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The Search for the Amigo

by Francis Caldwell

276 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #00-0134; ISBN 1-55212-469-X; US$26.00, C$30.00, EUR21.50, £15.00

Two children, stranded and alone, on the fishing vessel Amigo, in the Gulf of Alaska, during the worst storm of the century.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book You've read the two recent bestsellers, Sebastian Junger's The Perfect Storm and Linda Greenlaw's The Hungry Ocean. The characters in those books were mature, experienced fishermen. Imagine how terrifying it was for two small children, alone, lost at sea, a dead man's body in the wheelhouse, without long-range radio communication, caught in an easterly November gale in the Gulf of Alaska, a blow the weather bureau called the worst storm in a century! Lash Cloud knew his children and brother-in-law were out in the Gulf somewhere, although most observers assumed the Amigo sank along with several other ships in the area. A massive search failed to find any trace of the Amigo, except an empty life raft! Then came startling news from a trucker in Oregon. He had talked to Danny on a tiny Citizens Band radio. Danny reported his "uncle was dead, the children and their dog were alone, cold, hungry and lost." Weeks later a second Arctic storm struck, burying the 120-foot-long vessel under tons of ice. The story ends with a twist when the Amigo is finally located only days before Christmas, anchored in remote Roaring Bay, hundreds of miles from where expected. The children have harrowing tales to tell, of an inaccurate compass, capture by outlaws and being rescued by a kindly old hermit.. Wrote in a lean, racing prose by an award-winning author who was a commercial fisherman for four decades, this action-packed sea story will have you reaching for your Dramamine Review from Alaska Fisherman's Journal, June 2001, by John van Amerongen     If Francis Caldwell wasn't thinking Walt Disney when he wrote this story of two kids and a dog lost on a crabber in the middle of the Gulf of Alaska, I'll eat the dog food.     The only thing that keeps it form being a shoe-in for a TV drama is a smattering of coarse language that could easily be edited from the screenplay. After 40 years of trolling for Alaska salmon and Pacific albacore, and longlining for halibut and blackcod, Caldwell must have felt obligated to salt his first fictional tale with a bit of salty language, but it wasn't really necessary. This, of course, is a story for kids and their parents to enjoy together, and a good bet for reading aloud when the power goes out or the satellite dish is iced up.     It's got everything a kid could ever hope for: ferocious storms, escaped convicts, encounters with wolves, secret caves, dead bodies, guns and knives, radios that don't work, engines that conk out, an avalanche, a whining kid sister, a faithful pooch and a kind old geezer who helps the kids out of a jam.     There's a great scene early on where a storm batters a Japanese log ship. The crew has to cut the cables holding a stack of logs to lighten the load on the bow.     "A light showered from the foc'sle. Nagato slowed the engine. The Loading Officer and four men in bright yellow oilskins appeared with two welding torches. From the bridge they appeared like fireflies dancing nimbly across the logs with their torches. Nagato saw a bright flash and shower of sparks as the farthest aft cable burned through. He breathed a sigh of relief. Eleven cables to go.     One by one they burned through each cable. The job was going remarkably well and Captain Nagato was congratulating himself as they reached the eleventh and twelfth, the most forward. As the men hovered over the last cables, a mountainous sea, towering as high as the vessel's bridge, appeared out of the darkness and thundered over the port rail. Green water twenty feet deep rushed across the main deck and smashed into the loose logs on the bow, sending the men and logs tumbling end over end like match sticks..."     Well-known on maritime bookshelves, on the docks of Southeast and on the drags from Cape Muzon to Cape Fairweather, Caldwell has published five books previously, including Pacific Troller, The Ebb & The Flood, Land of Ocean Mists, Beyond the Trails, and Cassiar's Elusive Gold. His extensive first-hand knowledge of fishing vessels, their gear and the Alaska coastline are evident in his descriptions. Anyone who's spent time on a fishboat in Alaska will feel right at home between the lines.

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About the Author Besides putting in 40 seasons as a commercial fisherman in Alaska, Francis E. Caldwell is a full-time, established photojournalist, with hundreds of magazine articles and five books published. He has traveled extensively on four continents pursuing stock photography, specializing in travel and wildlife/nature. He and his wife Donna operate AFFORDABLE PHOTO STOCK, a library containing 100,000 images, based in Port Angeles, Washington. Please visit the author's website: www.francisdonnacaldwell.com

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Sample Excerpt

Chapter Two

The children sat side-by-side in the upholstered helmsman's chair peering out the windows, watching seabirds circling high in the sky. Suddenly an albatross appeared ahead of the boat. It soared effortlessly over the swells, only a few feet from touching the sea, without once moving its wings. Danny held his sister tightly, struggling to keep his composure. Patty Sue was fully awake. Danny braced for her expected onslaught of questions.

