Wood's Wreck Page 20
Twenty feet from the surface he reached in his pocket and pulled out the inflatable marker, took the regulator from his mouth, and pressed the purge button. The red material retained the air and quickly floated toward the surface. With the regulator back in his mouth, he sucked for another breath that did not come.
His lungs burned as he kicked towards the surface and spat out the regulator as soon as his head broke the surface. A mouthful of sea water greeted him as a wave broke over his head. White-capped waves crashed around him and he realized the seas were at least a foot bigger than when he had entered the water.
He spat out the sea water and gasped for air, sucking as much as he could before another wave slammed into his face. Using his fins, he pushed himself out of the water and took a deep breath, which he held while he fumbled for the inflator hose, recovering it and breathing the air held in his lungs into the bladder. This gave him enough buoyancy to float above the water, and he looked around, using his fins to turn.
Mel was a hundred yards away, the waves too high to see the small red float. He started to swim toward the boat, but a minute later realized that the current was against him. He would never reach it, and with the wind and seas crashing, she would never hear him if he screamed.
The only option was to signal her.
He pulled the buoy toward him and stuck the red fabric on the tip of his spear, which he extended over his head. The float lost its air as soon as it was out of the water, but stuck on the end of the long shaft it was several feet out of the water, he hoped she’d see it. All he could do was rest on his back and let the BC support him while he waited.
***
Mel circled the imaginary mark, keeping one eye on the seas and the other on the chart plotter. She had been able to communicate with Armando by putting her hand to her head as if she was searching and repeating ‘rojo’ as she scanned the water. He got it and looked vigilant as he held the winch by the helm for support.
She didn’t have a watch but she used the clock on the chart-plotter screen to estimate Mac’s bottom time. He hadn’t said how long he was going to be, but she expected that at forty-five minutes he would be out of air soon. She turned back into the waves to continue her circle and saw the red buoy above the water.
Slowly she approached the red float, careful to stay to windward so the boat would be moving away from Mac instead of crashing into him. Leaving the wheel for a second she grabbed the PFD from its bracket on the safety rail and handed it to Armando, hoping he would know what to do.
The seas were way too rough for her to idle up and let him climb the ladder. They would have to stay to keep him in the lee of the boat and haul him in. Again she circled, this time closer. Armando threw the life preserver into the wind, but despite his pitching arm, the float fell short and he pulled it back in.
She breathed deeply, knowing their pursuers had taken the bait and followed the power boat and that Mac was fine floating in the water. There was no reason to panic. Once more she circled, turning as close to him as she dared.
“Throw it!” she yelled to Armando, hoping he understood.
He wound up and tossed the ring sidearm like an inside slider and landed the line across Mac’s head, the float landing several feet past him.
She set the boat in neutral and turned her back to the wheel as she watched Mac retrieve the float. Armando started to bring the line in and she breathed in relief as Mac approached. Just as he reached the ladder, a huge wave hit the bow, throwing her to the deck.
When she looked up, Armando was nowhere to be seen. Now both men were in the water, and she had a second of panic before she saw Mac pull himself up the ladder.
Chapter 29
Mac unbuckled his BC and let the tank drop to the deck as he watched Mel throw the PFD to Armando. He removed the rest of his gear and went to help, taking the line from her hand and pulling the man toward the boat.
Armando appeared dead in the water, and Mac didn’t know if the man was unconscious or could not swim. The wind was pushing the boat’s higher profile faster than the smaller body in the water, and the man’s head was being submerged under the water as he was pulled towards the hull.
Things were looking worse and worse.
Suddenly, he saw the figure cough and spit out a mouthful of seawater. Mac hauled the line into the boat, no longer anxious that the man had drowned, but wanting to get him out of the water as quickly as possible.
“Unbuckle the guard rail and grab him as soon as he’s close enough!” he yelled to Mel.
She went to the rail, unclipped the two wires surrounding the boat, and leaned toward the water. Mac pulled harder now and the man came to her.
She grabbed him by the shirt collar, but between his weight and the forward movement of the boat, Mac doubted she could hold on much longer. He went to the helm and searched the unfamiliar console in front of the wheel, finally finding and activating the auto-pilot. The system began to fight the water, trying to keep the boat on course in the pitching seas.
He went to her side, reached over, and grabbed the man. “See if you can find a boat hook or gaff!” he yelled over the noise of the engine and waves.
Mel let go, giving him the weight, and he had to pause to appreciate her strength. After only thirty seconds, his blister-covered hands were starting to cramp. He looked forward and realized they had only seconds, the tower marking the reef loomed over them.
