But they still didn’t have a ship, Aurora thought, leaving Dorian’s bedroom for the attic stairs. Neil had offered them the Dealer Ship, but they didn’t accept. Not now, not after what had happened to Keith and his boat.
There was another reason, too, as Jordan had pointed out. “I don’t want to use any boat we’ve been seen using before. We need to keep a low profile on the water. But don’t you worry, Aurora,” Jordan had said earlier in the week. “I’ll have us a boat by Saturday at the latest.”
Today was Friday. There was nothing yet.
Her phone message to Roberto with news of the setback had been rough to make. He’d been openly disappointed, but Aurora knew it would be even harder for Dorian and Tanya. Only her surprising phone conversation with Gerald, who was indeed enjoying special privileges and able to call his home, calmed Aurora. He assured her that he’d be back in California in three weeks, which was how long he thought the computer job would take. The prison was even arranging civilian transport back to the border, he announced with satisfaction.
But even that good news couldn’t be relayed to Dorian. She wasn’t allowed phone calls, nor could Aurora do more than get the message to Roberto the next time he checked in.
Thankfully, I agreed that Jordan should captain this salvage operation. He was more than just a good captain; he was organized, quick, firm and confident. His preparations were impressive. Jordan had connections, contacts and friends all over California, it seemed.
“Our new ship will be here by Saturday, Aurora. Trust me,” he said.
Aurora knew she had no other choice. She lifted the box of old dishes and pots, snapped off the attic light with a spare finger and headed downstairs.
Jordan was waiting for her in the kitchen.
“When did you get back?”
“I just walked in. Where were you? The attic?”
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
Jordan took the dusty box from her arms and set it on the counter, then touched her hair. “Cobwebs,” he said, pulling off a sticky strand she hadn’t noticed and tossing it in the trash.
“Thanks. Any news?” she asked as she ran her hands over her hair.
Jordan nodded, his smile warm. “Your ship awaits, madam. Or it will, first thing tomorrow morning.”
Aurora’s fingers froze. “Seriously?”
“I wouldn’t kid about something like that. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for sure. We’ve got the free loan of a commercial salvage craft, thanks to the bishop. Our borrowed ship is on its way.”
“Borrowed?”
“From a wealthy church benefactor. It’s named the Silver Dollar, and I’m assured it’s in top-notch condition. The bishop’s rooting for us—and his orphanage fund.”
“Oh, Jordan.” Aurora immediately hugged him tight. “Thanks. I have clothes for us, dishes, all kinds of stuff—I’ve been scrounging all week.” She pulled back from him, tears in her eyes. “I’d better wash these dishes,” she said, her voice shaky.
He reached up to wipe her tears with the nearest dish towel, flipped it over his shoulder, then drew her into his arms again. Suddenly he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back. Her hands moved to the nape of his neck. Her movement knocked the dish towel onto the floor, and both turned to see it fall, lightly bumping their heads together.
Aurora rubbed her head. “And I thought salvaging was dangerous.”
Jordan bent to pick up the towel. “You wash,” he said. “I’ll dry.”
CHAPTER TEN
Guest slip, Oceanside Harbor
8:00 a.m.
THE AUGUST SUN shone bright and hot, quickly burning off the foggy marine layer formed during the night with its cooler offshore breeze. On the flying bridge, sitting in the captain’s chair, Aurora prepared to join the harbor’s other commercial traffic heading out for the deeper Pacific waters. Today she and Jordan planned to sound the dive-site area with radar and sonar. Those measurements, along with wind, current and wave readings, were the first things needed for any serious salvage operation. Because no diving would be involved today, Jordan was her only crewmate.
Aurora flipped the switch activating the blower motor of the Silver Dollar. Unlike the open chassis of a car, sealed boat structures tended to collect gas fumes in the hull. The blower motor vented all gas fumes prior to any use of the ignition system. Ignoring the basic safety system meant an instant, spectacular explosion—something Hollywood loved to make use of in movies. No captain worth his or her salt ignored the blower—or took it for granted.
