Flood Tide dp-14

by Clive Cussler

  The woman looked as if she was about to protest, then silently and quickly threw off the robe and began pulling on her underwear. She moved rapidly and purposely, wiggling first into her slacks and then Gallagher's pants. Five knit sweaters went on over three blouses. She felt fortunate indeed that she had packed a full suitcase for her rendezvous with her fiance. When she could wear no more, Gallagher helped stuff her into one of his working jumpsuits. A pair of his boots went over her silk hose and several pairs of his socks.

  The little dachshund darted between their legs, leaping up and down, ears flapping in excitement. He had been a gift from Gallagher along with an emerald engagement ring when he had proposed marriage. The dog wore a red leather collar with a gold dragon charm that swung wildly across his little chest.

  “Fritz!” she scolded him. “Lie on the bed and be still.”

  Katrina Garin was a strong-minded woman who did not require detailed instructions. She was twelve years old when her British father, who was master of an interisland freighter, was lost at sea. Raised by her mother's White Russian family, she went to work at Canton Lines as a clerk and worked her way up to the director's executive secretary. The same age as Gallagher, she had met him at the steamship offices when he was called in to report on the conditions of the Princess Dou Wan's engines, and she became attracted to him. Though she would have preferred a man with a touch of style and sophistication, his rough manners and jovial disposition reminded her of her father.

  They met frequently in the following weeks and slept together, mostly in his cabin aboard ship. It was the added thrill of sneaking on board and making love under the noses of the captain and crew that she found especially exciting. Katie had been trapped on board when General Hui surrounded the ship and dock with a small army of security guards. Unable to go ashore despite pleas by Gallagher and an angry Captain Hunt when he was informed of her presence, General Hui insisted she remain on board for the duration of the voyage. Since leaving Shanghai, she had rarely stepped from the cabin; her only companion when Gallagher was on duty in the engine room was the little dog that she had taught tricks to pass the long hours at sea.

  Gallagher hurriedly inserted their papers, passports and valuables in a waterproof oilcloth pouch. He threw on a heavy sailor's peacoat and looked at her through blue eyes clouded with concern. “You ready?”

  She held up her arms and looked down at the bulky mass of clothing. “I'll never get a life jacket over all this,” she said, a tremor in her voice. “Without one I'll sink like a stone in the water.”

  “Have you forgotten? General Hui gave orders that all Me jackets be thrown overboard four weeks ago.”

  “We'll get away in the lifeboats then.”

  “The boats that haven't already been bashed to pieces can never be launched in these waters.”

  She looked at him steadily. “We're going to die, aren't we? If we don't drown, we'll freeze to death.”

  He pulled a stocking cap down over her blond hair and ears. “Warm head makes for warm feet.” Then he gently tilted her face upward between his massive hands and kissed her. “Darlin', didn't they ever tell you that Irishmen never drown?” Taking Katie by the hand, Gallagher dragged her roughly into the passageway and headed up a companionway to the deck above.

  Forgotten in the bedlam, Fritz the dachshund stretched out obediently on the bed, believing his mistress would soon return, bewilderment in his brown eyes.

  Those of the crew off duty who weren't sitting around playing dominoes or telling stories of other storms they survived were sleeping in their berths, oblivious to the ship about to break up around them. The cook and his galley help were leaning up after dinner and serving coffee to those who lingered. Despite the battering from the storm, the crew was happy at the prospect of reaching port. Although their destination had been held from them, they knew their exact position within thirty miles.

  There was no complacency in the wheelhouse. Hunt stared aft through the snow flurries, barely distinguishing the deck lights trailing toward the stern. In horrified fascination he watched as the stern appeared to rise on an angle downward amidships. Over the howl of the wind through the superstructure, he could hear the hull shrieking as it ground itself to pieces. He reached out and punched the emergency bell that rang the general alarm throughout the ship.

  Hui knocked Hunt's hand away from the emergency bell button. “We cannot abandon ship.” He spoke in a shocked whisper.

  Hunt stared at him in disgust. “Die like a man, General.” “I must not be allowed to die. I vowed to see the cargo safely deposited in port.”

