I checked the wind: it was blowing from the south-west; that would at least help keep us away from danger. I turned to the others. ‘You all need to be on deck today, and you need to do whatever I say as soon as I say it. If you don’t hear me or understand what I said, let me know immediately. Put your life jackets on now and keep them on.’ I looked at Sophie. ‘No matter what.’
Claire leant forward on her seat. ‘Ben, just how dangerous is this?’
‘Don’t worry, it’s not that dangerous, at least if everything goes to plan. It’s just that if things do go wrong, they could go very wrong, very fast, and we won’t have much time to sort it out.’ I glanced at Claire. I didn’t seem to have eased her concerns. I pointed to the north. ‘We’re aiming to go through the channel between those two islands up there. We just need to make sure we don’t get drawn into that channel there.’ I pointed to the north-west.
‘Why no’?’ Daz enquired.
I shifted nervously. ‘Because that’s the entrance to a bloody great whirlpool.’
‘A whirlpool?’ Sophie sounded worried. ‘Isn’t that dangerous?’
‘It will be if we get pulled into it, but we’re going to stay well clear. Daz, you want to get the anchor up? Claire, can you deal with the main sail? Sophie, the mizzen, and Tom, will you be able to handle the jib?’ I looked round. ‘Everyone ready?’
‘Just one question,’ Tom scratched his head in an exaggerated manner, ‘which one’s the jib again?
‘It’s the one at the front!’ Daz cried out in exasperation. ‘How can you no’ remember th—?’ He turned to find Tom grinning at him. ‘You’re just messin’ around, aren’t you?’
I surveyed the waters ahead of us. ‘I think we need to go a little further east.’
In the hour since we’d left the previous night’s anchorage, the wind had picked up and turned into an easterly. Now both it and the tide were pushing us steadily towards the whirlpool. While we were making good headway, without a motor we’d be at the mercy of the currents if anything went wrong.
Originally, I’d planned to take a relatively straight route north, but now I wanted to position us further away from the dangers which lay immediately to our west: this meant we needed to tack our way into the strengthening wind, costing us time, but it was only prudent given our situation.
I called out. ‘Ready about?’
‘Ready!’ The others chorused back.
I glanced round quickly to double-check everyone was in place. ‘Lee ho!’
We were halfway through the turn when the jib crashed onto the foredeck. With no head sail, the turn stalled and we were pushed back towards our previous course. As this happened, the wind took hold of the fallen sail, blowing much of it over the side and into the sea.
‘Tom, take the wheel. Just keep us pointing into the wind as well as you can.’ He jumped up and took my place. ‘Daz, Claire, Sophie, come with me.’
I ran forward with the others following closely behind. On reaching the foredeck, I leant over the guard rail and started pulling in the wayward sail. ‘Daz, see if you can get hold of the sheet there. Claire, Sophie, help me here; just grab any of it you can get hold of and pull it on board.’
For five minutes we fought with the sail until it was finally back on the boat. While the others recuperated, I inspected it: the metal loop which connected the jib to the halyard that was used to pull it up to the top of the mast had snapped, leaving nothing to keep the sail in place. I went into the cabin and returned with the spare I carried for just such an eventuality, knowing that, with a bit of luck, I could have the sail back up in a matter of minutes. I undid the jib halyard from its cleat on the mast and I looked up. Even though it was now free the other end stubbornly remained at the top of the mast. ‘Shit!’
‘What’s up?’ I turned to find Daz standing beside me.
I pointed upwards. ‘That is. We can’t get the sail back up until we get the other end of the halyard down.’
He looked up. ‘How the hell’re we goin’ to do that?’
‘One of us is going to have to climb up there.’
‘How?’ Daz sounded incredulous.
‘See those things on the mast? They’re mast steps: they’ll take you right up to the top.’
Daz’s eyes widened. ‘Me?’
‘Yeah. I’ve got to stay down here in case anything else goes wrong.’
‘But what if he falls?’ Sophie had come up behind us. ‘He’ll get killed!’
‘No, he won’t. There’s a harness we can clip to the main halyard to keep him safe.’