“Jordan, put your hand over the blower vent and make sure we’re venting,” she called down. She’d been a vessel captain for too long to use please or thank you and automatically gave out orders when she was on the bridge.
“Already have, Captain,” he yelled back from his position next to the mooring cleats on the slip. “Both vents working fine. And your pump’s spitting.”
“Glad to hear it—especially since this isn’t my boat,” Aurora replied. Even the most watertight fiberglass boats took on some water, while wooden boats soaked it in; as a result, a bilge pump was needed to drain any type of hull.
She admired Jordan’s efficiency and his attention to safety. She also had to admire his sleek, masculine lines. Dressed in his jeans from the day before, deck shoes and one of Gerald’s polo shirts, his vitality hit her right in the hormones. If only I didn’t feel so overwhelmed right now, I’d be as interested in this guy as a hungry sea lion after a yellowtail. My life needs less if-onlys....
“Prepare to cast off,” she ordered.
Jordan had graciously allowed her to captain the ship he’d borrowed and signed for—a fact Aurora appreciated. She suspected he knew how hard the destruction of Neptune’s Bride had been on her, despite her efforts to cover it up. She also suspected he’d given her the helm to take her mind off Bride...and that he’d deny it to the hilt. Either way, the man was getting deeper and deeper under her skin.
His fiancée was a fool to let this guy get away.
Forcing her mind back to her duties, she started first the left, then the right engine and let them run, her ear tuned toward any abnormal sounds, her eyes checking for black smoke or oil leakage. For a moment memories of Bride haunted her. I hope these engines are in good shape. Bride’s engines always ran smooth and true.
Aurora allowed only the best marine mechanic in the harbor to service her engines. The old adage “You get what you pay for” was one she took seriously; it meant she lived to sail another day.
She nodded with satisfaction at the lovely purr of the twin engines. The bishop’s friend sure didn’t skimp on this loaner, she thought.
“Cast off,” she called out.
“Aye, Captain. Casting off.” Jordan quickly threw the lines onto the boat, jumped onto the deck from the slip and efficiently stowed the lines and the hull fenders as the Silver Dollar eased out of her berth.
Aurora watched him reach for the long pole used to help push larger boats away from the concrete sides of the slip. Between his muscular pushes and her expert handling on the controls, the Silver Dollar smoothly moved away from the slip and into the main pattern of traffic streaming past the Coast Guard station, the professional bait sellers, and the marine gas and diesel fuel station. Jordan climbed the ladder to the bridge and joined her.
He glanced at the fuel gauge. “I see they’ve already topped off for us,” he said.
“Good thing, too. If you get stuck behind one of those fishing behemoths with their bottomless fuel pits...”
“You can wait forever to get out?” Jordan finished, continuing to study the controls.
“You got it.” Aurora deliberately didn’t look at her old slip, where the harbor crew was still dredging out what remained of Bride.
Both were silent as Aurora took the first port turn along the jetty to the harbor’s exit. There, the line of boats fanned out as they all separated toward their various destinations: fishing grounds, transport routes north or sou
th, favorite sightseeing areas. Jordan reached for the radio knob, paused and looked for permission to turn it up. Coast Guard regulations required that emergency and hailing frequency, channel 16, be left on at all times, but Aurora preferred to squelch the other harbor chatter.
“Go ahead,” she said. “And let’s not stand on ceremony. This isn’t my boat—so we might as well both become familiar with it.”
“Done.”
“And, Jordan? Once we get out of the harbor, you can take the helm. I’m not really in the mood to be captain today.”
“You okay?” he immediately asked.
“About Bride—I will be eventually. But thanks for trying to take my mind off it.... You’re a real sweetheart.”
“I’m not, and I was doing no such thing,” he denied, just as Aurora had known he would.
Jordan listened to the traffic, bringing the conversation to an obvious end.
The Silver Dollar cleared the harbor and continued due west and away from traffic before heading south. Once they were in open waters, Aurora and Jordan changed positions at the helm.
