The bow of the boat began to lurch unpredictably over the mounding waves. Heaving up and slamming down again. I had no choice but to pull back on the throttle, slowing her into little more than an idle. I could see wave after wave sinking and swelling all around me, the droplets from them hitting the bow and the hull created a constant spray of saltwater that peppered my face and slickened the deck of the boat.
One large rogue wave on my starboard side slammed into the boat, knocking me sideways. My foot slipped from under me and I came down hard on my left knee. I struggled to pull myself back up as the bow dipped into the trough, slamming my back into the seat, then lurching me forward again, throwing me out of the seat and onto the hard fiberglass deck.
I felt like I was in a terribly designed amusement park ride. I could feel the front of the boat rise over the next swell, then fall with a dizzying motion that made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t see what was happening, I could only feel and imagine what was going on.
The rain was coming down harder, as if a door had opened in the cloud directly above the boat, pouring buckets onto me. I groaned and reached up to grab hold of the railing again, holding tight and pulling with all my effort as another swell hit.
My fingers slipped and slid along the rail, pinching them into the corner as I yelled out in pain. Before the next wave could knock me over again, I managed to get my feet squared under me.
As I was down on the floor of the boat, the motor was still slowly inching me toward a breakwater just under the churning waves. I had no way to tell if it were reef or sand, either would be bad in this weather, but running aground on an oyster shoal could be devastating. Waves of this height and strength could beat me against the reef until the hull gave into the constant battering and cracked.
There are many boats that still sit marooned around the bay or washed up on island beaches. Reminders that the water is a thing to be respected. That Mother Nature can be both beautiful and ruthless depending on the day. And today she was feeling a little cranky.
I spun the wheel right, trying to avoid whatever was in my path and attempting to gain a moment of calm to prepare for my next move, whatever it might be. This weather had come on quickly, too quickly. I pushed the bow head on into the next wave, feeling it rise almost five feet up and slamming down another ten. I needed to get out of here, someplace safer, until it passed or calmed a bit. And fast.
My bones rattled with the violent impact of the boat on the water. I used to think that water was soft, but I had changed my mind today as my teeth chattered with every impact. Even the drops of rain were falling so hard now they stung my face and hands.
Finding the right angle to hit the waves was tricky, a slight variation to one side or the other had dramatically different results. Finally I pointed the bow just off center so it would lift and roll over the waves instead of bounding over them head on, finding that this made for a slightly less painful ride.
I whipped my eyes back and forth from the water to the sky, which had grown darker without me even noticing, taking on an almost pea green color mixing with the gray clouds. I had heard something about when the sky goes green, but I couldn’t remember exactly what it meant. A shiver ran through my body. Whatever a green sky meant, I didn’t think it was good.
I had to make a choice, and soon. I had no idea where I was, and most likely this was going to get worse. I had no place to seek cover. The lighthouse being the only point of safety I could think of, was too far now to try and get back to in these swells.
Even worse, since leaving the lighthouse I had woven through so many new places I had gotten myself lost.
As the boat climbed the next wave, I gripped the wheel tighter with my left hand, and pounded the power button on the GPS with my finger.
Nothing. Fantastic, I finally needed the darn thing, and it wouldn’t turn on!
Before the bow fell into the next trough, I regained my grip with both hands and readied myself for the next climb.
From the clouds, somewhere in the pea green soup above me, came a whining moan. Not too loud, just different from the white noise of the wind and pounding waves.
I was making headway, but not by much. The waves were tall enough that in the middle of them, I couldn’t see anything but water. I couldn’t be sure, but I had the awful feeling that I was either being pushed backwards or not moving at all. I needed to make it to calmer water soon.
As the boat crested again, I frantically looked to find some sort of cover, anything that would give me at most the smallest piece of hope. To my left, and still quite a way off, I spotted a break in the waves. It could be a reef, it could be a sandbar, I wasn’t sure, but I would take what I could get.
If I was lucky, if I timed it right, I could ride the crest a little further to port each time. With each drop and rise, I made my way inch by inch, foot by foot.
A few more and I would make it to the calmer water. The other side of the sandbar or whatever, would block the waves dramatically and a little of the wind as well. I could snug up it and anchor for a bit if I had to ride it out.
Finally I was close enough to the point of the lee to swing around the bow, and almost immediately the waves let up their punishing assault. They still came in swells, but much more manageable than before. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding until now. But that relief was to be short lived.
An eerie calm suddenly settled over the water, as the moaning turned to a whistle. The wildlife I had seen, the birds and the jumping fish had vanished. My breath sounded above the calm, heavy with anxiety. I forced my breaths to come slower, willing my heart to calm down.
