Hemingway's Girl (40 page)

As they walked into the boatyard, Mariella’s stomach sank when she saw the flags flying,
red on top and red with a black square underneath it. The storm was a certainty.

“Damn,” said Papa, pointing at the flags. “I’d hoped my calculations would be off.”

There was a crowd at the marina that morning. The line from the station house went
to the gate. Papa marched to the front of it, with Mariella in his wake. She felt
guilty passing all of the fisherman with a rich sportsman.

“Hey, man, can you haul
Pilar
out for me?” asked Papa.

The harbormaster scowled. “Look behind you, Hem. We don’t have enough time to get
them all out, let alone yours.”

“C’mon, do me a favor.”

“Your boat’s for sport. Many of these guys make a living offa theirs.”

“You don’t have to make a big deal of it,” said Papa. “I just got her fixed up. I
can’t bear it if anything happens to her.”

“Don’t do this, Hem. If I were you, I’d get some rope and tie her up. That’ll keep
her safe enough.”

Papa grumbled and stormed off.

Under happier circumstances, Mariella would have teased Papa for trying to use his
status to get favors, but she could see by his face that he was in no mood for it.

Papa cursed under his breath when he saw the line at Thompson’s Hardware snaking out
the door. They walked behind the register and found Chuck in the back.

“I need as much line as you’ve got. I’ve got to tie up
Pilar
.”

“Just about sold out,” he said.

“Shit, Chuck. The harbormaster just told me he couldn’t get her out of the water,
and now you’re telling me there’s no rope. Help me out, here, man.”

“I got some heavy hawser in the back I’ll sell to you at cost, but it’ll still cost
you a fortune.”

“I’ll take it. How much?”

“Fifty-two bucks.”

Mariella couldn’t help but gasp at the price.

“I know,” said Papa. “But I’ve put too much into her this summer to let her get destroyed
in the storm.”

Mariella tried not to judge. Papa just shook his head and started back to the sub
yard.

Gavin’s men finished placing the last of the loose boards in the back of the mess
hall. He didn’t like the way the walls were shaking, but there was nowhere else to
put the wood. If left outside, it would fly like arrows in the wind gusts.

After that, Sheeran sent Gavin down to encourage the vets and their families to prepare
for evacuation, while he tried to find out when his supervisor, Ray Sheldon, would
be returning to camp. Ray was in Key West for the weekend on a honeymoon with his
new wife, in spite of the storm warnings. Sheeran was outraged at how casually Ray
treated the storm. Sheeran had told Gavin that his experiences with the hurricane
of 1906 still gave him nightmares. That one had wiped out hundreds of guys laying
the railroad.

Gavin was surprised that some of the vets were looking forward to the hurricane. They
seemed of the opinion that if they survived the war, they could survive anything.
Some of them were drinking—in spite of the fact that they’d received orders to stay
sober—while others played cards. One of the guys had brought the camp’s dogs and their
puppies into the mess hall, but the puppies shivered against their mother, too spooked
to play.

Gavin scanned the room and saw children huddled in corners with their parents. He
told the families with access to cars to evacuate, but felt his panic rising when
he couldn’t find the Morrows.

Bracing himself against the wind, Gavin went out to the truck waiting in front of
the mess hall and started driving back to camp three. As he traveled along the road,
he felt the wind shaking the truck. The tide had reached the road and started breaking
over the pavement. Gavin tried to fight off the terrible feeling he had that he would
never see the people in camp five again, and pressed the accelerator. He knew he had
to do everything he could to persuade the men in charge that all the vets and their
families needed to be evacuated.

When he pulled into camp three, he went right to Sheeran,
but wasn’t happy with what he found. Sheeran was watching the barometer with wide
eyes, and rubbed his forehead.

“It’ll be worse than I first thought,” he said.

“The Weather Bureau hasn’t confirmed it’ll hit here,” said Gavin. “And if it does,
they say we’ve still got some time.”

“I don’t give a shit what the Weather Bureau says. My barometer’s falling steadily,
and it’s reading lower than the barometers in Key West. I just got off the phone with
the coast guard.”

Gavin felt some relief that the storm might not hit Key West. He’d felt paralyzed
all weekend without being able to get down there. John had sent a telegram that the
girls were staying at his place, but that still didn’t quiet Gavin’s fears.

“Has the train been ordered?” asked Gavin.

