Through The Storm (6 page)

“Five minutes
to explore, and then we’re heading back“, Jerry called. “I couldn’t
see it from our bay, but I reckon there’s a front coming our way
with some rather strong winds attached. See that big puffy cloud up
there? I want to get back before it arrives”.

Much of Jerry’s
first sentence could have been in Chinese to the explorers, but
they could see the cloud heading in their direction and with only
five minutes to explore, they didn’t waste time finding out what he
meant. They scattered, some to meet Dean on the headland, others to
investigate the rock pools adjoining the beach.

“Come and see
the jellyfish,” Dean yelled.

Jack and Ross
scrambled across the rocks and came to a halt by Dean’s rock
pool.

“Wow!” Ross
gasped, “Look at the size of it”.

“Maybe it’s a
man of war”, Jack said. “Those stingers could kill you”.

Dean poked it
gently with a piece of driftwood, but as nothing happened, they
moved on. They had just scrambled to the very highest point of the
island’s only hill when there was an anguished yell from somewhere
below. They just had time to notice the angry black clouds
clambering over the mountains and feel a flurry of wind and a
whistle was blowing, calling them back.

CHAPTER 7

“Crikey, that
was a short five minutes”, Jack said. “We only just got to the top
in time”.

They slid,
slipped, stumbled and skidded back to the beach, to find Maureen
cradling her arm while Jerry bandaged it, and then eased it into a
sling. Her face was a bit tear stained, but her challenging stare
dared anyone to notice.

“Brave girl”,
Jerry said admiringly. “Well, you can’t sail back one handed. Even
I couldn’t do that in these boats, so we’ll tow your boat back and
you can come in the motor boat with me.”

Patrick was
already taking the mast out of Maureen’s boat, with the sail neatly
wrapped, and having stowed that in the motor boat was carefully
tying the boom, rudder and dagger board so they couldn’t
escape.

“OK. Everyone
else, let’s get rigged and set you off. Patrick, can you keep
Maureen’s boat clear of the bay entrance rocks as I tow out and
then catch the others up? Then they can follow you home.”

“Aye aye sir”,
Patrick said with a grin, enjoying the responsibility and
acceptance of his ability.

“Good. Jack,
you can lead the way until Patrick passes you. Dean, copy Jack
EXACTLY. Susan next, and Ross bring up the rear. There’s only half
an hour of outgoing tide to go, now, but remember to go a long way
passed the rocks before you turn at the corner of the island just
in case the wind changes or you drift sideways. Head for the valley
over there, and you’ll need your sails tighter. Don’t try tacking
until I’ve caught you up, and then tack where I tell you”.

Even Dean had
lost his bounce, seeing the worry which Jerry was trying not to
show, mostly about Maureen’s arm. Maureen was paler than vanilla
milkshake, and the waves looked bumpier than before. Dean
remembered when he had broken his wrist, playing football and how
it had hurt just to stand up. Bumping over those waves was really
going to hurt. Secretly, he was glad it wasn’t him. He’d nearly
fainted last time and that was just in a car. Soberly, he followed
the others back to their boats, and they hauled them back into the
sea.

“Be careful”,
Jerry called after them, as they launched. “One injury a day is my
absolute limit”.

With Jack
leading, as planned, they cleared the headland with ease, and
sailed a bit further before turning to head for the valley. Jack
was full of pride, leading the small group of boats, and despite
the odd buffeting wave, they felt more confident as they altered
course towards the valley. The sails had to be really tight now to
avoid flapping and this was making it harder to control their
speed. Jack was still at the front, but as Dean struggled, the line
became a clump as both Ross and Susan accidentally overtook Dean,
one on each side. It didn’t seem to matter. With no adult present,
they were having a real adventure.

“Come on Dean.
Keep up”, Ross called, and laughed as a wave bumped against the bow
and soaked him with spray. A bit cold, but the warm sun would dry
him off in no time. He shared a wide grin with Jack. This was real
sailing. Then, quite suddenly, the sun disappeared, as if never to
return, behind a mass of black clouds boiling overhead, and the
adventure turned scary. A squall swooped down the valley, as if
alive, picked the adventurers out, and flew at them. Ahead, they
saw the water turn dark and the waves rise up as if to meet the
darkening sky, spitting white water. Salt and spray drove into
their faces so that they blindly ducked to avoid the angry sting.
The wind snatched at Jack and filled his sail so that he spurted
away into the darkness of the angry beast, fighting for control.
Dean was blown over, screaming his fear as he fell helplessly into
the treacherous sea. Ross glanced towards Susan, the only one left
in his sight, and just had time to see her ducking low, hands over
her head, and boom and sail flailing madly above her, like a
trapped alligator trying to break free, and then the wind grabbed
him too. The boom swung towards him, hard and fast, hitting his
head so that he wasn’t sure if the flash of brightness was
lightning or concussion. The boom swung again, violently, as if
trying to break free of the ferocious wind. The rope caught on
Ross’s foot and the sail filled above his head, unbalancing Ross as
the boat tried to tip him into the grasping waves. Diving across
the boat to avoid the capsize, the rope tightened and tried to drag
him backwards into the greedy sea. Kicking out savagely, he hung as
if seasick over the high side, hands gripping tightly to the
bucking bronco beneath, while the boat, completely out of control,
chose its own course. Then the rain came down. It was even more
blinding than the salt spray. Breathless and spluttering, Ross at
last managed to get his foot free, but squinting through rain
pounded eyes, he could see no one and nothing but the rising waves.
Soaked now, through to the skin he remembered Jerry’s words. “The
tide’s going out…” Supposing he was already being washed out to
sea. Nothing between him and America. Fighting the smothering
panic, he grabbed the tiller. Gritting his teeth, he tried to get a
grip on the whirling thoughts. The wind had come down the valley.
To sail towards land, he didn’t need to see it, he could sail
straight into the wind and he would be going towards the valley.
The sheet flicked close to his face and away again, as if taunting
him. He grabbed at it, but missed. He could see the knot holding
the end fast at the back of the boat. Could he reach it without
capsizing? Taking a breath he snatched at it and leapt back towards
the side as the boat began to tip. Successful. Hauling it in, hand
over hand, it fought back, tangling around his feet, the tiller and
anything else it could get hold of. Gasping between spurts of rain
and seawater, squinting through stinging eyes, he finally had the
rope tight, but the sail was still flapping and even in his semi
blindness, he could feel the boat sliding backwards, and water
spurted at him as it slid over the back of the boat. Now what was
happening? His fist hit the deck angrily.

