Voyage of the Dreadnaught: Four Stella Madison Capers (16 page)

The Captain pointed at three parallel lines
which looked similar to the three he had drawn on the table. He
pulled Cole closer by the sleeve of his denim shirt, then thumped a
spot on the paper that could have been a child's rendition of a
sunshine face. The kind teacher's put on their papers for good
work. “Mah—Bo,” he insisted. Then smacked him on the shoulder,
thumped the paper, again, and raised his voice. “Mah—Bo!”

They started building the “Mah-Bo,” as it
came to be called, the very next day.

After a great deal more deliberation, the
night before, Cole had suddenly recalled the Captain talking to him
about alternative power systems, and showing him a folder that was
fairly bursting with articles cut out of magazines, that he had
been collecting for years. At the time, they had been discussing
alternative fuels, and the different modifications one would have
to make to engines in order to even use them. However, a light went
on when he remembered that incident, and he went down below to
rifle through one of the shelves above Stuart's workbench to get
the folder.

True to his guess, the Captain's face lit
up, and it wasn't long before they found the blueprints for a
homemade, electricity-producing, waterwheel. Something similar to
what used to be seen on old mills. The way Stuart laughed (it was
the first time since his episode) and kept repeating, “Mah-Bo!” and
slapping Cole on the back half a dozen times, it was only natural
that they should end up calling the contraption a Mah-Bo.

Once they knew what they were doing,
everybody chipped in to help, and it was only a little over a week
before the huge wheel was built, and the thing was operational.
Mason had brought enough tools along to build a city. Of course,
there were a few modifications that had to be made to run the
wiring in and out of nearby trees, and over the fifty-foot span of
water. But they now had their own power station that could produce
all the electricity they would ever need. Including outside lights
along the handrails of the bridge, that made it look like the
entrance to a ride at Disneyland.

It was something that put even more of a
cushion between them and the wild outside that surrounded them. In
fact, very little had changed about their basic lifestyle since
they had left
Villa
Nofre
, the old Hollywood
director's mansion in the beautiful Santa Ynez Mountains, back in
California. The little group was actually discovering more
opportunities in the unexpected situation, rather than
setbacks.

Because of the increasing rain, any work
area was fitted with a canopy of brown tarps. Soon, the side of the
boat where damaged planks were being replaced, the after-deck, and
the sawmill were crowned with them. Combined with the rope
handrails that had been added to the boardwalk bridge (ever since
Gerald had fallen halfway in when a foot slipped), the place was
beginning to look like a movie set instead of a work area.
Especially with the
Dreadnaught
, grounded on top of the
rocks, like a shipwrecked pirate's vessel, rather than than the
family's rambling home. Shipboard duties had long since given way
to building improvements, and even the bell that had called all
hands on deck, rang out primarily only at mealtimes.

They had even put together a three-sided
wooden shelter (with a tarp on top) that faced their huge signal
fire. Where those on fire watch could sit comfortably in deck
chairs and stay dry. Stella found it amazing how a fire could be
kept going in the rain. But as long as the wood was dry and it was
burning hot enough, they could at least keep smoke going up in all
but the heaviest downpours. Which was the important thing. Because
once they got into the latter part of August, there seemed to be
more rainy days than sunny ones.

Cole had ventured out a few times in the
skiff, but so far he had never seen a single fishing boat. Too many
small islands and rock outcroppings at the end of the cape that
made working anywhere close to the area hazardous. But he still
continued to try. He did come back with a beautiful forty-five
pound halibut, the last time, though. Which, after a meal fit for
royalty, Millie had packed the rest into the freezer, to be doled
out through the coming weeks. It was after this feast that Stella
and the colonel found themselves seated in the “fire hut” for the
final watch of the day, that would last until sunset. An event that
took place around eight-thirty, these days.

“Well, dearest,” the colonel began as he
poured them each a mug of hot chocolate from a tall metal thermos,
“this isn't exactly how we expected to end our honeymoon. But it's
an experience I'm sure we'll never forget.”

“Even with the scary parts, it's been the
best experience I've ever had, Oliver. I think I could live through
being stranded on the moon, as long as you were there.”

“I feel the same way, too, Stel. Being
married to you is a delight I never expected to experience, at my
age.”

“Me, either.” She blew gently on her
chocolate, and then tentatively took a sip. Delicious! “And wasn't
it providential that Stuart got the others married before all this
happened? He never would have been able to do that after his
episode.”

“Quite impossible. But you know, I think
that's half the reason everything's been going so smoothly for us,
since. One always seems to feel more settled when they know things
are done right.”

“I agree. You know something?”

“What.”

Stella breathed in the wonderful scent of
campfire mingled with fresh air and pines, as she looked past the
fire, and out into the lovely meadow leading into the mountains,
turning all gold in the setting sun. “I'm starting to like it so
much here, I wouldn't really care if we never went on to the lodge.
If you want to know the absolute truth about it... I don't feel the
least bit lost, at all. Especially since Captain Stuart has
something of an idea where we are, now.”

“I've had the very same thoughts, myself.”
He set his cup down on the little table between them, and got up to
put more wood on the fire. “I really think I've done my best work,
here.”

