Seagull crested the wave, heeled over, and slid into the darkness of the next trough. The sea cascaded over the thin canvas cover protecting the controls and the two front seats. “I can’t swim,” Larry heard the girl scream above the howling gale. “Let’s go back!”
Larry ignored her as he wrenched desperately on the wheel, trying to bring the boat head-on again before the next wave struck. This time, Seagulls wooden hull shuddered and creaked as she slewed broadside, and the girl screamed again, bracing herself against the forward bulwark as water sloshed over the gunwales.
“Go back,” the girl pleaded. “Please go back!”
Larry’s response as the boat wallowed in the next trough was to give the girl a vicious backhander across the face. “Stop screaming, you stupid bitch,” he snarled.
She slumped into the seat again, covering her face with her hands. “Are we go . . . going . . . to . . . to drown?” she whimpered.
Larry didn’t even glance at her. “Put your bloody life jacket on and start bailing.”
At that moment, the moon, peeping through the scudding clouds just above the horizon, outlined the distant coastline of Washington State, and Larry, switching off Seagull’s running lights, headed her toward land.
Beside him, the girl, struggling to zip up her life jacket, yelled, “Look! A light!” And she stood, holding her swollen stomach with both hands, as if to protect the growing baby inside her.
“Point Roberts,” he shouted back.
“No,” the girl said. “No, it’s coming toward us!”
As the approaching launch cut through the waves, its searchlight scanned the black, froth-capped water. Larry, letting out a stream of obscenities, wrenched the wheel hard over just as the beam bathed Seagull in light.
“What are you doing?” the girl cried. “They can help us.”
“Don’t be stupid!”
“This is the US Coast Guard,” a voice boomed through the darkness. “What craft are you?”
Larry’s answer was to push Seagull’s powerful motor to its limit as he swung her away from the Coast Guard cutter and headed back toward the Canadian border.
“Heave to or we’ll shoot,” the voice boomed again as the searchlight caught Seagull in its glare. A moment later, the first shot skimmed over their heads.
“Keep down,” Larry screamed at the girl.
Then, as the boat rose on a towering swell, a second shot found its mark on Seagull, shattering the windshield. A third shot hit the hull with a sickening thud, and the boat bucketed from side to side. The girl, glancing back, saw with horror that her canvas holdall, stowed in the aft cockpit, was floating in ankle-deep water. “Oh my God,” she moaned. “We’re going to die.”
The moon sank into the sea, and in the pre-dawn darkness, Larry could no longer tell what direction he was going. He only knew that the Coast Guard seemed to have given up the chase. “Must be over the border,” he told himself.
An hour passed as Larry clung to the wheel of the foundering boat, listening to the ever-increasing wind and praying the motor wouldn’t quit. Beside him, the girl sobbed quietly as Seagull settled lower in the water. Then, in the first flush of dawn light as the storm winds began to die, he caught a glimpse of land. “Gulf Islands,” he muttered.
“What?” the girl said.
Larry had completely forgotten her. “Gulf Islands,” he said again, abruptly altering course toward the islands.
“Oh God! We’ll be saved now, won’t we?” And she stood just as a wave broadsided Seagull. This time, despite Larry’s efforts to right her, the boat heeled over, and the next wave swept the girl overboard into the black foaming sea.
As the cold water closed over her, she thought she heard her baby cry—but it was only the screech of gulls wheeling overhead, searching for the storm’s debris in the dawn light.