Shipwreck Island (6 page)

Sarah forced herself to sound calm. “Come on, boy. It's just a storm. We'll be fine.” Even as the reassuring words came out of her mouth, her heart raced and her hands trembled as they grasped the dog's thick collar. She didn't know how bad the storm would be. She didn't know if they would be fine. But she did know she needed to get that dog downstairs.

She set a hand on his massive head and his brown eyes gazed up at her.

“I promise. I'll take good care of you.”

Ahab took one last look at Captain Norm, then got to his feet and headed down the stairs into the cabin. Before she followed, she glanced over at the captain. He was hunched over his controls, speaking into his handheld radio.

We'll be fine, thought Sarah. He was already calling for help and nothing bad had even happened.

Just as she began to step down, a draft lifted her hair off her shoulders. And then, as the breeze stiffened into a wind, rain began pelting her face. She quickly took the stairs down into the cabin, and burst into the galley.

Ahab paced back and forth in the small space, his tail low, not wagging in the slightest.

Everyone else was seated in the booth, eating spaghetti from the looks of Nacho, whose chin was utterly orange.

John smiled. “Hungry?”

Sarah shook her head as she wiped rain off her face. “A storm's coming.”

Yvonna frowned. “But the sky was so clear.”

“Not anymore,” said Sarah, surprised at herself that there was not a trace of snark in her words. She was too puzzled by how fast the storm had come up. “The stars disappeared and Captain Norm sent us down here.”

Her dad stood up. “I wonder if he needs help.”

Sarah said, “He wants us to stay down here.”

The captain hadn't used those words
exactly
, but something inside Sarah told her she needed to keep her family downstairs. Well, her dad was her only family, really, but she didn't want anything to happen to anyone on that boat. So a little white lie wasn't going to hurt if it did, in fact, keep them all safe inside the cabin.

The boat began to rock, and then, suddenly, the dishes on the table slid to one side.

“Grab them!” yelled Yvonna.

Luckily, the edge of the table had a lip that stopped the dishes before the boys had a chance to react. Sarah picked up the pot of noodles and sauce. Together they quickly piled dirty dishes in the small sink and everything else in the cupboard above the sink, firmly securing the latch on the cabinet.

Sarah realized she'd better tell her dad the captain needed help. “Dad, I forgot. The captain wanted you to help him with the sail.”

John quickly headed up on deck.

By the time they were done cleaning up the dinner table, the thunder and wind and rain were so loud that they had to yell to be heard. The boat was all over the place, climbing up and then plunging so far that Sarah's stomach lurched like she was on a roller coaster.

Her dad came back down.

Yvonna asked, “What's going on?”

John said, “We got the sail put away and the skipper put the boat on autopilot.” He tried to smile. “Let's go in and sit down.”

Grabbing at the knobs on the cupboard and then the table in order to keep her balance, Sarah followed him into the other small room and they all crowded together on the cushioned benches, no one saying anything. Sarah's heart was pounding and she felt like she had to throw up again. Her dad put his arm around her. “You okay?”

She wanted to scream. She wanted so badly to stand up and shout,
“No, I'm not okay! I want to be home! With you and me, the way it was!”
If it weren't for the Murillo three that is exactly where they would be. Safe and sound in Southern California.

But instead of saying any of what she was really feeling, she chose to share only a small part of it. She said, “I don't like this.”

But no one answered her, because a second after the words came out, the lights in the cabin went out. They were in the belly of the sailboat, in the dark, in the middle of a maelstrom.

And then, finally, Sarah did let out the scream she had been holding in.

 

10

Marco was unsure whether he hit the floor before or after the lights went off, but either way, he found himself in complete blackness, face to floor, his nose buried in the musty rug. He scrambled up onto all fours, reaching out with one hand for something to steady himself with as the boat pitched violently to the side. He called out, “Mom!”

“Marco!”

His mom sounded very close, so he reached out. His fingers brushed an arm, so he grasped and held on, pulling.

