Murder in the Marsh (11 page)

After recovering emotionally and physically as much as he could from the clash with the Sheriff, Daniel headed toward the patrol boat. Even if he wanted to, it would take longer than he had time for to extricate the Sheriff and take his body with him. The weather was worsening by the minute, and he still needed to try and rescue Claude. Just venturing out in to Bay Batiste would be a huge risk, but he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t at least try.

              Boarding the patrol boat, he discovered that fortunately the Sheriff had left the key in the ignition. Daniel turned the key and the engines roared to life. The vessel had a small covering over the pilot’s seat, which helped to deflect some of the rain, but not all of it. Daniel took stock of the nicely outfitted instrument panel. He turned on the weather instrumentation, which provided a radar image of the rain intensity in his area. It showed a mass of yellows, oranges and reds, indicating heavy rain in all directions. It also had radar, to detect other boats or structures, as well as GPS positioning. Before he untied the lines, he tried to contact Claude on the radio. He didn’t have much expectation of success, and the static confirmed these expectations. He also received no response when he tried to contact Rachel and Adele.

              Having familiarized himself with the boat, Daniel found a life preserver and donned it. He then untied the lines and pulled away from the dock into Bayou Dulac. The rain fell heavily and the waters were rough, but he knew they would be more violent out in Bay Batiste. The wide-open expanse of the bay would provide plenty of room for the wind to swell much larger waves. Since the wind blew from the southeast to the northwest, the further west he went in the bay, the larger the waves would become. If he stayed near the shore on the eastern edge, he could avoid much of the larger swells. But he knew he would likely have to hazard going further out into the bay to find Claude.

              The mouth of Bayou Dulac opened up into Bay Batiste. Daniel had to choose between advancing along the shore to the left or to the right. Visibility was extremely poor, but it looked liked going to the right meant feeling his way along a shore that gently rounded toward the northwest. To the left, the shore rounded down to the southwest and then possibly turned back to the northwest. If he went in that direction, he recalled from the map at the LeBlanc’s, he would then be left straddling a point that offered no protection from the wind and waves. He turned on his radar to see if it could offer any guidance. He was not adept at operating the instrument and could discern little concrete information from it. He decided to head to the right and hug the shore as it rounded up to the northwest.

              Daniel went as fast as he could, but the heavy rains and wind hampered his progress. The rain fell in sheets, but periodic lulls allowed him moments of visibility. He passed several small bayou cuts off to his right, but otherwise nothing else was visible. For the next forty-five minutes, he followed the shore in a northwesterly direction, making poor time. He searched the waters out to his left, but saw nothing at all, especially nothing that might have been Claude LeBlanc or his shrimp boat. Using the radar, Daniel also didn’t pick up anything significant.

              As he made further progress around the far side of the bay, Daniel noticed the wave intensity and size increasing. He knew the further he went the worse it would get. Staying on his present course would eventually position the patrol boat parallel with the oncoming waves. If the waves grew large enough, they could capsize him. Already he could see whitecaps ahead. The standard course of action was to point the bow of the boat into the oncoming waves. However, he couldn’t fully do this and continue on the path he was taking to search the far side of the bay. He would have to risk only partially turning the bow into the waves, while also edging parallel to the shore.

              For the next hour, Daniel carefully nudged the boat along. As he suspected, the wave size increased, and he was forced to slow his already sluggish pace by pointing the bow more toward the oncoming waves. This process consumed the next hour and a half leaving him mentally and physically fatigued. He struggled with the wheel to keep the boat pointed in the right direction, while the lack of sleep began to affect his ability to focus. The fuel gage on the dash indicated he had half a tank. He figured he could get down to a quarter of a tank before he would need to break off the search and head back. Even that was pushing the edge of what he might need, particularly if he ran in to any problems on the return trip.

              Thirty minutes later, he still had no indication Claude was anywhere nearby. The waves now broke level with the edge of the boat, and water splashed over the sidewall. The boat had a good pump system, and had so far been efficient at removing excess water. Up ahead to the right, he noticed the mouth of a large bayou opening up into Bay Batiste. The wind drove massive amounts of water into the bayou, but Daniel noticed a jetty of marshland sticking out on the far side of the mouth. He was exhausted and observed the water was calmer behind the little strip of land. If he could pull the boat up into the cove, he could possibly anchor and take a brief moment of rest while planning his next move.

              He decided the safest way to do so was to head out into the mouth of the bayou, point the bow of the boat into the wind and waves, power down the engines, and let the waves drive him back into the bayou. When he was far enough back, he could then power up and pull up into the cove. He braced himself and began the tricky maneuver. Fortunately, everything went as planned, and in fifteen minutes he pulled into the calmer waters of the cove. The wind continued to howl over the low marsh grass, but the bulk of the waves broke against the marshland on the opposite side of the jetty. He dropped anchor and for a moment feared it would not hold, as the wind pushed the boat out toward the bayou. Finally, the anchor dug in and the boat halted its slide. He cut the engines and slumped down into the seat. He swiveled it so his back faced the oncoming wind and rain, and then dropped his chin to his chest. He tried to think about what to do next, but fatigue overcame him and in the next moment he was asleep.

              The engine gave no warning before it died, other than sputtering, which had occurred continuously since they set out. The sudden absence of engine noise amplified the fierce sound from the wind, rain, and waves. Neither Rachel nor Adele knew anything about working on a boat motor, nor were they in a position to do so. In stunned disbelief, Rachel pulled the ignition wires free from one another and then touched them together several times. It had no effect. Meanwhile, the wind and waves gradually pushed the boat back toward Grand Bayou Canal and further away from their destination.

