“Couldn’t have been.” I started to argue with him but my brain felt flaccid. I wanted to sleep. Disjointed images floated in the gray mist of my mind. The geysers of water towering over the ship. The water changing color as the Lucella cut through it. The troughs of water dug by the screws as we left Thunder Bay. A dark figure in a wet suit climbing out of the water.

The figure in the wet suit. That meant something. I forced myself to focus on it. That was the person who planted the charges. It was done yesterday. In Thunder Bay.

I opened my mouth to blurt it out, then swallowed the words. No one was in any state to deal with such news.

Keith Winstein made his way over to us. His face was streaked with tears and mud. “Karpansky and Bittenberg. They’re both—both dead, sir. They were down on the bank with the cables. They must’ve—must’ve been—smashed into the side.” He gulped and shuddered.

“Who else?” Bemis demanded.

“Anna. She fell over the side. She—she was crushed. She never had a chance. Vergil fell into the hold. Oh, Jesus! He fell into the hold and suffocated in the barley.” He started laughing and crying wildly. “Drowned in barley. Oh, Christ!” he screamed. “Drowned in barley.”

Focus and energy returned to the captain’s face. He straightened and took Winstein by the shoulders, shaking him hard. “Listen, Mate. The ones left are still your responsibility. Get them together. See who needs medical care. Radio the Coast Guard for a helicopter.”

The first mate nodded. He stopped sobbing, gave a few last shuddering breaths, and turned to the dazed crew.

“Martin needs some help, too,” I said. “Can you get him to sit down?” I needed to get away from the crowd on the deck. Somewhere, just out of reach in my mind, important information hovered. If I could just get away, stay awake, force myself into focus … I started back toward the pilothouse.

On my way I passed the chief engineer. He was covered with mud and oil. He looked like a miner emerging from three weeks in the pit. His blue eyes stared with horror through his mask of black.

“Where’s the captain?” he asked me hoarsely.

“On deck. How are things below?”

“We’ve got a man with a broken leg. That’s the only injury, thank God. But there’s water everywhere. Port engine is gone.… It was a bomb, you know. Depth charges. Must have been planted right on the center beam. Set off by radio signal. But why?”