Isle Royale (25 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

T
he families hunched down as the little launch made its way across Stone Harbor. They glimpsed Jean LeBeck shooting at them from the dock, saw fire spout from the muzzle of his weapon and heard the crackling bursts of automatic gunfire, but by then it was too late; they were out of range and nearly out of sight of the smugglers.

With the boat’s engine chugging along at a good clip, Sally steered them safely out to open water. As they rounded the point and lost sight of the dock, she heard something behind them, almost like an animal howl. A shiver ran down her spine when she realized that it must have been LeBeck, screaming with rage. Though she wasn’t Catholic, Sally impulsively crossed herself; at least they were safe now from that monster.

But not safe from the Lady. Once outside the harbor’s protection, angry waves slapped against the little boat, rocking it with a sickening motion. Sally trembled as her hands tightly gripped the tiller. She knew full well the danger they were in, but she was more than happy to take her chances against Superior, rather than let the gangsters kill them, or worse. Now the challenge would be to sail to the next safe harbor and put in without being dashed up on the rocks, no easy task with the chop they were fighting. At least she could see well enough despite the murky night. High up on Wolf Point the lighthouse beacon burned bright, flashing down on the water every ten seconds, casting enough light to help her navigate well away from the jagged shore. Sally smiled at her father, who hunched down at the bottom of the boat, holding Sally’s grandma as the boat swayed back and forth. Edward Young grinned back, too sick to assist his daughter, but confident in her ability to see them through the tempest.

At the bow, Ian and his family huddled close together. Collene wrapped both arms around her son, trying to warm him and protect him from the blowing wind. Ian sat shivering, but with a grin plastered on his face. Clarence, his own face blood-streaked and bruised, nestled closer and wrapped an arm around his boy.

“You’re a brave young man, Ian,” Clarence said. “You done the clan proud.”

“We had to do
something
,” Ian said through chattering teeth. “Couldn’t just sit around.”

“We thought you’d drowned for sure. Where did you end up?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you soon. Not tonight, though, not yet.” Ian reached into his rain jacket and pulled out his mother’s locket, the one he’d snatched away from Jean LeBeck. He handed it to Collene. “This is yours.”

Collene stared down at the locket resting in her open palm. She pursed her lips, then raised her arm to toss the locket overboard. Suddenly, she stopped, a puzzled look drawn on her face.

“What is it, darlin?” asked Clarence.

Collene brought the locket to her ear and shook it. She was sure she’d heard a rattle. “There’s something inside.” Curious, she opened the locket, yet saw nothing but a faded picture of herself staring back. She shook it again. Still the rattle. After thinking a moment, Collene began picking at the back panel with her fingernails. Two broken nails later, she managed to pry open a small compartment. Everyone in the boat gasped as the plate swung free, revealing a handful of bright chips of glass. At that moment, the lighthouse beam swung over them, setting the glass afire.

“Diamonds!” cried Ian.

“Ach!” shouted Clarence. “He kept his stash in your locket!”

The boatload of escapees stared wide-eyed at the gems. Even the storm subsided a moment, as if joining in silent contemplation. Finally, without uttering a word, Collene snapped the locket shut. She leaned over, placing the chain around Ian’s neck, then tucked the locket inside his shirt. “Keep it close to your heart, son. Don’t forget us when you go out into the world.”

“We’re set for life!” Clarence exclaimed, standing up and nearly capsizing them. He clapped Edward Young on the shoulder. “We’re rich, all of us! When this is over…”

“Clarence MacDougal, sit yourself down,” Collene scolded. “I want my lightkeeper just the way he is. Don’t you go changing on me for the love of money.” Collene sat silent a moment, then a wide grin broke out on her face, too. She threw her arms around both her men, hugging them close to her.

Over his mother’s shoulder, Ian beamed at Sally. But the smile quickly disappeared when he saw how worried his friend looked, sitting there fighting the rudder to keep the little boat on a steady coarse. “How’s it going, Sal?” he said, shouting over the noise of the wind and water.

“Not great,” she echoed back. Just then, a gust of wind struck at them, turning the boat sideways into the trough of the waves. Sally strained her muscles, tugging at the rudder to get them perpendicular to the whitecaps again. She finally succeeded, but not before several waves crashed over the side, soaking everyone to the skin.