  “This ship is breaking in two,” said Hunt. “Nothing can save you and your precious cargo.” “Then our position must be fixed so it can be salvaged.” “Fixed for whom? The lifeboats have been crushed and swept away. You demanded all life vests be cast overboard. You destroyed the ship's radio. We can't send out a Mayday call. You covered our tracks too well. We're not even supposed to be hi these waters. Our location is unknown to the rest of the world. All Chiang Kai-shek will ever learn is that the Princess Dou Wan vanished with all hands six thousand miles south of here. You planned well, General, too well.” “No!” Hui gasped. “This cannot happen!” Hunt actually found himself amused at the look of rage and helplessness on the face of Hui. The shifty look in the dark eyes was gone.

  The general could not bring himself to accept the inevitable. He tore open the door to the bridge wing and ran out into the storm gone berserk. He could see the ship twisting in its death throes. The stern was swinging on a pronounced angle to starboard now. Steam was erupting from the tear in the hull. He stood and watched in shock as the stern separated from the rest of the ship in a protest of the grinding and tearing sound of metal being ripped apart. Then all the lights aboard ship j blinked out and he could see no more of the stern.

  Crewmen burst from below onto decks covered in snow j and ice. Frustrated by murderous waves that had smashed the ! lifeboats, they cursed the lack of life jackets. The end came so quickly, most all were caught unprepared. This time of year the j frigid water was only thirty-four degrees, the air temperature only five degrees above zero. In panic they jumped over the side, seemingly unaware that the cold water would kill them in a matter of minutes, if not from hypothermia then from the stoppage of their hearts at the shock of having their bodies exposed to an instantaneous sixty degree drop in temperature.

  The stern sank out of sight in less than four minutes. The hull amidships seemed to evaporate into nothingness, leaving a long gap between the sunken stern and the bow section forward of the smokestack. A small group of men struggled to lower the only partially damaged lifeboat, but a massive wave thundered over the forecastle and swept across the deck. Men and boat disappeared under the deluge, never to be seen again.

  Holding Katie's hand in a death grip, Gallagher dragged her up a ladder and across the roof of the officers' cabins toward a life raft that was mounted aft of the wheelhouse. He was surprised to see that it was empty. Twice, they slipped on the ice coating the roof and fell. Spray flung by the gale stung their faces and blinded them. In the confusion none of the Chinese officers or crew had remembered the life raft atop the roof. Most all, including General Hui's soldiers, had headed for the remaining lifeboat or had thrown themselves into the deadly water.

  “Fritz!” Katie cried in anguish. “We left Fritz in the cabin.”

  “No time to return,” said Gallagher.

  “We can't leave without him!”

  He looked into her eyes solemnly. “You must forget Fritz. It's our lives or his.”

  Katie twisted away, but Gallagher held her tightly. “Climb in, darlin', and hold on tight.” Then he pulled a knife from his boot and furiously slashed at the ropes securing the raft. Gallagher paused as he cut away the last rope and glanced through the windows of the wheelhouse. Dimly lit by the emergency lights, Captain Hunt stood calmly beside the helm, accepting his death without remorse.

  Gallagher frantically wav
ed at his captain through the windows, but Hunt did not turn. He merely shoved his hands inside the pockets of his coat and stared vacantly into the snow building around the windows.

  Suddenly, a figure emerged from the bridge through the swirling blanket of white. He stumbled like a man chased by a banshee, thought Gallagher. The intruder bumped against the life raft, striking it above the knees, and tumbled inside. Only when he stared up, eyes fixed more in madness than in terror, did Gallagher recognize General Hui.

  “Don't we have to cut the raft loose?” Hui shouted above the wind.

  Gallagher shook his head. “I've done that chore.”

  “The suction from the sinking ship will drag us under.”

  “Not in this sea, General. We'll be swept clear in seconds. Now lie down on the bottom and get a good grip on the safety ropes.”

  Too numb with cold to reply, Hui did as he was instructed and took his place inside the raft.

