by Sewell, Ron
Chapter Forty
MV Harvest Moon was sinking, the question uppermost in three men’s minds: when to leave?
“The stern’s awash”, said Terry. He had hoped for at least another hour or two before she succumbed.
“What do you reckon?” said Bear.
“One hour at best and we get off,” said Terry. “After, God knows.”
“Is that an educated guess?” said Petros. “I’d recommend we go now.”
“Compromise,” said Bear. “Thirty minutes and we go.”
Petros stared at the mountainous waves as they pounded and washed over the empty deck. The wind carried spray over the bridge. The ship shuddered, creaked and moaned.
“Any luck, Terry, working out where we are?”
“The battery’s dead in the sat-nav.”
“Does it matter?” said Petros.
“Not anymore.”
* * *
The Chinese destroyer, her upper-deck underwater, disappeared in a mass of white foam. With the power from her twin propellers she surfaced, dumping tons of water from her decks. She slammed into the next wall of black water at twenty knots and a shudder ran from the top of the mast to bilge keel. The spray made visibility impossible and the helmsman had problems holding his course.
“Captain, I have a vessel on radar at ten miles,” said the navigator loud and clear. He stepped to one side and pointed with his dividers to a position on the chart.
“Show me,” said Dao Tam. His eyes adjusted to the orange glow from the screen as his right hand worked the rangefinder. “She’s low in the water.” He grabbed a pair of binoculars and checked the sea ahead - not a thing. “Flares. Send up a red flare. One every sixty seconds. You never know, it might be seen.”
“I’ll do it, sir,” said a young seaman.
Dao turned. “Life line and life jacket. I don’t want a member of my crew leaving without permission.”
A smile filled the young man’s face. “Yes, sir.”
The executive officer wedged the bridge door open. The gale hit the seaman, knocking him to the deck. Determined he slid as an eel toward the shelter of a steel bulkhead. The concentration on his face, pure courage as he readied the flare and pulled the tab. It soared and twisted high into the dark grey sky, bursting and illuminating the clouds in a bright red glow.
After five flares, Dao shrugged. “I’m afraid we’re too late.”
* * *
With her decks covered in water and every wave slamming over her, MV Harvest Moon sank lower.
“Time to go,” said Bear.
“Wait,” said Terry, “there’s something out there.”
“In your dreams,” said Petros.
Terry’s eyes strained as he searched the sky. He pointed. “There, a red glow.”
The three of them stared at the storm-laden clouds.
“There’s another,” said Petros.
Bear groped through their supplies and found the flares. He removed one, not bothering to check the colour. Outside, with the wind buffeting his huge frame, he operated the flare, pointing it towards where a red glow faded.
The sky lit up green. “Fuck it,” he shouted at the storm. Angry, he took another from the pack. This time the sky glowed red.
* * *
The destroyer pitched and twisted as she took a hammering from the sea. Tons of water cascaded from her decks as her bow lifted. Seconds later the whole ship appeared to vanish as she entered another deep trough.
“Green flare, sir.”
Dao peered through his binoculars in its general direction as the green tinge disappeared. “Got you!” he shouted as the sky became red. “Distance to target?”
The navigation officer fine-tuned the radar controls to sharpen the images on the screen. “Eight miles, sir.”
Dao considered the sea state. This hammering could destroy my ship. Are two men’s lives worth it? Thirty minutes, give or take. He was well aware a detailed plan in a typhoon was a waste of time. “Executive officer.”
“Sir.”
“Get your team to erect cargo nets on the starboard side. Have them ready as fast as you can and stay alert.”
The exec hurried to the rear of the bridge, removed his jacket and pulled on a thick, black wool jumper. Dressed in dark blue waterproofs, he opened the door to the port wing, fastened his lifeline to the wire, and hauled himself to where his men were stationed.
His team, having sheltered in the amidships deckhouse, were waiting when he arrived. In teams of four they dragged and fastened the cargo nets as best they could, level with the deck.
