Shipwreck on the High Seas Read online

  Dedication

  For the brave crew, both two-footed and four-footed, of the US Merchant Marine. You are truly heroes.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Picture Insert

  Shipwreck on the High Seas Q&A

  Meet a Real Hero Dog

  Top Ten Seafaring Animal Facts

  Timeline of World War II

  Q&A About the Merchant Marine

  Top Ten Merchant Marine Stats

  About the Author

  Books by Marcus Sutter

  Back Ads

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Prologue

  THURSDAY, MAY 22, 1943

  4:52 A.M. LOCAL TIME

  Julio’s heart hammered in his chest.

  The bridge and the wheelhouse, where Captain Bayne stood every day guiding the Susquehanna and her crew, were completely gone. Smoke billowed from belowdecks. Cannons thundered in the distance.

  Julio froze with panic. He knew the merchant marine ship had been hit at least twice by German U-boat torpedoes. Any second, they could be hit by another one—the one that could sink the ship.

  The ship’s whistle sounded two long blasts followed by a short one. The signal for distress.

  “Captain Bayne must still be alive, Jack,” Julio said to his dog. “Everything will be okay.”

  No answering bark.

  Julio looked behind him. No Jack.

  He looked on either side. No Jack.

  “Jack!” Julio shouted above the noise. “Jack!”

  Julio’s heart froze with fear. Where was his dog?

  Someone bumped into him. Spud Campbell, the third cook, stumbled past Julio, his eyes wide and uncomprehending.

  Julio grabbed Spud’s arm. “Have you seen Jack?”

  Spud looked at him like he was a total stranger. Like they hadn’t played endless games of dice together, like Spud hadn’t been one of Jack’s favorite people. He pulled his arm from Julio’s grasp. “They’re gone,” he said, shaking his head. “Every one of them’s gone.” And then, before Julio could ask who “them” was, Spud hurried away.

  An explosion in the engine room shook the ship hard.

  Julio was thrown to the deck.

  “No!” Julio cried. He staggered to his feet. His legs carried him to the back of the crazily tilting ship as if taking on a mind of their own. Maybe Jack was waiting for him at their designated lifeboat. Jack was smart. He’d know to do that if they got separated, wouldn’t he?

  Julio stared in disbelief. No Jack. No lifeboat. Just a tangle of useless cables and ropes. And the lifeboats on the other side of the ship were gone or useless too.

  The Susquehanna lurched and tilted to one side like a wounded animal.

  Julio’s blood turned to ice. He had to find Jack and get off the boat. It was sinking fast!

  Suddenly, Julio heard a familiar bark.

  “Jack!” the boy cried. “Where are you?”

  Smoke billowed up through the large forward hatch cover.

  He heard a splash.

  “Jack!”

  He ran to the starboard side. A hole big enough to drive a supply truck through had been blown into the side, exactly where the engine room was. Water poured into the ship.

  In the sea below, a lifeboat full of crew rowed frantically away from the Susquehanna.

  “Hey!” Julio called down, waving his arms. “Hey! Don’t leave us!”

  The face of Sarge, the ship’s bosun, looked up at him. Sarge was the boss of the ordinary and able seamen. He’d tell them to wait for him.

  “There’s another lifeboat on the port side,” Sarge called. “Get it down and get away from the ship as quick as you can!”

  “But it was—”

  “We’ll look for you, Julio, but we’ve got to get away from the ship. She’s sinking fast!”

  Julio leaned as far as he dared over the side of the boat and watched in horror as his only hope rowed away.

  Chapter 1

  TUESDAY, MAY 20, 1943

  TWO DAYS EARLIER

  Julio and Jack stretched out on the open deck above the ship’s bridge, the sun-warmed steel pressing into their bellies.

