Crude

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Jocko exhaled loudly. “Christ. The Custodian should answer...”His voice wavered.

Lena straightened. “Okay. Give it another couple of miles and try again. Meanwhile, we need to prepare for the worse. When we land, one person goes aboard the rig. That’ll be me. I’ll do a preliminary search with a gas sniffer to see what we’re up against. Hopefully I’ll find nothing and we’ll be able to move into our quarters. If not, you must evacuate; take the boat back out to sea with the crew. I’ll stay behind and try to determine what repairs are necessary to make the rig habitable. We’ll be in constant radio contact.”

Jocko asserted himself. “Yes, but with one small amendment. I go aboard the oil rig. You stay here, on the boat.”

“But your place is with the crew.”

“If you think I’m going to let a woman do my job...”

“You have a job, dammit, aboard this boat.”

“Look– Butch is more than capable behind the ship’s wheel.”

“I’m not talking about your abilities as a helmsman. Your job is to maintain a position of authority. Be responsible for the members of your crew.”

Jocko knew she was right. In the long history of the navy, a captain’s duty had always been to the safety of his vessel first, and to his crew, second. Individuals, like Lena, were expendable. But f**k it, this wasn’t the god-damned navy. “Okay– okay,”Jocko conceded. “I’ll leave Mickey in charge. Is that enough authority for you? You and I will board the oil rig and do the investigation, together.”

“But...”

Jocko raised his hand. “Come with me or stay behind. Your choice.”

Lena studied the set of his jaw and knew when to back down. “Are there a couple of respirators on board this floating junket?”

Jocko didn’t smile. “I doubt very much if there is even one.”

He was right.

Lena surveyed the pile of outdated and useless junk Mickey had pulled from the safety supply locker. “Nothing?”she asked.

“I got a bottle of expired aspirin, some moldy life jackets and a packet of soggy band-aides. You wanna stale energy bar?”

“Christ. Isn’t that just great. What am I supposed to do, hold my breath while I inspect the rig?”She kicked a life jacket across the floor. “When we get back to Galveston, DeVillier is going to hear from me. This isn’t only irresponsible, it’s illegal.”

Mickey had a thought. “There will be respirators and gas detection gear on the rig, right?”

“Presumably. But I’ve got to get to them. One whiff of gas and it’s game over.”

Mickey smiled. “One thing we do have are two fully charged scuba tanks. They’re in a rack, stored on deck. And there’s the regulators to go with them.”

Lena almost laughed out loud. “Damn. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“One dive tank will give you an hour of clean air to breathe while you locate the respirators on board the rig. You find the respirators, swap them for the tanks, and you’re free to investigate for gas leaks.”

“Now who’s the smart one?”Lena laughed. “You’re a friggin’ genius.”

Mickey beamed. “Jill’s our dive tactician this time out. I’ll speak with her.”

Just then the intercom crackled. “Lena. Please report to the wheelhouse. Immediately.”

Lena c****d her head. “Now what...”

“Trouble?”

“Bet on it. Okay, ask Jill to sort out a couple of the regulators and as soon as we get close, she can pull the tanks from the rack. Get her to check the pressure in each and hook up the hoses. Do a final test and have them standing by.”

“Gotcha.”Mickey paused. “Wish I was going with you,”she said wistfully.

Lena’s eyes were suddenly filled with softness. “I wish I could make it so.”And then she surprised Mickey. She reached out and cupped the side of Mickey’s face– held her transfixed for a moment then took a breath. “I’d better go.”

A blanket of hope spread inside Mickey’s chest– a warmth which was both intoxicating and a little bit scary. She was attracted to the woman, and having just met Lena, Mickey was more than a little bewildered. A lesbian moment, she thought back with a shudder and watched with admiration as Lena took the step up into the wheelhouse. If only she could be more like Lena.

The oil drilling platform loomed large in the windscreen. “We’re a mile off,”Jocko informed Lena as she stooped to look.”

“Radio contact?”

Jocko shook his head. “Been trying every five minutes. No response from the rig. Something’s seriously wrong here, I can feel it in my bones. You find respirators?”

“Nada. But Mickey’s got Jill testing a couple of dive bottles. If they’re fully charged, that will give us air until we can locate the respirators on the oil rig.”

“Good thinking. There’s a set of engineering drawings on the chart table. Take a look and see if you can locate the rig’s safety stores. That’s where we’ll find the gas sniffer and whatever else we’ll need.”

“Holy s**t,”Butch pointed. “The staging’s blocked. How am I supposed to land this fucker.”

