Chapter 40 #2
A bucket of fish later, Leif moved back to the tiller and put the throttle into drive.
The engine delivered a weak thump and died.
He tried it again, but nothing happened except for a faint click, then silence.
The only thing they could hear was the sound of the waves slapping against the hull, and the caw of a far-off bird.
“That’s odd,” he said. “There should be plenty of gas.” He lowered the dipstick into the fuel tank and held it up. “Yeah, half full.”
He slid the crank into the flywheel and spun it hard clockwise. The engine gave a short sputter before it choked out. “For Loki’s sake, don’t do this to me!”
“Leif?”
“We need to drop anchor.”
“Is it serious?”
“I’m not sure; let me check the engine first.” He threw the anchor into the sea and watched its chain disappear; in a moment, he felt the anchor tug on the ridge directly below. It had caught, but only just. They’d drifted farther from the ridge than he had realized.
“Has this happened before?” she asked.
“Not to me. It’s probably a plug,” he said as he bent over the engine.
With the pliers, he removed the lid and loosened the spark plug to the single cylinder.
He flinched in dismay: The plug was dry; it wasn’t a simple fix.
With alarm, he realized he had forgotten to transfer the flares and the radio from Rán to Skadi.
He’d been so distracted by everything that had happened—first with Erik, and then with Ella.
“Well,” she said, “I’m sure someone will come along and help the stranded, right?” She touched her pendant for luck and reassurance.
Leif didn’t have the heart to tell her that the stranded died of thirst. That their boats drifted out to sea and storms blew in, hurling them against the rocks. The best course of action would be to keep her busy so she wouldn’t fret. He forced his mouth into a smile.
“Do me a favor, will you? Hold the spark plug against the cylinder while I turn over the flywheel.”
She moved to his side. He showed her how and where to hold the plug, and then he cranked the flywheel.
“No sparks that I can see,” she reported, staring at the plug as if her life depended on it.
“Are you sure? Sparks are hard to see in the light.” He cranked the flywheel again and prayed. Please let it catch.
“Can you fix it?” She gripped the rim of the bench as Skadi rose and fell on a wave.
He scratched his forehead and looked at the horizon. Earlier, the forecast had predicted clear skies, but now the clouds were flying in fast, and the wind was blowing cold and damp. He pointed at the engine and tried to sound relaxed.
“Could be a faulty coil or a busted breaker switch. I can’t be certain until I take the boat to the shop.”
“Now what?”
“Give me a moment to think this through. How about a beer?”
“Good idea,” she agreed. She grabbed two beers from his duffel bag, twisted off the caps, and handed one to him.
He took a long drink and considered the oars.
On a calm day, it would take him hours to row from here to Lyng?r.
But thunderclouds were forming in the west, and the southerly breeze had swung eastward and picked up strength and was whipping up the Skagerrak.
Rowing against it in this heavy boat would be nearly impossible, but the area saw little boat traffic, so what choice did he have?
Ella sipped her beer and fidgeted anxiously with her pendant, waiting for him to say something.
“How about we row? I’m game if you are.”
She gave him a determined nod.
With his knife, he sawed through the ropes that lashed the oars to either side of the gunwale, and he fitted them into the oarlocks. The boat was too heavy to row easily, and certainly not as far as they needed to row to make it to safety. But it was their only choice.
“We can take turns. I’m stronger than I look,” she said, and curled her biceps.
“Good plan.” He put on a smile, sat down on the middle bench, and gripped the oars. “You can take over for a bit when I tire out.”
Leif rowed for an hour and battled the wind. The muscles in his arms burned, but he rowed harder. There was no time to waste, not with that dark curtain of rain rolling across the horizon and heading toward them.
Ella spoke up. “Want me to take over?” Leif was impressed with her can-do attitude, but by the way she fidgeted and bounced her knees, he could see that she was concerned. Perhaps not as concerned as he was.
“Thanks . . . soon you can.” His back ached. He was exhausted, and they probably hadn’t even moved forty meters.
“I really hope someone comes by soon and rescues us. I’m afraid of lightning.” Ella rubbed her thighs nervously.
“Don’t fret,” Leif said. “Someone will grab us.” But he knew that few people would be out on the water with a storm brewing.
“OK,” she said with a tight smile, looking unconvinced. Even the birds had retreated to the isles. He rowed for another ten minutes. Cold drizzle fell, and the temperature dropped. Ella’s teeth chattered and her fingers were pink from the chilly air.
“I want to row so I can stop thinking,” she said. “I need to get out of my head.”
“All right.” His arms had turned to jelly. He settled the oars into the boat, and they swapped seats.
With a confident jut of her jaw, she took up the oars.
Leif felt certain that he’d never loved anyone as much as he loved Ella at this moment.
Ella, who refused to be defeated out in this killer storm, and bravely rowed with all her might even if it seemed impossible, even if it seemed to scare the bejesus out of her.
And he had to acknowledge that she was right to be afraid; he had put her life at risk.
It was inadvertent, of course, but he blamed himself.
He told himself that if he and Ella survived this misadventure, he’d open his heart fully to her, and they’d somehow find a way to create a beautiful life together where they’d support each other’s goals and dreams. He’d make serious changes to his life to make this happen. She was worth it.