  Julio held binoculars to his eyes, scanning the open sea for any signs of danger. He’d been a cabin boy on the merchant marine Liberty ship the Susquehanna for over a year. Julio knew these ships faced many dangers every day. From fierce storms to enemy aircraft and underwater mines, danger was never far. But nothing was as deadly as the German U-boats, silently prowling underneath the waters. Hundreds of merchant marine ships had been torpedoed and sunk by Nazi submarines during the war.

  “Not on my watch,” Julio said to Jack.

  Beside him, his dog, Jack, yawned and scratched lazily behind his ear with his back leg. He was tired from rat-hunting duty the night before.

  Through the binoculars, Julio saw the other ships in the convoy about six hundred yards to the side and behind the Susquehanna. Farther out, about a thousand yards, a warship and two radar ships protected the important cargo aboard the merchant marines ships.

  Being part of a convoy always made Julio feel a little safer on the open ocean. But this time Julio not only felt safer, he felt proud: the commodore, captain of the entire convoy, was stationed on the Susquehanna for this very important mission.

  Julio knew the two radar ships were sweeping the area for any signs of danger from the skies or beneath the sea.

  “But radar ships can never replace the keen eyes, constant vigilance, and sharp instincts of a merchant marine seaman,” Captain Bayne always said.

  Julio rubbed the sun-warmed side of Jack.

  “Between my eyes and your ears, we’re the best watch team on the boat,” Julio said to Jack. “Probably in the whole convoy.”

  Jack sneezed in agreement and licked his boy’s hand.

  Julio had hurried through his morning duties—helping the galley staff serve the crew breakfast and cleaning up after, taking coffee-filled thermoses to the men on their four-hour watch duties, sweeping out the crew’s quarters, and wiping down the bridge—so he could spend extra time watching for trouble before his evening duties began.

  In Julio’s mind, a familiar movie played: He spots the periscope of a Nazi U-boat before anyone else on the ship does and saves the entire convoy. Captain Bayne puts his arm around Julio and says, “Son, you’re a true American hero.” Not just an orphaned Cuban American kid nobody wanted.

  Julio took the compass from his pocket and checked the direction.

  The compass had belonged to his father, someone he had very little memory of. His father had been a sailor, and rarely home. Julio did remember the spicy smell of bay rum aftershave and strong, dark brown hands throwing him high into the air. Even those memories were fading, though.

  Julio studied the compass’s arrow. Due south and just a hair east. Exactly the direction they’d been going ever since they left the port in Savannah, Georgi
a, two weeks before.

  “Hey, boy,” a gruff voice called from below. “What are you doing with those binoculars?”

  Julio groaned. Jack growled. They both knew that voice all too well. It was Jeramiah O’Brien, the new ship carpenter who had joined the crew in Savannah. He was given the nickname Chips, just like every ship’s carpenter. But Julio had liked the previous Chips a lot better.

  “Just watching for trouble, sir,” Julio replied. Most of the lower-ranking crew didn’t insist Julio call them sir, but this guy did. Worst of all, the man had taken an immediate dislike to Jack. Julio couldn’t understand it. Everyone on ship loved Jack. Captain Bayne had even given him the merchant marine rank of able seaman, because Jack was always ready to do what needed to be done.

  “Not your job, boy,” Chips said, glaring up at him. “You best get down here and quit your lollygagging and daydreaming. There’s rust on the port side to be scraped.”

  Julio watched the Irishman limp away. He did one last visual sweep with his binoculars, then climbed down to the main deck. Jack followed down the steep stairs, nimble as a cat.

  Julio sighed. “Quit your lollygagging and daydreaming,” he said to Jack in a perfect imitation of Chips’s thick Irish accent.

  It was the rare quiet time on the ship. Most everyone above decks had done their jobs. In the Susquehanna’s engine room, though, the work was never done. Those not on their four-hour assigned watch relaxed, at least for a little while. Second Mate Walt Semenov sat in the shade of the bridge, reading from his endless supply of paperback westerns. First Mate Harvie played cards with Third Mate Rick “Hollywood” Hansome.