The first hailstone shattered into the deck of the boat, about the size of a dime, fracturing into tiny crystals against the fiberglass. I stared in confusion until another ping sounded behind me, jerking me back into reality.
The rain had changed to ice, pelting me and stinging like fire ant bites, turning the air itself almost frigid in a microsecond. I turned the key off, letting the engine die, and submitting to the waves as I gave up control of the boat. At least I was right next to the bank, even if I drifted a bit, I should still have some shelter from the worst of the waves.
I knelt to the bottom of the boat, pulling the slicker hood up and put both hands over my head, trying to become a smaller target. From between my arms, I watched the ice pellets as they skittered and bounced along the deck.
Over the din of ice on fiberglass, I heard something new, more terrifying than ice or whistles. This sound was like a thousand bees swarming around a hive, or a plane about to land on top of me. I looked up to see the clouds begin to swirl.
Surely my eyes were playing a cruel trick on me, but I could have sworn they were closer than they had been before, almost falling down on me. Desperately I reached with one hand up to the GPS to find the power button again. Come on, please! I begged. I couldn’t hear anything over the noise above me, no sound of the GPS turning on, only the constant roaring in my ears.
The hail stopped, as abruptly as it had started leaving me still crouched in the bottom of the boat like some deranged crab. I looked around seeing no more bouncing ice and stood, looking immediately to the GPS. A black screen stared back at me, as the rain started again.
Looking far ahead, I saw what I thought was a large wave breaking over something just under the water, sending sprays of mist into the air. As I looked with fascination, I saw the water swirling to the left and then again almost in the middle, to the right. I grabbed the wheel and groped blindly for the key to restart the engine, refusing to take my eyes off it.
Such an eerie feeling to watch something so violent born out of calm water, to see the spiraling vortex of spray twisting and writhing. I felt any sense of safety drain away, replaced by pure panic. My fingers closed around the key, turning the engine over and slamming the throttle all the way down. Towering waves didn’t scare me nearly as much as the thought of what I would face if I stayed here.
I yanked the wheel t
urning the bay boat nearly on its side, spilling seawater over the starboard railing and barely skirting the sandbar. Gunning the engine, I tried to correct my heading and level the boat.
A mistake. As the boat lost control and for a terrifying moment, I watched as the bow dipped underneath the brownish water and disappeared before rising again. Water rushed through the walkways between the walls and the center console, drenching my sneakers. I yanked back on the throttle nearly throwing the engine into reverse. I nudged it just forward of idle again to keep some control.
I looked left as I heard a loud snap. The ties holding the ice chest to the floor broke loose, causing it to slide back and forth as the boat rocked, banging into the sides, spilling drinks and ice that mixed with the hail that hadn’t yet melted.
I watched through squinted eyes, as the sea water began to rise, pulled from the vortex above. The fine mist that rose from the water began growing thicker as more droplets joined the others, finally forming a liquid rope that stretched into the sky.
Frozen to the spot, I watched behind me as the tail of the waterspout whipped from side to side changing direction in a terrifying instant. My heart was pounding so loud I could feel it in my head.
Suddenly the boat stuttered, and then chugged to a stop as the skeg ground into the muddy bottom. I’d come across a shallow spot, the blades churning up black gunk behind me. Flipping the switch, I raised the motor, feeling the boat move forward then stop again.
Panicking I gunned the engine, pushing all 250 horses into a gallop, throwing mud and shells into the frothing waves.
Shells. I was stuck on a reef.
I lifted up on the switch to raise the motor even higher, hoping that, being the lowest point on the boat, it was only the prop holding me captive, and once raised I would be able to drift free.
The whole boat lifted with the mountainous swells, and then crashed down beating heavily on the reef. With each wave the hull crashed down again and again, beating the fiberglass and racking my body through my feet. I thought once more of the boats I’d seen left behind to rot away in the heat of the sun.
I could hear the propeller grinding against the shells as the engine continued to rev, spinning the blades uselessly. I knew under normal conditions I’d be in big trouble for doing the kind of damage I was doing right now, but I didn’t care. Over the howling wind, I heard the motor struggling, wailing a high pitched sound as it left the water.
“Come on!” I screamed, close to tears of frantic desperation.
Daring to raise the prop another inch, I lifted up on the trim switch just as the motor sputtered and died. Coughing as the fuel gave up trying to make the incline to the raised engine.
“No!” I yelled into the rain. I was dead in the water, struggling to hold on as the boat heaved left and right like a seesaw.
The whistling of the waterspout was dying, as the thick rope became more and more translucent. I watched in relief as the tail rose higher until it was sucked into the clouds again. The pea green sky continued to swirl, waiting for the perfect opportunity to reach back down to the sea.
