The Flower Net Read Online Free PDF Page A

at each other and grimace. Finally Campbell pulled off his headphones in disgust and opened the door.
    “I’ve got nothing but bad news. The storm’s coming in faster than the weather service expected. We can’t take off because we won’t beat the bastard back to shore. The Coast Guard won’t be here until tomorrow morning.
They’re
going back to the harbor! And I don’t know about you guys, but I doubt this sucker will make it through the night.”
    This last bit of news sent Gardner to the railing, where he promptly puked. Campbell reached back into the chopper, then handed David a couple of Dramamine. “You’ll have to swallow them dry. I don’t think you want to drink any of the water on board—if there
is
any water on board.”
    David took the tablets and swallowed. Campbell went on. “Gardner’s out of it for a while. So I guess that leaves you, me, and Jim here to work things out.” Campbell’s black face wrinkled into a broad grin. He held up the piece of paper with his notes. “Here are our instructions to keep this tub afloat. Let’s see if they’ll work.”
             
    By six, darkness had settled and rain had begun to spot the deck. David and Jack Campbell had found a few people—including Zhao—who spoke a smattering of English. These men were conscripted as translators. “We need to find someone who knows something about ships,” Campbell told them. “Anybody—a sailor, a fisherman. Find them.” Miraculously, they found an electrician and a mechanic. These two men—Wei and Lau—went below to see if they could get the engines started. Immediately they sent word back. The ship was in trouble; there was too much water in the bilge and the pumps were out.
    For the first time, David went below decks, where conditions were even worse than outside. The air was thick, hot, humid, and eye-stingingly pungent. In the vast holds of the ship, David found dozens of people weakened by seasickness, lack of fresh water, and meager rations. Some of the men had vomited or defecated right where they lay. Most of the women were too weak to stand, let alone go out on deck to see what all the commotion had been about. A few people appeared delirious; others seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep. Adding to the misery was the strong sense of fear that permeated these dank rooms. These people knew they were finished; their dream of finding a new life in America was ruined.
    Again, David had the feeling that there was something more here. These immigrants—at least the healthy ones—seemed more frightened than those he’d seen detained and deported in the past. Perhaps they feared the Rising Phoenix. The organization was known to be obsessed with retribution and brutal punishment. But this didn’t make sense, because the profiteers themselves had abandoned their valuable cargo. Perhaps the immigrants were just afraid the ship would sink.
Just
afraid the ship would sink! David himself was terrified.
    For the ship to stay afloat through the night, everyone needed to help. Some of the stronger men—those from above decks—wrapped pieces of cloth around their noses and mouths, then created a line from the first open-air deck down to the lowest part of the ship. Buckets were passed from hand to hand—slowly, painstakingly removing the water from the hold and throwing it overboard. Not knowing what else he could do, David took a place in the line.
    As the sea became rougher, men fell ill and vomited where they stood. But no one left the line. The only relief came when every twenty minutes or so the line would rotate up. Those who had been at the very bottom would move twenty paces closer to the fresh air; those who were at the top took their turns down at the very bottom where the water—scummed with oil and who knew what else—seemed never to diminish. No one spoke. The men—their faces set in tight lines of determination—grimly continued their work.
    Every so often they heard the choke of the