  Julio trotted toward the port side of the ship, Jack on his heels.

  “Hey, Julio,” Able Seaman Jamaica called. He rattled the dice in his hand. “Come play five thousand with us.” Sarge sat cross-legged on the floor. That was one of the things Julio loved about the merchant marine: during downtime, everyone was of equal rank. As the ship’s bosun, Sarge was the boss of all the men working on the main deck, including Jamaica. But when they weren’t working, the two could always be found together, playing cards or dice.

  Julio groaned. “Can’t. Chips says I have work to do.” Why did Chips pick on him anyway?

  “Tough luck, man,” Jamaica said. “Don’t know what that guy’s beef is.”

  “How about you, Jack?” Sarge patted the space next to him.

  Jack looked up at Julio with his big brown eyes, his eyebrows quirked in a question.

  “Go on, boy,” Julio said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “One of us should have fun.”

  Jack licked his boy’s hand. He trotted over to Sarge and plopped down by his side. The men grinned and rubbed Jack’s ears for good luck.

  Julio found a scraper in a storage box. He scanned the port side of the ship, looking for rust.

  “Over there, by the lifeboats.”

  Julio jumped. He hadn’t heard Chips come up behind him.

  “I lowered one of the boats,” Chips said, pointing to the wooden lifeboat resting against the side of the ship. “Get in and get all that rust where the boat has been. After you’ve finished, come get me. I’ll lower the other one.”

  “Yes, sir,” Julio said.

  “And keep your mind to it,” Chips said.

  Julio sighed. He didn’t mind scraping rust when it was needed. He even kind of liked it: it gave him time to think, to “daydream,” as Chips called it.

  He hadn’t known to even daydream about such a thing when he lived in the orphanage outside of Savannah, Georgia. He’d been taken there when he was five, after his parents were killed in a car crash. He had no other relatives in America, but his parents had made sure their one and only child was born in the US of A.

  The first few years in the orphanage, Julio had daydreamed someone would come and make him part of their family. They wouldn’t care that he had dark skin and a foreign-sounding name. They would see that he was special, that he and only he was the one they needed to complete their family.

  People came and went, looking for a child to take home. Time after time, Julio was not chosen. Time after time, his heart was broken.

  Over the years, the dream of a family faded, just like the memories of his parents. Still, he always carried his father’s compass in his pocket. When they visited the public library, Julio studied the same books on sailing. In those books, he learned how to use the compass, how to tie knots every sailor should know, how to use a signal mirror. In those books, he held on to some slim thread of his family.

  Finally, tired of waiting for someone to adopt him, Julio decided to take matters into his own hands. During an outing to the library, he slipped away, leaving the orphanage and all the taunting and loneliness behind. His father’s compass pointed the way east, the way to Savannah, to what he thought would be an easier life. “Boy, was I ever wrong,” Julio whispered to himself.

  Julio felt a heavy thump. His heart leaped into his throat as the lifeboat rocked and swayed. He grabbed for a rope as the angry face of Chips flashed in his mind. He was going to fall overboard!

  Chapter 2

  TUESDAY, MAY 20, 1943

  8:35 A.M. LOCAL TIME

  Julio cried out in alarm. Jack smelled Julio’s fear and nudged Julio’s hand with his wet nose. He smelled relief washing over the boy like a gentle wave.

  Jack had followed Julio’s scent to the lifeboat and jumped inside after he’d gotten bored watching the men place dice. They were nice enough, especially when they had treats in their pockets. But he never liked being away from Julio for long.

  Julio steadied the boat, then kneeled down beside Jack. He stroked his side and whispered in Jack’s ears. Jack didn’t understand all the boy’s words, but he didn’t need to. He could feel from Julio’s hands and the smell on his skin everything he needed to know. His boy was a little angry and sad. Jack lifted his head and licked the boy’s face to make sure salt water wasn’t leaking from Julio’s eyes.