“Dad?” The voice attached to the arm was tearful. And girly.

Marco quickly let go of Sarah. “I'm not your dad.”

“Marco!”

A hand gripped his shoulder and he quickly grabbed it. “Mom?”

“Yes, it's me, sweetie.” Her voice was shaky. “I have Nacho's hand. John?”

John answered, “I have Sarah! Yvonna, where's your hand?”

Marco heard a crash as something fell. His mom sounded frantic as she asked, “Do we have everyone?”

John said, “I think so. I saw a flashlight in the kitchen, you all stay right here.”

The storm had increased in intensity and Marco could hear only the howling wind and rain driving against the boat, which all the while rocked violently from side to side as the front rose up, up, up—then dropped, forcing Marco to let go of his mom.

“Hold on!” John yelled. “Just grab something!”

Someone grabbed Marco's arm and he had no idea who it was. Did it even matter?

Suddenly a beam of light blinded him.

“You all okay?”

Marco held a hand over his eyes as they adjusted to the light. John held on to the built-in shelf with one hand, the flashlight in his other one. Marco looked around. Yvonna, her eyes wide and face pale, had one arm around Nacho and the other around Sarah, both of whom were crying. Nacho had Marco's arm, and Ahab was seated right next to Sarah, licking tears off her face.

Marco looked back at John. “What do we do?”

“Only thing we
can
do,” said John. “Ride this storm out.” As his eyes darted around the interior of the boat, the smile on his face appeared utterly false.

Marco swallowed. His heartbeat sped up. He could tell by the look on John's face exactly what he was thinking: His stepfather was worried about the boat itself surviving the storm.

Taking a few uneven steps at a time, John slowly made his way to Sarah and set his hand on her head before placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. He knelt by Nacho and leaned down by his ear. He said something, but Marco couldn't tell what it was. Nacho wiped his nose and nodded, then told John something. John smiled and set a hand on Nacho's head, then stood back up.

He went into the closest bedroom. The glow of the flashlight flitted around, and then John returned holding a lantern. He switched it on, instantly brightening the room while throwing shadows about. Then he said, “You all stay here, I'll be back.”

Sarah called out, “Dad!”

Yvonna started to say something, but John held up a hand. “Stay here. I'll be right back.”

Marco watched him head through the kitchen. He quickly got to his feet and began to follow.

“Marco!” yelled his mom. “You stay here!”

Marco nodded. “I'm just going into the galley.” But when he got into the galley, it was empty. Had John gone up the stairs into the storm? Was he crazy? Marco pulled out a kitchen drawer, hoping for another flashlight. Nothing. He checked another one.

“Yes!” He grabbed it and clicked it on. The boat may have been a piece of crap, but apparently the skipper spared no expense when it came to flashlights.

Clutching the edges of the counter, Marco moved to the bottom of the stairs and shone the light at the top. He glanced behind him, then carefully gripped the handrail and, despite losing his balance every time the boat rocked, he made his way up. He pushed on the hatch. The wind pushed back, and he had to put his shoulder against it, all of his weight with him, in order to get it to budge.

As soon as it opened, his face was whipped with drenching gusts of rain and seawater, which stole his breath. He didn't see the sail anymore, and there was a slight green glow from the helm, where the captain was hunched over the instrument panel. Marco swung his flashlight around and the beam let him catch a glimpse of a white face.

“John!” he screamed, his words lost in the wind. What was his new stepfather doing?

John must have heard, or else seen the flashlight's glow, because he looked over at Marco. With one arm, he held on to the rigging for dear life, while in his other hand he held a rope.

Marco wiped the water out of his eyes. What was he doing with—? And then his gaze went to the end of the rope and saw orange. Life jackets. John had come up to get the life jackets.

Ignoring the pounding of his heart, Marco stuck the flashlight in the deep pocket of his board shorts, and the beam shone straight up. With one hand he grasped the hatch, and then he stretched himself out to get as far as he could. The pitch of the boat kept throwing him off balance so that he could barely stay on his feet.
Why do I have to?

