Chapter 38
JONAH
I woke up to Jim shaking my shoulder.
‘I need you to get up,’ he said in a low, steady voice. ‘Storm’s worsened.’
Pulled out of a deep sleep, it took me a few seconds to orient myself. I pushed myself up onto one elbow. Focused on his face. ‘How bad?’
‘One minute the wind was OK, moving us about sure, but nothing this boat hasn’t handled before. Next minute we’re being tossed around like a cork in a bathtub. Damn weather forecast undersold it, as usual.’
As he said it, the boat lurched sideways and I heard a hundred things that weren’t tied down go flying. Myself almost included.
‘Shit.’ Jim grabbed the bulkhead with one hand, my arm with the other. ‘I need to get us back nearer shore, find somewhere to ride this storm out.’
‘Have you heard anything from Dylan on the Golden Pearl?’
He shook his head. ‘Damn wind took out our VHF antenna. Can’t radio anyone. We’re all alone out here.’
I pulled myself out of the sleeping bag, not easy when I was being tipped from side to side, and sat up on the side of the bunk, trying to find my balance. ‘OK. Do we need to strap everything down on deck?’
‘Already done that about an hour ago, before the wind jumped up. Snow’s falling thick and fast too. Can’t see your hand in front of your face out there.’
I tried to squash down the nerves I felt, channeling the adrenaline rush I was getting instead. ‘Let’s get out of here then.’
We held each other’s stare, unspoken between us the understanding that it was just us against Mother Nature right now. We needed to pull together as a team in order to survive.
‘That’s the plan,’ he said. ‘Come on.’
In the wheelhouse I froze, unable to reconcile what it was I was seeing. Water? Snow? Both? The windows were awash with white spray. The boat tipped with a loud creaking sound, throwing us together against the wall.
‘You weren’t wrong when you said they undersold it!’ I yelled.
‘We’ll deal with them later,’ he shouted back, reaching for the throttle.
In the darkness, the green of the radar glowed brightly.
I braced myself, watching him work the boat through the giant swell.
The bow pointing to the sky at an impossible angle before we’d breach the crest and plummet down the other side, like some awful ride at a theme park.
My stomach hit my boots every time, and I considered myself a pretty seasoned sailor.
That’s how I knew this was bad. White-knuckled, I held on to the back of the co-pilot’s seat and willed Jim to get us home safely. If anyone could, I knew it was him.
‘Shit,’ Jim swore, and the look in his eyes struck fear into my heart.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘We’ve got a problem.’