Was death out there – among the waves?
Kit gripped the railing with both hands, struggling to remain upright as the ship heaved beneath him like some dying leviathan. Freezing windswept water stung his face, but it was impossible to know if it was the driving rain or the spray from the waves that crashed across the bow of the ship every few seconds. He shouldn’t be out in the open. Even in this most sheltered spot on the top deck, surrounded on three sides by a high glass wall, he wasn’t safe. One freak wave; one unexpected movement of the deck and he could be lost – as lost as the tiny yacht that was out there somewhere in the raging ocean. Only a fool would stand here. A fool or a man with nothing left to lose.
He should join the other passengers in the warm safety of the viewing lounge. They were so caught up in the drama of the rescue attempt, they wouldn’t recognise him. They probably wouldn’t even notice him. But he just couldn’t do it.
Had it come to this? That he would rather stand alone, freezing and in danger than face other people. If so, he was already lost.
The Cape Adare was struggling in the mountainous seas. It was early afternoon, but the threatening dark clouds were so thick and low, they obscured the sun, leaving the ship in grey twilight. An hour ago, in one of his regular updates, the captain had informed his passengers that the storm was abating. If that was true, it was doing it very slowly. The captain had also said they were still receiving the distress signal from the yacht. That meant it was still afloat. Was the crew still alive?
At that moment, the sky above the ship exploded with a white light so bright, it almost hurt to look at it. The Cape Adare had sent up a flare. If there was anyone alive out there in that cruel ocean, they would see it. Kit held his breath.
The ship lurched suddenly, and Kit slipped on the wet deck. Only his knuckle-white grip on the railing kept him from sliding towards the edge of the deck, and the turbulent ocean beyond. He hauled himself back to his feet, and as he did, the sky burst into light again. But this time, the light was red – and distant.
Someone on the crippled yacht had set off a distress flare.
The Cape Adare was heaving so greatly in the sea, it was impossible to see if there was anything out there as the flare slowly fell back towards the hungry waves. It vanished, and Kit wondered if the chance of a rescue had vanished with it. He stared out into the raging water.
There was something out there!
Wiping water from his eyes, Kit looked again. It was gone … no. A rising wave lifted the Adare and not too far away, Kit saw a pale shape slide down the face of the next wave. It was the yacht – but barely recognizable. The mast was gone. A shattered timber stump was all that remained. The deck of the little sailing boat was littered with the remains of the rigging and railings, torn and twisted by the sea. But, clinging desperately to the shattered remains and totally at the mercy of the wild water, was a man. He was dressed in a bright orange survival suit, his safety harness the only thing stopping the waves from claiming him. But that safety line posed a danger too. If the boat sank, the man would be dragged down with it.
A huge wave crashed over the yacht and it vanished. Kit gave an involuntary yell as the man was swallowed by the dark grey water. He strained forward then saw the little yacht bravely claw its way out of the wave, the man still clinging to the remains of the mast. The boat was very low in the water. It didn’t have much time left.
Something moved on the deck of the Adare. Kit glanced down. Four seamen were on deck, struggling towards the bow of the ship, their lifelines trailing behind them. They gathered around what looked like some sort of harpoon.
There was no sound – but Kit saw the rope snake out towards the crippled yacht. Kit strained to see where it fell. The man on the yacht held up one arm … signalling failure. The seamen on the Adare swung into action, preparing a second line.
Such a struggle for survival. Such determination.
Kit’s throat caught. Had Dana struggled to survive? Or had she welcomed the darkness as an end to her pain? Could he have saved her if only he’d found her in time? He would never know …
The second lifeline shot towards the crippled yacht, and Kit saw the man in the survival suit lunge for it. As he did, the little yacht ceased its slow climb up the rising wave. It shuddered and began to slip backwards. The battle was over. The time left to the man on the yacht could be measured in seconds. He fumbled with the rope.
Kit held his breath, willing the man to keep fighting. Don’t give in, he wanted to shout. Don’t let the darkness take you. Keep fighting.
As the little yacht began to slip stern first towards the ocean floor, her captain flung himself into the wild water.
An audible gasp filed the observation lounge.
‘He’s gone overboard!’ someone said in a voice that quivered with something approaching panic.
‘Did he get the lifeline?’ someone else asked.
Jenny didn’t know the answer. Like the passengers, she was glued to the life and death struggle that was all too clearly visible from the observation lounge. Most of the passengers had been grumbling about the storm, and complaining about their own discomfort – until they had caught that first glimpse of the tiny yacht. In silence they had watched it battle for life. When the figure in the bright orange safety suit had staggered on deck – it suddenly became all too real. A man was dying out there. They were his only hope.
On the deck below, Jenny could see the crewmen, themselves wearing safety lines, hauling on the lifeline that vanished over the side of the ship into the heaving water. She looked out at the raging sea. How could anyone survive in that?
‘Is that him?’ someone cried, pointing out into the water. ‘I saw something orange. It must be him.’
If it seemed like an eternity to those watching, how must it feel to the man in the water? Jenny felt a hand grip hers. Safe in the high-sided seat beside her, Lian was trembling with anxiety. Vera was beside her, staring out into the ocean. For once, her pen and notebook were nowhere in evidence. A tense silence settled in the room, as everyone held their breath …
‘Look!’
On the deck, the seamen were hauling an orange clad figure through a gap in the railing. A couple of people started to cheer, but fell immediately silent as the seamen lowered the motionless figure to the deck. The seamen stepped back.
‘William.’ Vera said quietly as the doctor bent over the stricken man. For a few seconds nothing happened and a terrible dread settled on Jenny. They had come too late.
Then there was a flurry of movement on the deck.
‘He’s alive. I saw him move!’
This time the cheer was deafening.
Two of the seamen below lifted the man from the deck. The small group vanished from sight into the ship.