"What kind of bird is that?"

"An albatross. Black-footed, I think. One of the largest sea birds with a wingspread of about seven feet."

"Do albatrosses have homes where they raise their babies?" Patty Sue asked.

"Sure. They have nests like other birds where they lay their eggs and care for their babies."

"On the water?"

"No. Of course not, silly. On some island, but I'm not sure where."

"What's the gray ones that look like seagulls?"

"Northern fulmar."

"How come you know so much about birds?"

"We study them in Sea Scouts."

"Oh! Why is the boat rolling?"

"Because there's a big swell building up."

"What causes swells?"

"Wind, of course."

"Why does the wind blow?"

"Cause. It's the way of the sea. Let's walk outside and feel the wind." Danny helped his sister down. They stepped over Nick's body. "Shame on you, Uncle Nick. You're not supposed to sleep in the wheelhouse." Patty Sue chided, shaking her finger at the body.

They went out the back door onto the small deck behind the wheelhouse. Nick called it the "Texas" deck, because the wheelhouse was known as a Texas-style house, built a top the main cabin, a design borrowed from vessels along the Gulf Coast of Texas. The little deck was eight feet long and 16 feet wide. A waist-high aluminum pipe rail was welded around its edge to prevent anyone from falling to the main deck below. An eight-foot-high ladder allowed access to the roof of the pilothouse and another, ten-foot-long, led down to the main deck behind the house. Except for the life raft canister in its mount, the deck was empty. A narrow walkway, with a four-foot-high steel combing, led around the front of the wheelhouse for cleaning windows and servicing defrosters built into two windows directly in front of the wheel.

Hobo raced around the deck barking at seabirds hovering around the vessel.

"What do sea birds eat?" Danny always marveled at his sister's acute observations.

"Fish. Shrimp. Things like that."

"I'm hungry. Can we have hotcakes for breakfast?"

"I suppose so."

"What were you going to tell me. Is it a secret?"

"Sort of. No, not really. Tell you what, if you'll sit in the helmsman's chair and watch ahead, and promise to stay there, I'll mix up some hotcakes and fry some bacon. Then, right after breakfast, I'll tell you."

"Okay. Make plenty. I'm starved. Uncle Nick likes hotcakes and bacon too. Yummy, yummy‹good for the tummy."

Thankful for the unexpected reprieve, providing more time to decide how to break the news, Danny put sliced bacon in the skillet. Hobo raced back and forth between galley and wheelhouse, his red tongue dangling out the corner of his mouth, dividing his attentions between the two children.

Danny definitely wasn't hungry, but he mixed batter. The bacon was almost done when he heard Patty Sue's scream. He raced up the stairs. Patty Sue was on her knees beside Nick's body. Hobo stood in the corner, the blanket dangling from his mouth, wagging his tail in a playful mood.

"Uncle Nick's eyes are open, but he won't wake up, Danny. He's cold! I touched his face." Patty Sue said. Her eyes were wide with fear.

"Hobo! You bad dog. Get! Go to the galley!" Danny yelled angrily. Hobo's tail dropped. He let go of the blanket and sulked down the stairs. Danny drew the blanket over the body. He held Patty Sue in his arms. Tears sprang into his eyes and he began to sob.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Patty Sue wailed.

"I...I...don't... I think so. Yes."

"Is that the secret you were going to tell me?"

"Yes." Despite his best efforts Danny began to shake uncontrollably.

"Some secret! Why didn't you tell me?" Patty Sue said angrily.

"I am," Danny said lamely. I'm sorry, Sis."

The children clung to each other and wept.

Perplexed by their actions, Hobo reappeared, whined and tried to jump into the chair with them. Finally Danny wiped his eyes and blew his nose, then handed Patty Sue a Kleenex.

"He must have died during the night. I found him lying there this morning. I didn't know how to tell you."

Patty Sue sobbed loudly. Finally she blubbered, "Why did he die?" She was unable to resist asking questions, even during such traumatic moments.

"I don't know. Maybe a heart attack." It broke Danny's heart to see his sister cry.

"What's a heart attack?"

"When the heart stops beating. You know."

"What makes it stop?" she blubbered.

"I don't know. It just does with some older people."

The situation finally sank in that they were now alone. Patty Sue screamed, "I want my Daddy!" Danny tried to comfort her, but she resisted, pushing him away, as if she blamed her brother.

