Voyage of the Clipper Ship Crucible

By Thomas G. Baker

What began as a millionaire’s drunken wager and voyage of adventure has become a desperate struggle for survival as the crew of the clipper ship Crucible find themselves caught up in the greatest cataclysmic event in all of human history. This is the account of their epic journey through a world torn asunder by famine, disease, and war.
Crucible takes the reader on an adventure filled journey covering half the globe. From sunny Spain to the deserted whaling station of Grytviken on South Georgia Island, continue with the crew to Terra del Fuego where they battle a would-be despot. Venture with them into the Pacific and encounter South Seas Islanders turned cannibal. Discover the tiny Polynesian Island of Rapa Iti so remote that life goes on blissfully unaware of world turmoil. Meet fellow adventurers and learn their stories while sailing the globe in search of a safe harbor and place to call home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas G. Baker
• Release date: Dec 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311441560

Thomas G. Baker

After years of living on his sailboat in the small laid back village of Astor Fl.Tom has, as they say, has swallowed the anchor. He now resides in the tiny hamlet of Big Bone, Kentucky beside the creek bearing the same name. With an affable orange tomcat named Tom-Tom as companion he spends his days communing with nature, writing novels, and reminiscing with old and dear friends.

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Voyage of the Clipper Ship

CRUCUBLE

Thomas G. Baker

Voyage of the clipper ship Crucible

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or localities is entirely coincidental.

Voyage of the clipper ship Crucible

Copyright © 2015 by Thomas G. Baker

ISBN

Smashwords Edition

License Notes

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

Cover Picture

The Barque Garthsnaid rounding Cape Horn circa 1920. Taken by maybe Allan C Green, George Shultz or Alexander Harper Turner. State library of Victoria, under the Accession Number H91.250/933 Allan C. Green glass plate collection.

Table of Contents

Chapter I The Clipper Man

Chapter II Vehicle to Adventure

Chapter III Keep to Ourselves

Chapter IV Ends of the Earth

Chapter V Saving Utopia

Chapter VI Terra del Fuego

Chapter VII A jolly Good Time

Chapter VIII Trouble in Paradise

Chapter IX The Bramble Bush

Chapter X Homeward Bound

About the Author

Dedication

This book is dedicated to those few among us many who diligently pursue the quest to unlock and understand the human experience, to unearth mans past and chart his course into future. Unfortunately too many times they are the voices in the wilderness, the canaries in the coalmine their warning cries drown out by the herd of humanity as it thunders along headed toward the wall, the ultimate wall.

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Preface

I have over my lifetime like the main characters in my books, become increasingly concerned about the future. For all we have achieved our species is still primarily driven by its inherent, innate instincts, two of which are to exploit and procreate. We have employed science and technology as tools to increase the world’s population to the point where more humans are alive today than have existed throughout the species entire history.

Common sense dictates that there are limits to everything including us. There are those who believe the human population has already exceeded the point sustainability and entered overshoot. If so, then we are condemned to suffer the consequences, all of which portend to be grave. I have attempted to present the reader with one possible scenario yet there are many others still unknown that could be far worse.

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Introduction

Writing fiction largely involves the manipulation of truth and lies. It allows leeway to create factitious characters and plots, yet weave them into a tapestry of realistic locations and events. If this blending is performed properly then a novel results which is both entertaining and illuminating.

I hope you will find in Voyage of the Clipper Ship Crucible a novel that manages to strike a balance between a work I enjoyed crafting and more importantly a novel that appeals to you the reader.

Like my other novels Crucible follows a central character, in this case Franklin Davis, who also acts as narrator. The background is set in the not to distant future wherein a series of events culminates in the disintegration of our modern infrastructure and the resultant collapse of society in general.

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Chapter I

The Clipper Man

Franklin Davis followed the nurse as she picked her way through the miserable mass of broken and bleeding humanity lying in the hospital corridor. Further on they came to a row of sheet covered corpses. She stopped by one, bent down, and examined the toe tag then looked up and nodded.

She knelt beside the body and pulled back the bloody sheet just enough to retrieve a small plastic bag of personal effects. The face was obscured but I caught a glimpse of the familiar Harley Davidson logo tattooed on the forearm.

I accepted the bag and asked, Is there any way he can be buried separately, I’m sure his wife will want the body exhumed and sent home when this is over?

She said, It won't be possible under the circumstances. We’ve been told to expect evacuation anytime.

I asked, Where will you go?

She said, They think Tel Aviv.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her all roads were clogged with people fleeing Tel Aviv and instead said, Thank you for your help and good luck.