Fifteen minutes went by before she dumped the oars onto the deck, saying, “I need to rest.” Her face was flushed from exertion, eyes narrowed against the foul weather. They’d only moved a couple of meters. If that.
“You’ve done well,” he said. “Drink?” He passed her a coffee thermos as the boat tipped from side to side in the chop. Ella sipped the lukewarm coffee, her gaze moving over the foam-streaked waves, and she began to tremble.
“Hey, everything will be OK.” Leif gave her a reassuring smile, all the while punching away his own fears.
She nodded at him, but only just, and reached for the oars again.
“No, you should rest. Let me take over,” he said.
“I want to help more, but it’s harder than it looks.” She rose from the middle bench and staggered to the stern as the boat rose and fell on the waves.
The wind howled across the waters. As Leif fought with the oars, he shot Ella a brief look and raised his voice over the fierce weather.
“We’re going to get out of this. Mia and the others are expecting us.
If they don’t see my boat at either of our places, they’ll send out a search party.
” This left quite a bit unsaid: If they didn’t show at the party, people would most likely assume they were cozied up somewhere and wouldn’t bother to check on them.
Ella found the other snag in the plan. She looked scared and shouted over the wind, “But how will they know where to find us?”
“On my way to pick you up, I saw Oskar out in his trawler near Ringpynten. I told him we were going to the lighthouse, and to my favorite spot out here in the Skagerrak.” A small wave splashed into the boat. “He’ll tell everyone where we are. They’ll find us. In the meantime, we keep rowing.”
He rowed for another twenty minutes before the thunder boomed. Ella glanced around quickly, and he could see the panic on her face.
“No worries, it’s way in the distance,” he said.
He chastised himself for not counting the seconds between the thunder and lightning, to gauge the distance of the approaching storm.
She shivered at the sight of dark-violet clouds drifting toward Skadi.
As he continued to battle the waves, a blue flash broke open the sky.
Ella let out a loud yelp and burrowed into her slicker.
Leif’s stomach cramped with guilt, knowing this was all his fault.
Picking up the oars again, he carved them into the swells, but it was no use.
The current was at least one and a half knots, and they were going against the wind, so no matter how hard he rowed, he couldn’t make headway.
Did Erik feel this scared and helpless when his boat went down?
Leif pressed on while the sharp wind clobbered him.
A huge swell exploded against the hull and swung the boat broadside. He almost lost an oar. Ella toppled from the stern bench and landed on the deck. Leif helped her up, while the wind beat the sea into a silver-tipped frenzy.
“Are you OK?” he shouted. “That was one hell of a wave.”
“That was scary.” She rubbed her hip.
“Yes, it was,” he said, frowning. Before he could grip the oars again, the skies opened up, releasing a cold, hard rain. The bow slammed into a deep trough, and Ella almost fell again.
“Hold on tight and don’t go anywhere!” he yelled at her and plunged the oars into the water.
“Where would I go?” she hollered. Her eyes narrowed at him in anger, and who could blame her? He shoved the blades into the swells and tried to tack and aim into the waves to avoid getting broadsided again.
“We have to do something or we’re going to die out here!” she yelled, clutching the bench for dear life.
“I’ll get us out of this!” he shouted. But he truly had no idea how, and that terrified him. One thing he did know: He would fight to save them until he took his last breath.
As he continued battling with the oars, he belted out the old English war song at the top of his lungs:
“It’s a long way to Tipperary! It’s a long way to go! It’s a long way to Tipperary, to the sweetest girl I know!” He strained and pulled the oars through the frothy seas.
“Whoa! Hilda sang this song!” Ella shouted with a shaky laugh before joining in the chorus: “Goodbye, Piccadilly! Farewell, Leicester Square!”
They sang together while he rowed like mad—rowed for his life—until his muscles spasmed from exhaustion. But it was impossible to keep the bow to the weather, impossible to stop the waves from punishing the boat.
“Let me take over!” she hollered.
“No, keep singing! It helps me concentrate.” He plunged the oars into the water, but the waves continued to beat back the boat.
“Goodbye, Piccadilly! Farewell, Leicester Square!” As they sang together, he pressed on, struggling, until a tremendous wave crested over the gunwale.
Water rushed across the planks and swirled around their ankles.
The rain stung his skin, while the salt blurred his vision.
Ella let out a shriek that could wake the gods.
“Keep singing!” he shouted. He rowed with all his remaining strength, his muscles on fire. The sea struck the side of the boat forcefully. One big wave could roll them over.
In frustration, he yelled, “Arghhh!” into the sky.
“This isn’t working!” Ella yelled, clinging to her seat in fear. The bow slammed into a trough and more seawater spilled in.
“I won’t let anything happen to us!” he shouted. Another gigantic wave crested over the railing and dumped cold water in the boat. It rose halfway up the gunwale and swirled around their calves, and Ella let out a panicked scream.
“Grab the bucket! Bail!” Leif fought to keep a foothold on the deck and keep the bow to the waves.
Scooping up water as quickly as she could, Ella sent it flying overboard.
As she bailed, freezing water pelted Leif’s face and one of the oars fell into the churning current.
Before he had time to react, a ferocious crest caught the hull, flooding it.
Then another crest came crashing down upon them, and he tumbled sideways.
He struggled to stand but lost his balance when a massive wave broke against the deck, catapulting him over the gunwale.
Skadi capsized. Leif held his breath and braced for impact.