Just when she was about to breath a sigh of relief, Sally saw ghostly figures emerging from the darkness. “Look!” she cried, pointing with a trembling finger.

Ian turned and squinted toward a point of land around which they were about to turn. A flotilla of boats suddenly appeared, steaming straight for their launch. Ian counted a dozen of the mysterious craft. They varied in size, but each boat was big enough to carry several men. Most were fishing boats, but several were expensive yachts. Some of the ships were in bad shape; he could see men bailing water from at least three vessels. “Who are they?” Ian wondered aloud.

The families stared silently at the flotilla for a few moments, mesmerized by the dark shapes sliding closer and closer. Suddenly, Clarence turned and half rose out of his seat, shouting at Sally. “Away, lass! Steer us away!”

Sally pushed hard on the rudder, sending their boat out into deeper water.

“The fools actually came in this weather,” Clarence exclaimed, sitting back hard in his seat. “It’s the Duluth gang, here to pick up their liquor. My God, I wonder how many sank crossing over?”

The families watched as the flotilla passed between themselves and shore, heading straight for Stone Harbor. Several men on the decks of the boats stared back silently, then returned to their business. Soon, the first of the ships disappeared as they rounded the point and entered the protection of the bay.

Ian felt his skin crawl, and not from the wind blowing on his soaked body. “We’d better get this boat moving. I don’t like the looks of this. If we…”

Ian stopped in mid-sentence as he noticed the expression on his father’s face. Clarence sat there looking up, his skin a ghostly white, his hands trembling. “The light,” he croaked.

Ian jerked his head up and saw the lighthouse perched high on the cliff towering above them. His mouth dropped open as he saw the lamp come to a grinding halt. “The clock’s wound down,” he said.

As the families stared upward at the motionless light, it suddenly blinked out altogether, plunging the lake into pitch-blackness. “The bastard!” thundered Clarence.

“Why would LeBeck put the lamp out?” Sally shouted from the stern.

“His customers are here now,” Ian answered. “He doesn’t need the lamp to guide them any more.”

Clarence, his eyes burning with hate, protested. “But there’s cargo ships on the lake, even tonight!” He stood up in the boat, shaking his fist up at the lighthouse and causing the boat to rock precariously. “LeBeck, you devil!”

“Dad!” Ian blurted out. “You’ll get us all killed!”

Clarence sat back down, then spoke directly to Ian, his voice urgent and quavering. “I’ve got to go back, laddie. Drop me off on shore, then ye take the families overland for Rock Harbor. We can’t stay on this lake anyway. She’s too rough.” To add emphasis to his speech, a wave crashed over the side, drenching everyone again.

“But you can’t go back!” said Ian, horrified his father would even suggest such a thing.

“Don’t worry about me,” said Clarence, impatient that he even had to debate this. “I’ll hide in the woods until LeBeck clears out. They’re done now. They won’t stay long.”

“Dad! No!”

“Ian, I told you…”

“Stop it, you two!” cried Sally. “Behind us!”

Ian glanced over his father’s shoulder and gasped. A dark object, a ship, emerged from the mouth of the harbor, then veered directly toward the launch, hurtling across the waves and closing the gap between the two vessels with frightening speed. It was the angel of death, come to hunt them down.

Chapter Thirty-Six

T
wo men crouched on the bow of the smuggler boat, Tommy guns at the ready. Ian saw a wave smash into the boat, and for a brief moment prayed for them to be washed overboard, but it was not to be. The thugs recovered their balance, aimed their guns and started shooting. Sharp tongues of flame spewed from the muzzles.

Water snapped up behind the launch, as if someone were throwing handfuls of stones at them. “They’re out of range!” cried Ian.

“Not for long!” said Sally, fighting the helm. “We’re at full throttle already. I can’t make her go any faster!”

The wind gusted again. Whitecaps crashed against both ships. The gunmen held their fire, concentrating instead on keeping their balance to avoid being tossed into the open lake. When the wind settled to a roar, the chase resumed. The gunmen crouched low on the bow deck, waiting for the gap to narrow.

The smuggler ship pulled within twenty yards. The two men stood and raised their Tommy guns. Ian recoiled in horror, realizing that at any second hot lead would be passing through his body. Everyone in the launch screamed at the same time.

The gangster boat suddenly erupted in a ball of flame and smoke, slapped out of existence by an unseen force. Shards of wood rained down onto the launch.