“Ray Sheldon’s ferry should have been here hours ago. Until he makes the call to Fred
Ghent up north, we can’t go anywhere, and goddamned Ghent is playing golf and no one
can reach him.”

Gavin ran his hands through his hair and started pacing. “My God, what can we do?”

“We can take care of our own as best we can.”

“That’s not good enough.”

Sheeran looked at Gavin. He looked out the window at the pickup truck.

“Why don’t you start taking the women and children up past Tavernier, where they’ll
be safer?” he said. “Their barometers are reading higher than ours, and you can probably
get a few trucksful in before you need to get to shelter.”

Gavin ran out the door, glad to have something to do that might help, but still worried
about his friends. He drove back to camp five and, on the way, passed a truck carrying
Ray Sheldon. He felt relief wash over him, but continued on his task, knowing that
bureaucrats didn’t always operate with speed. When he got to the mess hall the mood
had darkened. No one drank or laughed anymore, and some of the women were crying.

Gavin reminded them to get ready for evacuation, but didn’t announce that he’d be
taking a truckful of people. He knew it would start a panic, and that wouldn’t help.
Instead, he walked over to the Wilsons, the first family he saw. Gavin told Mike Wilson
to assemble his wife and children to go up to Tavernier. Mike exhaled a sigh of relief
and clapped Gavin on the back. He hurried back to his wife, Eugenia, kissed her and
his four kids, and pushed them out in the storm with Gavin.

The wind was blowing sand around, so no one could have ridden in the back. Eugenia
and two of the biggest kids squished onto the seat next to Gavin. Two of the smallest
kids sat on their laps. They all spoke very little, but their gratitude was conveyed
on their faces. The baby sat closest to Gavin and kept putting his hand on Gavin’s
arm while he drove. Gavin felt a lump in his throat and silently prayed for their
protection. He tried to smile reassuringly, but he had no assurance to give, so he
kept his eyes on the road.

The wind and rain gusts were much worse than before, and the road was covered in several
inches of water. Eugenia gasped and prayed, and the kids watched the storm with wide
eyes. Gavin had to reach up to wipe the steam from the inside of the cab so he could
see where he was going. He wondered whether it would have been safer to leave them
at camp.

The nine-mile trip took three times as long as usual, but Gavin got them safely to
the Tavernier Theater along the main highway. He helped Eugenia get the kids into
the concrete building and turned to leave. As he was going, she hugged him and said,
“God bless you.” He was moved but tried to keep it together. He knew that if he lost
it, he wouldn’t get it back, and there were still many others who needed help. He
nodded and returned to the car.

On the drive back to headquarters at the Hotel Matecumbe, the rain and wind died,
but rather than making Gavin feel better, it filled him with dread. It was as if some
great force over the water had sucked it all in and was about to spit it back out.

He saw Sheeran coming out of the building and heading to his truck. Gavin pulled up
to him and rolled down his window.

“Well?” asked Gavin.

“They want to wait,” said Sheeran. His voice shook. Gavin could see that he felt impotent.
He was trembling in frustration.

“What? Why?”

Sheeran pointed to the sky. “Sheldon seems to think we’re not going to get hit hard.
He just cited the fact that the rain and wind were slowing. He’s not paying attention
to the barometer, which continues to fall. These gasps of good weather are just part
of the bands of the hurricane.”

“What will it take for him to make the call?” asked Gavin.

“He said they can have the train here within four hours of our call. He thinks we’ve
got time. I think they just don’t want a bunch of shiftless vets idling around up
north. Sheldon said he’d be playing gin rummy at the hotel tonight if we need him.”

“My God,” said Gavin.

“I did hear Sheldon tell the clerk to call him if any more weather reports came in,”
said Sheeran. “I guess he thinks it could be serious enough to disturb his sleep.”

“And there’s nothing else we can do?”

Sheeran shook his head. “Just try to get some more of the women and children out.
Then come on back to camp three and help me finish securing the construction equipment.
There’s nothing else we can do.”

Gavin looked into the window of headquarters and saw Ray Sheldon laughing and slapping
someone on the back. His new wife, Gayle, stared out the window. Her eyes met Gavin’s.
He could see her worry. He shook his head and pulled out to head back to camp five.

U.S. Weather Bureau Advisory
9:30 p.m., Sunday, September 1, 1935

U. S. Weather Bureau Advisory
3:30 a.m. Monday, September 2, 1935