'He's been ill.' As usual, Zoe found herself defending Macadam quickly. It didn't strike her as being somewhat inconsistent, that while she might mentally tear him to pieces herself, she couldn't bear hearing even a hint of criticism from anyone else.
Freddy was willing enough to accept her explanation and asked her if she wouldn't like to have a cup of tea. He had been to London, which was why he hadn't given her a ring. He was, apparently, a kind of sleepingpartner in a business which had suddenly developed troubles.
Zoe did consent to have tea with him, but when he invited her to go out driving with him the next day she managed to produce a feeble excuse.
'I usually spend Sunday with my grandparents,' she said, and though he frowned he didn't argue.
'I'lll give you a ring next week, then,' he said, 'and this time I mean it.'
On Sunday, after lunch, she went along to the boat-yard to see if she couldn't persuade Macadam to change his mind about taking her sailing with him. She wasn't sure what kind of reception she would receive, but suddenly she didn't care. He could only say no again and he might, just conceivably, say yes. She had actually told Janet she was going out with him and didn't know what she would do if he was still in the same mood as he had been on Friday, and refused.
She almost ran the last few yards when she saw he had a boat already prepared to leave. Her anxiety only diminished as she noticed the office door was open and realised he must still be there, probably gathering some gear together. Taking a deep breath, she ran up the stairs to his office and found him.
He glanced up from his desk, his face hardening as he saw who it was. 'No, Zoe!' he snapped, before she could even open her mouth. 'You already have my answer. Now scram, I have a phone call to make.'
Turning his broad back on her, he began dialling, and suddenly her mind was made up. Allowing an anguished little cry to escape her lips, to give the impression that she was beaten and knew it, she ran swiftly downstairs again. Without allowing herself to hesitate she took a flying leap on to his boat and almost dived down below.
CHAPTER FIVE
Inthe small cabin Zoe quickly wedged herself into the first small space she found, completely out of sight. She was glad she wasn't very big and she hoped Macadam wouldn't discover she was on board until they were well away from the harbour. If he didn't find out until then he might just possibly relent and let her stay with him for the rest of the day.
After a few minutes she heard him arrive and the engines start up. He must be going out under steam, in a hurry. The weather didn't look too good, it was squally but warm—too warm, she thought with a frown, for the time of year. Macadam knew what he was doing, though, he never took unnecessary risks. Slowly Zoe relaxed and before she knew what was happening, she was asleep.
She had intended, originally, to stay where she was, if Macadam remained unaware of her presence for an hour or two, so, even if he was furious and took her straight back, she would at least have time to enjoy a short sail. She slept, however, much longer than she had planned and woke with a start, and a feeling that something was desperately wrong.
The boat was pitching terribly, and she needed only a second to realise they were in the middle of a storm. The wind was coming in violent gusts, and after a loud peal of thunder, lightning flashed vividly and alarmingly through the cabin. Outside, she could hear the shriek of wind in the rigging and the furious crashing of waves breaking around them.
Where was Macadam? Suddenly she found herself shaking with fear, not for her own safety but for his.
She knew a sudden storm could catch even the most experienced seaman unawares. In most instances it was perfectly possible to survive under such conditions, she and Macadam had done it before, and she had learnt to keep a healthy fear of the elements in its proper perspective. Right now it was the uncanny quiet on the boat which made her shiver. It was incredible, yet in the midst of the storm she was conscious of a deathly silence, which seemed unnatural. Something had happened to Macadam, she knew instinctively. And, in the same instant, as a terrible apprehension swept over her, she realised she loved him.
A revelation like this had to be digested slowly, but circumstances forced Zoe to put it immediately aside. Macadam's life could depend on it. The yacht was only thirty feet long, but she was built on sturdy lines, her sails capable of dealing with heavy weather. The last time Zoe and Macadam had been hit by a storm they had lowered all sail and turned into the wind, with several warp lines trailing out at stern which had helped break the crest of the following waves, stopping them from crashing over the boat. Macadam had also shored up the hatch and lashed them both into the cockpit. That had been off Orkney, in the Pentland Firth, notorious for its rough seas. And while procedure might differ, depending on many things which included currents, tides, their exact position and the severity of the weather, she was sure if Macadam had been all right she would have heard him moving about.
He could be in the cockpit, of course. This hope did cross her mind while fear galvanised her to swift action. Quickly she threw on waterproof oilskins and safety harness, intending on deck to attach the stout line on the belt to a lifeline, to prevent herself being swept overboard.
Carefully containing her impatience, knowing onewrong move might be fatal, she scrambled out of the cabin. Immediately the force of the gale hit her and to her horror she saw the worst of her fears realised as she almost fell over Macadam, lying helpless at her she
With quick comprehension, she guessed what had happened. They must have dipped into a huge wave and the strain had somehow snapped the mast, catching him a glancing blow on the side of the head. He was unconscious and before her horrified eyes was sliding slowly away from her, down the deck. He wore safety harness, but it wasn't attached to anything. Unable to reach him, she watched with a kind of paralysed helplessness, expecting to see him swept immediately into the boiling, turbulent seas.