“I'm sure you have.” She watched him pull a
pair of work gloves out of his back pocket and put them on before
hauling some of the brush and tree-trimmings they had cleared from
the work areas, over to the waning flames. Funny how good physical
work tended to make a person stronger rather than wearing them out.
Especially if they enjoyed it. Not only was the colonel trimming
down after all these weeks of adventuring, he was actually looking
younger. Other than his wavy silver hair, but that just made him
look distinguished. At least, that's what Stella was thinking, just
then.

“You know, I wouldn't be all that
disappointed if we never went back to civilization,” he picked up
the conversation as soon as he sat down, again. “Other than short
business trips once, or twice, a year.”

“That would be a lovely way to live, if you
ask me.” She suddenly lowered her voice to a whisper, and pointed.
“Oliver—look!”

In the far corner of the meadow, a black
bear was moving off into the trees. It was a wonderful moment, the
two of them sharing the glimpse of a wild thing, going about its
business as if they weren't there, at all.

“Do you think he sees us?” Stella asked.

“Oh, undoubtedly. But he's probably accepted
that this is our territory, now, so, he'll keep his distance and
stick to his. Seems they accept you, if you give them half a
chance, and try to respect their space, as well.”

“Mildred—put that gun down!” Mason's voice
suddenly drifted across the water from the foredeck, where the two
of them had also been watching the sunset.

“But I thought I saw something out there,
Mase. I really did, this time!”

“We're just guests in this wilderness, so
live and let live,” he replied. “That's the new rule.”

***

Author's Note

They say what one practices in their youth
can never be surpassed by those who come to the same skill, later
in life. Such was evident in Daniel Boone (quoted at the beginning
of this story), who began wandering through wilderness places on
the edge of the Pennsylvania frontier, in his childhood. He
received his first rifle by the age of twelve, and became (as other
boys of his day) an essential contributor to the family food
larder. After being persecuted in England for their dissenting
beliefs, his parents (who were Quakers), emigrated to America in
1713, to join William Penn's colony. Daniel was the sixth of their
eleven children.

Perhaps growing up in a large family, in a
group known for their propensity to sacrifice themselves for
others, is what laid the foundation for Daniel to become not only a
provider and protector of his own, but other people, as well.
However, having also been born during one of the most tumultuous
times of American history—including the Indian wars, and the
Revolution—he was not destined for a life of peace.

Which is one of the things that makes him so
unique. Because in spite of the many dangers, hardships and battles
he faced throughout his life, he still managed—remarkably—to remain
a man of strong morals, always willing to share with others, and a
leader when it came to civic duties. He was elected three times to
the Virginia General Assembly.

He is one of the first folk heroes of the
United States, who became a legend in his own time. That unique
position which comes from an admiring public who accepts the “tall
tales” of a person's adventures right along with the true ones.
Known best for forging and marking his famous Wilderness Road,
through the Cumberland Gap in the Appalachian Mountains (that over
200,000 pioneers later used to find their way west), he is fondly
remembered as the most colorful and extraordinary frontiersman the
country has ever known. Respected for generations by friend and
enemy alike, it is still commonly believed that if one knew even
half what Daniel Boone did in his day, they could eventually find
their way out of any wilderness they happened to fall into.

And I'm inclined to agree.

You can read more about this wonderful
man—for free—over at:

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/46227/46227-h/46227-h.htm

THE LAST RESORT

Stella Madison Caper

#6

To all those who who think they have
nothing significant or worthwhile to offer—or that it's too late
even if they did... may you know that it isn't.

“
To each there comes in their lifetime a special moment when
they are figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance
to do a very special thing, unique to them and fitted to their
talents. What a tragedy if that moment finds them unprepared or
unqualified for that which could have been their finest
hour
.”

Winston
Churchill

Stella Madison had been doing her morning
exercise routine for so long, she could do it without thinking.
Which was exactly what she was up to that morning, when the colonel
interrupted her standing pushups to inform her that he had a “plot
knot” to work out.

“Stel,” he began before he even crossed the
deck to stand beside her at the stern rail, “I've got the boys in
something of a predicament. Are you up for a bit of
brainstorming?”

“Of course, dear,” she replied without even
breaking her rhythm. “Two heads are better than one, I always say.
Twelve, fourteen, fifteen! Set up the scene for me, and I'll see if
I can see something from a different angle.”

“Excellent.” He clapped his hands together
and began to pace. “They've been in the cave for three days, now.
So far, there's been no sign of—”

“Heavens...” she turned toward the mountain
to starboard, kept a firm hold on the rail, and began her leg
raises. “Are they lost?”

“Not at all, they're exploring. You see,
it's imperative they find another way out before—”

“But wouldn't their parents worry? Thirteen,
fifteen, sixteen... I mean, three whole days...”

“Oh, they aren't that young.” He reached the
port rail, and turned to pace back in her direction, again. “Quite
capable, really. Which is one of the main thrusts of the whole
book.” He jabbed at the air for example. “But you're right. Maybe I
should emphasize it more at this point, to keep that thought in the
forefront.”

“Especially for these difficult times we
live in.” She turned and faced the mountain on their port side, and
continued with her other leg. “Seems like people are afraid of
everything, nowadays.”

“Right, again.”