Lost at Sea

Lost at Sea by Rhianon Jameson August 2008 Aug 18, 18__ My name is Tom Foster, and I am the captain of the Spirit of Caledon, a charter boat that usually plies the waters in the firth. Day trips to the tourist trade. We don’t have a proper log, but I thought I should write a few words in case rescue fails to arrive in time. You see, when the call came out to the Middlesea Fleet to steam to Saint Kitt Islands on a rescue mission, I summoned my crew. “I think it is our duty to help. Although we lack the speed of the military vessels, the Spirit can hold many more passengers, and we may be of some great assistance. ” I had heard down at the dock that many people were gathering on the beach on the main island of Saint Kitt, but there was concern the volcano was not dormant, as reported. I saw Captain O’Toole himself on the docks that morning, and the drawn look on his face showed me how seriously he took the threat. He ordered the fleet to steam to the island in the event a rapid evacuation was needed. I wanted to accompany them, but the decision was not mine alone to make. “We have never traveled that far from shore before, and there is some risk to us if we make the journey. Even though I’m your captain, I must ask each of you if you want to assume that risk. ” My men are solid and loyal, and to a man they threw in their lot with me. Micah Goodwin, my first mate, Zeb McDowell, the engineer, and Stuart Washington and Ronnie Pittston, who man the boiler room, have been with me for many years. We loaded coal, removed the serving staff and valuables, and set out. Stuart and Ronnie did their best to keep the boilers at maximum output, but we could not keep pace with the fleet. Micah used to be a navigator on one of the old sailing ships in the navy, so he kept us on course even when we could no longer see the last of Captain O’Toole’s vessels. When we made it, we anchored away from the fleet, as I didn’t want to get in their way. We were on the far side of the main island, and if any of the naval vessels noticed us, they did not acknowledge our presence. As the day wore on, I began to feel a little foolish. Zeb said, “I bet they’re having one hell of a good time down on the beach. Girls in bathing suits, a little rum,…” He pictured himself there, instead of being stuck with four men. Then the rumbling started, so quiet at first that we could hardly hear or feel it. An hour later, the rumbling increased in intensity so much that we were having to raise our voices to be heard above it. “Looks like we may be needed after all,” I observed, and Micah nodded his head. The shadows were growing long when the volcano erupted. It spewed rocks, ash, and noxious gasses high into the air. “Raise anchor!” I ordered. We started to steam around