THE DAWN PATROL

CHAPTER 6 part 2

The trip across the North Atlantic was harrowing. The gentle swells off Halifax and the New York coastline soon gave way to rolling hills that dwarfed even the largest ships in the convoy. The swollen hills gave way to mountains of water, as the sky darkened to the colour of Death’s Cloak, and snow-capped waves crashed across our bow with a spray beaten into frenzy by gale force winds. The rain came down hard, constant, and at a slant. They told us to stay below in cramped quarters that felt too close, and too stuffy - made almost unbearable by the stench of fifty-eight close-pressed bodies. We watched dimly lit light bulbs swaying back and forth, cast ghostly shadows against the inside of the hull, playing tricks with our imagination. It was all compounded by the stench of puking farm boys who’d never been to sea and wished to God they’d stayed home.

I saw Ray sitting off to the side by himself. He sat smoking a cigarette as if it were his last one, rolling it between his fingers — the way I used to watch workers on the Bridge do it back home, when I went to bring Jack his lunch.

That’s nerves, I told myself.

I watched him until he looked up, then I gave him a nod and jumped off my bunk, walking toward him.

“Ray, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“I was up on the deck yesterday, with those other two guys,” I reminded him.

“Oh yeah, that was you, was it?”

It was my turn to nod. I put out my hand.

“Bobby Porter.”

He looked up at me and nodded, giving me his hand reluctantly — almost as if he wasn’t used to meeting people.

“So? What’s on your mind, Bobby Porter?”

“Nothing. I saw you sitting here by yourself and thought you looked a little nervous. I thought maybe you could use a friend. What’s the matter? You don’t like sailing?”

“This isn’t sailing. There’re no sails on this tub. This is just a big, floating coffin,” he said.

“Well, hell, aren’t they all?” I said, and laughed.

“Not as much as this one,” he replied.

“Yeah, you said something like that yesterday. What was that all about? You know something we don’t?” I asked.

“If by that you mean, do I know if this tub is gonna sink? Yes, I do. Or, do I know if that flyboy up on deck yesterday is gonna make it, the answer’s no.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I just do,” he said. He threw his cigarette on the floor, and I stepped on it deliberately.

“That doesn’t sound too convincing. ‘I just do’? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Isn’t it enough for me to say this tub’s gonna sink?”

“Because of the storm? I don’t think that’s a good reason. People have been sailing in weather like this for centuries. Unless there’s a hole somewhere? Did you come across a big cork somewhere in the bottom of the ship? Maybe you should tell the captain?” I smiled.

He laughed. “I learned a long time ago that people don’t wanna hear what I got to say. Do you think anyone here is gonna listen to someone telling everyone the sky is falling? With that storm out there, everyone’s already thinking this tub’s gonna sink.”

“Then why tell me?” I asked.

“Because you’re not gonna die tonight – not like that guy you met up on deck yesterday.”

“And why would you say that, by the way? You didn’t say anything about it when you saw him yesterday. Why say it now? And why tell me?”

He shook his head.

“You can’t just shake your head and pretend you didn’t say it. Why not tell him?”

“I figure ignorance is bliss, besides, I didn’t know the other day.”

“Yes you did. You just said you did. What makes today any different?”

“I don’t know if I can explain it in a way you’d understand.”

“So you’ll let the ship sink just to make your point?”

“I’m not trying to make a point. There’s only so much I can do. I can’t stop it from happening — I can’t stop anything from happening. I just know things. I always know. So, I take care of myself first, my family second, and finally my friends. Luckily, I don’t have many friends,” he said.

“Gee, I can’t see why you wouldn’t.”

“Sometimes it’s better not to.”

“I guess nobody wants to be your friend if you’re going to go around telling everybody they’re going to die,” I smiled.

“It’s not something I dole out willy-nilly,” he said quickly.

“But you told me,” I pointed out.

“I told you you’re not going to die,” he said, forcing an awkward smile. “That’s not telling you something you didn’t already know. Nobody wakes up and thinks to himself, ‘Gee, I think I might die today.’ You never think the day you die is going to be your last day. It just is.”

“I guess that’s fair enough. Would you tell me if it was? And how exactly is the ship supposed to sink?”

“I couldn’t tell you.”

“That’s the Chicken Little thing again, isn’t it? You can’t say why, just that it is.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

I climbed back into my bunk and rolled toward the wall. I tried shutting out the laughter; the sickness, the stench, the cigarette smoke, letting the loud, thunderous crash of the waves lull me to sleep. I could hear the creaks and moans of straining metal echoing in my head as if it were a lullaby.

I woke up to the sound of an explosion. It came as a deafening roar and my ears started ringing before I understood what was happening. It echoed throughout the ship, shaking it — like a horse shaking off snow — and then everything went black. The hold filled with heavy, choking smoke, and screaming, with curses resonating in the darkness as everyone scrambled for the only door leading to the deck. Water rushed in through the door the moment it was opened.

“We’re sinking!” someone screamed.

“Shut up! It’s the waves outside crashing into the door.”

“Grab your life vests!” someone else called into the darkness, and I felt myself panic, wondering where it was. A hand grabbed me and shoved my flying jacket into my arms, as well as my boots.

“You’re going to need these, Bobby Porter.”

“Ray? How’d you find my boots in the dark?”

“I put them some place where I could find them while you were sleeping. I was thinking you might need a friend about now.”

“But how —”

“I told you. That’s all you need to know. I told you.”

“What’s going on?” I asked, tying my bootlaces tight.

“Torpedo.”

“How do you know?”

“What else could it be? Even if it’s not, you hear an explosion like that on a ship like this when you’re at sea, you know you’re fucked. And Bobby? We’re fucked.” He gave me a life vest and told me we were getting out.

I put the life vest on and put my hand on Ray’s shoulder, not wanting to lose my way in the dark. I barked my shins against something — a footlocker I think — and stumbled against something else before stepping on someone’s leg, and almost falling. Whoever it was didn’t move. I bent down to see if he was alright, and Ray turned around and pulled me up.

“There’s someone there,” I said.

“Forget about him. He’s dead.”

“How do you know?”

“Because anyone who isn’t, is trying to get up on deck.”

“Are there any lifeboats on this thing?” I asked.

“Lifeboats?”

“I never noticed.”

“Of course there are, but what difference does it make? We never had time for lifeboat drills.”

“We won’t last ten minutes in that water.”

“Jesus Christ, Bobby! Do you have to be such a fuckin’ gloomy Gus? We haven’t even made it up on deck yet and you’ve already fuckin’ killed us. How ‘bout we take one problem at a time? The problem right now is: we’re fuckin’ sinking!”