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  “Roger, we’ll see you guys in a few minutes.”

  Brian removed his headset and turned the volume up on the speakers so that he could walk out to the bridge to refill his coffee cup. Lieutenant Strickland agreed to listen up for radio calls, and Brian walked out onto the bridge wing for a breath of fresh air. The temperature was in the seventies, and now that the sun was peeking through the clouds, it was becoming a very pleasant day at sea. Brian looked aft and saw that a number of the survivors had moved out onto the fantail of the ship, three decks below, and were being entertained by the deck apes. The ship was underway once again and leaving a churning wake behind.

  He heard one of the lookouts call, “Aircraft approaching, six o’clock low.”

  Brian looked and saw the gray P3 Orion low on the horizon. He watched the airplane get bigger and realized it was no higher than the ship’s mast. Unlike the earlier high-speed pass, this time the flaps were down and they were moving slow. The people on the fantail were pointing in horror because they could see that the propellers on the two outboard engines were not turning. It looked like the airplane was in trouble. As they flew slowly past the starboard side of the ship, the wings dipped and rocked a friendly wave. The smell of jet exhaust from the two turboprop engines permeated the air.

  Brian walked back onto the bridge just as the radio crackled.

  “Hey Karuk, we like your little boat. Do you still have the box it came in?”

  Brian answered, “Nah, they didn’t have boxes in 1943. Did anybody tell you two of your engines aren’t running?”

  “Yeah, we know. I think the rubber bands broke or something. We’ll send a guy out there to rewind them before we go home. We’re going to blanket the northwest corner of your grid. We’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay, Navy Eight, we won’t go far.”

  “Somehow I don’t doubt that.”

  Brian watched out the front bridge windows as the Orion climbed to search altitude. He prayed that they would be successful. He went back to his chair in the radio room and wished he could be outside enjoying the fresh air.

  Tony thought that if he never experienced fresh ocean air again for the rest of his life, it would be too soon. The people in the three rafts were hungry, and they had not had a lot of success with making drinking water. The rubber rafts were hard and uncomfortable, and after thirty-six hours everyone was miserable and incredibly tired. Tony knew that the priority was survival and not comfort, but nonetheless he felt frustrated in his efforts to care for the survivors, who were becoming increasingly despondent. He was concerned for Nancy and Pam. The fact that there was little he could do for their injuries was frustrating. It was almost certain that they had both suffered at least mild concussions, and he worried every time they slept. Nancy’s ankle was terribly swollen and possibly broken. He knew it must be very painful. He admired their courage and mental toughness in the face of such adversity. In fact, it had caused him to have less sympathy for the few whiners in the group than he should have. Britt had quietly explained who Allen Smallwood was and why Pam and Nancy continued to antagonize him. Tony himself had quickly grown tired of Allen’s silly questions and self-serving attitude and was happy to let him sulk and pout alone.

  The polar opposite was Britt, who refused to complain and continued to exhibit the optimistic attitude that seemed to inspire the others. Even he had drawn strength from her refusal to give in to the terrible circumstances that they found themselves in. With all that had happened, it seemed like a long time ago that he had first seen Britt in the briefing room and noticed how attractive she was. He had been so preoccupied, however, with learning his new duties as an international pilot that he had not allowed himself time to think of a social agenda. But now, time was all he had. They had talked late into the night, and Tony had quickly discovered that she was not only attractive but also intelligent. After evaluating their chances for survival and planning their strategy, the conversation had turned to their personal lives, and Tony now felt that he had known her for years. He was reminded once again how a crisis could strip away all pretension and reveal one’s true character and core values. After thirty-six hours adrift in a wet life raft, Britt was filthy, with no hint of makeup remaining and damp, stringy hair plastered to her head. Yet Tony still found her attractive.

  With the weather improving as the day wore on, Tony had rewarded the people’s patience with a small ration of the energy bars they had discovered in the survival pack and also a mouthful of the foul-tasting water they had distilled. His own lips were parched and felt like they would soon crack. He knew that dehydration would soon become their biggest enemy. He laid his head back against the side of the raft and closed his eyes in order to concentrate on what else he could do to improve their conditions and odds of survival.

  During the morning, the raft had settled into periods of dead silence as everyone tried to conserve whatever energy that remained. Now it was so quiet that Tony thought, This must be what outer space is like. Tony became conscious of a faint noise that sounded like a portable fan running. He opened his eyes and scanned the horizon, but saw nothing at all. The sound seemed to increase in volume and had a slight irritation to it. Then it became downright annoying as he recognized the one thing that all pilots could not stand. It was not one fan running, but two and they were out of sync. Somewhere nearby, there were two propellers out of sync, and, for once in Tony’s life, it was a beautiful sound. The low throb and thrum was clearly audible now, even though he still could not see anything. He scrambled across the floor of the raft and opened the survival pack. He removed the flare gun and the sea dye marker. He moved to the downwind side of the raft. No one else had heard the airplane, and they all watched, wondering if their leader had lost his mind.