“What just happened?” said Sally.

“Ahead!” shouted Ian.

They all saw it then, like some great beast emerging from behind the curtain of night, a ghost shot straight out of hell. The
Chippewa
cruised rapidly toward them, her paddle wheels churning the water, black soot billowing from her stack. She let loose a booming toot from her horn, drowning out the noise of the gale.

“Ben!” cried Ian, standing up despite the danger and waving his arm, a grin plastered on his face. Sally, too, cried out for joy. She cut the engine to quarter speed, then sat back and watched as the enormous ship drew closer.

Every face in the launch craned upward to watch as the
Chippewa
completed her run. It was like a dark mountain of wood and iron sliding past in the night, lit by green lanterns bobbing to and fro upon the deck high above. Ian caught a glimpse of Captain Ben in his blue uniform, gold braid dangling from his shoulders, standing proudly at the bow. Next to him stood the chief gunner, his hot cannon still smoking from the fateful shot. The gleeful old sailor gave Ian a toothless grin, then clasped a hand on Captain Ben’s shoulder. Ben removed his hat and waved it down at them, his face beaming.

When the
Chippewa
pulled alongside the launch and grappled the little boat, a rope ladder was lowered and the families began climbing aboard. Ian was the first to shimmy up the ladder. “So you see, Ian,” said Ben after the boy scrambled onto the deck, “my gunner’s as good a shot as you, even if he is an old codger.”

Ian grinned sheepishly. “I knew I’d see you again, Ben,” he said. “I knew you’d come through.”

The old sailor just stood there for several moments, a slight smile curling on his lips. Finally, he gripped Ian by the shoulder. “Thank you, lad.”

The pair turned as Ian’s mother and father were hauled on deck. Clarence clambered to his feet, then looked around in wonder. “Who
are
these people?” he said quietly. The lightkeeper spotted Ian and Ben, then slowly walked toward them, with Collene following close behind. The old crew stared as they made their way across the deck. Clarence in turn marveled at the old ship and its crew of ancient mariners.

“Ben?” Clarence said, recognizing the old fisherman from the day before. “What are
you
doing here?”

Ben answered with a salute. “Captain Ben Sellers, U.S. Revenue Service. At your service.” Ben turned his head and gave a knowing smile to Ian.

Sally and her family were next to come aboard. Ben strode over to assist Sally’s grandmother. When she was safely on deck, he took her hand and bowed deeply. “Good evening to you, lovely lady.” The old woman blushed, then smiled back, her wintry eyes twinkling.

Sally, meanwhile, was busy helping her father up the last few steps of the rope ladder. When he finally stepped safely on deck, he paused to catch his breath. He bent over, coughing and wheezing. “Easy, Dad,” said Sally, patting him on the back.

Ben gestured to several of his men. “Let’s get them below. And arrange for some dry clothes before they catch their death.”

An old seaman approached, prim and proper, saluting as he addressed his captain. “Everyone’s aboard, sir. The launch has been cut free.”

“Right,” said Ben crisply. “Full steam for Rock Harbor, before this storm gets ugly again. Good work, lads.”

A cheer went up among the white-haired sailors. Ben saluted his men, then put an arm around Ian’s shoulder, leading him to a hatch that led belowdecks. He gestured to the others to follow. But as they started to walk off, Ian tugged at Ben’s sleeve.

“The light, Ben,” said Ian. “They put out the light.”

“I know, lad,” Ben replied. “Had to hug the shoreline just to keep it in sight. Mighty dangerous in this weather.”

“But we have to go back…”

“Ian, relax,” Ben said, chuckling. “We stopped at the fishing village in Hopkins Bay. They’ve sent someone on ahead to Rock Harbor.” Ian looked puzzled, not comprehending Ben’s words. Ben laughed again. “To get the Coast Guard, lad. They’ll take care of LeBeck and his crew. And they’ll get the lighthouse relit in no time, don’t you worry.”

Ian stood there, open mouthed, not sure what to say. “But I thought…”

“You thought we were going to take on the whole mob, did you?” Ben roared with laughter. “Me and my old crew?”

“Well, yeah,” said Ian. “If you had to.”

Ben sobered up, looking serious again. “And I guess we would have, too. But now that’s not necessary, is it? We did our duty. Time to head for port.”