I hurried from the hospital and made my way through the chaos toward the pickup point hoping I wouldn’t be late. I surveyed the carnage surrounding me and tried to mentally formulate it into some kind of perspective but all I could come up with was the quote, What a difference a day makes. Yesterday this had been a modern country its citizens engaged in everyday mundane activities now that country faced oblivion and those citizens were once again gazing into the abyss.

My photographer Jerry Coleman and I had just left our crummy hotel this morning to meet a contact when a bomb or rocket went off beside the cab we were riding in. Jerry had taken the brunt of the blast and suffered horrendous injuries while I’d escaped with only scratches. Since then everything had been a blur of explosions, sirens, and panic-stricken people. The attacks had tapered off but it was only a reprieve as Muslims thirsting for Jewish blood were pouring across Israel’s borders from the North, South, and even Jordan to the East.

We were ostensively freelance journalists, Jerry, Madeline Shumate, and I had been making a documentary about the instability in Africa and the Middle East focusing on the waves of migration from those areas into Europe. Like dumb asses we had been working in Libya when the first cases of the new Ebola strain were found among the migrants. Dodging the Caliphate militias was part of the job but we weren’t getting paid enough to add death by dreaded disease to the list. I sent Madeline on to London while Jerry and I took a detour to Ashdod Israel to collect background material from a long time source.

We couldn’t have arrived at a worse moment for only hours after checking into the Miami Hotel war commenced without warning. There were always rumblings of war and Israel was no stranger to being sucker punched yet this time even the enemies of her enemies had banded together against her.

It was orchestrated by Iran in an attempt to capitalize on the West’s weakened economic state, and the ill will caused by the mass migration into Europe. It was also a calculated effort to weaken the Caliphate by uniting Sunni and Shia in a common Muslim cause, the destruction of the Zionist state.

The professional side of me was itching to stay and cover the story but the Frank side was shouting get the hell out while you still can. I’d been told by a couple of US air force intelligence types staying at the hotel that evacuations were to take place at four in the afternoon from the beach across from the Miami.

I looked at my watch it was already past three and I still had over a mile to cover. It was slow going as the streets were clogged with refugees and vehicles. Here and there collapsed buildings blocked sidewalks forcing those of us on foot to claw their way over the rubble.

I had about resigned myself to missing the evacuation when somebody shouted, Hey Frank.

I looked and saw Richie one of the air force guys in the bed of an Israeli army truck waving to me. I raced over and scrambled aboard. He asked, Where’s your sidekick?

I said, Bomb this morning, he didn’t make it.

He said, Too bad he was a nice guy but if we don’t get the hell outta here today we aren’t going to make it either. Just between you and me this thing could go nuclear any minute.

I asked, Who else has nukes?

He said, The ayatollah courtesy of his Pakistani buddies.

I asked, Do the Jews know that?

He said, Hell yes, they managed to stop one this morning, Heaven help this place if they don’t succeed in stopping the rest.

Even with the truck it was slow going as in many places the street was down to one lane. Finally we arrived and made our way to a sea side park crowded with people waiting to be evacuated. Richie and I walked out on the beach where off in the distance could be seen a couple of Israeli patrol boats, looking South there were large columns of smoke rising in the direction of Gaza.

Rich pointed and said, You sure don’t want to be one of those bastards trapped in there. Gloves are off they’ve been saturating the place with some new type of super thermobaric. Those that don’t get fried outright will die from overpressure and suffocation.

I asked, Why are we so damned efficient at killing each other?

He said, Natures way of dealing with over population, you should have learned by now, humans come preprogrammed to be self-limiting.

I said, I don’t buy that, humans are born with an overwhelming will to live.

Rich said, Yeah as individuals maybe, but collectively we don’t give a hoot how much the other guy suffers. We talk a good game and make token efforts to ease our consciences but just as now everybody is trying their damndest to send; the other fellow’s family strait into the jaws of hell. Frankie my boy, this is just the start, and if I were you I’d find me a nice deep hole to crawl into for awhile.

Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of three approaching Ospreys. A marine ran onto the beach and tossed a green smoke grenade. The Ospreys hovered then sat down and we were herded toward them and up the ramps. The whole thing took less than ten minutes and we were airborne on our way to the assault ship Bataan.

Once on board I tried to get some news but we were kept below decks as the ship was still conducting operations. Richie woke me around three in the morning and said, Thought you might wanna know Tel Aviv went up in fireball. The Jews retaliated so far over fifty detonations and counting.

I said, My God fifty, I can’t think of that many places in the whole Middle East what in the hell are they targeting?

