And Hell Followed, Page 2

  Chapter Two

  Bruce Martin was exhausted. The emotional events of the day had left his mind numb. The journalist was no stranger to violence. As a reporter he had documented many crimes but he had always been an observer of the barbarity from the sanitized safety of society. Martin had always reported from the civil side of the crime scene tape. Today was different. Martin knew these victims and had witnessed the violence perpetrated upon them. Martin needed a mental break. He needed some time to sort through the flood of feelings and information. He decided to retire to his room and take a nap.

  When Martin finally awoke from his slumber he was disoriented. It was one of those awakenings when a person isn't sure of where they are or of how much time has elapsed. Judging from the warm orange light of sunset pouring through the window, Martin had slept for many hours. Martin sat up and glanced at his watch. He was still groggy and was drenched in sweat from a deep sleep, the kind of sleep that only mental exhaustion brings. He stood and left his room, stepping out into the dark passageway. Martin threw the long metal handle of the hatch up and opened the door. He stepped out onto the air castle. Martin's senses were immediately awakened by a rush of stimulation. His eyes were met with the soft light of a setting sun. The trade winds sweeping across the deck ruffled his hair and dried his sweat soaked shirt. Martin faced into the wind. Tilting his head back and closing his eyes he enthusiastically greeted the cooling effect. Martin noticed that the Caribbean had calmed while he slept. The swell had diminished to such a degree that the cutter barely rolled. The ocean rolled along the Courageous' length, singing the soft chorus that only moving water sings.

  Martin sat down, his back braced against the steel bulkhead warmed by the sun. To the west the sun was a luminous orange ball, alone and abandoned, drifting free in a vast and empty sky. In the east the blue facade of the sky was melting away to reveal the blackness that always lurked just beyond. With the setting of the sun, darkness was unleashed upon the world. The black crept in across the sky and the waters grew steadily darker. The low hulking form of some land mass could be seen on the horizon.

  Martin guessed it to be Cuba. A long sweeping beam of light from an unseen lighthouse was the only relief from the blackness. The beam swept in a long broad swath followed a few seconds later by a short burst of illumination. At night the cutter observed a condition known as Dog Zebra. This condition prohibits any light to be emitted from the cutter. The windows are boarded and all outside lights were extinguished. As the lighthouse slipped astern the darkness became complete.

  Martin continued to sit on the air castle, mulling over the events of the day in his mind. With the passage of an hour he rose and entered the vessel. He walked down the narrow passageway which glowed in red light. Red lights are used throughout the ship at night to prevent interference with the crew's night vision. Martin negotiated the thin, meandering passageways until he arrived at the mess deck. There, seated at one of the tables was Chief Carter and the cook, Gonzalez. Martin walked over and joined them.

  "Evenin' Marti", said the Chief.

  "Good evening Chief", replied Martin. Then he turned to Gonzalez and bid him a good evening. The three men sat there watching a television that was tuned to one of the news networks. The Cook commented on a crawler scrolling across the bottom of the screen. "Check that out man, thousands of pigs are dying in North Carolina from the flu. That's weird; I never knew that pigs could catch the flu. I wonder how long it'll take before the price of pork goes through the roof." Gonzalez asked the Chief, "What time is it Chief?"

  The Chief rolled his wrist to view his watch and said, "Almost nine. We outta be in the vicinity in another three or four hours. Hope they can hold on that long."

  Martin was perplexed. He had absolutely no idea what the two men were talking about. "What?" he inquired.

  "Oh you haven't heard?" asked Chief Carter. "A Falcon spotted a Haitian sailboat loaded to the gills about one hundred miles north of Port au Paix. We're makin' for their last known position. In the Guard we call that Haitian Ops. We'll pick 'em up and take them back to Port au Prince for repatriation."

  "What's a Falcon, some sort of aircraft?" Martin asked.

  "Yea....you is catchin' on son," said the Chief in a light hearted draw. "That's right," he continued, "... it's a Coast Guard jet. They were flying back to Opa Locka from San Juan when they spotted those poor bastards. This will be an eye opener for you Marti. I know you've heard about it but now you're going to witness, first hand, just what people are willing to do and endure to get to the shores of the greatest country in the world, our home... America! Tonight, God willing, you will see the proverbial 'huddled masses yearning to breathe free!' Unfortunately for them, they won't make it."

