Ben checked his BUG for Fingal’s tracking signal. It showed an orange pulsing light moving swiftly through the water away from their dinghy, heading back the way they’d come.
“He’s making for the bay,” he said, worried. “And that could be dangerous. Any fishing boats will be making for San Miguel now, if the hurricane’s getting closer.”
Zoe pushed the tiller away and set a new course back towards the fishing village.
Ben checked his BUG again. “Fingal’s signal shows he’s swimming out to sea now, but at least he’s heading south, away from the storm – and San Miguel.”
Zoe brought the dinghy round and set a course to follow the little dolphin.
She glanced over at Ben’s BUG. “I hope we can catch up with him. Dolphins can swim fast when they want to.”
The clouds had spread across the sky now. As they sailed further from the shore the children could feel the wind growing stronger, making the dinghy lurch and dip violently.
Ben checked the BUG screen. “We’re not getting any closer,” he said.
“I’m trying to get us moving faster,” said Zoe. “Hang on tight. Even though we’re sailing away from the hurricane this wind’s still getting fierce. I’m having a real fight to hold the tiller steady.”
Ben called up the satellite forecast. “Bad news, I’m afraid,” he said. “We’re sailing right into the edge of the storm. It’s going to be a bit wild here for a while.”
Zoe yelped in surprise as a sudden gust nearly tore the mainsail sheet from her grasp. She could feel the first lashings of rain on her face.
“We’ll have to get to shore,” Ben shouted over the roaring wind.
“Too risky,” Zoe shouted back. “We don’t know if there are hidden rocks.”
“You’re the boss,” answered Ben. “What do you want me to do?”
“Take the jib,” she yelled. “Pull that sheet until the sail stops flapping. I’ll deal with the rest.”
Pulling on the jib sheet with one hand, Ben adjusted his BUG to set the pinger going at full volume. The sky was even darker now and the rain was hammering down.
“I’m keeping Fingal’s signal going,” he shouted over the sound of the wind and rain. “Dolphins have fantastic hearing.”
The force of a high wave suddenly snatched the tiller from Zoe’s hands.
“Look out!” she cried. “Duck!”
Ben threw himself down just in time, as the boom lifted and whipped across the boat with a crack.
The dinghy keeled over, the mast nearly touching the waves. Then, caught by the wind, it lurched over the other way, sending the children sprawling.
“We’re out of control!” cried Zoe. “We’ve got to get the sails down – and fast. Take the tiller and steer into the wind if you can.”
She scrambled over to the mast and released the mainsail, lowering it as fast as she could. Then she did the same with the jib.
Ben was struggling with the tiller. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on to this,” he yelled, as the dinghy bucked and tossed in the waves.
“Don’t worry,” Zoe shouted. “It’ll be better when we’ve got a sea anchor.”
“But there isn’t an anchor in the boat!” cried Ben.
“I know. I’m going to make one.”
She pulled out the bailing bucket and untied the rope from its hook. She leaned out over the bow and tied the rope to the mooring handle right on the front of the boat.
“Have you gone mad?” shouted Ben. “That’s no good as an anchor. It won’t even reach the bottom.”
“It doesn’t have to,” said Zoe. She heaved the bucket into the sea. Immediately the children felt the tug of the boat on the taut rope and it was blown round to face the oncoming waves.
They breathed a sigh of relief as the dinghy rode the next swell.
“A sea anchor creates a drag,” Zoe explained. “It makes us point into the wind and waves so we won’t get blown around as much. When we learned about this on our course I never thought I’d be using it for real.”
“I get it,” said Ben. “The bucket’s full of water so it acts like a sort of brake when the wind and water try to push the dinghy backwards.”
“Exactly,” replied Zoe, dashing the rain from her eyes. “Now we must both get down as low as possible and stay in the centre.”
Ben lay down and scrabbled about in the bottom of the boat. “What are you doing?” yelled Zoe.
“We should put our flippers on,” Ben yelled back. “Just in case.”
They’d just got them strapped to their feet when Ben glanced up. What he saw froze him to the spot.
A huge wave was speeding towards them, towering over the dinghy’s prow, its top spraying with angry white foam.
Zoe could feel the swirl of a strong undercurrent trying to pull the dinghy round. It crested the next wave, and lurched so violently that she thought it would snap in half. Now they were plummeting into a deep trough and the huge wave was upon them. She gave a desperate pull on the tiller.
But it was too late. The boat was caught up by the fierce swell and the next minute it flipped sideways and turned right over. Zoe felt the whip of ropes and sails and managed to take a gasping breath before being flung into the dark, churning water.
Despite her life jacket, she was being tumbled around in the towering waves. No sooner did she feel air on her face than she was rolled back under.
Then at last a wave pushed her up and she felt herself bursting into the air. She breathed deeply and let herself float on the swell. She looked round desperately for her brother. But all she could make out were dark, ominous waves that lifted her up high and sucked her down again.
There was no sign of Ben.