  Tony pointed the flare gun high and slightly away from the raft, then pulled the trigger. A red fireball streaked into the sky and arched across the sea. Next he popped the sea dye and put it in the water, turning it bright green as it spread in an increasing fluorescent circle around them. He jumped into the other rafts and retrieved their flare guns, but did not fire them. He hoped he would not have to. The droning noise was getting louder, and now everyone could hear it. Suddenly the most beautiful P3 Orion Tony had ever seen popped up over the southeast horizon and went into low orbit over the three rafts. People were screaming, waving, crying, and celebrating all at once. It was an amazing feeling, but not as amazing as how he felt when Britt hugged him.

  “Karuk, Navy Eight.”

  “Go ahead, Navy Eight.”

  “You guys have more work to do. We’ve got three rafts at your one o’clock and eleven miles. We’ll orbit until you get us in sight. Suggest a two nine zero initial heading.”

  “Outstanding, Navy Eight. Copy two nine zero and eleven miles. We’re on the way.”

  Captain Maxwell heard the report over the speakers and immediately ordered, “Come right, new course steady two nine zero, make turns for flank speed.”

  “Steady, two nine zero and flank speed. Aye, sir.”

  “Radio, find out how many people are in those rafts and give them an ETA of forty minutes.”

  Brian had been on the ship over a year and Maxwell still called him Radio. He always gave the same response: “Radio, aye, sir.”

  “Navy Eight, Karuk estimates forty minutes en route. How many people in the rafts?”

  “Looks like sixty or so total. The rafts are lashed together, and it’s hard to get a count.”

  “Thanks, Eight.”

  That was close enough for Captain Maxwell.

  “Lieutenant Strickland, I want you to go below and organize a field day for the crew berthing compartment and head. Notify the crew that those spaces are off-limits to them until further notice. As soon as it’s clean, you can move the civilians in and set a schedule for the showers to be used by the ladies and then the men. Make sure they understand what a navy shower is, or we’ll be out of fresh water before dark. The crew can sack out wherever they can find
a place on deck. The snipes sleep in the engine room half the time anyway. Talk to the chief and make it happen.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  Twenty minutes later, the Orion had modified its slow orbit to a racetrack pattern and climbed to twenty-five hundred feet so the Karuk could spot them sooner. As Todd made the turn at the northwest corner of the pattern, one of the crewmembers in the back keyed his interphone and reported, “Skipper, we got another flare at three o’clock in the turn.”

  Todd rolled right to a sixty-degree bank, and as he muscled the airplane around, he spotted the flare dying out but leaving a clear smoke trail hanging in the air. The copilot said, “This is like looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”

  Todd said, “Remind me to tell you my leprechaun joke later.”

  The Orion increased speed and flew away to the north, causing Allen Smallwood to jump up and down, screaming at them to come back or face litigation. It wasn’t until Tony pointed out the smoke from the Karuk’s single stack approaching from the east that he calmed down. Britt commented that the twelve-year-old in Pam’s raft was more mature and probably more intelligent.

  “Karuk, Navy Eight.”

  “Go ahead, sir.”

  “We’ve got more business for you. We’re orbiting a single raft four miles north of the first group. Looks like about twenty customers aboard.”

  “Roger, Navy Eight. Copy four miles north and twenty souls.”

  “You guys have enough chow for all these people?”

  “Yes sir, it’s mystery meat tonight. There are always plenty of leftovers.”

  Robby Jenner and his eighteen raft mates did not know they would be served mystery meat, but they would enjoy every morsel

  .

  Melissa Jenner pushed the food around on the plate, but had little appetite for the lunch that Tri Con had provided. The group was considerably more encouraged since the report of survivors, but Melissa somehow innately knew that the rescued crewmember was not Robby. She and Pattie had discussed the emotional peaks and valleys of the last two days, and when someone turned the TV volume up, she braced herself for more pessimistic sensationalism.

  “This just in from the Department of Defense. The US Navy has recovered survivors from the Tri Con crash in the Atlantic. A public information officer is confirming that forty-one people were found floating in a life raft earlier today and are now aboard the USS Karuk. There were no names released, but we are pursuing that information now. There were over two hundred passengers and crew aboard the doomed airliner, and the spokesman could not offer encouragement that more survivors might be found. The tragic loss of that many lives has generated a public outcry against the airline and its operations. We’re hearing that Tri Con’s bookings have fallen off drastically and many people are canceling reservations. As we reported earlier, the federal government is investigating the airline and its safety practices. A spokesman for the National Transportation Safety Board confirmed that investigators are onsite at Tri Con headquarters, and others are on their way to the Azores. In addition to the NTSB, the FBI is also investigating the possibility of terrorism.

  Summing up what we have learned, forty-one survivors have been rescued with little hope of finding more. At six o’clock we will be interviewing more of the victims’ families and also the federal officials conducting the investigation. Stay tuned for more late-breaking details that we expect to report soon.”

  The anchorwoman’s image faded and was replaced by a commercial for a trial lawyer specializing in accident litigation. By now Colt had educated everyone as to how phony the news media could be, but they looked to him for his analysis anyway. He pointed out the fallacy of the report and explained that the trial lawyer would have paid a premium for the commercial spot immediately following the sensational report that the federal government was investigating, which of course was entirely routine in any accident. The lawyer had probably helped write the news bulletin.