Meanwhile Dao demanded a continuous report on distance to the target and maintained a constant lookout.
“Debris in the water, sir.”
Dao focused his binoculars. “Stop engines.” The waves rocked the ship as he assessed the nightmare floating inches below the surface. “Lookouts to the wings. Slow ahead. I have the ship. Officer of the Watch, you are my second set of eyes.”
At a reduced speed, Dao edged his vessel through the container minefield.
“Vessel dead ahead, sir.”
Dao grimaced at the worsening sea. Ahead was a dying ship.
“Ten nets rigged, sir,” said the exec.
“Well done. Go back and wait. I’ve one shot. Oh, get one of the hands to fetch a can of black paint and a brush.”
The exec frowned. “Why do you need black paint, sir?”
Dao stood erect. “Because I do.” He turned and studied the sinking ship wallowing in the water - no lights, no power, her silhouette bleak against the skyline.
“Your paint, sir.”
“Wait.” Broad strokes of his fountain pen inscribed one word on a slip of paper. “Go and paint this on every flat surface you can find on the starboard side. I don’t want artistry. Make sure whoever’s on board that ship can read it.”
The young seaman scurried away.
Dao turned his attention to the rescue. Ahead, this ship remained broadside to a savage sea, her decks awash. His gaze centred on the superstructure. Where are they? he asked himself. How many? A red flare ignited high above both ships and one man stood waving on the bridge wing. “Lookouts, search the vicinity for those damned containers. Shout if you spot one, preferably before we hit it.”
Everyone smiled at their captain, who found time to ease the tension.
* * *
Petros, Bear and Terry spotted the destroyer at the same time, her navigation lights pinpricks in the gloom and spray as she bludgeoned her way into another huge breaker.
“Can they make us out?” said Terry, his voice apprehensive.
“The way she’s bouncing around, I hope so,” said Bear. “But how do we get from here to there?”
* * *
Captain Dao needed to pilot his vessel as near as possible to the lee side of the other. A slow pass in this storm could work. At one thousand metres he still had options. His mind fixed, he shouted above the roar of the storm, “Everyone stand by. I intend to take our ship in close.” He pointed at MV Harvest Moon. “The first pass will be for me. The second for them.” He turned. “Helmsman, your skill and my eyes will save these people.”
The man nodded, his eyes not leaving the ship’s heading for an instant.
Dao ordered, “Half ahead both. Port fifteen.”
The bow crossed the sea and the rolling started. Dao glimpsed the inclinometer - thirty-five degrees. Could be worse, he swore under his breath as the next roll hit forty. “Slow ahead. Helmsman, shout if you have any problems steering.”
The helmsman, an old hand, kept his course as the waves slammed and punched the ship in every direction. “Aye, aye, sir.”
The destroyer’s sharp bow cut through the sea as Dao edged nearer to MV Harvest Moon. “Distance to the vessel?”
“Fifty metres.”
“Starboard five,” ordered Dao as he saw three men scramble out into the storm.
“Distance to vessel?” With every minute, his ship edged closer.
“Twenty-five metres.”
Dao wiped the sweat from his brow. Must get nearer. At best these men could jump five metres, possibly ten, with the wind behind. In the lee, the rolling reduced.
He waited until his ship cleared the other. Power surged from the engines as he turned his vessel on the crest of the waves. “Ship’s head?”
“Two seven five, sir.”
“Slow ahead. Steer two eight zero.” He noted his ship’s movement and eyeballed the bow of the other. “Distance? Man the nets.”
“Ten metres.”
“Steer two eight five.” Dao sensed the unease of his crew.
* * *
Bear laughed as he read the black word painted on bulkheads of the destroyer. ‘JUMP’.
“He’s got to be fucking joking,” said Terry.