  A deep rumble swelled up from below as the cold water surged over the boilers, causing them to explode. The forward section of the ship shook and vibrated, then lurched downward amidships, sending the bow rising into the cold night. The cables supporting the tall, old-fashioned smokestack snapped under the strain, and it fell with a large splash. The water reached the level of the life raft, and its buoyancy lifted it from its mounts. The last Gallagher saw of Captain Hunt, water was surging through the doors of the wheelhouse and whirling around his legs. Determined to go down with his ship, he clutched the helm and stood as firm as if he had turned to granite.

  It felt to Gallagher as if they were suspended in time. Waiting for the ship to drop from under them seemed an eternity. Yet it all happened in a few seconds. Then the raft was washed free and hurled into the chaotic waters.

  Cries for help came in Mandarin and Cantonese dialects that were impossible to answer. Final pleas to friends slowly faded between the monster wave crests and their troughs and into the fury of the wind. There would be no rescue. No ships were close enough to notice them vanish from radar and no call for help went out. Gallagher and Katie watched with a feeling of horror as the bow rose higher and higher, as if clawing at the stormy sky. She hung suspended for nearly a minute, her ice-shrouded upper works giving her the look of an apparition. Then she gave up and slipped under the black waters. The Princess Dou Wan was no more.

  “Gone,” Hui muttered, his voice unheard above the storm. “All gone.” He was staring with utter disbelief at where the ship had been.

  “Huddle together for our combined body heat,” ordered Gallagher. “If we can make it until morning, we stand a chance of being picked up.”

  Surrounded by the specter of death and a terrible sense of emptiness, the raft and its pitiful passengers were swallowed by the bitter-cold night and unrelenting fury of the storm.

  By dawn the malignant waves were still pounding the small raft. The blackness of night had given way to a ghostly gray sky covered with dark clouds. The snow had turned to a chilling sleet. Mercifully, the wind had fallen to twenty miles an hour and the waves had dropped from thirty to ten feet. The raft was solid and sound but was an old model that lacked emergency equipment for survival. Its passengers were left with nothing but personal fortitude to keep up their spirits until rescue.

  Bundled under the heavy layers of clothing, Gallagher and Katie had survived the night in fair shape. But General Hui, dressed only in his uniform and without a coat, was slowly, inexorably freezing to death. The wretched wind was cutting through his uniform like a thousand ice picks. His hair was coated with ice. Gallagher had taken off his heavy peacoat and given it to Hui, but it became obvious to Katie that the old war-horse was rapidly fading.

  The raft was tossed over the crests and spun around by the brutal waves. It didn't seem possible that the frail craft could take the pounding. Yet it always recovered from the crush of the curling waves, righted herself, and steadied before facing the next onslaught. Never once did she cast her miserable passengers into the cold water.

  Gallagher rose to his knees every hour and scanned the agitated waters from the top of the waves as the raft was thrown skyward before plummeting into the trough again. It was an exercise in futility. The waters were empty. During the awful night, they saw no sign of lights from another ship.

  “There has to be a ship nearby,” said Katie through chattering teeth.

  Gallagher shook his head. “The water is as empty as a homeless waif's piggy bank.” He didn't tell her that visibility was cut to less than fifty yards.

  “I'll never forgive myself for abandoning Fritz,” Katie whispered, the tears falling down her cheeks before turning to ice.

  “My fault,” Gallagher consoled her. “I should have grabbed him when we ran out of the cabin.”

  “Fritz?” queried Hui.

  “My little dachshund,” replied Katie.

  “You lost a dog.”

  Hui abruptly sat up. “You lost a dog?” he repeated. “I lost the heart and soul of my country—”

  He paused and went into a coughing spasm. Misery etched his face, despair clouded his eyes. He looked like a man whose life had lost all meaning. “I have failed in my duty. I must die.”

  “Don't be stupid, man,” said Gallagher. “We'll come through. Just hang in a little longer.”

  Hui appeared not to hear him. He seemed to wither and give up. Katie was gazing into the general's eyes. It was as if a light behind them had suddenly switched off. They took on a glazed, unseeing look.

  “I think he's dead,” Katie murmured.

