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In 1956 the state of Virginia fought a war with Maryland over dredging oysters on the Potomac River. Maryland had their own Oyster Police Force, who shot at the Virginians.. Dredging ruined the oyster beds but collected more bounty. Here is a scene from my story where my protagonist Luke is involved in this illegal and dangerous business. Enjoy:
Luke cringed and leaned over the port rail. Images were blurry in the mist, though the faint light of dawn appeared in the direction of the Chesapeake Bay. Miss Ann’s engine roared to life.
The two police boats closed in, pushing strong waves against Sally. Their boat rocked. Bobby and Frank shoved up on either side of Luke.
Miss Ann sped across the water toward Monroe Bay, the two police boats in pursuit.
At a noise in the sky, Luke stared up. “A seaplane, too?”
“Mama won’t like this,” Frank said, though didn’t sound scared.
“Virginia should have a plane,” Bobby groused. “We’re too timid.”
Jim grabbed his binoculars. “Hell, this looks bad.”
Gunfire exploded, shot after shot. Luke winced, though the shots were in the opposite direction, toward Miss Ann.
Captain Jim started their engine. They nosed out into the water. “We should find a safer place, or head to port.”
The Miss Ann careened back and forth over the waves in the glimmer of dawn like a combat maneuver.
“We might get in the line of fire,” Silas said. “Damn fool, Harvey. We should stay put.”
“I should have brought my pistol,” Frank said, breath rasping.
“I warned you about that.” Luke glared at the boy. “Silas is right, we could all be shot. Have some sense.”
“Shut up, Frank.” Bobby pushed on his cousin’s shoulder to force him to kneel. “Stay down. I hope Harvey blasts those bastards.”
Spray dampened Luke’s face and shoulders as he held onto the boat’s rail, balancing with the slap of the river. On shore, as the sky lightened further, the sun straining to shine through the murk, people gathered. They cheered for Harvey and cursed at the police.
Bullets flew. Luke and Bobby ducked beside Frank on the slimy deck. Jim navigated near the shore, toward a creek’s mouth they knew about. Up on the bank, tree trunks splintered, struck by gunfire.
Harvey careened around bars and in and out of coves, then he cut a hard turn as the seaplane lowered to the water’s surface. The Miss Ann revved, and Harvey steered her right at the plane.
“Oh, shoot,” Jim muttered. “He wouldn’t.”
In a splash of flying water, Harvey gunned his boat. The people on shore gasped. The seaplane lifted just as the Miss Ann swerved beneath her pontoons.
“He’s as insane as Bozo.” Luke gripped one hand to the port rail as he still kneeled.
A boat roared up behind them, lights flashing.
“We’re spotted.” Jim slipped Sally into the creek, amongst thicker foliage. Little sunlight had penetrated in there yet. The mist clung like a smoky curtain.
A sudden shift in water again, and a low engine sounded behind them. The police had followed! A spotlight lit up their boat. “Stay where you are!” a disembodied voice shouted. “We’re coming aboard to check your equipment.”
Luke cursed. He couldn't risk being arrested. He had a wife and young son to support. Their boat pushed into deeper shadows, scraping the starboard side.
“Dammit. Jump overboard. All of you.” Jim flicked his cigarette away. “I’ll take the heat.”
I remember and enjoyed the story,
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