Mel bumped against him as a wave pushed her off balance. He grabbed the boat hook from her hand and reached for the man’s waist. The waves bounced the end of the hook away from its target several times before he was able to place the small hook into Armando’s belt. Twice he released his death grip on his collar to test the hook.
Both times it held, and he released his grip.
“Grab two dock lines!” he called to Mel, keeping an eye on the man in the water as she searched.
“Here. You want me to hook his legs?” she asked as she put the end through the preformed loop, making an adjustable lasso.
“Yeah. One’s good.” He watched her open the circle and toss it over the side.
The water immediately closed the opening in the line before it reached his leg, so she pulled it back and tried again. This time she tossed it well forward of his leg, landing the loop around him and allowing the force of the water to move it into place. She pulled the end of the line slowly until it hit his foot, then pulled back hard like she was setting the hook in a big fish. The loop grabbed and she looked at Mac.
“Tie it off and use the other to loop his arm,” he directed as he looked forward to check their position. The light blinked ominously several hundred yards away. They had only seconds now before the hull would be destroyed by the reef.
Mel tied the line to the cleat, wincing as if she felt the man’s pain as the line pulled his leg. Again she formed a lasso and worked it through the water, catching his arm.
“Now switch with me. Careful or we’ll tear his limbs off.” He moved back and took the line tied to Armando’s arm in one hand and waited to transfer the boat hook to her. She slid in front of him. The man screamed in pain as the pause in the transfer allowed the line attached to his foot to jerk. Mac tried to ignore him and focus on the work. He took the line in his hand, turned to the winch, and removed the jib sheet looped around it. With the two loops on the winch and the bitter end in his hand, he moved back to Mel and took the boat hook from her grasp.
“Now untie the line on his feet and yell when you’re ready. Then pull as hard as you can.” A gust came up, forcing him to scream as the wind whistled through the rigging. He waited for her to release the line and when she nodded, pulled with both hands, trusting her to be able to handle Armando’s legs. He pulled on the line around the winch and on the boat hook at the same time, using his knees to brace himself.
The man screamed again, but the line was coming. He looked toward Mel and saw she was doing her part.
With a huge effort and the last of his strength, he
pulled and leaned over the side to grab the man’s belt with his hand. He was almost in the boat now. One more pull and the three bodies crashed onto the deck.
Mac was breathing hard, but he forced himself to his feet and moved to the wheel, ignoring the pain from the torn blisters on his hands. Despite the rough water and overcast conditions, the water was so shallow he could see coral heads passing to the side of him. A white mooring ball, used by snorkelers, passed to port, and he knew they were in imminent danger.
From the corner of his eye he saw the depth finder reading eight feet, and he grabbed for the spokes of the wheel to disengage the autopilot. The wheel spun free and he had to react quickly to grab it before the boat spun beam to the waves. Once the boat was under control, he turned 180 degrees and pointed the bow toward deeper water. He watched the depth finder as it climbed out of single digits into the high teens. Finally out of danger, at least of grounding, he engaged the auto-pilot again and slumped forward.
A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped and turned to see Mel standing by his side.
“I can keep watch for a while. Why don’t you take a break for a minute?”
“What about Armando?” he asked as he looked at the man on the deck.
“He’ll be OK. I think he dislocated his arm and he’s in some pain, but he’ll live.” She moved to the wheel.
He needed to decide on a course and looked towards the ominous looking ocean reflecting the last of the sunlight. In the distance, a freighter made its way east, marking the edge of the Gulfstream. Commercial traffic used the current to save fuel, and the best indicator of where the stream was currently running was the closest eastbound boat. Past that point, he knew they would face hours of wind and weather, but on the other side they would be in the Bahamas, and could use the shelter of the island chain to hole up and regroup, then maybe sail south toward the Dominican Republic and points farther south.
He knew the boat could survive the trip and was sure he could as well, but after the man-overboard drill they had just completed, he was worried about Mel and Armando. But he also knew they had no choice. He needed to reach the Bahamas and clear customs before his name was red-flagged for stealing the sailboat and skipping bail. There was also the matter of the fires and dead bodies, and he hoped Jules could help there.
He kissed the back of her neck and gave her shoulder a squeeze before taking the wheel.
Charts, Pictures, Drinks and More
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Http://www.whitemarlinpress.com/wrecknote/
Table of Contents
Contents
Free Book
Copywright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29