Smoke came from the galley. Danny rushed down to find the bacon burned to a crisp. He dumped it into Hobo's dish. Hobo sniffed it with disdain and refused to touch it. Danny put the hotcake batter in the sink. There would be no breakfast this morning.

The AMIGO cruised steadily on. Danny felt overwhelmed with responsibility and helpless to do anything about it. He now faced awesome responsibilities. Suddenly he was captain, navigator, chief engineer and cook, knowledge that terrified him. On top of that, there was Patty Sue to care for.

By now the gale caused a steep, heavy swell from the southeast. In a stern-quartering sea, the AMIGO rolled heavily. Torrents of rain fell, reducing visibility to only a few hundred yards. Danny was amazed the weather could change so rapidly. Only yesterday the children had sunbathed on the Texas deck. Danny remembered the seaman's expression, "the calm before the storm." Evidently this saying was true.

Patty Sue became seasick and went back to bed, but didn't sleep. Instead she lay awake, frightened and sobbing. Her eyes were red and her nose ran. She had loved Uncle Nick very much. Danny checked on her often, brought her Kleenex and water, but nothing helped.

What should he to do with Nick's body? He couldn't leave it on deck in the wheelhouse. Should he try putting it into one of the spare bunks? Having a dead body in one of the staterooms wasn't very appealing. He thought he could drag it down into the galley, but decided he wasn't strong enough to lift it onto a bunk. There was the nagging thought that a person's body would quickly decompose and smell if kept where it was warm.

Danny frequently called for help on the VHF radio, hoping another vessel might be near. There was no answer.

Danny studied the chart of the Gulf of Alaska. He traced the neat row of crosses Nick had penciled each four hours. Their last position had been plotted at midnight. He took a new Loran reading, measuring the latitude and longitude with a set of dividers, then made a cross on the chart. He drew a line between the new position and the one at midnight. The line was straight. That was good, Nick had said. That meant that you were right on course for your destination. If you drew a line through several plots and extended it, it should place you exactly at your destination. Doing this simple navigation gave Danny confidence that he could navigate to Kodiak, or at least close enough to radio for help on the VHF. He immediately felt better.

Patty Sue, still in her pajamas, came up the stairs. She glanced at the blanket-covered figure on the deck warily, being careful not to touch it. "Does it hurt to die?"

"I'm not sure. I suppose so," Danny replied softly.

"I'm seasick," she sobbed. "I'm going to yuck." She held her hand over her mouth, but vomit spurted through her fingers. Danny ran to the galley for a wash cloth and bucket. He cleaned up the mess. Patty Sue immediately felt better and climbed onto Danny's lap.

"You're probably hungry. Will you try and eat some toast if I fix it?"

Patty Sue nodded and stayed in the chair while Danny went to the galley. He couldn't summon up enough enthusiasm to use the batter and fry hotcakes but was aware of the dehydrating effects of seasickness and that food and water intake was vital, if one was to overcome it.

Patty Sue nibbled her toast and drank some apple juice, then vomited into the bucket.

Danny remembered that Nick had bought seasick pills. He gave one to Patty Sue, and put her to bed. Finally she fell asleep.

Danny decided to take advantage of this opportunity to move Nick's body, although it was pouring rain. The only logical place to put it, he decided, was outside, on the Texas deck. The aluminum, watertight door had a foot-high water-stop at the bottom. Danny though he could drag Nick over that.

Nick's arms were down at his sides and rigid. Danny grabbed Nick's shirt collar and skidded the body to the door. Hobo watched curiously. Tugging with all his strength, he managed to get Nick half way over the water-stop, then the body stuck there. He wasn't strong enough to move it farther.

Danny stood in the rain trying to figure out what to do. Hobo jumped back and forth through the door over Nick's body. Cold, wind-driven rain soaked Danny's shirt and Nick's exposed upper body. Water dripped off Nick's nose and ran down his cheeks. Rain blew into the wheelhouse soaking the carpet. He couldn't leave Nick there. He'd have to drag the body back inside. He climbed over Nick, grabbed his feet and tugged. The body refused to move. He tried to turn Nick over to see what was hung up, but in the narrow confines of the door was unsuccessful.

Hobo watched Danny's efforts attentively. "You're no help, you worthless mutt," Danny shouted in frustration, retreated to the chair and beat his fists against the console.

A sharp sea had built up, frothing and hissing angrily at the stern. Threatening black storm clouds pressed against the rolling seas. According to the gauge, the wind was blowing forty knots. Seasick and dizzy, Danny desperately wanted to lie down and go to sleep until this nightmare was over. He peered at the worthless radio, wanting to smash it.

