13

All night long they huddled in the cabin as the furious sea tossed Moonflight about, sometimes so violently that Sarah held her breath, thinking they were done for. She couldn’t sleep, not with her heart pounding and the rest of her body a trembling knot as she braced herself for each dip and sway of the boat. At least she was over her seasickness.

Yvonna, however, had crawled into the small bathroom earlier and was vomiting for a while. Sarah knew how she felt and couldn’t help but muster a little sympathy for her.

Ahab stayed by Sarah. He whined now and then, but he made no move to try to escape the boat, which seemed to help calm Sarah. The dog seemed to know things, and if he was content to stay on board the boat, then maybe … well, she hoped anyway, that it meant they would be okay.

Finally, she gave up and laid her head down in her dad’s lap. She knew she’d never fall asleep, so she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pretend she was in her room back in California. She lay there for hours, hoping they’d make it out alive.

And then she woke up on her side by herself, and there was … nothing.

Well, not nothing in the sense of absolute silence, but nothing in the sense of no rushing, howling wind, or beating rain and waves. There was no movement. She heard a trickle of water that seemed to come and go.

Was it over?

She sat up in the dim cabin, lit only by the lantern, whose battery-powered glow was fading by the minute. Her dad leaned back against the wall, his mouth hanging open as he quietly snored, Yvonna’s head on his lap. The boys were on their sides on the floor, both of them still asleep.

Sarah stood, but couldn’t stay upright. The boat was tilted to one side.

And the boat was still. Not moving.

She quickly undid the straps of her smelly life jacket and tossed it as far away as she could. “Ugh.”

And then she realized what was missing. Who was missing.

“Ahab?” Her voice was a whisper, but should have been loud enough for the dog to hear if he was on board the boat. She walked through the galley and over to the stairs. She looked up at daylight through the open hatch, then began to climb.

She’d been wrong. The hatch wasn’t simply open, it was gone entirely, ripped off the hinges by the fury of the storm. Sarah stepped on deck and was immediately warmed by the sun. The sky was blue, not a cloud to be seen. She froze.

The main mast was gone. All that remained was the bottom third, shards of wood where the rest of it had been broken off.

The deck was clear; everything that had been there the last time she’d been on top was gone, swept overboard. “Ahab?”

She stepped to the side of the boat that was tipped up, grabbed on to the side rail, and looked over. She gasped.

Only a few hundred yards away lay an island.

Moonflight had come to rest in a picturesque turquoise cove with a pristine white sand beach and thick, luscious palm trees. Her gaze went upward. Far beyond the initial line of trees, a green-topped mountain rose high above the rest. The place looked like a painting, far too beautiful to be real.

Sarah gulped. Had they made it? Was this where they had been heading all along?

She heard a bark. “Ahab?”

The dog appeared between two palm trees and ran down onto the beach. As gentle waves lapped at his paws, he sat there, barking at Sarah. Then whining. Then barking again.

“What is he doing?”

The sailboat shuddered, and Sarah looked down.

They had sideswiped a rock, which had impaled the hull, rendering the boat immobile. But Sarah saw water seeping in and out of the edges of the hole. Was Ahab trying to tell her that they needed to get off? He had been right about the storm, that was for sure.

Sarah stuck her head through the doorway and yelled, “Get up!” Moonflight shuddered again. “Now!” she screamed.

Her dad’s face appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “We’ve stopped?”

Sarah nodded. “There’s an island. But we ran into a rock and I think the boat is going to sink.”

John came up beside her and froze when he saw the island. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Dad!” Sarah grabbed his arm. “The boat!”

John appraised the situation. “The keel must be touching the bottom, or some other rocks. That’s why we’re leaning. We seem to be pretty solid, but that could change with the tide. We probably shouldn’t waste time in getting off.” He disappeared and Sarah heard him calling to the others. Then he called up to her. “We need to grab all the supplies we can. Is the dinghy still there?”

“No! Yes! I don’t know!” She threw her hands in the air. “What’s a dinghy?”

Her dad took a deep breath, like he needed extra patience or something. “It’s a small boat. Like a lifeboat. It was on the stern—the back—of the boat.”

Sarah made her way to the stern and looked over. A small white boat, which looked barely big enough for a couple of people, was attached by a rope. “Yeah!” she yelled. “I see it.” She didn’t add any details, like the fact that the dinghy was upside down in the water; her dad could find out that bad news on his own.

John joined her on deck, and set down a basket full of cans and boxes. He looked over the side and sighed. “I’m going down there. I hope it still floats.”

He handed his glasses to Sarah, then put his legs over the side and jumped into the water with a splash. Sarah watched as her dad was able to right the dinghy and climb into it. He grinned up at her. “Lucky for us, someone did a great job lashing these oars to it. Seems to be fine! Just a little wet. Can you pass down that basket? Put my glasses in it, would you?”

Sarah set the glasses gently on top, then tried to lift the basket, but it was too heavy. She dragged it over to the side. “What do I do now?”

She heard a thump and whirled around. Marco had just dropped a loaded mesh bag onto the deck. He gazed at the island. “Whoa. Sweet.” He peered over the side at John. “How are we gonna lower this stuff?”

John asked, “Do you see a rope of any kind?”

Marco lifted up the lid of one of the benches. “Yeah.” He pulled out a frayed, knotted-up line. “I guess this qualifies. Hold on.” He slipped off his life jacket. “This thing is too hot.” He slid the line through the basket handles, and dropped it over the side, lowering it slowly to John, who caught it and undid the line. “Perfect. Send down some more.”

As Marco started to do the same to the mesh bag, he looked over at Sarah. “Are you just standing there? There’s a lot more stuff down there to unload.” He scowled. “Unless you’re too busy doing nothing.”

Sarah stuck out her tongue at him, whirled on one toe, and headed over to the stairs. Down in the cabin, she found Yvonna and Nacho had taken off their life jackets and were furiously grabbing food and water. But she focused on the corner, and their pile of suitcases. Sarah grabbed hers and dragged it up the stairs. She wheeled it over to Marco. He glanced at her, took ahold of it, and called, “Heads up!” Then he dropped it.

Sarah leapt over to the side and looked down.

Her suitcase had landed outside the dinghy, but her dad had snagged a corner of it and was hauling it in.

Sarah shoved Marco. “You did that on purpose!”

He shrugged. “Maybe there are more important things than your stupid clothes.”

Sarah glared at him and went back downstairs.