Both Lena and Jocko instantly swung around to look.

“What the hell is that?”

Jocko’s eyes widened. “It’s another boat. Tied to the staging.”

“But the rig has been shut down. Who the hell...”

Jocko ignored Lena. “Get closer, Butch. Swing by so I can get a look.”

“Aye, skip.”And Butch worked the engine throttles, expertly slewing the boat around on the back of a wave so Jocko could assess the situation through his side window.

Jocko held binoculars to his eyes. “Small blue compact cruiser,”he said. “Twenty-eight footer I’d say, tied fore and aft.”He watched as a wave raked the tiny vessel from stem to stern. “She’s flooded. The deck is separating from the hull.”

Jocko watched as sea water surged from an eight foot gash in the small vessel’s side. “The only thing keeping her afloat are the lines tied to the dock. Take us outta here, Butch. I need to figure a way outta this mess.”

Butch hit the throttles and the crew-boat surged forward clear of the oil rig’s landing platform.

“Who the hell is he?”Lena demanded. “No one has permission to visit the rig. It’s off limits.”

“Might be someone sheltering from the storm,”Butch offered. “It’s been hell out here for the past twenty-eight hours.”

Jocko was thinking of Mark DeVillier, his words coming back: when you arrive at the oil rig you’ll find a small boat tied up to the staging and a helmsman waiting to ferry you and the girl across to the yacht. Well what was left of the boat was still tied to the staging. The helmsman? Jocko shrugged and kept his mouth shut.

Butch turned his head. “Wha’dyah wanna do skip?”

Jocko ran his fingers through damp blond hair. “Let me think, for christ-sake.”

Butch shrugged and slowly chugged the boat back into open water.

Lena knew better than to comment. “I’ll just go over and check the drawings.”

Jocko’s world was closing in. He needed to talk to Mark and get new instructions, but that wasn’t about to happen ‘til tomorrow, maybe. And in the meantime, he needed to off-load his crew. But was the drilling platform safe? They could not make that determination until he and Lena had a chance to go aboard the oil rig and search for gas leaks. And what had happened to the rig’s custodian and where was the owner of the small blue boat?

He thought about it a moment longer. “f**k it. Butch, come around again. Pull up to the staging behind that water logged mother fucker. I want full throttle, got it? Ram her in the stern sections and send the b***h to the bottom.”

“Skip?”

“You heard me. Sink that mother fucker.”

Butch pushed the throttles forward. “Mark’s gonna be pissed if I scratch up the paint on his crew-boat.”

“f**k Mark.”Jocko reached for the intercom handset. “Everyone sit down and grab hold of something. We’re gonna attempt a landing.”

Lena looked up from the engineering drawing she was studying. It was a floor plan of the offshore oil rig and she had just circled the location of a compartment labeled, Safety Supply Locker. With only two seats in the wheelhouse, Lena was outta luck. “Christ,”she muttered and crawled under the chart table. Sitting on the floor, she wrapped an arm around one of the steel braces which bolted the table to the bulkhead.

Butch wheeled the boat around and increased speed.

He was closing in on the blue compact cruiser from behind. “Full throttle,”Jocko ordered.

“Full throttle, skip.”

Jocko press the button on the intercom again. “Brace yourselves. Now! We’re gonna hit!”

It was like a freight train running into the side of a building. The crew-boat reared up against the sound of splintering fiberglass and Jocko looked in amazement as the underside of the steel gantry abruptly blocked out the sky.

Lena thought her shoulder had separated and watched wild-eyed as a fire extinguisher broke loose from its bracket bolted to the wall. The airborne, red-colored missile careened across the wheelhouse, whistled past Butch’s left shoulder and punched a hole in the windscreen. Behind her, she heard an avalanche of dishes, glassware and utensils as the cupboard doors in the galley were wrenched from their hinges.

The crew-boat hung suspended for a long moment before the blue cruiser, pinned beneath, surrendered to the weight. The deck cleats were torn from the fiberglass decking and the waterlogged vessel capitulated. In a surge of oily foam, the compact cruiser disappeared beneath the waves and the crew-boat settled into the vacated berth.

Butch spun the ship’s wheel and judiciously applied power to the port engine, effectively pinning the crew-boat to the staging. Jocko was back on the intercom, ordering two of his deckhands to un-dog the starboard entry port and run dock lines to the steel bollards welded to the oil rig.

Once secure, Butch shut down the engines. Lena scrambled up from the floor and tried to shake some life back into her arm. Jocko breathed deeply. “Amy? Report any injuries,”he said into the handset.