Then suddenly the vessel keeled over, throwing him back towards her again. Struggling desperately to keep her feet on the wet, heaving boards, she grasped him, clipping him automatically to a lifeline, while a mountainous wave flooded the boat from bow to stern. It seemed a miracle that they didn't turn over completely,
Feeling half drowned, Zoe brushed the water and hair from out her eyes and began pulling Macadam into the cockpit. She might not have succeeded in getting him there if the roll of the boat hadn't helped her. He was so heavy she might not have been able to move him more than inches. As it was, terror lent her strength and the tilt of the boat did the rest.
Once inside she released a sobbing breath, then tied them both in, as Macadam had done in the Pentland Firth. She didn't realise she was acting instinctively, basing her every movement on what he had taught her. If she had a conscious thought in her head it was to put her arms round him, to hold him close and protect him. But there were other things to do, things which shefancied she heard him telling her were more important, if they were to survive at all.
After seeing he was fairly comfortable, she glanced at the wound on his head more closely. It looked superficial—she prayed it was, and that he might not be long in recovering consciousness. In the meantime she knew it was up to her to do what she could to keep them afloat, if it was possible.
She tried the engine, but it didn't respond. Something must be badly wrong, she decided. She wasn't sure where they were. Drifting somewhere off Mull, she thought, probably down the coast. They could be anywhere. Along the coast there were numerous small, uninhabited islands, some of them little more than patches of land or chunks of rock rearing out of the sea, a sanctuary for seals and wild-life. Tourists on the big steamers, viewed them with pleasure, but for the lone yachtsman in a storm, they became only an additional hazard.
Again she tried the engine. This time the starter worked, but the engine wouldn't. With a sigh she put the key in her pocket as a safety precaution. In normal circumstances they would have dropped anchor and done a careful check. As it was, she was helpless to do anyt
hing. She could only stand by and watch while the boat drifted, entirely at the mercy of the raging seas.
If the engine had been working she might have been able to reduce their speed and control their movements better. As it was, she could only do her best to keep on what she hoped was a steady course and pray the steering didn't fail. She had managed to get a little brandy into Macadam, but as yet he showed no signs of coming round.
It seemed ironical that just as he did the island loomed up before them. Zoe had felt the tug of undercurrents and the boat had nearly heeled over twice. The island wasn't exactly a surprise as she sensed the sudden extra turbulence was caused by the tide flooding into a bay while a wind was blowing offshore. All the same, with the sure knowledge of what might happen, despite her endeavours to be calm, she felt terror rising in her throat to almost choke her. Through the wildness of storm-driven spray and churning waves, she caught odd glimpses of rocks but could discern no beach. And, even if there was one, a boat driven on to it in these conditions might easily capsize, and if it did how was she to get Macadam out? Never before had Zoe known such terrible despair, she could have screamed from the anguished pain of it. If Macadam died, she might as well die, too, she decided. Without him life wouldn't be worth living.
Her relief when he opened his eyes was so great she couldn't speak. Tears blinding her, she gazed at him, her mouth working, but no sound coming through her trembling lips. 'Macadam!' she whispered hoarsely, at lust. 'Oh, thank God!'
'Zoe?' He was staring at her as though he was seeing a ghost. 'Where are we?' he exclaimed, struggling to get up.
Now she couldn't speak quickly enough. 'You had an accident, you've been unconscious. The engine's useless and we're about to be beached.'
She didn't need to tell him twice, nor did he waste time asking questions which would keep. Taking one look at the swollen masses of sea surrounding them, he began issuing terse but welcome instructions. In a matter of seconds, it seemed, they were both wearing lifebelts and he had taken every precaution he could to meet such an emergency. When their keel hit the bottom they were prepared for it, although there wasn't a great deal they could do. The yacht shuddered as she was caught on the shingle and the green, turbulent waters receded, leaving her stranded, if still some yards from the water's edge.
They hadn't been completely wrecked, as Zoe hadfeared they might be, but they were still in some danger. She realised this, even before Macadam told her. Afterwards she was never able to recall anything in any detail, possibly because so many factors contributed to confuse her—the noise of the sea, the flying spray off mountainous waves, the rain sheeting down with the wind blowing everything about them, taking away all sense of reality. When she moved it was more by instinct now than by rational thought.
Macadam had always said no one should ever abandon a ship while she was still in one piece, and Zoe wondered if he meant to remain on board. In this case it soon became evident he did not. His head must have been hurting, but he appeared to ignore it as he struggled desperately, but with cool precision, to get them out of the danger they were in. Zoe stumbled, knocking her own head as her feet slithered on the streaming decks, but managed to obey him blindly when he shouted something about the dinghy being their only hope. She was scarcely aware of him dragging her overboard or of being mercifully swept ashore. It wasn't quite as easy as that. She thought a wave tipped the dinghy over and Macadam grabbed hold of her, swimming the last few yards to dry land. It seemed a miracle, under such conditions, that they ever reached it, and if it hadn't been for Macadam she knew she could never have made it alone.
