Chapter 8

Paul watched the huge eagle as it fought against both gravity and its still struggling prey simultaneously. It reduced its foe by the simple expediency of biting off the dolphin's head with a single chomp of its huge beak. Then it was able to beat its wings with a purpose and gained altitude. As the eagle soared off toward the distant mainland shore, the crew of the Dragon Lady watched, breath baited, afraid to make a sound, frozen in disbelief.

When the giant eagle disappeared into the hazy sky over the coast, the damn broke, and they all tried to talk at once. Hands shaking, Paul raised his voice through the din and shouted, "Quiet!" When they all broke off and stared at him with wide eyes, Paul said, "I don't know what's going on. Those whales shouldn't be here, and that eagle..." He broke off, still unable to believe what his eyes had seen. Then, sticking to what he knew, Paul said, "That eagle just can't be! There's a reason nothing larger then a condor can fly. They just can't handle the weight!"

Pam answered in a calm reasoned tone, matching his, "But we all saw it. That dolphin it grabbed had to be ten or twelve feet long and weigh almost 1,500 pounds!"

Clark broke in, "Something's not right, Dad! Look at this!" He pointed over the side, and continued, with his voice getting closer and closer to panic. "There's a coral reef down there! The nearest coral reef is in the Florida Keys somewhere. Where are we?"

Paul had to stop the tide of rising panic. He knew panic had killed more people then just about any single cause of death, and worse, it usually caused death in useless, stupid ways. They were not just his son's and niece and her friends, they were his crew, and his responsibility! He needed to take control and give direction, or they'd be running off in every direction. So he shouted, "Shut up! All of you! Now, listen up!"

Tammy stuck her head up out of the hatch. Puzzled by the furor, she asked, "What's going on?"

"There is a lot to do, and I need you all to focus. We have an injured girl, remember? Tammy, you stay below and keep an eye on the soup and Becky for us. Pam, you get on the Marine Radio and start switching frequencies, putting out a Mayday on every channel until you get someone! Clark, go below and break out the guns. I want the shotgun and the thirty-aught-six up here and loaded in two minutes. Lewis, you go with Clark, but you get the 22 rifle and the 9mm."

He paused for breath, glad that they hadn't noticed his hands trembling. They all simply sat and stared back at him, until he clapped his hands and urged, "Now!"

That finally seemed to get through to them, and they all hastened to set about their assigned tasks. Pam leapt for the radio, keyed the mike, and said, "Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! Any station, come in, over!"

Tammy ducked back below deck. With barely a look at the soup and teapot, she streaked to the side of her unconscious best friend.

Paul watched his sons dive head first down the hatch, only arresting their momentum at the last second by grabbing the hatch and swinging their feet down. Paul had to decide where they were going to go. Paul grabbed the laminated navigation chart from its pocket next to the useless GPS. He tapped it once and wiggled it in its bracket, and gave up, figuring he'd have to get the GPS replaced, since the lightning must have knocked it out. He'd just have to do this the old fashioned way. At least the compass mounted next to the GPS still worked. Besides, he knew roughly where they'd been when they'd been hit by the storm, and there were enough islands and other landmarks to let him pinpoint their location on the chart.

The closest hospital was in Mateo, the largest town on Roanoke Island, so that would be their destination, Paul decided. If the Coast Guard won't come to us, we'll just have to take Becky to the hospital ourselves! Let's see, East of us is Duck Island, and North of us is Hog Island, so we just have to split the difference, and circle the south end of Roanoke Island and we get to Wanchese Harbor. We can dock there and call and ambulance. Hell, its only about two miles, even in these light winds we should be there in thirty minutes or less! Scanning the horizon, his thoughts froze. Hey, wait a minute! There isn't supposed to be an island South of us!

Paul stopped planning, and stared over the stern southward, toward the offending island. It was at least a mile South of them, but presented at least a mile of shore. Unnerved, he looked back at the chart. There was no island showing in that location, and they couldn't have missed one that was at least three times as big as any of the other islands nearby except for Roanoke.

Clark climbed out of the hatch, a bit awkwardly, loaded for bear. Clark had the thirty-aught-six slung over his shoulder, and carried the shotgun in his right hand. Paul shook himself, and decided it didn't matter. Holding out his hand for Clark to hand over the shotgun, Paul purposefully turned his back on the offending island.

He wedged the shotgun between the seat and the stern, and grabbed the tiller. "Ok, Clark, you sit over there and keep an eye out for any more of those giant birds, and trim the main. Keep that rifle handy. Lewis, you trim the jib as I bring her into a broad reach. We're heading for Wanchese Harbor on Roanoke Island. Pam, has anyone responded to your Mayday yet?"

Pam answered, tears in her eyes, "No, sir! I can't get anybody to answer!"