Lloyd took his grandfather’s burning hand. “Is me, Gramps,” he said.
“No time for this,” Jules said again from behind him. “We need to get him to a hospital now-now.”
There was a blur of activity—Speedy was called by the whistle Jules wore around her neck and they made a basic stretcher of oars, a blanket, and string. Vernon and Selvin stood aside, saying nothing. Lloyd tried to get Gramps to drink from a small cup but the water ran out of both sides of his mouth. He poured water into his cupped hand and wiped the old man’s burning salty face. He would think about his father’s guilt or innocence later.
Jules and Speedy lifted Maas Conrad’s body onto the stretcher with ease, refusing Vernon’s offer of help. They picked their way over the rocks to the boats. “More blankets, Lloydie,” she said when they were aboard Skylark. “Put them under him. It’s going to be a rough ride home. Keep giving him water.” Lloyd heard the engines fire and they pulled away from Portland Rock, leaving his father and Selvin standing on the shore.
The journey seemed endless. The weather had deteriorated—there was a low haze in the air and the sea was rough and getting rougher. The storm was close. Speedy kept the throttles open as wide as he could and Skylark slammed into huge swells and breaking waves over and over and over. Lloyd knelt beside his grandfather, holding on to a chrome handle at the side of the console, offering him sips of water. The fiberglass deck scraped his knees. The old man’s head lolled and Lloyd feared his bones would shatter. He was like a crocus bag half full of fish pot sticks.
Jules got on the radio and issued rapid-fire orders—Madison was to get the Jeep from Treasure Beach because they were going straight to Kingston, get an ambulance to Port Royal, a Dr. Reynolds was to meet them at the hospital, no, not the public hospital, of course not, Tony Thwaites wing at the University. Yes, he’s still alive, she said. Over. The radio crackled. You meet us at Port Royal, they’re not going to let us on the ambulance. Bring clothes for Lloyd, they’re not going to let him into the hospital looking like he does. Over.
The hours passed. Gramps did not speak. Finally, Lloyd saw the skyline of Kingston ahead, blurry behind the haze, and Skylark picked up speed.
Jules had washed her face and hands and changed her shirt. As they came into Kingston Harbour, she shed her life jacket. The ambulance was waiting and the dock at Cagway had been cleared; the Coast Guard boats hovered nearby. Speedy took them to berth in one smooth maneuver and sailors caught the lines Jules threw. The commander stood on the dock.
“Help us!” she shouted to the sailors and the commander nodded at them. Two men jumped into Skylark and lifted the stretcher. Gramps groaned and it was the first sound he had made since they left Portland Rock. The sailors on the dock took the stretcher and handed it over to the ambulance men. “Come quick, Lloydie,” Jules said. “Thank you!” she said to the commander and he put his hand to his cap in a salute.
They ran over to the ambulance. “Tony Thwaites, you hear?” Jules said to the driver.
“Yes, Miss. Me know.”
“Me want go with him!” Lloyd said. It was all moving too fast.
“They not going let you, Lloydie. See Madison over there? We going follow right behind them, you don’t worry.”
“Suppose him die in the ambulance?” Lloyd said. “Let me go with him!”
Jules looked over at one of the ambulance men, who shook his head. Lloyd peered into the back of the ambulance. The stretcher looked as if it was empty of anything but an old blanket. Gramps was almost gone. The second ambulance man was peering over Maas Conrad’s hand with a needle in his hand. “Don’t hurt him!” Lloyd said and his voice broke.
“Come, Lloydie. He in good hands,” Jules said. “You saved you granddaddy’s life. Come.”
The ambulance drove off, siren blaring. Madison came over to them and handed Jules a backpack. The two women made Lloyd wash up at a standpipe and change into a set of new clothes and too big shoes. He could not bear the delay, could not stand the thought that Gramps might die now, back on land, having been lost and then found, having come this far. Jules took the wheel of a Honda Civic that Lloyd had not seen before and they sped along the Palisadoes Road. “Hope no speed traps today,” she said.
Jules ran into the hospital holding Lloyd’s arm, as if she were a policeman and he was under arrest. They saw Maas Conrad over to one side on a narrow bed on wheels, the blankets on the floor. No one was with him. Lloyd pulled his arm free and ran to his grandfather. “Hey!” shouted a nurse behind a desk. “Where you think you going?”
“Where is Dr. Reynolds?” Lloyd heard Jules ask the nurse. An argument developed between them. The boy stood beside Maas Conrad and touched his shoulder. The old man did not move. “Gramps?” he whispered. “Is me. Open you eyes. You in hospital. You soon be okay. Gramps. Talk to me.” He felt tears on his cheeks and he lowered his head, not wanting anyone to see them. Under the hospital’s thin white sheet, he saw Maas Conrad’s chest rise and fall, but the movement was so small.
He had never held his grandfather’s hand before this day. He slipped his own hand under the sheet. He squeezed Gramps’s hand gently and he felt a weak answering pressure. The old man burned with fever.
They waited in a room near the main entrance. Jules and Madison
