1901: A Novel by Robert Conroy

Author:Robert Conroy [Conroy, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Historical, Fantasy
ISBN: 9780891418436
Google: yrBxje-lOu8C
Amazon: 0891418431
Publisher: Presidio Press
Published: 1995-01-01T22:00:00+00:00

Unsteadily, Blake made his way to the hold of the little ship. He and the others would travel as cargo. If they were spotted, they hoped their small size would convince any German warships they were of no consequence. Despite the so-called German blockade, Long Island Sound still swarmed with small craft of all sorts as people managed to eke out an existence in spite of the war.

Blake settled himself against the dank hull of the ship and tried to make himself comfortable. They still had enough dynamite remaining to do considerable damage if they could only find some good targets. Just where and how to use it he would have to decide.

As they cast off, the ship tossed a little more than he expected. He opened a hatch and sniffed the air, ignoring the angry looks of the crew, who much preferred that he stay out of sight. He was right, there was a storm brewing. Maybe, he chuckled, his dynamite could provide some thunder and lightning.

A few feet away, the skipper of the craft struggled with the rudder. “Gonna be a bad one?” Blake asked.

The skipper, a weather-burned old man whose name he didn’t know, spat over the side. “No such thing as a good storm. If anything good comes of it,’twill be to make us a little less visible to the Heinies.”

Blake eyed the sky and sensed the direction of the swirling clouds. They appeared to be coming from the south. That made it likely that the storm was the remnant of a hurricane and not an isolated squall. Although Blake was not a seaman, he had seen the devastation wrought by such storms along the New York and New Jersey coasts as well as farther south, and he asked about the intensity of this one.

“This fucker’s about shot its wad,” said the old sailor. “It’ll be a nasty one, but we have these all the time. Nothing to write home about—that is, if you can write.”

“It won’t hurt the Germans?”

“Aw, it’ll make ‘em puke a lot, but it shouldn’t really hurt ‘em. Most of ‘em will just make for the harbor and wait it out. Those that have to stand duty out in the ocean will simply endure it. Hell, my boat’ll make it, so why should a battleship have a problem?”

A wave hit the sailboat and engulfed them both in spray, silencing any further comment Blake might have made. He was aware of a couple of other figures scampering around doing whatever sailors do in choppy seas. He realized that the Sound was somewhat protected by the existence of Long Island and that the open ocean would be even more turbulent. Give me solid ground anytime, he thought.

“Hey, soldier, enough talking. Get your ass down in there and keep that hatch closed so the water don’t pour in. I’ll tell you when it’s time to come up,” the skipper cackled. “Speakin’ of pukin’, if you ate anythin’ in the last day or two, you’ll probably be seein’ it again real soon.

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