“Your choice. Stay here and drown or take a quick flying lesson into those nets. The captain has committed his ship to save us. If it goes tits-up a cold bath awaits.”
“Guardrails,” said Terry.
“Shit,” said Bear. “Come on.”
They crawled, Bear in front, Petros and Terry behind. In the lee of the bridge, the wind forced them lower. “In less than a minute she’ll be here,” shouted Bear. “Drop them, now.”
With the rails ditched, the three men sheltered against a bulkhead. The wind cut through their wet clothes as the clung together, waiting.
“I can’t swim,” yelled Terry.
“Tough,” said Petros. “Don’t have time to teach you. Loop your arms in the net and hang on.”
Horror filled his face. “I have a choice?” Images flashed through his brain. “What if I miss the nets?”
“I now know how Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid felt moments before they hurled themselves into the river,” said Petros.
Bear studied the approaching destroyer, understanding that no other ship could manoeuvre in this storm. He wound his arms around the others’ shoulders. “On my count, we run, jump, and pray God or someone loves us. Ready - two, six, go!”
Without hesitating, they ran screaming in unison before hurling themselves into the air. A chilling fact filled their minds: this was a once in a lifetime offer. The wind grabbed and tossed them like waste paper.
* * *
Dao sensed the moment. “Stop both engines. Half astern both.” His eyes fixed on the speed indicator needle as it dropped. The second it hit zero he ordered, “Full ahead port, half astern starboard. Rudder, starboard thirty. Did they make it?” he screamed, his eyes gripped by a mammoth wave.
“They’re on the nets, sir.”
“Full ahead both, wheel amidships, steer two, two, zero. Hang on, this one wants us.”
The wave broke, crashing on the bow, driving the destroyer underwater. For what appeared an age the lights on the bridge gave reassurance that the alternators still turned. Outside, dark green water surrounded them. The downward thrust changed as the bows found the surface and the powerful engine surged her ahead.
* * *
The three men hit the nets moments before the world went mad. Bear lifted his head, saw the wave, covered Petros, and forced his own arms and legs through the net, pinning him.
Tons of water slammed on top of them, pouring, pounding, dragging and smothering. Bear counted as he held his breath. At forty-five his lungs ached.
Bear gasped at the cold air that whipped the spray and stung his face. A mad sea raged five metres below Men grabbed, pulling his arms and legs from the net before hauling him to safety. He glanced back; others dragged Petros. He could not see Terry.
* * *
Dao shouted, “Check those men on deck.”
The exec entered the bridge. “We lost one, sir. The wave took him.”
“The others?”
“Battered and bruised but alive, sir.”
“Give them dry clothes and hot food, and put them in my cabin.”
“Sir.”
Captain Dao, his knuckles white, gripped the safety rail and stared as MV Harvest Moon sank. There was nothing grand or breath-taking. The storm continued to scream and the wind moan. Waves crashed over her as she slid into the darkest depths.
“Officer of the Watch, you have the ship. General signal, all ships to maintain a good lookout for those containers.”
“I have the ship, sir,” said the young lieutenant.
The seas remained huge. Foaming breakers filled troughs and cast spray into the gale force wind. Large waves consumed smaller ones. The destroyer steamed away with the sea on her stern for Hong Kong.
* * *
Petros and Bear, dry and wearing ill-fitting clothes, sat either side of a metal desk, sipping hot soup.
“Pity Terry didn’t make it. He wasn’t half bad,” said Petros between mouthfuls.
“He was destined for a few years in a Chinese jail.”
“Where will we end up?”
“You are heroes of the People’s Republic of China,” said Captain Dao Tam as he entered his cabin. “I have orders from our president to guarantee your arrival in Hong Kong.”
“You speak excellent English,” said Petros.
“Thank you,” said Dao. “It is not often I can practise. Have you eaten? More is available if you are still hungry. Your shoulder wound is superficial and will heal.”
“A few hours kip is on my agenda,” said Bear.
