the man in the side cockpit when he refused to get off '
Jeanne had passed them and was kneeling now beside the weeping woman. Lisa stayed with Skippy, listening. Neil turned to the man seated with the .45 on his lap. In his midthirties, thickset with dark, receding hair, he again gazed back at Neil with quiet confidence.
`We're sailing over to Crisfield to pick up a friend,' he announced. The man simply nodded. 'I don't appreciate people forcing themselves on to my boat at gunpoint,' Neil added coldly.
`These are tough times, Buddy,' the man said softly. 'And I didn't notice you or your friend selling tickets.' `You had to shoot someone?' Neil asked.
`There were thirty people aboard,' the man replied quietly. 'Your young friend said this boat couldn't sail out of here with that much weight. Jerry and I kicked twenty of them off A guy pulled a knife on Jerry and Jerry shot him. It's only a shoulder wound and I already patched it up. Nothing serious.'
Ì'd like our .22 back,' Neil said quietly.
The man looked down at his lap as if surprised to find Jim's rifle lying there.
`Sure,' he said after a pause. 'Just borrowed it for a minute.' He handed it to Neil.
'Lisa,' said Neil, turning to the young girl, 'get Skippy and your mother down into the port cabin. Jim, get the sails back up.'
He turned back to the man with the .45.
'Do you know much about sailing?' he asked him. 'Not much,' he said.
'How about your friend Jerry?'
'He thinks he's standing on the front of the boat.'
Neil glanced at the pink-shirted Jerry who stood nervously on the stern of the port hull watching the dock.
'All right,' said Neil. 'This boat is motorless so I'll trust you're not stupid enough to get rid of Jim and me since we're the only ones who can sail it. I'd appreciate it, however, if you'
d both put your guns away.'
'Sure,' said the man with a slight smile. 'You're the captain.'
Jim had raised the two sails forward and as Neil headed there to help him with the anchor Jeanne appeared. 'Where's Frank?' she asked.
'We're meeting him in Crisfield,' he answered. 'And then?'
'Out to sea,' he replied and, as he moved forward, frowned at how simple the three words made it sound. He doubted they'd ever see Frank again, and their chances of getting past Norfolk to the ocean in one piece were probably small. He'd be happy if they made it to Crisfield without the wind dying or one of the outlaws shooting someone. But one step at a time. Jim came aft after making the main halyard fast.
'Take the wheel, Jim,' he said, 'and put her on the port tack. I'll handle the anchor.'
'I couldn't stop them,' Jim burst out unexpectedly. 'The guy in the wheelhouse said he'd shoot me.'
Neil nodded and thought of the man in the wheelhouse. `He would have,' Neil said. '
Now go.'
In five minutes Vagabond was labouring across the bay at six knots in a nice breeze. Neil found himself looking for Jeanne, but the wheelhouse remained empty except for Jim and the cold-eyed Buddha with the gun. With Vagabond moving again Neil felt almost content, even strangely happy. Then, looking aft, he saw that the cloud mass from Washington was still spreading; the sky directly above them was no longer blue. He looked at it a moment, feeling fear and anger both, then went back to work. 14
Although the traffic between Crisfield and Salisbury had been thin, at the airport the parking lot was overflowing. There were three Maryland State Police cars and eight or nine policemen, but they seemed unclear about what they were supposed to be doing. Inside the drab terminal, people were strangely quiet. The room was crowded but what little movement there was occurred slowly as if everyone was moving through molasses. As Frank walked directly towards the door marked `Manager's Office', he had to push his way through two long lines that stretched far out into the room from the ticket counter. Ì want to buy or charter a plane,' he said to the small, spare man seated at a desk who had
Jeanne had passed them and was kneeling now beside the weeping woman. Lisa stayed with Skippy, listening. Neil turned to the man seated with the .45 on his lap. In his midthirties, thickset with dark, receding hair, he again gazed back at Neil with quiet confidence.
`We're sailing over to Crisfield to pick up a friend,' he announced. The man simply nodded. 'I don't appreciate people forcing themselves on to my boat at gunpoint,' Neil added coldly.
`These are tough times, Buddy,' the man said softly. 'And I didn't notice you or your friend selling tickets.' `You had to shoot someone?' Neil asked.
`There were thirty people aboard,' the man replied quietly. 'Your young friend said this boat couldn't sail out of here with that much weight. Jerry and I kicked twenty of them off A guy pulled a knife on Jerry and Jerry shot him. It's only a shoulder wound and I already patched it up. Nothing serious.'
Ì'd like our .22 back,' Neil said quietly.
The man looked down at his lap as if surprised to find Jim's rifle lying there.
`Sure,' he said after a pause. 'Just borrowed it for a minute.' He handed it to Neil.
'Lisa,' said Neil, turning to the young girl, 'get Skippy and your mother down into the port cabin. Jim, get the sails back up.'
He turned back to the man with the .45.
'Do you know much about sailing?' he asked him. 'Not much,' he said.
'How about your friend Jerry?'
'He thinks he's standing on the front of the boat.'
Neil glanced at the pink-shirted Jerry who stood nervously on the stern of the port hull watching the dock.
'All right,' said Neil. 'This boat is motorless so I'll trust you're not stupid enough to get rid of Jim and me since we're the only ones who can sail it. I'd appreciate it, however, if you'
d both put your guns away.'
'Sure,' said the man with a slight smile. 'You're the captain.'
Jim had raised the two sails forward and as Neil headed there to help him with the anchor Jeanne appeared. 'Where's Frank?' she asked.
'We're meeting him in Crisfield,' he answered. 'And then?'
'Out to sea,' he replied and, as he moved forward, frowned at how simple the three words made it sound. He doubted they'd ever see Frank again, and their chances of getting past Norfolk to the ocean in one piece were probably small. He'd be happy if they made it to Crisfield without the wind dying or one of the outlaws shooting someone. But one step at a time. Jim came aft after making the main halyard fast.
'Take the wheel, Jim,' he said, 'and put her on the port tack. I'll handle the anchor.'
'I couldn't stop them,' Jim burst out unexpectedly. 'The guy in the wheelhouse said he'd shoot me.'
Neil nodded and thought of the man in the wheelhouse. `He would have,' Neil said. '
Now go.'
In five minutes Vagabond was labouring across the bay at six knots in a nice breeze. Neil found himself looking for Jeanne, but the wheelhouse remained empty except for Jim and the cold-eyed Buddha with the gun. With Vagabond moving again Neil felt almost content, even strangely happy. Then, looking aft, he saw that the cloud mass from Washington was still spreading; the sky directly above them was no longer blue. He looked at it a moment, feeling fear and anger both, then went back to work. 14
Although the traffic between Crisfield and Salisbury had been thin, at the airport the parking lot was overflowing. There were three Maryland State Police cars and eight or nine policemen, but they seemed unclear about what they were supposed to be doing. Inside the drab terminal, people were strangely quiet. The room was crowded but what little movement there was occurred slowly as if everyone was moving through molasses. As Frank walked directly towards the door marked `Manager's Office', he had to push his way through two long lines that stretched far out into the room from the ticket counter. Ì want to buy or charter a plane,' he said to the small, spare man seated at a desk who had
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