of tepid water and tossed one to Sam.
As the afternoon’s sun heated up the pilothouse, Sam checked religiously for any signs of a following ship. He relinquished the helm to Molly and took binoculars to the aft deck. He marveled at the speed with which they passed Sunny Point Military Base. He checked the ferry as it made its way across the river to Fort Fisher, and he kept a sharp eye for any boat that seemed to follow their wake. He went below to rummage for something to eat. Feeling the boat slowing, Sam leaped back topside to see Molly steer the boat under the high bridge at Snow’s Cut and into Myrtle Grove Sound. Molly continued north toward a narrow passage amid a thick stand of trees just south of Masonboro Island. Thinking she was running aground, Sam sprang forward to take the wheel, only to see a small tranquil bay emerge like an oasis.
“Wow.”
“Look sharp,” Molly pointed to the depth sounder. “It’s shallow in here, but I know there’s a spot further in. We just have to pick our way slowly.”
“What if we have to get out in a hurry?”
“No worries. There’s a cut just around that bend that shoots us to another bay, and I can work through these smaller passages back to the sound until we reach the inlet.”
Molly kept the engines slow and nudged first to port, then to starboard, until she found the unmarked and ever-changing channel. “Good thing we’ve hit it on the rising tide. Otherwise….” Her voice trailed off as she found the place she wanted to drop anchor. “This is it. Unless they got a small Whaler, they won’t make it in here anytime soon. Be a dear and drop anchor, please.”
Sam obeyed and headed toward the bow. Once the anchor was secure by Molly’s hand signs, he returned to the pilothouse.
“You didn’t see anybody, did you?” Molly was noting their position on the giant chart.
“No. I suspect the scene you created kept them locked in for a bit. But Andy’s going to call somebody; you can bet on it. They’ll be looking soon. And now that your boat’s known, we should probably get going.”
“Where?”
“To the station. I need to know who else is in on it.”
“You are kidding, right? You’ve got no idea whose pulling the strings and you want to march right in and have a chat with who? Your Chief? I thought you said your vehicles were bugged. No, dude, if you go in, you are on your own. I’m staying put.” Molly stretched her legs on the bunk for emphasis.
“Suit yourself,” Sam glared. “I’m taking the dinghy back to Carolina Beach. I’ll come back for you when it’s all over.”
Sam purposefully walked out of the pilothouse and lowered the dinghy and oars to the muddy thin water below.
Within six pulls of the oars, Sam hit a sandbar. “How’d she do that?” he whispered as he got out of the dinghy and pulled it across the narrow bar. Once seated in the dinghy again, he found his rhythm and started to make progress. It would be a long row to town, a long time to think through his options. Sam rowed behind one of many bends in the neon green marsh-lined waterway that was off limits to boaters, working his way south, wishing for something of substance to eat.
Wrrrrrrrzzzzz. The buzz of a small boat’s engine jerked Sam’s attention away from his empty stomach. Listening hard, he heard the sound speed up, then slow down before the explosion came, ripping silence and splintering wood in an instant. Rowing frantically back toward Hullabaloo, Sam’s adrenaline rose as quickly as the neon green of the marsh gave way to glowing yellows.
The air thick with ash and diesel, Sam watched in horror as a black tower of smoke rose from Hullabaloo’s stern. Pausing only for a second to listen for the small craft’s racing engine, Sam rowed as quickly as he could to the smoking, sinking wreck. He hit the sandbar again, this time yanking the dinghy onto the rise of wet sand and swimming as fast as he could toward Hullabaloo.
Fire leapt from the stern, making it too hot to climb aboard. The boat was listing to port, her wooden hull groaning under her own weight as she slid little by little into the waters. Sam made a quick lap along the starboard side, calling frantically for Molly.
No reply.
As the lower rail of the starboard-side life rails hit the