  This was Jack’s most important job: taking care of his boy. It had been so ever since the two found each other down by the wharves in Savannah. Jack had lived there on his own for as long as he could remember. He had a distant memory of his mother’s milky scent, brothers and sisters pushing him, the runt of the litter, away from his mother’s milk. Jack was always hungry.

  But Jack was a survivor. And like all boxers, Jack was brave and smart. He learned the best places to search the garbage for food. He also learned that other dogs were his competition for food, so Jack became a good fighter. That also meant he became a loner. At night, he curled up inside one of the many storage sheds lining the docks. Alone.

  Until one stormy night. As thunder shook the ground and lightning slashed the sky, Jack cowered in the far corner of a shed, shivering. He would never understand that deafening boom of the thunder, the sound of the sky being split in two. He wasn’t afraid of much, but his brave heart pounded a mile a minute during these storms.

  A movement at the door. Something wet and frightened slipped in. Jack spread his nostrils wide, searching for the intruder’s scent. A human. A boy. A boy every bit as scared as he was.

  Thunder crashed, rattling the shed’s metal roof. Jack whimpered. Without a word, the boy crossed over to him, held his hand out for a sniff. Jack could smell kindness and yearning on him. Jack knew this boy was as much a stray as he was.

  The boy sat down next to Jack. He stroked Jack’s broad, square head and fine, pointed ears, over and over. The boy whispered to him, hummed to him. They both stopped shivering.

  The next morning when Jack awoke, he found himself tangled in the boy’s arms. He licked his dirty face. The boy opened his eyes. Brown eyes stared into even browner eyes. The boy smiled. “Hi,” he said.

  Jack wagged his nub of a tail. Hey, kiddo.

  From then on, the two were never apart. They ate together, played together, fought together, they were a family. No longer strays, as long as they had each other.

  Jack watched
Julio scrape the rust off the ship. As much as he loved being with his boy, watching him scrape rust was not the most exciting game.

  Jack barked. He lowered his chest down to the bottom of the boat, his back end sticking high in the air. He woofed again, hopefully.

  “Sorry, Jack,” Julio said. “If Chips catches me playing with you, it’s no telling what he’ll do.”

  Jack sighed. He sniffed under the lifeboat’s benches and under the canvas sail for rats. No rats today. Instead, he pulled out a canvas pouch and tossed it in the air.

  Julio grabbed the pouch. But instead of throwing it back for a game of catch, Julio frowned. “This is the signal mirror, Jack, not a toy,” he scolded.

  Jack snorted. Not only was his boy boring, he was no fun! With barely a backward glance, Jack leaped from the lifeboat. Time for his other jobs. His second most important job was rat patrol. The cat in the galley was fat and useless, but Jack had become an excellent rat hunter on the docks.

  “See you, Jack!” the boy called.

  Jack trotted down to the galley where the ship’s cook, Stewie, and his assistant, Spud Campbell, peeled potatoes for the crew’s dinner.

  “Hey there, Jack,” Stewie said with a smile. “Am I glad to see you! Looks like a rat got into the bags of corn again.”

  Jack glared at the cat, lounging on top of a crate of powered eggs. You’re about as useful as a flea. The cat flicked the end of her tail and yawned.

  Jack smelled a rat hiding behind a small barrel of cooking oil. He crouched and waited. Sure enough, the rat scurried out from its hiding place. Jack lunged, his jaws wide. The rat shot into the air, trying to escape onto a wooden chopping block. But boxers are excellent jumpers. Jack sprang off his back legs like a kangaroo and grabbed the rat.

  “Great job, Jack!” Stewie gave him a plate of lunch leftovers.

  After Jack finished lunch, he took the stairs down to the engine room. Now came his third most important job: checking on his crew.

  Jack didn’t really like the engine room. It was loud with its huge, whirling cranks, gleaming piston rods sliding and thumping in and out of cylinders. The roaring fires in the furnaces made the room too hot. Still, the crew in the engine room were always happy to see him.