‘But it’s a long way up.’ Sophie seemed dubious.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.’ Now Sophie thought it was dangerous, Daz seemed more willing to take on the task.
‘Okay then,’ I slapped Daz on the back. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
As Daz struggled into the harness, I dropped the main sail and clipped him onto its halyard. Daz stared up the mast, suddenly unsure of what he was about to do.
I put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll be fine once you’re up there.’
With that, he started to climb and I pulled in the slack in the halyard. Every time he took a step upward, I did the same; not enough to lift him up, just enough to stop him falling if he should slip. At the halfway point, Daz paused to catch his breath.
I craned my neck upwards. ‘You’re doing fine. Just don’t look down!’
Almost immediately, that’s what he did. I saw him tighten his grip on the mast and close his eyes. He took a deep breath before opening them again and carrying on. When he was within reach, some fifty feet above the deck, he took one hand from the mast and pulled at the end of the jib halyard, but it wouldn’t move: he tried again but still it wouldn’t budge.
I shouted up to him. ‘Try using both hands.’
Shakily, he took his second hand off and grasped the end. He pulled tentatively at first, then harder. Finally, he leaned back, putting his full weigh on it. After a second, it came free, causing Daz to fall backwards and swear loudly. Bracing myself, I pulled on the main halyard, and stopped him before he’d fallen more than a few feet. I watched as he swung back and forth, doing his best to avoid hitting the mast. Slowly, I lowered him down to the deck, with the end of the jib halyard gripped firmly in his right hand. He was shaking as he started to remove the harness. ‘Jesus! I thought I was a goner there!’
I bent over, attaching the top of the jib to the end of the halyard with the spare loop. ‘Ach, you were perfectly safe; you were never going to fall that far.’
Daz gave me a look that told me he didn’t appreciate my flippant response.
Working with Claire and Sophie, we had both the jib and the main sail back up in a matter of minutes and we all returned to the cockpit. For the first time since it happened, I looked around to see where we were.
‘Shit!’ I leapt towards the wheel and took it from Tom and turned it so we were heading north-east. The sails filled, but the currents were so strong that they were pulling us backwards.
‘Guys, we’re in trouble.’ I adjusted the course, trying to increase our speed. ‘Daz, pull on that sheet there; Sophie, crank the jib a bit tighter with the winch.’
It made no difference. I decided to try the other tack.
‘Ready about!’ Then without even waiting for their response, ‘Lee ho!’
The practice Daz had given the others paid off and we completed the manoeuvre flawlessly. The only problem was we were still getting slowly and inexorably drawn closer and closer towards the narrow passage between the two islands. Without an engine, there was nothing I could do to stop it: we were going to go through the whirlpool.
I gathered the others in the cockpit. ‘This is going to get really hairy. You need to get your safety harnesses out; if we end up in the water, try to swim for the shore.’
I glanced round to find them all staring at me. Tom was the first to break the silence. ‘Is it really that bad?’
‘Yes.
Go!’
As they raced off, I turned the boat and adjusted the sails until we were pointing directly towards the whirlpool and then considered our options. I’d seen it worse than this, but still it was going to be rough: very rough. I tried to remember what I knew about navigating this channel. The only advice I could bring to mind was that it was best to do it at slack tide and to try to keep to the southern edge. We couldn’t do anything about the first, but at least we could try the second. I changed course again and headed for the coast of Jura to our south. As the others returned to the cockpit, I could already feel the waters starting to buck and churn beneath us. Ahead, waves were rearing up and breaking almost everywhere.
I pulled on the harness Daz had brought up for me. ‘Everyone clip on to the safety lines and stay clipped on, no matter what.’ I looked at the sails: we wanted enough up to keep us stable and moving forwards, but not so much we’d lose control: at the moment, we had too much up. ‘Daz, Sophie, get the main sail down. Claire, loosen the jib off a bit, while Tom winds it in. A bit more than that; that’s it.’
