotel. As they ate in silence, Lloyd knew his mother had something on her mind.
After the visit to the Coast Guard base, Jules had driven him to Gray Pond beach at his request—he had not wanted her to see where he lived. She had asked how to find him if she heard anything about Maas Conrad, and he told her that anyone at Gray Pond would know where to find him. He had watched the Jeep drive away and he felt alone. He had not even said thanks and he had not found out where to find her. She had said he should not worry about Gramps, but he felt her words were empty. Another day done and there was still no news of his grandfather.
The hot night was cloudy and the sky hung low. It was the middle of the hurricane season. There could be a storm at any time. The words any time had two meanings. His grandfather could return at any time, but also a storm could blow up any time, a storm that would sink a lost fishing canoe in the first half hour. The Coast Guard commander was right; the weather was changing. A storm was out there. He leaned against the light pole and thought about the Surrey. There must be places on board where a small boy could hide. Surely the sailors would not do anything bad to a small boy when he was found, especially if the small boy was only seeking news of his grandfather. He wished he could wait for a trip when Jules would be there, but it was clear she had no plans to go to Pedro the next day.
The problem was how to get on board the ship. He was sure there would always be a sentry at the entry port. The stern ladder was very close to the dock so he knew he could swim to the ship from the Port Royal fishing beach—he could hug the coast and move through the water as silently as any large fish. But then what? Could he climb the anchor rope onto the deck and disappear into the anchor well? He thought he might be able to, and if he failed, all that would happen was he would fall into the sea. He thought of the jumping ray—he would sound like a ray hitting the water, no one would notice.
But once on deck, he would be exposed. Could he climb the stern ladder and find a hiding place there? He was sorry he had not asked the commander if he could tour the ship. He could have pretended to be a boy in love with ships, and maybe the commander would have showed him around with pride. He could have made a better plan then.
Lloyd knew the word “stowaway”—occasionally people from other countries, Haiti