He dropped to his knees. Immediately, he felt much steadier, and much less likely to get blown away. John followed suit. He dropped down and began to crawl toward Marco, one hand gripping the rope with all the life jackets. The boat hit the top of a crest and dove, sending John surging toward Marco.

Marco reached out and grabbed John's arm, pulling him toward the hatch and the stairs. John managed to get a grip on the hatch and rest for a moment. He looked drenched and out of breath, but he yelled at Marco, “Get inside!”

Marco faced inside and went down a few stairs, but held out his hand for John to grab on to. Instead, John handed him the rope with the life jackets. “Get those down!”

Marco grabbed the rope and yanked hard. Then he yanked again, harder, and the tethered life jackets slid partway down the stairs. With that hand free once again, Marco held out his hand to John. “Come on!”

John took the hand and let Marco pull him inside. John shut the hatch and stood there, panting and dripping. Marco headed down the stairs, kicking the life jackets ahead of him as he descended, John right behind him. When they reached the bottom, John said, “Thank you. I don't know if I would have made it.”

Marco nodded, too out of breath to say anything.

Together, they took the life jackets in to the others. Sarah's eyes widened as she saw them. “Why do we need those?”

John said, “Just to be safe.”

Yvonna said, “It's good to have them just in case. We don't need to put them on.” She glanced up at John. “Right?”

John scratched his chin. “I think we should put them on.”

“What?” Sarah looked up at her dad.

Marco said, “It's bad out there.”

Yvonna narrowed her eyes at John. “What were you thinking taking my son out there?”

“Mom!” said Marco. “He didn't know. I followed him.”

“And it's a good thing he did,” said John. “Now let's put these on.”

 

11

Sarah tried to stop crying, but she couldn't help it. Ever since the lights went out and she'd had to put on that sodden, stinky life jacket, she just gave up and sat there on the cabin floor, wiping her nose and sniffling.

The day, to put it lightly, had been a disaster all around. First she had spent most of it dizzy, nauseated, and throwing up, and now it seemed she was doomed to spend the rest of it huddled on the floor of a shuddering sailboat in the middle of a horrific storm, waiting for one final blow to send them all to the bottom of the abyss.

The thought brought fresh tears, which crumpled her face and caused her dad to remark, “Sweetie, are you okay?”

Sarah scrunched her eyes shut and shook her head. “I just want the boat to stop moving!”

John put an arm around her and crushed her face into his smelly life jacket. “We'll make it through this,” he said. “The storm has to end at some point. And I'm sure the skipper knows what he's doing up there.”

Sarah thought her dad did not seem the least bit convinced. His words, despite brimming with reassurance, did nothing to comfort her. She wrapped her arms around her knees and wished to stop moving, to be still. Sarah held her breath, willed her body to freeze, but the boat itself wouldn't stop the constant motion. Even if she stopped her own trembling, the boat refused to do the same.

Yvonna's voice was shaky as she asked, “How long do you think it'll last?”

John shook his head. “I have no idea. I don't get how we could go from clear skies to this so quickly.”

Sarah wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it herself. The stars had been there above her, the sky full of them, and then they'd just blinked away.

Ahab nudged her arms and she lifted one, letting him snuggle up to her. His warm body felt comforting, and she put an arm around him. “It's okay, boy.”

Nacho sniffled and wiped his eyes. “Maybe we should try and go to sleep.”

Yvonna ruffled his hair. “Are you tired?”

Nacho shook his head. “I was hoping I could go to sleep and it would be all over. Like when there's a tornado watch at home, and you tuck me in the sofa bed in the basement, and when I wake up, it's all over.”

Marco snorted. “You sleep through everything.”

But to Sarah, Marco sounded like he wanted that storm to be over as much as everyone else did. Maybe it was just easier to make fun of his brother than admit he agreed with him.

The sailboat lurched, more violently than before, and Sarah called out, “Dad!”

But John was staggering from one side of the galley to the other as the boat jerked, and then he started up the steps.