Chapter Twenty-Nine
Present: Day Five at Sea
“Are you sure this will hold?” I cautiously shift my weight against the bosun’s chair as Emma clips the shackle onto the end of her bowline knot. She then tests the second rope, which she refers to as a halyard, attached to my seat.
She avoids my gaze, and I know she’s still livid after learning I lied to cover up Courtney’s being the one who spilled the dish soap on the locker room floor.
“I’m sure.” Emma tugs on each halyard. “I trust the knot more than the shackle, because shackles can break. But I did both just in case.” She clips a short yellow rope that looks like a dog leash to the halyard.
Russell had tied the first line to the chair before Emma insisted on doing the second one while he steered the boat.
“We can’t trust him to do both,” she whispered as she checked his knot while he retreated to the helm.
At least she doesn’t want me to die, even though she’s pissed.
I lower my gaze to the knot Emma tied before comparing it to the one Russell tied.
Or what if Emma made a faulty knot and that’s why she’d stopped Russell from tying both?
I swallow, lifting my weight from the chair as I think back to Beth accusing Emma of conspiring with Russell to kill Nojan and Gigi.
“What’s that?” I ask as she clips the other end of the yellow rope to one of the lines suspending my chair.
“This will keep you from swinging out too far and slamming into the mast.” The boat rocks, and Emma wraps her arm around the mast for support. “Especially in this weather,” she adds. “Ready?”
I adjust the heavy strap of my shoulder bag filled with the various tools we guessed I might need at the top: a screwdriver, a wrench, pliers, a bungee cord, and a few spare screws.
I glance above at the swaying mast as the satellite dish clamors against it, hoping for an easy fix when I get to it.
I’m not great with a screwdriver on solid ground.
How the hell am I going to screw something in on a moving target while I’m suspended over forty feet in the air?
I lower my gaze to the rolling seas. They’re calmer than they were earlier but still speckled in whitecaps. Water sprays across the surface from the wind. I tear my eyes away, my mind wildly envisioning the boat getting knocked down a second time while I’m secured to the mast.
I lower my weight into the chair, ignoring my racing heart. “Ready.”
The seat feels surprisingly secure, especially with the shoulder and crotch straps connected to it.
Emma nods, patting me on the shoulder on her way to the cockpit. “Just keep calm and focus on fixing the Starlink. Keep your eyes up. Don’t worry about anything down below. Wouldn’t want you to break something.” Seeing the fear in my eyes, she adds, “I won’t let you fall.”
“She’s ready,” Emma calls to Beth, who’s waiting in the cockpit, gripping the end of one of the halyards wrapped around a winch. “Russell, keep us as steady as possible.”
Behind the wheel, Russell gives Emma a thumbs-up. I take a deep breath as I wait for Emma to get in position behind the other winch. Beth warily meets my gaze. I look away, closing my eyes in a futile attempt to quell my nerves.
“On three.”
I open my eyes to Emma’s voice.
She turns to Beth. “One. Two.”
I wrap my hands around each of the halyards.
“Three.”
The winches crank as my feet leave the boat. The boat tilts, and I swing out as far as the leash allows while I’m lifted higher in the air. I continue upward, holding my breath while the boat heels to the other side. I stick my bare feet out against the mast as I’m propelled toward it.
My seat lifts above the top of the partially protruding mainsail. I keep my gaze straight ahead while Beth and Emma continue winching me toward the top. Don’t look down, I remind myself. I can practically hear my pulse throbbing in my ears.
“Big swell coming,” Russell yells from the helm.
I drop my gaze to the rolling waves, instantly spotting the wave he’s referring to. My head spins and my breath sticks in my lungs when Russell steers us toward the towering swell. I smack against the mast, berating myself for taking my eyes off it as my breath is knocked from my chest.
Below, Beth shrieks when the bow lifts over the swell.
One of my ropes goes slack in my hand. Panic rips through my veins until I realize the other lines are keeping me secure.
I look down to see Beth on the floor of the cockpit, scrambling to regain her hold on the halyard freely spinning loose on the winch.
Emma stares up at me, holding her line steady while Beth gets to her feet and grabs the end of her line.
“You okay, Palmer?” Emma shouts.
Despite the churn of my stomach, I give her the okay signal with one hand, keeping the other on the taut line. Beth pulls her line tight as we roll over the top of the swell. A scream escapes my throat as I watch the tip of the bow soar down the side of the wave, heading straight for the sea.
I’m suspended higher up the mast while white water sprays over the bow onto the foredeck. The leash is pulled tight when I’m thrown sideways. We roughly level out at the bottom of the swell. I exhale before being jerked backward toward the mast, then stick out my feet to keep from ramming into it.
I look up and see that I’m less than ten feet from the satellite.
You’re almost there. You can do this. I have a clear view of the cord hanging loose from the satellite, and I force myself to take a deep breath, trying to relax my stiff lungs.
The end appears to be intact. With luck, I’ll just need to plug it into the satellite and use the bungee cord in my bag to secure the device and stop it from banging against the metal mast. Hopefully it hasn’t already incurred too much damage.
I feel for the tools in my shoulder bag, making sure they’re all still there.
My hands are clammy with sweat. When I’m a few feet from the top, I slip the bag off my shoulder.
I reach for the swaying cord. It takes me two tries before my hand closes around it.
A whitecap in the distance catches my eye, and my head spins.
I close my eyes for a moment, steadying myself against the mast with my other hand.
Don’t. Look. Down.
I open my eyes and let go of the mast to wrap my hand around the black base connected to the dish, willing myself not to think about how high I’m suspended in the air. Or what would happen if my knots failed.
I run my hand up and down the base until I find the spot to plug in the cable. I’m about to plug it in when I hear Russell shout something from the helm.
I glance down to see a large wave crash against the side of the sailboat.
I force myself to look up and thrust the cord into the base of the dish.
My swaying movement makes me miss the plug-in’s connection by an inch.
The mast veers sideways with such force that I’m sure we’re being knocked down again.
I grapple for a line to hold onto, inadvertently dropping the cord.
The tool bag slips off my arm. Seconds later, it hits the rolling waves with a splash.
I swing out from the mast, my panicked gaze glued to the waves below.
A snap sounds as tension is suddenly released from my harness.
The yellow leash floats loose through the air as the shackle falls to the water.
I’m propelled farther over the edge of the boat, my feet dangling fifty feet above the raging sea.
I catch a glimpse of Beth pointing at me from the cockpit when the mast begins to tilt in the opposite direction. I cry out, pulled over the boat as the mast rights itself.
I tighten my grip on the lines, preparing to be swung out over the other side. Below, Emma shouts something I can’t understand. I strain to read her lips to no avail. All I can decipher is the terror-stricken look on her face.
When I lift my gaze, I’m heading straight for the mast. I stick out my foot, but it misses the pole, leaving me with just enough time to turn my head before my temple smacks against the mast and everything goes black.