Richie said, My guess cities, ports, oil installations, holy sites, even camel barns along with anything else that will deprive the Arabs of making war. We won’t have a complete list until they fly a bird over but judging from the radiation levels should be easy as anybody left will glow in the dark.

I said, Christ, the radiation alone will kill millions… which way is the wind blowing?

Richie frowned and said, Good question, all I know is the ship was ordered to curtail operations and haul ass out of the area.

I asked, Any idea where we’re headed?

He said, Not yet, everybody’s too busy trying to sort things out, both The Bush and Stennis got caught up in this shit, Bush’s sitting in the Gulf of Oman on fire and sinking.

I asked, What happened?

He said, Mine or torpedo, could even be an accident.

I asked, Any chance of me getting out of here maybe make a phone call… borrow a computer?

He said, ‘I doubt it, the phones are screwed up and the internets a shambles, they’re even having problems with the military stuff. Sit tight and enjoy the cruise they’ll still be plenty left to report on."

I lay on the cot and tried to go back to sleep but was too keyed up so wandered over to the coffee pot, poured a mug, and munched on a cold cut sandwich. Two ladies came over and asked if I’d heard any news. I passed on what little I knew and could tell it hadn’t sunk in as one said to the other, Hope my neighbor didn’t forget to feed the cats.

I was itching to say, lady I doubt you’ve even got a neighbor anymore, much less any fucking cats, but kept my mouth shut and went back to my cot.

It was past ten before I was allowed on deck and found it to be one of those glorious Mediterranean days so pictured in travel brochures. Two of the V22 Ospreys were loading troops and I asked a lieutenant what was going on?

He said, We’re expecting to be sent back in to pick up survivors, so we’re transferring the marines to Sigonella NAS in order to make more room.

I asked, What about us, when do we get off, I need to catch a flight?

He said, I think later today, but I doubt you’ll get a flight out of Europe for a month.

I said, What’s the chance of making some phone calls, my cameraman was killed yesterday, I need to contact his family, and there’s a colleague in London waiting for me?

He said, Can’t make any promises but follow me.

We wound through passageways and came to the Combat Information Center it was a hive of activity and I could feel the stress in the compartment the moment I entered.

The lieutenant walked over to a woman sitting at a console and asked, Sam, got a fellow here needs to let the world know he’s still alive any chance of him making a call?

She looked at me and said, One per customer give me the number… make it short.

I gave her Mattie’s number as it would kill two birds. She handed me a headset and I heard Mattie say, Hello.

I said, "Got to make it quick, I’m on a navy ship the Bataan, Jerry’s dead, killed by a bomb yesterday so call Evelyn and the firm let them know. I can’t meet you so go on home…I’ll call when I can."

She said, Oh my God, are you OK?

I said, I’m fine, call Evelyn and get yourself home, love you, gotta go, bye.

Sam said, That was short and to the point.

I said, With all the crap going on us little folk’s problems don’t count for much.

She said, If you need to make any more calls wait until tonight when the traffic dies down.

I said, Thanks, will you still be here?

She said, I’ll be coming on at 2200 ships time.

I glanced at the clock on the wall and saw I was an hour off. While I set my watch the lieutenant said, Since were here might as well see what’s new.

I followed him over to a long table that was normally used for plots; on it were several large satellite photographs. He picked one up examined it and passed it to me. It took a bit before I got my bearings and saw I was looking at a picture of the Arabian Gulf its shores dotted with blackened smears. As I looked closer I could see they were cities almost completely obliterated while other areas were obscured by thick clouds of smoke.

The other images were more detailed and covered most of the major Middle Eastern cities; all were smoldering ruins as were what looked to be oil installations. Plumes of black jutted into the gulf indicating massive oil spills. One picture showed the aircraft carrier George H.W. Bush covered in smoke and listing surrounded by several smaller ships spraying it with water.

There were a series showing the fighting still taking place in Israel. I asked, Any news on how the Jews are doing?

He said, They’re holding their own and then some, but there won’t be any winners… radiation levels are off the chart.

I went back grabbed some lunch then hunted up Richie; I found him and his buddy Paul talking to a one of the Osprey pilots who’d returned from Sicily.

Richie said, Just in time this ought to interest you.

I asked, Find me a ride stateside?

He said, Not exactly, but you can come along as observer if you want.

I asked, What are we observing?

He said, NATO operation called STOPGAP has to do with your migrants.

I said, Count me in; anybody got a camera I can borrow?

He said, Yeah, Paul’s got one, since you’re the professional how bout you doing the shooting and give us a copy.