She wasn't sure whether she lost complete consciousness or not, but she was aware of nothing more until she realised he was bending over her, pumping the water from her lungs.
'Reece!' she protested, the salt in her mouth making her feel sick, while the pressure of his hands hurt. Slowly she sat up, then suddenly stared at him. His face was as pale as her own and haggard, but he actually smiled. 'What's so funny?' she gasped.
'You—calling me Reece,' he replied oddly. 'Ithought you never would. It's taken a storm, a ship-wreck—our lives, almost.'
She went on staring at him, wanting to tell him he wasright in a way but only partly so. It had taken a storm to make her realise she loved him, that she had loved him for a long time and never known. With a flicker of her lashes she lowered her eyes, for fear he should guess. 'I didn't realise,' she muttered, changing the subject quickly, without giving him a chance to pursue it. 'I got a bump on the head, remember, the name as you.'
His smile faded as he nodded guardedly, his hands going lightly to her face. 'Do you feel all right?' he asked abruptly.
'I'm all right,' her eyes flew back to his anxiously, 'but are you?' As he nodded again she went even paler, recalling how she had found him. 'Are you sure?' she insisted. 'I got a terrible fright. I thought I was going to lose you. What happened?'
'I hit a trough, or it could have been the lightning— I don't seem to remember very clearly. The last thing I knew was hitting the deck. I believe you must have saved my life.'
'And you mine,' she said quickly. 'I could never have got ashore on my own.'
As the force of the gale whipped her words away he frowned, glancing about him, as if reminded they were still in considerable danger, if only from exposure.
'Do you know where we are?' Zoe asked, as this suddenly occurred to her as well.
'I can't be certain.' He leaned nearer to make sure she heard. 'I think I do. If I'm not mistaken it's an uninhabited island belonging to a writer who now wants to sell it. He isn't living here now, but if this is the one, there'll be a house and we'll be in luck!'
Jumping to his feet, he drew her gently up beside him, keeping his arm tightly around her, sheltering heras well as he could from the driving rain. 'Zoe!' he exclaimed softly, bending his head to press his cheek compulsively against her wet one. As his mouth touched her face tenderly she shivered as a sudden ecstasy shot through her.
Mistaking her reaction for coldness, he withdrew. 'Sorry,' he said tersely. 'You can blame the knock on my head. We'd better get to the top of the cliffs and see if I'm right about the island.'
'What about the boat?' she asked, as he turned her towards the steep incline.
Without pausing, he snapped, 'That's not the most important thing at the moment. We're both soaked to the skin and cold. We have to try and find shelter.'
'Couldn't we be on Mull?' She stared up at his grim face enquiringly, wondering where all his tenderness had gone.
'Not a chance,' he pulled her closer again, guiding her round a rocky boulder, 'I was too far away when the storm broke.'
Above their heads a seabird called, a wild, lonely sound on the wind. Zoe couldn't stop thinking about the boat, knowing how much it had meant to Reece. 'Will it ever sail again?' she muttered, almost to herself.
Impatiently, he sighed. 'I managed to throw an anchor overboard, which might hold her, providing the weather doesn't get worse, but, as I've already said, she isn't the most important consideration. We have to find this chap's house.'
'Are you sure you're strong enough to walk that far?'
'Why so worried?' he said dryly, as though remembering her rejection of his kiss. 'I'm okay. My head's aching a bit,' he admitted, 'but I don't suppose I'll feel any better until I get inside, somewhere.' As she slipped on the wet shingle, his arm tightened untilshe regained her balance. 'Stop arguing,' he commanded. 'You've had just about as much as you can take. Let's just concentrate on getting up this path.'
The incline wasn't nearly so steep as it had lookedfrom the beach and it became obvious, despite the weather, that the path had been fairly well used. Asthey successfully negotiated the last few yards of it, a house loomed in view. It wasn't so much a house as a tumbledown cottage, but Zoe loved it on sight. It looked to be about half a mile away.
'Oh, isn't it beautiful!' she exclaimed, tears in her eyes.
Reece grinned wryly, 'I
know exactly how you feel.' She doubted it, but merely shook her head. All sorts of strange feelings were sweeping over her. She loved him and it was wonderful to know they were safe. That he was safe. She didn't think she would ever forget that terrible moment on the yacht when she had watched him sliding away from her. But she wouldn't think of it now. In front of them was a cottage, shelter—a refuge from the storm. Wasn't this enough to be going on with?
'Aren't you going to race me, Reece?' she smiled at him, suddenly so radiant, he blinked with astonishment.
'No, definitely not,' he teased, his blue eyes laughing. 'I'd probably fall flat on my face in the first few yards, and you'd never let me live it down.'
Surprisingly it was Zoe who proved to have the least strength. Her legs turning suddenly shaky, she stumbled so much that eventually Reece picked her up and carried her all the way to the house. Despite her protests, he refused to put her down until they reached it.
'You implied you were the weak one,' she whispered unevenly, as he dropped her gently to her feet.
'It must have been the way you smiled at me,' he replied.
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