  "I guess I'll go get some rest before the excitement starts", said Martin. He rose and said good night to the men and he passed through another hatch that led out to an air castle. He walked along its length, his ears assaulted by the loud noise of machinery running. He reached the ladder that joined the air castle to the flight deck. The helicopter had taken the prisoners to Gitmo so the flight deck was empty. Martin walked to the center and stood there absorbing the night. He noticed that the wind had calmed dramatically. The only breeze was that generated from the forward motion of the Cutter. The sea was black as pitch and featureless. The sky was host to the greatest number of stars that Martin had ever seen. The complete absence of light permitted even the faintest of stars to be viewed. Martin had no idea that there were so many stars in the night sky. The distant suns silently oscillated between white and blue light. Here and there a rogue defiantly beamed red. The twisting course of the Milky Way was clearly visible, illuminated by the light of billions of suns. But the celestial bodies were stingy with their light. The Earth and sea were as black and empty as a shark's eye. There were no other ships in the vicinity. There were no visible signs of civilization. The Courageous plowed on through the blackness utterly alone. Martin had an uneasy feeling. Even though there were billions of stars aloft, their light was not warm and inviting but rather cool and distant. This night, despite the stars, was the blackest Martin has ever seen. Something had changed tonight. Somehow the world seemed different. Martin couldn't put his finger on it, things were just different.

  Martin left the flight deck and climbed two more ladders which led to the bridge. He stepped onto the bridge. The helmsman, standing before the ship's wheel, turned and smiled at him. Martin smiled and nodded. The O.D. sat in the Captain's chair, his elbow planted on the arm rest and resting his head on his hand. The navigator sat on a stool that was tucked into the corner behind the chart table. The bridge was dark except for the flickering blue light of electronic displays and screens. The only sound was that of a distant A.M. radio station. The crew listened, mesmerized by the smokey voice of Art Bell relaying tells of U.F.O.s from "Somewhere in Time". The signal would grow strong and then slowly fade into static before growing strong once again. Every now and then the black night sky would erupt with a sudden burst of heat lightning. The radio would respond with a corresponding crackle. Martin walked over to the chart table, glowing red in the night light that illuminated it. The navigator only nodded to him as he sat motionless on his stool. Martin leaned over the table to examine the chart. He could see the Cutter's position by the merging run lines. The Courageous would soon leave the relative calm of the Windward Pass and head into the open sea north of Hispaniola. Martin stood there for a few minutes as he too fell under the hypnotic effect of the crackling A.M. radio. Another burst of heat lightning and static broke his trance and he went below to his cabin. He plopped down, still in his clothes, on the little bed. He did not bother to turn back the covers; instead he rested on the itchy green wool blanket that all U.S. military personnel know only all too well. Martin fell asleep listening to the strange lullaby of the ship as it moaned and groaned in protest to the stresses placed on it by the shifting, fluid sea.

  Martin was jolted out of his rest by a sharp rapping at his d
oor. "Who's there?" he called out hoarsely. A voice answered through the closed door, "its Chief Carter....if you want to see the Haitian vessel we're on sight. Come on up to the flight deck, we're all up there."

  "Thanks, I'll be right there." Martin sat upright on the edge of his bunk as he attempted to gather his wits about him. He stood to walk out onto the flight deck and was surprised to find that the Cutter was rolling heavily again. "We must be out of the pass, she's really rollin' good," Martin thought. He walked clumsily down the pitching passageway to the hatch that opened to the flight deck. Stepping outside his eyes was assailed by an intensely bright light. There several yards off the cutters beam and bathed in brilliant shafts of spotlights was the Haitian vessel. Martin looked to his left and he could see the Chief and a dozen other crew members gathered at the rear of the flight deck. Martin turned his attention back to the boat watching it as it bobbed in the black water. The obviously frail boat was about forty feet long. Its' wooden hull was painted in two long strips of yellow and red. Amidships was a single wooden mast jutting up into the darkness. From the mast hung a tattered sail that had been repaired so many times that it more closely resembled a quilt than a sail. The boat was completely open with no shelter at all. Martin was amazed that these people had made it this far when he saw how close each swell came to swamping the flimsy craft. There appeared to be a couple dozen souls huddled in the boat. The flood lights revealed a previously invisible mist which hung over the sea. The vapor seemed to move and swirl like some sort of maritime specter. The mist appeared to distort the images it covered, making them quiver and shift as if being viewed through water. The scene was surreal. Martin walked over to the Chief and the other guardsmen. "Hey Marti, sorry for wakin' ya but you said ya wanted to see this," said the Chief.

  "That's O.K.", said Martin. "What time is it?"

  "Three fifty five", responded Chief Carter.

  Martin noticed many milk jugs and jerry cans dangling along the boats hull. "Chief, what's with those jugs hangin' off the boat?" Martin inquired.

  "Those are filled with gasoline or diesel fuel. They punch holes in them to allow the gas to leach out slowly. Their purpose is twofold. The diesel fuel creates an oil slick around the boat and that keeps the chop down. They say that the gas is a shark repellent. But I have seen sharks following these boats all the time, so I don't think it's very effective." the Chief responded. Martin watched intently as the zodiac materialized from the darkness and pulled alongside the sailboat. The crew assisted obviously weak refugees into the ship's launch. The zodiac gingerly pulled away from the Haitian vessel and ferried the occupants to the cutter. The guardsmen continued to shuttle back and forth between the gaudy Haitian craft and the Courageous until all of the refugees were aboard the cutter. The whole process took just over an hour. As the last of the Haitians were being helped aboard the returning sun began to light the eastern sky. Martin moved down to the starboard air castle to where the refugees were gathered. He was struck by the crews respect and kindness. The Haitians were being given food and water. Martin heard the X.O. call out from above to the coxswain in the zodiac, "Everybody aboard?"