For a good half hour they were silent, watching the sea lions, the pelicans and the gulls feeding.
Aurora frowned, raising her hand to shield her eyes as she gazed out to sea.
“Boat problems?” Jordan immediately asked. “You hear something I don’t?”
“Oh, no, not that. It’s just...I haven’t seen my dolphins.”
“Your dolphins?”
She flushed. “Well, they’re not really mine. They’re a pod of about three hundred Pacific white-sided dolphins that live in this area. I usually get twenty to thirty of them riding the bow.”
Jordan actually grinned. “I can’t believe it. You’re superstitious.”
Aurora threw him a look of mild scorn. “Please. I’m not a fisherman,” she said. Dolphins tracked tuna, and tuna such as yellowfin and albacore put money in fishermen’s pockets. “But I wanted you to see them—especially the babies.”
“It’s early. They’re probably farther out, dodging all the boat traffic.”
Aurora shook her head. “They’re used to competing with the fishing boats. And twenty to thirty miles out, we get the big sharks. No, they should be here.”
“Yup. You are superstitious.” Jordan’s grin returned.
“I just like dolphins,” Aurora protested. “And I’m sensible. I don’t want to be in any waters the dolphins aren’t. They can tell when there’s trouble long before we can.”
Jordan, seeming to sense her mood, tactfully dropped the subject. “Want me to make some coffee?”
“I’ll do it. Keep the controls,” Aurora said, still feeling uneasy.
Jordan didn’t argue. As she descended the ladder, he remained standing at the wheel. Down below, she opened the latches of the unfamiliar cabinets, searching for cups and a percolator or a teapot for instant. She started to measure out the coffee grounds—and stopped abruptly. Something’s wrong.
Ignoring the dishes, she hurried back up the ladder.
“That was quick,” Jordan observed.
“Give me the helm,” she said urgently.
“What’s up?”
“I don’t like the way the boat feels.”
“Hey, I’m not that bad a captain,” Jordan remarked, reluctantly relinquishing command to her, then taking it back after a minute. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t like the way the boat feels,” she repeated. “How did she handle for you?”
Jordan shrugged. “A little sluggish, but I’m new at the controls.”
Aurora shook her head. “So am I, but still... I wish I knew the last time this hull was scraped.” She referred to the procedure of cleaning off barnacles, seaweed and other clinging life-forms, which were a hazard to the hulls of all boats that rested permanently in the water. They could slow a boat down, add to its weight and break through hulls.
“The bishop told me it was just done last week. The hull’s clean.”
Aurora bit her lip, and her hands itched to take the controls again.
“Time for some safety checks. Watch the bilge for me, Aurora. I’m switching the automatic pump cycle to manual.”
Jordan flipped the toggle. The pump came on. From above the waterline, seawater drained from the bilge—and continued to flow out in an abnormally steady stream instead of shutting off after a few seconds.
“I’ll stay at the controls,” Jordan said. “You check below.”
Aurora scrambled down the ladder to the main deck and opened the twin hatches to the engine compartment. She gasped at the level of water inside the hull—a level that rose steadily, even with the bilge running on manual. Aurora’s hands shook as she closed the hatches.
“Call in the Coast Guard,” Aurora yelled up to him. “We’re taking on water.”
“Pan-pan?” Jordan asked, meaning Coast Guard assistance needed for a nonemergency.
“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday! We’re going down!”
Jordan didn’t hesitate for a second. He had the Coast Guard on the line with the Silver Dollar’s coordinates by the time Rory had closed the hatch and rejoined him on the flying bridge.
“I can’t believe this,” she said, taking her place beside the captain’s seat. “How could that bishop give us such a piece of junk?”
“He didn’t! I reviewed the paperwork myself. I’m guessing the same person who sunk your boat had a hand in this,” Jordan said seriously. “He must be almost as familiar with the harbor as you are. We’re lucky he didn’t follow us out to the dive site.”
Aurora blanched, and Jordan touched her arm reassuringly.
Just then the radio crackled. “Silver Dollar, Silver Dollar, this is the Coast Guard.”