THE STORM HIT

“Go forwards,”
he yelled. “You’re going out to sea!”, and then he remembered the
no go zone. Jerry’s voice in his head said, “Keep out of the no go
zone. You can’t sail a boat straight into the wind. Boats stop and
go backwards in it.”

“I’m trying to
do the impossible,” Ross told himself, “I’m in the no go zone”.
Furious with himself, the wind and the lashing rain, he tugged the
tiller backwards and forwards, and in self defence held the boom as
it lunged at his head. As if finally understanding what Ross
wanted, the boat obeyed, swung round and as the sail filled and
curved, the boat began to move forwards. Not sure where he was
headed, but glad to be moving, Ross held the tiller in the middle
of the boat and played the sail for his life, burning his fingers
with the rope as he eased it to stop a capsize, pulling it back as
hard as he could to stop the angry flapping of the sail and keep
the boat moving forwards. In and out until he thought his arm would
come off at the shoulder, until the blisters rose and burst,
leaving his hands red raw. How long could it go on? How long could
he go on? Something blurred into view on his left hand side, and as
he wondered what it was, there was a loud grating thump and he was
thrown forwards against the mast, his legs dangling over the side.
The boat rose and moved forward hesitantly, and fell with a crack.
Ross knew now. He was in amongst the rocks next to the island and
his boat was being smashed to bits beneath him. Through the surf,
he could see nothing and dared not let go.

“Help”, he
yelled, the terror sounding in his voice. As if in answer, thunder
rumbled and lightning flashed and from the top of the wave, Ross
glimpsed a sandy beach, not sunny and friendly, but cold and grey,
shadowed. Without conscious thought, he grabbed the boat’s painter,
and as the boat descended from the receding wave, he stretched his
toes, feeling for the bottom and found it. The rushing wave crashed
into the rocks and exploded into the air, leaving Ross waist deep
and towing his wounded boat. He staggered ashore. Dazed, trembling,
he fell to his knees and for a few moments thought only of himself,
his aloneness and exhaustion and his thankfulness to be on solid
land. Still on his knees he rested his forehead on the sand, as if
in prayer. Then, half in hope, he thought of the others. The rain
was easing now, and the wind seemed to be pausing, waiting for the
storm to come round again. Thinking of the others brought Ross to
his feet in a rush. Remembering Maureen’s pain, he climbed
carefully amongst the growing rock pools. He already felt bruised
after hitting the rocks and he did not want a broken arm to add to
his troubles.

“Jack! Dean!
Anybody? Answer me”. He started to clamber uphill to get a better
view and as he cleared the headland, someone answered.

CHAPTER 8

“Over
here”.

Ross looked
around but he couldn’t see anyone.

“Where?” he
called scrambling in the general direction.

“Down here”,
the voice came again.

To Ross’s
amazement, it was Arthur who emerged out of the rain.

“I’ve got Dean
down here…..I think I’ve stopped the bleeding, but I’ve run out of
bandages”.

Ross gazed at
Arthur’s shirtless appearance and didn’t need to ask where the
bandages had come from.

“We should be
keeping him warm and dry”, Arthur continued calmly, “but I’ve only
got my canoe, which isn’t much shelter really”.

Ross dragged
his eyes from Arthur, and down to the unmoving Dean.

“My sail”, he
said and turned to fetch it.

“Bring any
rope, too”, Arthur called.

To his
amazement, as he slipped down the rocks to the bay, Susan was
wading ashore, bedraggled and soaked to the skin, but no longer
looking pale and frightened. The worst had happened and she now
only had to cope with it. For Susan this was easier than the
imaginings beforehand. Having got over his surprise, Ross was
explaining about Dean while he tried to make his icy fingers undo
the shackles which held the sail to the mast, and the sheet to the
boat. Susan’s reaction amazed Ross even more than seeing her wading
ashore. Turning to her boat, she said, “I’ll get my sail, too. It’s
probably easier to take the whole mast, isn’t it? And if we take
the booms, too we might be able to make a tent. I think it’s easier
to undo the knot in the rope than the shackle, too”. Between them,
they rolled the sails, and putting booms and masts over their
shoulders, Ross led the way back to Dean.

Dean was
groaning when they got back.

“Is he worse?”
Ross asked, anxiously.

“Actually, I
think it’s a good sign,” Arthur said, competently lashing half the
mast to a boom and leaving Susan and Ross to wedge the other lashed
boom and half the mast between some rocks.

“That’s it.
We’ll use the other mast as a ridge pole”, Arthur said. He frowned
as he gazed at the sails, but it was Susan who said, “How do we
fasten the sails to the mast?”

Ross was glad
to make a contribution. “We could use those shackles to join the
sails together and then tie the ends using those other bits of
string on the boom”.

“You mean the
outhaul and the halyards?” Susan said.

“Er yes”, Ross
agreed.