  Gallagher checked to be sure. “Move over against his body and use it as a shield from the wind and spray. I'll lie on the other side of you.”

  It seemed ghoulish to her, but Katie found that she could hardly feel Hui's cadaver through the bulk of her clothing. The loss of her faithful little dog, the ship plunging under the black water, the insane wind and crazed waters all seemed unreal to her. She hoped that it was all a nightmare and soon she would wake up. She burrowed deeper between the two men, one alive, the other dead.

  Through the rest of the day and following night the intensity of the storm had slowly abated, but they were still exposed to a murderous windchill factor. Katie could no longer feel her hands and feet. She began to slip in and out of consciousness. Fantasies ran through her mind. Oddly, she found it macabre that she might have eaten her last meal. She thought she saw a sandy beach beneath swaying palm trees. She imagined Fritz running across the sand, barking as he came toward her. She talked to Gallagher as though they were sitting at a table at a restaurant, ordering dinner. Her dead father appeared to her, dressed in his captain's uniform. He stood in the raft, looked down and smiled. He told her she would live and not to worry. Land was only a short distance away. And then he was gone.

  “What time is it?” she asked hoarsely.

  “Sometime late in the afternoon, I should judge,” answered Gallagher. “My watch stopped soon after we abandoned the Princess.”

  “How long have we been adrift?”

  “A rough guess would put it about thirty-eight hours since the Princess went down.”

  “We're near land,” she muttered abruptly.

  “What makes you say that, darlin'?”

  “My father told me.”

  “He did, did he?” He smiled at her compassionately under a mustache and eyebrows caked white with ice. Icicles hanging from whatever hair was exposed, gave Gallagher the appearance of a monster risen from the depths of the South Pole in a science-fiction movie. Except for her lack of facial hair, Katie wondered if she looked the same.

  “Can't you see it?”

  Dreadfully stiff from the cold, Gallagher struggled to a sitting position and scanned the horizons of his restricted world. His view was blurred by the driving sleet, but he kept trying. Then he thought his eyes were deceiving him. He could just make out large boulders scattered along a shoreline. A short distance beyond, no more than fifty yards, snow blanketed trees swaying in the wind. He spotted
what looked like the dark shape of a small cabin amid the trees.

  His joints numb and unresponsive, Gallagher removed one boot and used it as a paddle. After a few minutes, the exertion seemed to warm his body and the effort became less arduous. “Take heart, darlin'. We'll be on dry land soon.”

  The current was working parallel to the shore, and Gallagher fought to break out of its clutches. He felt as if he was struggling against a stream filled with molasses. The gap narrowed with agonizing slowness. The trees seemed so close he could reach out and shake them, but they were still a good sixty yards away.

  Just when Gallagher had reached the end of his endurance and was about to collapse from exhaustion, he could feel the raft bumping against underwater boulders. He looked down at Katie. She was shivering uncontrollably from the damp and chill. She could not last much longer.

  He shoved his frozen foot back inside the boot. Then, sucking in his breath, he prayed that the water would not close over his head and jumped in. It was a hazard he had to risk. Thankfully, the soles of his boots struck hard rock before the water level reached his crotch.

  “Katie!” he shouted in happy delirium. “We've made it. We're on land.”

  “That's nice,” Katie murmured, too paralyzed and oblivious to care.

  Gallagher dragged the raft onto a shore covered with wave-smoothed rocks and pebbles. The exhausting effort took the last of his strength, and he sagged like a lifeless rag doll and dropped onto the cold, wet rocks. He never knew how long he lay there, but when he finally recovered enough to crawl up to the life raft and peer over the side, he saw that Katie's skin was blue and mottled. Fearful, he reached in and pulled her toward him. He wasn't sure whether she was alive or dead. Then he noticed a wisp of vapor coming from her nose. He felt for a pulse in her neck. It was faint and slow; her strong heart was still pumping, but death was very close to her.

  He looked up at the sky. It was no longer a thick quilt of dark gray. The clouds were forming into distinct shapes and turning white. The storm was passing, and already he could sense the gusting wind diminishing to a settled breeze. He had little time. If he did not find warmth quickly, he would lose her.