              “I can’t get it started!” Rachel shouted over the wind to Adele.

              “What should we do?” Adele answered, continuously bailing water out with her bare hands.

              “I don’t know, but were being pushed backwards. We need to do something quick!”

              “How bout da push pole and paddles?” Adele suggested.

              Wisely, Daniel had placed two wooden paddles and a push pole from Landry’s shed in the boat in case just such an emergency arose. The duckbill push pole was a ten-foot aluminum pole with two metal ‘bills’ or feet on one end that spread out when pushed down in the water against the mud bottom. The pole allowed the user to push off against the marsh floor, propelling the boat forward. In the marshlands, it was an essential item because of the shallow waters and mud flats, which were easy to get stuck on.

              Rachel picked up the pole while Adele grabbed one of the paddles. Adele had Michelle sit in the center of the boat on the floor. She then positioned herself near the front of the boat while Rachel worked from the back. Rachel found it extremely awkward using the pole, especially with the wind and rain lashing her from above and the swelling waves jostling her from below. She slid the pole into the water and attempted to make contact with the bottom. It took the full ten feet to reach the mud floor, which prevented her from pushing off with any measure of strength. Being in the middle of the canal meant deeper water, so they decided they needed to move closer to the bank and shallower waters. Rachel shouted to Adele to get her attention and then pointed to the left bank. Adele had been paddling furiously forward, but adjusted her stroke to direct the boat toward the bank.

              Progress seemed painfully slow. Edging toward the bank meant placing the boat broadside to the oncoming waves, which placed them in even further danger of being swamped and capsized. Somehow they managed to accomplish the maneuver safely, coming to within a few feet of the bank. They continued to bail water out of the boat periodically due to the rain and waves. The pump still worked because it drew its power off the battery. However, without the engine running the battery couldn’t recharge. Rachel hoped the battery would hold out long enough for them to reach the camps at Happy Jack. They had no thought of making it all the way down the canal to the marina. If they could just make it to the first camp, they could pull the boat up out of the water and walk the quarter of a mile to the marina parking area.

              Bailing enough water out to proceed took close to thirty minutes to complete. The job was more difficult, because Rachel had to frequently adjust the position of the boat to keep it from going sideways. Rain also continued to fall into the boat in buckets. After removing as much water as they could, they turned once again to paddling and pushing the boat toward their destination. Despite their most strenuous efforts, the boat barely seemed to advance. The fierce wind gusts and mountainous waves pushing them back, nearly equaled their efforts at going forward. Rachel and Adele found they made the best progress by waiting for Rachel to push with the pole then Adele paddled at the same time.

              Many times throughout the late morning and early afternoon, they stopped and bailed the boat out with their hands. Twice they became so exhausted they simply pulled the boat up on to the mud bank and rested. They even tried pulling the anchor rope out in front of the boat and walking along the mud bank pulling the boat behind. Progress continued to be just as bad, as they sank up to their knees and thighs in the watery mud. They couldn’t afford to have one of them get stuck with a possible storm surge coming. They would surely drown. Worse still, Michelle began to cough and shiver heavily under the onslaught of the wind, rain, and waves. By 2:00 pm they closed to within seventy-five yards of the outermost camp on Happy Jack lane. They knew to cover that distance, it would take at least an hour.

              Rachel’s arms felt like warm jello when they finally reached the nearest camp. In order to cross the last twenty-five yards, they both had to paddle. They crossed over a deeper side canal of which the push pole could not reach the bottom. Unfortunately, the first camp had a dock, but no boat slip. They needed to be able to pull up into a boat slip in order to safely off load because the waves were too violent. With all remaining reserves of energy, they made it to the slip of the next camp. Adele crawled out of the side of the boat into knee high water, and pulled the boat up onto the oyster shell slip. She then lifted Rachel out of the front of the boat. Rachel began handing the supplies to Adele, including the clothing bags, which were wet and heavy. 

              After tying the boat off, Adele said, “Rachel, I tink we should try and dry off in one of dese camps. Michelle, she is not doing so good.”

              Rachel agreed. She hated breaking into someone else’s property, but Michelle’s health was more important. They tried the door of the camp they had tied the boat up to. It was a ground level, wooden structure with a solid metal door that would not budge. They then tried the first camp they passed. It was an imposing structure, situated on cement pilings twelve feet off the ground. It had light brown vinyl siding, some of which had already ripped loose in the wind. Rachel climbed the steps and tried the door. It was locked, but the doorknob hung loosely. Rachel believed that a good kick could bust the door open, which it did. She peered in and saw what looked like a sparsely furnished room that hadn’t been used in a while. She went back down the steps and helped Adele carry Michelle and the supplies up.

              They felt relieved to finally be out of the wind and rain. Their bodies didn’t feel like they could go on any further. They pulled off their raincoats, and Adele set about drying off Michelle and warming her up. Since all their clothes were soaked, Rachel searched for a towel for each of them, finding several in a bathroom cabinet. Michelle continued to cough and shiver. After Adele removed all the wet clothes off of Michelle, she wrapped a blanket around her, and laid her down on the couch. She dried herself off and warmed up some water in a coffeepot on the gas stove. The kitchen cabinets were bare, except for some packets of dried soup. Adele made each of them a bowl. Rachel also managed to dry herself off with the towel, though she had no dry clothes to replace hers. She hung what she could up in the bathroom to drip dry. They decided to take an hour and see if Michelle improved.