  "All the living X.O. We have one deceased female. Do you want to bring her aboard?" asked the Coxswain.

  "Standby, I want some info on her before we make that decision." the X.O. shouted back.

  "Why won't they bring her aboard Chief?" asked Martin, turning to Chief Carter.

  The Chief answered, "Just in case she died from an infectious disease, such as T.B.... we'll see. There's the interpreter now, he'll ask some questions and the corpsman will check the body out. I'd bet she died of exposure. Poor thing."

  Martin watched the interpreter as he knelt down beside a middle aged man. The man was black, very black, darker than any African American that Martin had seen back home. The Haitian man wore a dirty long sleeved white shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. The front was unbuttoned. Martin could see the man's chest and he noticed that his ribs were plainly visible. He wore tattered blue trousers, old work pants Martin reckoned. The man wore no shoes. The interpreter was speaking to him in Creole and motioning to the sailboat. When the interpreter had finished Chief Carter walked over to him and conversed for a moment. Then the interpreter disappeared into Courageous and the Chief walked back to Martin.

  "They're gonna bring her aboard. She was a very old woman who was trying to get to Miami to see her daughter and grandchildren. They've been at sea for six days. They ran out of water yesterday morning. Poor soul passed away last night at sunset."

  Martin watched as the corpsman gave a precursory exam to each of the refugees. While this was going on dawn continued to pursue the darkness across the tropical sky. Spires of slate blue clouds became outlined in a neon orange light as the sun approached the horizon. The sky above the clouds began glowing in yellow brilliance. Then the Sun rose above the horizon sending shafts of light upward across the sky in a gesture of triumph over the night. Courageous was bathed in a soft golden light. Daylight had returned at last. Within minutes of the dawn a warm breeze picked up, stirring the mirror slick Caribbean Sea.

  "Help us out here Marti." said Chief Carter, handing Martin a twelve pack of a sports drink. "Would you be so kind as to give our guest each a bottle, it'll help to rehydrate them."

  Martin walked along the air castle handing each Haitian he passed a drink. The last bottle went to an attractive young woman with a baby. Martin knelt down beside the woman and opened the bottle then handed it to her. She smiled and took the drink and took only a small sip before setting it down on the deck beside her. Martin watched as the woman stroked her child's head and face. She whispered to it before gently placing her lips upon the child's forehead in a slow motion kiss. Martin was struck by such a tender moment amidst all the despair. Martin smiled at the woman then reached out to stroke the child's skinny leg. The mother smiled as her little baby cooed in response to the strangers touch. Martin patted the woman on the shoulder then stood to get more drinks. When he turned around he saw that the dead woman was being brought over to the Courageous. A crew member stepped out of the hatch onto the air castle. In his hands he carried a folded black sheet of plastic. Martin observed that he solemnly spread it out upon the deck next to the rope ladder that hung over Courageous' hull. The young man then knelt down and pulled a zipper down the length of the plastic. Martin now recognized the plastic sheet to be a body bag. The crew member then opened the bag and prepared it to receive the old woman. The young man was joined by three more as the zodiac arrived alongside the cutter. The guardsmen in the zodiac tenderly lifted the old woman up to their shipmates with as much respect and dignity as they could. The young men on the air castle gently carried the woman, one by her feet, one under her arms and a guardsman on each side supporting her frail frame. Ever so gently she was placed into the body bag. She laid there for a moment, in the open, the wind blowing the gray curls of her hair. Her face appeared peaceful as it disappeared behind the zipper of the bag. Martin was shocked to see the four crew members suddenly bow their heads as they knelt beside the old woman's body. One's lips moved but Martin could not hear what was being said. Another crewman made the sign of the cross. Then, they stood and lifted the bag and placed it on a stretcher. The guardsmen carried her into the ship.

  The X.O. leaned over the bridge wing and yelled down to Chief Carter, "How they look Chief?"

  "Fair, they're pretty dehydrated. Sun burned and wind chapped. No lice," reported the Chief.

  "Very well, let's get 'em to the dispensary and get 'em up to speed.", called the X.O. Martin made his way to the bridge. Walking out onto the bridge wing he heard the X.O. giving orders to the gunner's mate, "Sink that pitiful excuse of a boat and light up any frigin' sharks that you see. I hate those damn things!"

  As the machine gun popped off rounds into the feeble Haitian craft the X.O. gave orders and headings to make for Port Au Prince Haiti. Then turning to Martin the X.O. said, "Marti, looks like you'll get to see
the poorest country in the western hemisphere. I guarantee it'll be a real education for you."

  Martin could feel the cutter heel hard to starboard as she abandoned her present course and headed south. In a mere eighteen hours Martin's life would be forever altered. Tomorrow morning they would pull into a land far different than anything Bruce Martin had ever known before.