We were now as far to the south as I felt safe to go without risking running aground. It was keeping us out of the worst of it, but we were still being tossed around like a cork. I could feel the eddies pushing and then pulling at the hull as we passed through them, while the bow was rising and falling as we crashed into standing waves. I glanced round: Claire was gripping onto the side of the boat with one arm while her other was tightly wrapped around Sophie; Tom and Daz sat on the other side, hanging on and ducking whenever a wave crashed over the side. They all looked terrified and I couldn’t blame them.
Suddenly, a movement on the nearby land caught my eye. I turned and saw three figures tracking our progress. With the strength of the currents, we were moving at six knots, but they were easily keeping up despite the rugged shoreline. Their clothes flapped loosely in the wind as they moved, yet they didn’t seem to notice. Instead, all their attention was focused on us. One slipped and fell, but quickly sprang to its feet again and had soon caught up with the other two. Given their actions, I had no doubt they had the disease and a realisation settled over me, leaving me cold: if anything happened to the boat and we were lucky enough to make it to shore before we drowned, we’d almost certainly be torn to pieces by the infected that waited for us there.
I surveyed the surrounding land, trying to judge our position. As far as I could work out, we were only a third of the way through and had yet to reach the worst of it. Off to our right I saw a standing wave, some six feet in height. It wasn’t breaking; instead, it was milky green with a sheen like glass. On the other side, it dropped into a trough which boiled and foamed like the water in a washing machine. If we hit something like that, we’d be lucky to get out in one piece. In an instant, I came to a decision. ‘Daz, take the wheel.’
His jaw dropped. ‘What?’
‘Take the wheel.’ I stepped to the side.
Daz gaped at me. ‘But I can’t handle it.’
‘Yes, you can.’ I tried to look at him reassuringly. ‘All you need to do is follow my instructions.’
There was a moment’s silence before Daz finally responded. ‘Okay.’ He stood up and stepped behind the helm; tentatively at first, then with more certainty, he put his hands on the wheel. I unclipped myself and ran forward to the foot of the mast. I climbed up to a point where I could see as far ahead as possible before clipping my safety line onto the metal mast step just above me. While the movements on the deck were rough, they were many times worse near the top of the mast and I had to grip on tightly with all my strength to avoid being thrown off.
I scanned the waters ahead of the boat and saw a boiling mass of water about fifty yards from the bow. ‘Daz, to the right.’
The boat lurched beneath me. I shouted again. ‘Now straighten up.’
We narrowly missed the worst of the seething mass of water, but the bow still rose and then plunged deep beneath the surface. The sea swirled and washed across the deck below me before it broke the surface again. There were a few yards of what looked like calm water and then a swirling eddy about twenty yards across. Before I could call out, we hit it. Glancing down, I saw Daz and Tom fighting with the wheel, trying to keep us straight, but they were losing and the boat spun round. The mizzen’s boom crashed across as our position relative to the wind shifted. Now broadside to the current, we were spat out only to immediately hit a wall of water. We rolled as we were lifted to the top of the standing wave where the boat hung momentarily before dropping over the other side. I slipped from the mast and swung wildly on my safety line as the boat heeled over, almost onto its side, and I was dunked into the sea. I surfaced to see water filling the cockpit: Sophie and Tom had been swept off their feet and were only saved from being washed over the side by their harnesses, while Daz and Claire somehow managed to keep themselves upright.
On the shore, the infected stalked back and forth, driven wild by the screams and shouts emanating from the boat. Above them, another appeared over the brow of a low hill, drawn by all the commotion. This was quickly followed by another and another. Soon, there were so many of them that I could hear their roars and snarls even above the noise of the water and the wind. They milled around, jostling for position at the water’s edge, frustrated that uninfected humans were so close and yet still beyond their reach.
For what seemed like an age, we lay there half under the water, half out of it. Finally, the currents pushed us free and the boat started to right itself again, throwing me upwards towards the mast: I hit it hard and was sent spinning across to the other side. Below, Daz and Tom fought with the wheel again as the water drained from the cockpit. Finally, they started to win and soon the boat was pointing in the right direction once more. As I scrambled to regain my footing on the mast, I glanced across to the island. We must have finally moved beyond the range at which the infected could sense our presence because they were no longer pacing, following our every move; instead, they stood staring out to sea after us, before gradually drifting away from the shore, some on their own, others in small groups.
