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“You guys, OK?” asked a burly mustached sailor wearing a blue uniform and bright red life preserver.
“We’re good, Chief,” said the Skipper.
“Eh, Charlie. I couldn’t believe it when your call came through. No one knows these waters like you.”
“Some bastard ran us down,” said Charlie. “If it weren’t for the yank sailors, I would have gone down with the boat.”
The man looked confused. “These ladies are sailors?”
“No,” said Jenny. “Our husbands are. They went to a logging camp not far from here for help.” She held up her phone. “If you’ve got Wi-Fi on your boat, I can track Mike’s phone.”
“Yeah, OK, well, let’s get you off this beach for a start.”
It was a tight squeeze, but they all managed to fit into the orange inflatable. The sea was mirror smooth as they cruised over to the Canadian Coast Guard Search and Rescue vessel. A little longer than the Okanagan, she was designed to patrol the often-treacherous waters of the West Coast. The chief brought the tender to the rear platform where two sailors were waiting. They helped the team aboard then directed them to the main deck, where the captain was at the helm.
“Charlie, what happened to you, old man?” Like the chief, the captain wore a mustache, though his was salt-and-pepper.
It took the skipper a few minutes to outline the situation. Unlike Jenny, he didn’t omit the missing pups and Rick and Mike’s mission to check out the logging camp.
“RCMPs are coming up the road. I’ll radio them and get them to meet us at the camp,” said the captain. “We’re not a law enforcement agency, but we can certainly help out.” He turned his attention to the controls and got the vessel underway. They accelerated smoothly until they were cruising at fifteen knots.
“Do you have a Wi-Fi network?” asked Ali.
“Yes, ma’am. We have a Starlink connection,” said the chief. “I’ll give you the password. Do any of you ladies want to head down to the survivors’ room?”
“That sounds ominous,” said Maria.
“Well, we are a rescue boat. We’ve got sandwiches and hot tea in the galley.”
“That sounds wonderful,” said Jenny.
“I’ll stay up here,” replied Ali.
“I’ll bring you up some chow,” said the chief as he guided the others downstairs.
Ali connected her phone and activated the app she and Mike used to share their locations. “His phone last pinged in the logging camp. Twenty minutes ago,” she announced.
“We’ll be there in five,” said the captain. Four and a half minutes later, he announced, “We’re pulling into the harbor now.”
Through the bridge windows, Ali could see flashing red and blue lights; the RCMP had beaten them to the logging yards. The captain was in radio contact with them as they pulled up alongside. Another police car had joined the first, parked alongside a van and a pickup truck on the wharf.
“No sign of anyone at the camp,” reported the chief. “Mounties are going to search the area more thoroughly.”
“That’s weird,” said Ali. “The tracker in Axe’s collar pinged out to sea.”
One of the Mounties joined them on the bridge. “Skipper, looks like whoever was here headed off on a boat.”
“That’s where Axe is. Mike and Rick must be with them.”
“The missing men?” asked the Mountie.
“My husband and his partner went to see if our stolen puppies were in the camp.”
“After your boat sank?”
Ali sighed. “It’s a long story.”
At that moment, the radio, tuned to the emergency network, squawked, and a transmission came through. “Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Charlie Three Four Five. We have a fire on board and are abandoning ship. I say again, we are abandoning ship.”
