Lloyd heard the crew of the Surrey returning. They were laughing. “Fool-fool yout’,” someone said.
“Ganja mad him,” said another sailor. At least the men did not seem angry. The deck quieted down. Minutes passed, and no one shouted at him. He had done it; he really was a stowaway on a Coast Guard ship, bound for the Pedro Bank. Adrenaline had banished his hunger, but he was already thirsty. He let his muscles relax. At least he was on deck, not confined in some airless hiding place below decks where he would have been seasick. He closed his eyes.
He started when he felt the throb of the engines below. He was cramped and cold, but he had dozed. He wondered how long it would take for the Surrey to reach the point of no return—that point when even if he were found the ship would continue on its way to Pedro. At least two hours, he figured, maybe three.
What would happen if they found him? Could it happen that he would make it to the Cays and not be allowed off the boat, not be able to talk to anyone? Maybe, if he was found, the captain would have a kind heart, but he knew it was not likely—he had not met many kind men. He listened to the footsteps and voices of the men of the sea around him and hoped they would understand why he was there, hidden under the dinghy.
Then he felt the stern of the Surrey swing free, and he heard the sound of ropes being coiled on deck just a few feet from where he lay, the whine of the anchor winch started, the sailors shouted commands, and the boat moved forward. They were finally free of the land. Lloyd allowed his spirits to lift a little. He said good-bye to Dwight in his mind. He hoped he was not at the Port Royal police station, or in some lockup on the Coast Guard base.
A day came when Luke went to Pedro and did not return. He had made the journey with a young fisher called Donovan, who was said to be involved in drugs. Donovan was from Black River; he flashed money around and he owned two fishing canoes. He asked Luke to crew for him although Luke was the more experienced seaman and by rights should have been captain. He offered more money than was customary and Luke went.
They left with another fisher, old Percy in his boat Lady Joan. Six days later Percy returned to Great Bay. He hauled up his boat, stored his engine, sold his fish, and later that day showed up at Sheldon’s Bar. That is when he asked for Luke and Donovan. The fishers in the bar shook their heads, no, they had not seen the two men. Old Percy said that was strange because they had left Top Cay before him.
Luke and Donovan had gone to drift.
15
The Surrey left Kingston Harbour; Lloyd thought it was just after midnight. He knew the instant they rounded the point by the change in the sea under him. He explored his hiding place with his fingers; it was shaped like a triangle with a short base and most of the space was at the apex. He thought he would be most comfortable if he folded himself into the apex, like a half-closed ratchet knife.
He looked around for something to hold on to and, in the murky light, saw there were ropes around the hull of the dinghy. He took hold of one of the ropes and gasped as the first burst of spray hit the deck and found him where he lay. He could hear the chatter of a radio from the flying bridge above his head. He did not know what the men on the bridge could see of the dinghy where he hid, but he hoped they would keep looking ahead.
It was not long before the ship met heavy weather. Up and down the Surrey crashed, rocking from side to side as well, the worst of all movements for a boy hidden in a small space. Waves poured over the ship from bow to stern and ran along his body. Lloyd vomited helplessly onto the deck, grateful as each wave washed the vomit away. At least the engine noise was loud. Then Lloyd heard retching sounds nearby. First-time sailor, he thought, and he was glad someone else was being sick. His hiding place seemed to grow smaller and he wished he could walk the deck. Despite his sickness, it would be exciting to be at sea at night in this huge ship, to go farther out to sea than he had ever been.
He had no sense of speed; the Surrey seemed to wallow and lurch, but not to move forward. That was one thing about a canoe, even those with small horsepower engines, they raced over the water, fast and nimble, belonging to the sea, at home in it as much as any sea creature. This big ship pounded and churned and fought the sea; it was an invention of man, a machine, and Lloyd thought it would take days to get to the Pedro Cays.
He was cold to his bones and his eyes and lips burned from the spray. The sea was a hard place, a dangerous place, but a man did not complain, he told himself. A man held strong. He tightened his grip on the dinghy ropes and gave himself to the journey. He was going to the place where his grandfather was last seen, and he felt closer to him than at any time since he had disappeared.
The news about Luke traveled around Treasure Beach like the crack of a whip. I was helping Maas Allan mend his pots at the time, near to the buttonwood tree at the end of Calabash Bay. Maas Jacob came running