At home Danny sometimes hitched Hobo to a sled. Perhaps the dog could help him pull the body. But he had no harness. In a storage locker he found some rope and fashioned a crude collar and traces. "Come on, Hobo, give me a hand." They both went outside. Danny slipped the collar over the dog's head and attached the tow rope around Nick's chest.

"Pull, Hobo. Pull!" Danny coaxed, grabbing Hobo's collar and the line. Hobo obeyed, but the slippery, rain-slick deck prevented the dog's feet from getting good traction.

By now the wind screamed through the rigging and the vessel threw her stern high with every sea and began rolling heavily. Danny checked the galley. Pots, cups, dishes and cereal boxes, plus an open can of condensed milk, carelessly left on the counter, had rolled and scattered across the deck. Hobo lapped at the spilled milk.

Back in the wheelhouse, Danny remembered watching Uncle Nick use a small, portable hoist to lift heavy equipment. It still hung in the engine room. He went down and got it, then attached one hook to the pipe rail and put the cable around Nick's chest beneath his arms. Slowly he began to crank the lever. The cable tightened around Nick. An explosive gush of air and spittle suddenly shot from Nick's mouth, running down his cheek.

Danny screamed with terror and dropped the winch handle. Was Nick still alive? No, he had to be dead. He cranked the hoist again until the cable was taunt, but still the body didn't move. He turned the handle again. Suddenly Nick's body broke loose and flopped across the water-stop, leaving his pants down around his knees, his leather belt broken.

Embarrassed, Danny tried to draw Nick's pants up, but couldn't. He removed the hoist, stowed it, then covered Nick's body with a blue plastic tarp he found in the gear locker. He finished the job by wrapping rope around the tarp as best he could. For good measure he tied the rope to the pipe railing, then closed the door.

"That's the best I can do, Uncle Nick," Danny said sadly, looking out the window at his uncle's blue shrouded body. He began sobbing, then remembered his duties and checked the course and looked ahead to make sure there were no boats in sight.

Exhausted, freezing cold and soaking wet, Danny headed for the stateroom to change. Hobo grabbing Danny's wet pants and ran into the galley.

"Hobo, cut it out. Don't you know we're in big trouble? I don't feel like playing."

Rolling and pitching wildly, the AMIGO ploughed on, running before the storm. All afternoon Danny stayed at the wheel. According to the gauge the wind was already blowing fifty knots. Huge, angry seas marched one after another towards the AMIGO, an endless series of gray miniature mountains, white and foaming on top. Spray whipped over the stern as the seas struck.

Patty Sue crawled up the stairs, her face ashen, eyes filled with fear. In spite of the seasick pill she was still violently ill. Danny tried to get her to eat crackers, but she refused. Finally he insisted she stay in bed.

By dark the AMIGO was rolling and pitching so violently even most seasoned seaman would have suffered from vertigo. Danny throttled back to half speed. The vessel immediately rode easier. Staring at the huge, breaking seas in the bright flood lights made the motion seem exaggerated. He switched off the lights. Darkness made things even worse. He turned the lights back on. Frightened and uncertain what to do, Danny felt desperation gnawing at his stomach. He crawled to the door he'd just dragged Nick's body through and vomited over the water-stop.

The wind screeched and howled around the house like a banshee. It had changed direction and was now coming from the south east. Danny peered out the windows. The sodium vapor lights illuminated the white, frothing seas, causing them to appear like snow-covered mountains. The sight was somehow fascinating, but frightening.

Danny remembered fishermen telling how they had let the boat drift and gone to bed during terrible storms, if far enough at sea so they didn't have to worry about drifting ashore. He'd been taught that someone had to be on watch while underway, and he was totally exhausted, so that's what he decided to do. He throttled the main engine to idle, then shifted the clutch into neutral. Immediately the wind swung the bow around until the vessel lay with her stern quartering into the seas. The AMIGO immediately began riding more easily. He checked the wind gauge and was appalled when the needle edged up past 80 knots.

Too sick and exhausted to undress, Danny climbed in beside Patty Sue and pulled the blankets over his head to shut out the shrieking wind. Hobo climbed onto the foot of the bunk, then snuggled up between the two children. Danny held back the covers and Hobo crawled underneath. The dog was trembling violently. Danny put one arm around Hobo.

"Don't be frightened. Everything will be okay," Danny said in Hobo's ear, hoping that he was correct. Lying down was heavenly after the long, trying day. Visions of Uncle Nick's face, his eyes frozen open in death, refused to disappear even when Danny closed his eyes. Eventually he dropped off into a fitful sleep, a slumber frequently disturbed by violent lurches, the crash of seas pounding against the AMIGO, and the wild screeching of the gale.

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Catalogue Information

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