Looking ahead, I could see we were through the worst of it. Satisfied we were now safe, both from the dangers of the whirlpool and from the infected on the shore, I unclipped myself and climbed back down to the deck. Returning to the cockpit, I surveyed my fellow crew: they were soaked to the skin, but were clearly relieved to have survived. I bent over and shook my head, trying to get as much water out of my hair as possible, and then straightened up. I gazed back at the maelstrom before turning to the others. ‘Well, that went better than I expected.’
They glared at me, but said nothing.
Chapter Thirteen
We were anchored out of the wind on the west side of the island which lay to the north of the whirlpool, recovering from our ordeal, when I heard the sound of a distant engine. Grabbing the binoculars, I scanned both the water and the land, but found nothing. As the noise grew louder, I suddenly realised it wasn’t coming from the sea, or the nearby island: it was coming from the sky. Craning my neck, I finally found it: a dark speck moving against the clouds.
Tom stood beside me, shielding his eyes with his hands. ‘Is that what I think it is?’
‘It sure looks like it.’ I lowered the binoculars.
Tom stared at it. ‘I wonder what it means.’
Claire stepped forward and leant on the guard rail. ‘It means someone knows somewhere where it’s safe to land a plane!’
Sophie leapt enthusiastically to her feet, scrunching up her eyes, trying to get a better look at the aircraft. ‘Can we follow it?’
I turned back to the plane and tracked it for a few seconds. ‘Not at the speed it’s flying.’
‘What about attractin’ their attention?’ Daz waved his hands back and forth above his head. ‘If they know we’re here, maybe they can let us know where they took off from, or where they’re goin’.’
Sophie started waving, too, as did Tom
‘Good
idea, but they’ll never see you from that distance.’ I ducked into the cabin and rifled through the chart table, looking for my flare gun. Back on deck, I slotted a cartridge into the chamber, held it above my head and pulled the trigger. The flare arched high into the sky before slowly drifting back towards the water: the plane didn’t respond. I reloaded the gun and fired again. For a moment, I thought that this one hadn’t been seen either, but then the plane slowly banked, only straightening up again when it was heading directly towards us. Wanting to make sure they didn’t miss us, I grabbed one of the smoke signals I kept in a waterproof canister by the helm and pulled the strap to ignite it; it burst into life, sending a bright orange flame several feet into the air and red smoke billowing out across the water.
Within minutes, the plane was directly above us. I moved the smoke signal back and forth, indicating our presence and wondering what they’d make of us: our decks still grubby from the ash which had fallen on us after Glasgow had been bombed; lobster creels strapped to the top of the cabin; and Claire and Sophie dressed in mismatched and outsized men’s clothes. The plane circled round once and then started to descend. At first, I wondered what it was doing, but then I spotted the floats hanging below the fuselage; it was a seaplane and it was coming into land. That’s when it struck me: if it could land on the water, maybe Claire was wrong and there wasn’t any safe place to land on the shore after all; the sense of hope its appearance had kindled within me vanished in an instant.
The plane’s floats hit the sea’s surface, sending white plumes into the air; it bounced, leaving the water for several yards, before coming down again. I watched as it slowed to a crawl and then taxied over to us, a sense of trepidation bubbling inside me: this was the first time we’d seen another living soul since we’d left the Clyde, or at least one that wasn’t infected. The seaplane came to rest some ten yards from where we were clustered in the cockpit. For a minute, it just floated there; then the door swung open and a figure stepped out onto the left-hand float. As the person emerged, I saw a leg clad in tight black trousers tucked into a leather motorcycle boot, followed by a body wearing a camouflage jacket; then, as the person turned, I saw a shotgun held loosely in one hand. Finally, they straightened up and we could see them clearly for the first time.
For Those In Peril (Book 2): The Outbreak Page 20