Jordan reached for the radio mike with a steady hand. “Silver Dollar’s captain here. Go ahead, Coast Guard.”
“We’re on our way, Captain. Can you give us an estimated time till capsizing? How long do we have? Over.”
“The two of us aren’t in any immediate danger. There are no injuries, and we’ve got a Zodiac aboard,” he said, referring to the dinghy. Such a small craft couldn’t possibly fight against the currents to get back to harbor; however, it would allow them to stay relatively dry. The present swells were low, only one to two feet, so the tiny boat shouldn’t swamp. “As for this vessel—I give her maybe...” Jordan glanced at Aurora.
She flashed him fifteen fingers, then another five.
“Twenty, tops. Think you can get a chopper and a pump over here by then?”
The hesitation gave Aurora and Jordan their answer before the Coast Guard crackled back a reply. “We’ll try our best, Silver Dollar Captain. But it’ll be close. Coast Guard out.”
Aurora hung up the radio as Jordan said, “We should get to the main deck. You can handle the controls from there while I prepare the dinghy.” Aurora headed down the ladder, Jordan bringing up the rear. “Forgive me for calling you superstitious.”
Aurora jumped down onto the main deck, Jordan catching her waist to steady her. “I should know better than to tempt fate. I shouldn’t have said anything about not seeing the dolphins.”
Jordan tossed her a life jacket before taking the controls on the main deck. “Fate didn’t put a hole in this boat. I’d bet the bank on it.”
Aurora didn’t argue, nor did he say anything else. She slipped her arms into the orange vest, then switched places with Jordan at the helm so he could do the same. Jordan first snapped her life jacket securely closed, then retrieved one for himself as the Silver Dollar settled deeper into the water.
“Where are they?” Aurora asked. “It should only take five minutes for the Coast Guard crew to respond, and another five to warm up the chopper and lift.”
Jordan felt the sluggishness of the boat beneath his feet. “Launch the Zodiac,” he said.
“Already? Surely we have a few more minutes.”
“Don’t be a fool, Aurora. Stay with this boat and you risk drowning,” Jordan protested. “It’
s not even yours!”
“The Coast Guard will show up—give them time...”
“The boat could swamp—roll-pull you down with it. You’re no good to anyone dead. Launch the Zodiac, Collins. That’s an order.”
“Aye...Captain.” Aurora released the controls and undid the ties to the Zodiac. She made certain the inside engine was secured and launched the small craft. It was now attached to the Silver Dollar by a single line.
“Zodiac launched.”
“We’ll stay on deck as long as we can—but when I say abandon ship, you’d better heave to. Got it, lady?”
Aurora nodded, then fastened her eyes on the sky. “If only they’d hurry.” She knew the procedure. The chopper would drop a diver to do an emergency hull patch and a pump to help save the ship. Someone on board would catch the pump line and guide it down to the deck. At least Jordan was there to help. She didn’t know if she could’ve done it alone, and a sinking ship certainly wasn’t the place to experiment. The Silver Dollar listed heavily starboard. Both of them grabbed at the starboard deck rail to steady themselves. “Get off this boat or correct your ballast,” Jordan yelled. “Back away from me.”
Aurora made her way to the port rail and stood directly opposite him. The Silver Dollar slowly, sluggishly, righted herself.
“We’re running out of time. If you don’t get into the Zodiac in the next five minutes, the boat will drag it down, too. It won’t float with a puncture,” Jordan yelled.
“I’ll go—in five minutes. But the Coast Guard will be here before that,” Aurora insisted. Please, let them get here soon.
The Silver Dollar lurched even more awkwardly as a larger swell passed under her. They gazed at the shoreline sky, waiting for the noisy orange-and-white chopper that could mean rescue. A few more minutes passed.
Jordan calculated how many steps it would take him to reach Aurora’s side and drag her off the boat. But he couldn’t calculate how hard she might fight him. “The water’s coming higher. Abandon ship. Now!”
Found at Sea Page 12