“Please, lay on the deck and rest. I do, when the sea is not gentle.”
“I’ll give it a try,” said Bear.
“How did you find us?” asked Petros.
“Luck,” said Dao. “Whose idea was it to activate the emergency beacon?”
“Terry’s. He’s the one who’s missing.”
“Unfortunate, but you are safe. I will return to my bridge. It is where I should be in this weather.”
“Thank you, Captain,” said Petros.
“Rest. You will be told when we are approaching Hong Kong.” He turned and left.
Bear grabbed a cushion from a bench and placed it on the floor. “Time for shut eye. I suggest you do the same.”
Petros sat on the deck with his back against a bulkhead. “What’s with this hero crap?”
Bear grunted. “I don’t know and don’t give a shit. I’m warm, dry, and fed. Let’s get some kip.”
Chapter Forty-One
The telephone rang, breaking Maria’s concentration as she piled small coloured bricks one on top of the other for Alysa to knock over. She stood, walked into the kitchen and lifted the receiver.
Apprehensively she said, “Yes.”
“Maria Kyriades?”
She recognised Teddy Jewel’s BBC accent. “Any news on our men?”
“Good news. Petros and William are safe on a Chinese warship headed for Hong Kong. I believe they’re due to dock sometime tomorrow. I don’t have the exact details as yet.”
“Thank God. Are they alright?”
“You won’t believe this,” said Teddy. “The Chinese president has spoken to our prime minister and has requested you and Jocelyn visit Beijing as guests of the Chinese people. This is unprecedented. A car will collect you tonight. Sorry, can’t be more precise. My staff is running in every direction making the necessary arrangements. You will, of course, be travelling with the prime minister and his team of advisers.”
“I don’t understand,” said Maria.
“My dear, nor do we, but Britain can’t afford to miss any opportunity to advance our relations with China.”
“I’ll tell Jocelyn and be ready.”
“Good. Enjoy China.”
Jocelyn shifted her wet-eyed gaze to Maria. “I was beginning to think I’d lost him.”
Maria wrapped her arms around her. “Never. Those two are indestructible. Did you get the gist of what was said?”
“Thankfully, they’re alright.”
“Well, go home, pack your bags. We’re going to Beijing and we’re travelling with our prime minister.”
“Wow! That’s incredible. What’s the sc
ore?”
“Teddy said an official car will collect each of us this evening from our homes, when the arrangements are finalised.”
“Don’t we need visas and things?”
“Not when you’re the guests of the Chinese People.”
Jocelyn wiped her eyes and collected the few items she brought with her. “Meet you at the airport. Always wanted to travel first class.”
Maria waited until Jocelyn’s car disappeared from view before contacting Jack, Petros’ stepfather. The telephone rang three times before someone lifted the receiver.
“Zena Dunn.”
“It’s Maria. Petros is fine. Jocelyn and I are travelling to Beijing tonight. Can you and Jack come over and care for my little monster and Charlie?”
“When are you leaving?”
“Not sure.”
“No problem. I’ll tell Jack. And we’ll drive over. Don’t worry, I do know where everything is.”
“Thanks, Mama.”
Maria found Alysa attempting to feed Charlie plastic bricks but his mouth remained firmly closed.
Jack and Zena arrived and made themselves at home.
Late in the evening, an official car took Maria to Heathrow.
Chapter Forty-Two
“Good morning,” said tired and unshaven Captain Dao. “I hope you managed to sleep through the worst storm I’ve ever experienced.”
“Sleep? I died,” said Bear.
Petros checked the time from the clock on the bulkhead. “I didn’t realise a steel deck could be so comfortable.”
“You rested for ten hours.” The captain pointed. “My bathroom. Disposable razors, towels and everything you need. When you’re refreshed, press the button on my desk for breakfast. For your own safety, please do not leave my quarters. I am told you will be escorted by government security staff to the airport for your return to Beijing.
