Dream Thing

The captain ignored the display and moved to the GPS position tracker. “Holy criminy. We haven’t moved an inch in the last quarter of an hour.”

The mate was about to protest, but the display showed him the captain was correct. They were staying in place.

“Didn’t you feel the turbulence, Trine?” the captain demanded. “It woke me up.”

“What turbulence?”

“The damn ship’s working way too hard to maintain its course. We’re going against some sort of a powerful current.”

“Let me look,” the mate said, and tapped out commands on the instrument screen.

“You don’t need to look. There’s not supposed to be any fifteen-knot current, not here,” the captain declared.

“There must be,” the mate insisted, but his global positioning system confirmed that there was no charted current.

The positioning sensor altered slightly, and the captain swore under his breath. “Now we’re moving backward.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Believe it, Trine. Dammit, something is up. Call Honolulu. I want to know what’s going on.”

Skipper Moran rang the alert, waking the entire crew. Trine thought that the old man was off his rocker. Something was wrong, yes, but it had to be an instrument problem, not a mysterious new ocean current.

He rang his Navy liaison at the Pearl Harbor naval base. The satellite phone crackled with interference as the mate asked for any reports of a localized southwesterly current in the vicinity, running at fifteen knots.

“Of course not. You guys smoking something funny out there?” the Navy operator asked with a chuckle.

“Not me, but I’m not speaking for the captain,” the mate said defensively. “Wahine out.”

The captain was changing course. “What did they say?” he demanded.

“They said there’s no such current.”

“Heavy weather?”

“Nothing,” the mate said. “Captain, where are we going?”

“Anywhere away from here!” The captain had taken manual control of the Wahine, and he was adjusting the steering wheel-like helm minutely. “Feel that, Trine? She’s still struggling. I’m trying to find the flow of the current.”

“What?” Trine asked. He didn’t feel anything.

“Did you ever steer a ship, Trine?” the captain asked, giving the wheel a slight adjustment, then stared into space. “There. That’s got it.”

First Mate Trine had no clue what the captain was talking about. He felt nothing.

“If we’re going directly into the flow, we’ll have the least amount of cross current to slow us down,” the captain explained impatiently. “Now give me full speed. We have to fight our way out of this!”

Trine obeyed orders, bringing the shipping vessel Wahine up to full speed. The diesel engines rumbled below decks. Now, that Trine could feel.

Moran was tense. Was the captain actually afraid? Moran was past his prime, and he had certainly been left behind by the technological advancements of the modern merchant marine, but he still had a lifetime of experience aboard shipping vessels. Trine couldn’t understand what the old man could possibly be afraid of.

The monitor on the position display changed.

“Well, now we’re moving,” Trine said.

The captain turned on him with haunted eyes. “Not very damn fast, we’re not. The current’s getting faster.”

“How do you know?”

“Feel it, boy,” Moran said. “The Wahine’s fighting hard.”

Soon enough the mate could feel it, and everybody on board felt it. The Wahine struggled against a current that moved faster by the minute. The GPS showed that she had been pulled in reverse another thousand meters.

“We’re losing it,” the captain exclaimed.

“The GPS must be wrong,” Mate Trine insisted.

“It’s not wrong.” Moran called the engine room. “What can you do to give us more speed?”

“Not much. We’re red-lining as it is,” the chief engineer said.

The captain was distracted by the display, showing they had lost another thousand meters in just a minute. “Mr. Viscott, I don’t care what it does to the engines. You keep us moving. Override the safeties and give me speed.”

“Captain—”

“I take full responsibility.” Moran slammed down the phone.

First Mate Trine saw his opportunity for career advancement and he went for it. “Captain Moran, I cannot let you destroy the engines.”

“Shut up and get me Honolulu, Trine.”

Trine grabbed the on-board phone instead. “Chief Engineer, this is First Mate Trine. I am relieving Captain Moran of his command of the Wahine. Disregard his previous orders. You will not disable the safety mechanisms on the engine.”

“You idiot.” Moran snatched the phone away from Trine. “Engineer, this is Moran. Obey my orders.” Trine marched into the rear of the bridge and found his side arm in its locker. He was back in seconds, just as the captain slammed down the phone again.

“Captain, I am placing you under arrest for deliberately attempting to destroy the engines of this ship.”

“You’re crazy, Trine. I said I would take responsibility, didn’t I?”

“Those engines will cost three-quarters of a million dollars to overhaul. I’m saving the company a lot of money.”

The captain sneered. “Bucking for your own ship, Trine?”