An hour later we were airborne headed toward the Libyan coast Richie, Paul, and a Marine Major named Mat Leary were huddled together and I listened in as the Major explained, "This Israeli thing was the last straw, the Euros are scared shitless… there’s been five confirmed cases of Ebola and it’s a cinch every extremist group left will be bent on revenging the Israeli thing. Brussels has ordered a total halt on all movement between Africa, the Middle East, and Europe.

I asked, How did they get something like that through the UN?

He said, UN hell, NATO told the UN to get screwed, Europe is back to the days of the crusades where Christens lived on the north side of the pond and Muslims on the south. To make sure it stays that way their embarking on a campaign to destroy anything attempting to make the crossing.

I said, Hell that should be easy most of them are coming by raft, outboard optional.

As we drew closer I began to see warships and patrol craft below. Our pilot sent word there was some action about to take place twenty miles ahead. I grabbed the camera and talked the guy running the ramp into fitting me with a harness so I could take video from the rear of the airplane.

I didn’t like being out in the middle of nowhere staring into space but the harness was snug and felt reassuring. Below the Mediterranean sparkled with no sign of a breaking wave, and I thought what a terrific day to be boating. I was so caught up in the beauty that I almost missed the three boats as they whizzed by underneath. One was an old fishing trawler or coastal trader, the other two were large inflatables probably life rafts stripped from some defunct ocean liner or ferry.

The plane began to orbit the craft and looking through the view finder I could see all were overflowing with people, I guessed between the three there had to be well over a thousand. In about five minutes two large helicopters flew in beneath us and hovered a distance from the rafts. I could see people on the boats waving frantically to draw the helicopters attention. Instead of moving in closer the helicopters backed away and as I watched one fired a missile. It hit an inflatable dead center sending people and debris into the air, within seconds the sparkling blue was dotted with bodies and people treading water.

The other inflatable met the same fate and almost looked like an instant replay through the viewfinder. The fishing boat was next and I expected it to go up in a fireball but seeing what had happened to the rafts it turned tail and headed back toward the Libyan coast not even slowing as it plowed through the hundreds struggling in the water.

We circled a few more times and I waited for the helicopters to finish off the swimmers with machine guns but they departed leaving those below to founder. I crawled back into the airplane and the ramp closed. I unclipped the harness and made my way to Major Leary and said, My God that’s the most barbaric thing I’ve ever seen. How in the hell can we say were better than ISIL when we go around slaughtering innocent people like that.

He said, "We’ve no better, just different, everyone has agendas and right now Europe’s is self preservation. Neither the Middle East nor Africa could solve their problems so instead they turned to what always worked for them in the past; making war on any one they could and using religion as the pretext.

Muslim extremists have been infiltrating into Europe using this refugee thing as cover for the last couple of years. We’ve been operating on this fantasy where we think anybody fleeing conflict is a nice guy and all they’re looking for is a break. It’s all bull shit…. There’s a substantial number of humans who thrive on the misery of others. In developed countries they use money, power, and manipulation; everywhere else it’s just take what you want by brute force and slaughter anybody that gets in the way.

I said, What you’re saying is we’re back to dog eat dog, survival of the fittest, and the strong ruling over the weak.

He said, I wish it were that simple… you been keeping up with things back home?

I said, Pretty much, why.

He said, In the last year food and gasoline have doubled and the markets lost half their value… this shit will finish them off. I bet the DOW drops below a thousand.

I said, What in the hell does that have to do with murdering people who just want a better life?

He said, "Everybody wants a better life, I don’t know what you do for a living but I bet it is geared to having a better life. Those people weren’t killed because they wanted a better life but because they were likely going to deprive somebody in Europe from having their better life.

Truth is most of those down there were never going to get degrees, find a cure for cancer, or win a Noble Prize they were more likely to live in a slum, spend their lives doing menial labor, and depending on some government agency for their healthcare. The prospects for their children are even bleaker as better than half will either wind up on welfare or morph into home grown terrorists.

I was getting pissed and snapped back, How come you know so fucking much, where’s your degree?

He smiled and said, Hanging on my office wall, Masters in economics from Princeton, and PhD in social anthropology.

I said, So what in the hell are you doing in the Marines?

He said, Trying to keep my boss one step ahead of events.

I said sarcastically, Who in the hell you work for, Heinrich Himmler?

He said, Don’t go getting your feathers in a twist we’re on the same side. I don’t like it anymore than you do but trust me things are going to get a hell of a lot worse before they get better, and what you’ve seen so far is just a drop in the bucket.

Way too much had taken place in the last two days, here I was raising cane over a few hundred when yesterday millions died for no other reason than they too wanted a better life. He was right about the infiltration that’s why I’d been in Libya and deep down I knew with all the rhetoric, negotiations, deals, and appeasements things had to come to a head.

