Read Online The Tears of Dark Water by Corban Addison - Free Book Online
Authors: Corban Addison
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her . . . I promised myself that we’d finish the trip.”
Daniel sat down heavily. He felt as if he had been put through a meat-grinder. He spoke his question gingerly: “And if I don’t agree?”
Quentin shook his head. “If you go back, I’m not going with you.”
Daniel turned away and watched the sun dip its golden toe into the sea. He replayed Quentin’s words in his head and thought of all the miles they had covered, all the days and nights they had spent together on the deep, all the laughter and conversations and unforgettable experiences they had put between them and the past. It seemed almost sacrilegious to step foot on an airplane when they had come so far. Yet the threat remained, as did his vow. To Hell with it , he thought. You only live once.
“Okay,” Daniel exhaled, hope and dread entwined in his heart.
Quentin pumped his fist in jubilation. “Sweet!”
“But there’s only one way to do it. We go tonight under power with sails stowed and lights and AIS off. We stand two-hour watches. By the time the sun rises, we’ll be past the attack site. By sunset tomorrow, we’ll be across the tenth parallel and out of the High Risk Area.”
Quentin gave Daniel the look of intrigue and curiosity he had inherited from Vanessa. “You keep surprising me,” he said. “I never used to think of you as brave.”
Tears welled in Daniel’s eyes. The compliment filled a void that was as old as he was. How many times he had longed for his father to affirm him in this way. But Curtis had only pointed out his flaws. He put a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“You know what? Neither did I.”
Ismail
The Indian Ocean
08°25´25˝S, 56°23´24˝E
November 8, 2011
Ismail sat in back of the skiff, one hand on the tiller, watching the sun sink into the sea. His men were huddled around him, their eyes glazed, their forms motionless. The ocean was calm, like a giant lake without beginning or end. At just under six knots, the skiff plowed across the surface with barely a bump, creating a headwind as languid as human breath.
When the sun disappeared and the sky began to darken, Ismail searched the heavens for the first stars of the night. He saw al-Nasr high in the west, then Dhanab and al-Waqi to the north. The moon hung round and full in the east. He felt no fear of the coming night. Dark was nothing more than the absence of day. His equanimity was the result of experience—the numberless nights he had spent in the Shabaab camps stretched out on the hard ground beside Yusuf; the weeks he had spent at sea, sleeping beneath the wheeling constellations, many of which his father had taught him to name.
His companions, however, were terrified of night. The same waves they scoffed at under the sun, they treated like monsters in the dark. Ismail prepared himself. Tonight would be worse than other nights. All of them were weary and hungry and conscious of their massive misfortune. Along with losing the Jade Dolphin and Gedef and the Omani dhow, they had lost one of their water jugs in an afternoon squall. The storm had blown with the malevolence of a djinn , coming within a hair’s breadth of capsizing the skiff and leaving them battered, waterlogged, and foul-tempered.
According to Ismail’s GPS unit, they had covered a distance of fifty-two miles in nine hours. At this rate, Mahé was still two days away, but already his men were showing signs of strain. Osman and Guray had been grumbling about their empty stomachs, and Mas had fanned the flames with a false alarm about another cargo ship. Looking at the shape through the binoculars, Ismail had declared it to be a cloud left over from the storm. But Mas had waved his gun around and forced them to chase the phantom. In a way, Ismail was grateful for the mistake—it had reduced Mas’s standing among the men. But he had been careful not to gloat. He had to keep them together to maintain command.
When the light began to fade from the horizon,
Daniel sat down heavily. He felt as if he had been put through a meat-grinder. He spoke his question gingerly: “And if I don’t agree?”
Quentin shook his head. “If you go back, I’m not going with you.”
Daniel turned away and watched the sun dip its golden toe into the sea. He replayed Quentin’s words in his head and thought of all the miles they had covered, all the days and nights they had spent together on the deep, all the laughter and conversations and unforgettable experiences they had put between them and the past. It seemed almost sacrilegious to step foot on an airplane when they had come so far. Yet the threat remained, as did his vow. To Hell with it , he thought. You only live once.
“Okay,” Daniel exhaled, hope and dread entwined in his heart.
Quentin pumped his fist in jubilation. “Sweet!”
“But there’s only one way to do it. We go tonight under power with sails stowed and lights and AIS off. We stand two-hour watches. By the time the sun rises, we’ll be past the attack site. By sunset tomorrow, we’ll be across the tenth parallel and out of the High Risk Area.”
Quentin gave Daniel the look of intrigue and curiosity he had inherited from Vanessa. “You keep surprising me,” he said. “I never used to think of you as brave.”
Tears welled in Daniel’s eyes. The compliment filled a void that was as old as he was. How many times he had longed for his father to affirm him in this way. But Curtis had only pointed out his flaws. He put a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“You know what? Neither did I.”
Ismail
The Indian Ocean
08°25´25˝S, 56°23´24˝E
November 8, 2011
Ismail sat in back of the skiff, one hand on the tiller, watching the sun sink into the sea. His men were huddled around him, their eyes glazed, their forms motionless. The ocean was calm, like a giant lake without beginning or end. At just under six knots, the skiff plowed across the surface with barely a bump, creating a headwind as languid as human breath.
When the sun disappeared and the sky began to darken, Ismail searched the heavens for the first stars of the night. He saw al-Nasr high in the west, then Dhanab and al-Waqi to the north. The moon hung round and full in the east. He felt no fear of the coming night. Dark was nothing more than the absence of day. His equanimity was the result of experience—the numberless nights he had spent in the Shabaab camps stretched out on the hard ground beside Yusuf; the weeks he had spent at sea, sleeping beneath the wheeling constellations, many of which his father had taught him to name.
His companions, however, were terrified of night. The same waves they scoffed at under the sun, they treated like monsters in the dark. Ismail prepared himself. Tonight would be worse than other nights. All of them were weary and hungry and conscious of their massive misfortune. Along with losing the Jade Dolphin and Gedef and the Omani dhow, they had lost one of their water jugs in an afternoon squall. The storm had blown with the malevolence of a djinn , coming within a hair’s breadth of capsizing the skiff and leaving them battered, waterlogged, and foul-tempered.
According to Ismail’s GPS unit, they had covered a distance of fifty-two miles in nine hours. At this rate, Mahé was still two days away, but already his men were showing signs of strain. Osman and Guray had been grumbling about their empty stomachs, and Mas had fanned the flames with a false alarm about another cargo ship. Looking at the shape through the binoculars, Ismail had declared it to be a cloud left over from the storm. But Mas had waved his gun around and forced them to chase the phantom. In a way, Ismail was grateful for the mistake—it had reduced Mas’s standing among the men. But he had been careful not to gloat. He had to keep them together to maintain command.
When the light began to fade from the horizon,
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