  The family hostess quietly approached Candace Whitton’s husband and daughter. “Mr. Whitton, could I have a word with you and your daughter, please?”

  They followed her into the hallway without anyone noticing. Bob Whitton was in his late sixties, and his daughter was in her early forties. They both automatically assumed the worst.

  When they were alone, the hostess said, “Mr. Collins would like for you to join him in his office for a few minutes if you don’t mind. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you up there now.”

  “Do you know why he wants to see us?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t, sir. The message just said he would like to speak to you in private right away.”

  They followed her, forcing themselves to put one foot in front of the other and bracing themselves for what they might be about to hear. Harold Collins was waiting for them in the corridor outside his suite of offices. They were encouraged by the smile on his face.

  “I have great news for you. Candace is aboard the navy ship, and she is just fine. I thought you might like to hear this in private before I share it with everyone else.” Tears came to both of their eyes, and they embraced each other and then Harold Collins, who also had tears on his cheeks.

  “Would you like to accompany me to tell the others?”

  “Yes, we would. I think we should stay and support everyone else until we get more news.”

  “I’m sure they will appreciate that. I can’t yet tell you where or when we can reunite you with Candace, but we’ll make whatever arrangements we have to.”

  Candace Whitton stood on the deck of the Karuk and watched as the ship approached the little flotilla of three rafts. She watched the small boats being lowered in the davits. She was familiar with the routine from her own rescue. She strained to see who was in the rafts, but the ship had stopped too far away to recognize individuals. She could, however, pick out several red life vests, and she knew they were crewmembers. When the first boat approached the rafts, she knew they would be told to stay put so that the boat could tow them safely to the ship. Knowing that, she watched in amazement as an individual wearing a yellow vest jumped up on the side of the raft, waving his arms and gesturing wildly. His weight on the inflated rubber sidewall caused the raft to become unbalanced, and his arms began windmilling as he fell over the side, making a huge splash of saltwater. He continued to flail with his arms until one of the divers reached him and helped him into the lifeboat. Even from a distance, it was apparent that the occupants of the rafts had been burdened with some sort of mental midget who had succumbed to the forces of fear and paranoia. Thankfully she had not had to deal with that in her raft.

  The divers separated the rafts, and the boats towed them alongside the dive platform. The first people brought aboard were Pam and Nancy with their injuries. Candace gave them both big hugs before they were taken to the little sick bay below decks. She waved to Britt, Mary Dobson, and Tony in the rafts alongside. She also now recognized the imbecile in the lifeboat as Allen Smallwood. The next group to be brought aboard was women and children, although Britt and Mary refused to leave until all the passengers were transferred. Candace noticed that the young boy and girl, who had helped their family save Pam, were not traumatized but were in fact treating the whole affair as a great adventure. It never ceased to amaze her how different individuals responded in terms of courage, confidence, and faith.

  Once everyone was aboard and the boats recovered, the ship moved off to the north in the direction of the circling Orion. An announcement was made alerting everyone that another rescue was already underway and the Tri Con crewmembers waited in anticipation to see who else would be picked up. They calculated the total survivors to this point and came up with one hundred and eight aboard the Karuk, including the six crewmembers.

  It only took a few minutes to cover the four miles, using the circling Orion as guidance. They could soon see the single yellow raft and its waving occupants. Tony borrowed a set of binoculars from one of the lookouts and informed the others that Robby Je
nner would be joining them shortly. The Karuk deck apes had become proficient at the rescue procedures, and they pulled this one off without anyone falling in the sea. Robby’s first words to Tony and the flight attendants were, “Do we get paid extra for this?”

  Captain Maxwell ordered the search to resume immediately and had the yeoman start collecting personal data from the new survivors. He had Brian Davis transmit a message conveying that the Karuk now had rescued one hundred and twenty-seven, including seven crewmembers. The mess deck and the fantail were now crowded with people, so the captain convened the surviving crew in the wardroom. He ordered Doc to bring Pam and Nancy, and they arrived with deck apes carrying them on stretchers. Allen Smallwood had been taken below deck to get out of his wet clothes and have them dried in the ship’s laundry. The men working in the laundry had found clothes for him to wear temporarily. The bellbottom dungarees fit in the waist but were about eight inches too short and fell well above the ankle-high boondocker boots and black socks. The blue work shirt was several sizes too large and bloused out around the waist. He was not in danger of being featured on a recruiting poster.

  The captain addressed the flight crew seated at the wardroom table. “First, let me congratulate you on your performance. Each of you are to be commended for saving lives and providing leadership in trying circumstances. I know you want to rest, but before you do we need to discuss what you might know that will help me find other survivors. I want to hear from each of you individually. I think it would be a good idea if you write notes as we talk so you can record your thoughts while they are relatively fresh in your mind. I’ve provided notebooks for each of you, and you can keep them to continue keeping record of anything you think you will need later. We should probably start with the pilots.”