Hell wasn’t it how World War II got started, everyone running around making nice and pretending all it took was a few signatures on a piece of paper to guarantee peace. There was always going to be some Hitler, Osama Bin Laden, or Ayatollah leading a herd of saps willing to follow them into the depths of hell just to get out of doing an honest days labor.

Libya and the rest of the so called caliphate had been full of types making careers out of thuggery. We’d witnessed over a hundred brutal murders and damn near got murdered ourselves more than once. This was different, you expected heinous acts from dirt bags, but it became truly appalling when done by so-called civilized people. Still I doubted the helicopter pilots were going to celebrate tonight and boast how they watched some terrified little girl lose her grip on a plank and struggle for her last breaths before slipping into the depths of the Mediterranean.

I didn’t entirely agree with the major, sure many were militants or economic refugees that couldn’t read or write their own language much less French, German or Italian and they would wind up making mischief or leading miserable lives by western standards. Yet sprinkled in amongst them were likely professionals at the top of their game teachers, scientists, and doctors who if given the chance would advance their field and maybe all of humanity.

We touched down in Sicily to refuel and stretch our legs, I was the only civilian in the mix so latched on to Richie and said, I’m with you old buddy you’re not getting out of my sight.

He said, Relax were all family around here nobody is going to hassle you.

He left and minutes later I was being questioned by two very large angry A Ps who demanded to know who I was, my business, and above all where my pass and identification was.

I was on the verge of blowing my cover when Major Leary came to the rescue and told them I was a civilian contractor and my paperwork had been misplaced. That seemed to pacify the situation and the two left mumbling that I shouldn’t be left without an escort.

Leary said, I’d find you a uniform but then they’d shoot you as a spy maybe you’d better stay with the plane I’ll bring you back something… coffee or Coke?

I said, Cokes fine.

I was left with the crew chief and after attending to his duties we sat and chatted. He said, I doubt they let you keep those pictures you took this afternoon?

I said, You think they’ll size them?

He said, More likely they’ll be accidentally erased or the camera will get busted.

I said, Sounds like you have some experience?

He said, Nah just been in this outfit long enough to know that protectin’ reputations is high on the list. Something like that gets on TV you’ll have bleedin’ hearts coming out of the woodwork to hunt heads.

I asked, What do you think?

He said, "Couple of days ago I’d of said make a copy and I’ll help you smuggle it out… now I don’t know things have changed…. We were the last flight out before the shit hit Tel Aviv, had to leave a bunch of people… those folks didn’t deserve to die either.

Like it or not, were at war and there’s nothing noble or glorious about it. Any of those in the boats could have been carrying Ebola, maybe even intentionally. Far as I’m concerned until this mess gets straitened out they’re all enemy combatants, so no matter how bad it looks I believe it’s justified.

Leary returned and handed me a hamburger, fries, and a Coke. I asked him if he was going to let me have a copy of the video knowing it would be controversial.

He said, I don’t give a rats… week ago every news organization would be playing it nonstop, but after what happened to Israel wouldn’t surprise me if folks in the West watch it and cheer.

I said, You’re the second one to tell me the same thing.

I really had no interest in the video and knew it would never see the light of day, just like so much in my life it was nothing more than window dressing, part of my cover.

We arrived back on the ship where I found my fellow refugees had just departed on an Italian navy vessel. I went to the hanger deck but all the cots had been cleared away, then I thought about the girl Sam in CIC. I went to see if she was there but the marine guarding the passageway refused me entry.

I was about to find a hole to crawl into when I ran into Major Leary and told him of my dilemma. He laughed and said, Missed the bus, come along lets see if we can’t find you a bunk.

On the way he asked, Where’s your luggage.

I said, It was in the trunk of the cab when the bomb hit and there wasn’t much left of it.

He asked, What bomb?

I went ahead and came clean, filled him in on my assignment, Jerry’s death, and what I’d experienced in Ashdod.

He said, I see now why you’re so jumpy that was a close call. You’re working on one piece of the puzzle, but my job is trying to figure out what it looks like when complete, or in this case what’s left when it all falls apart. Let’s get you settled in and later this evening maybe I’ll impart some of my wisdom and we can swap war stories.

I was taken to meet the ships executive officer and after a closed door session and some fact checking he was satisfied and passed me off to an ensign, who pawned off to a chief. Finally I was issued new credentials and assigned a compartment with a civilian contractor who was aboard to repair some of the electronics and like me was now stranded.

I tried to strike up a conversation but the