Bread or Bullets

It would be a dark and stormy night Beau stayed where he was, watching, as bright arcs appeared against the dark sky, silver bolts that leap to the heavens. He knew they carried thunderous booms or sizzling discharges, but from this distance, they were silent. He glanced down the length of the Redondo and saw half the crew straining to see what was closing in behind them. Beau lingered for a while, and then padded down the steps of the booby hatch and into his stern cabin. Minutes passed, the wind picked up and arcs of incredible brightness lit the darkness. The phosphorous waves gleamed as light struck them. Just entering the eastern opening to the Magellan Strait, clouds rolled in and the sky became dark and foreboding. The menacing shapes of the high mountains loomed on either side. The small ship began to buck, as the waves trapped in the confines of the strait grew larger and larger. Soon angry gray waves were crashing over the deck. The spray overwhelmed the ship’s dodger and soaked the inside of the wheelhouse and those areas it could reach. Hermann, at the wheel, grunted in his efforts to keep the ship heading in the right direction. He called down the voice tube for full power and felt the throbbing engine increase as the auxiliary boilers’ steam added to the mix. Soon Lon joined him at the helm and both men struggled to hold the safest course. Beau did not like the way the ship kept bouncing, not at all, but knew he should have expected weather problems. He had been on many a sea voyage with his fellow travelers, and it seemed every one of them involved a storm of some kind. He decided to ride out nature’s fury in the wheelhouse with the men at the helm.