Wind continued to lash across the water, and the rain fell in buckets, mixing with the saltwater and filling the bottom of the boat. Desperately I reached under the seat and grabbed the emergency oar.
Pushing into the water I felt the rocky bottom at the end of the wooden paddle. Using all my strength I pushed against the reef, fighting to keep the oar from slamming back into my chest with each wave.
My feet threatened to slip with the effort, the weight of the water in the boat waterlogging the hull. There was no way I could push off now. At least four inches of water had accumulated over the aft deck, the tipping of the boat causing a violent sloshing port and starboard as I was tossed around.
I threw the switch for the bilge and listened for the pumps to start. Just over the rail, I watched as the water poured from the sides, relieving some of the water. As soon as the water drained I would try again, until I could float free I was stuck here.
An ear-splitting crack overhead sent me ducking into the boat behind the center console, as the lightening flashed just off to my right. If things could get worse, this would be how. Being the tallest point on the water was about the worst place anyone could ever be.
I felt the hair on my head begin to lift, and the end of the rod to my left began to hum. I had to act now. I was seconds away from being struck by lightning.
There was no time to think of options. Placing my right foot on the port wall I jumped into the water. My feet made contact with the oyster bed, the water only coming to my waist. Taking a deep breath I bent my knees and let the waves cover my head. As I closed my eyes, I heard the bang of the lightning, and felt the tug of the tide as it took hold of my body.
I was close enough to the lightening to have the breath knocked from my chest. The electricity tingled my heart. I knew it hit the boat, probably striking the metal railing that would have been just above my head.
I had no other option but to go for the ride as I felt myself being pulled head over feet further down under the waves. My chest heaved and begged for air.
I tumbled under the waves, being drug along the reef. My legs were raw and cut from the razor edges of the shells. Feeling with my fingers, I grabbed the rocky bed, then spun upright and pushed off the bottom.
I was deeper, in at least ten feet of water now, the outgoing tide having pulled me away from where I had first dove in. My lungs burned, panic beyond what I could have ever imagined taking hold. And I was still not to the surface.
Crack! My head hit against something hard. Had I somehow ended up back at the bottom, turned around? I reached up and felt the smooth bottom of the boat. Somehow, maybe from the lack of my weight, the boat had come loose from the oyster bed and floated along the same current.
I opened my eyes, but couldn’t see through the murky water, my entire field of vision was a brown canvas. Following the rising and falling hull, I kept searching for the surface. I was beginning to get light headed, the oxygen almost gone, the lactic acid burning in my legs from kicking.
My fingers reached out, for what I was afraid would be the final time, but instead of fiberglass, I felt the wind and the air, cold against my hand.
Forcing myself to use the last ounce of strength I had, I kicked hard for the surface, breaking the water and gulping in precious oxygen. Ducking again as the waves crested, then coming back up. I steadied myself in the churning water long enough to see the boat, drifting only a few feet to my left.
I moved, arm over arm, in slow and steady strokes to the stern of the boat and pulled the small ladder from its brackets. Bobbing up and down, I waited until the waves lifted me, giving me the slight advantage my tired arms needed to pull myself up and over the transom.
I noticed the stinging wind against my legs. I felt the warm trickle of blood as it ran down to my feet, tinging what was left of the water in the bottom of the boat a reddish orange.
The ocean was quieter now. Instead of the roaring wind of the waterspout there was only the constant howling, moaning wind. I needed luck, and if this was all I got, I would take it. I rushed to the console and turned the key again. The starter whined but refused to catch. The seven-foot pole, which had once stood out as the tallest point on the boat was now a melted sculpture of fiberglass. I guess I knew what the lightning hit.
I heard the whistling roar before I saw the water begin to swirl again. Dread coursed through me.
Almost directly above me the sky twisted in a hellish configuration, seeming to grow closer as the whirling intensified. It was going to drop right on me. I reached down and flipped the switch on the trim, lowering the motor all the way back down.
I sloshed through the remaining water, feeling the salt like fire on my cuts. I made it to the fuel pump, and squeezed the bulb, forcing gas back into the motor. Wading back to the wheel, I said a prayer and turned the key. The engine sputtered this time, but died again.
The wind was no
w gaining strength, the roaring growing even louder. I pulled the choke on the steering wheel and closed my eyes. The engine sputtered and coughed but finally caught. I pushed the throttle down, flooding the engine with life giving fuel.
I was jolted back against the bench seat as the boat roared forward, the bow rising high over the next wave. Quickly I adjusted the trim to raise the engine, not too high, but enough to avoid being beached again. I had no way of telling where the reefs were anymore. I was going to have to rely on luck.
I turned headlong into the next wave, panicking as more water rushed into the boat. I felt the strengthening intake of wind, feeding the newly formed spout. This time it was even bigger than the last, a tower of water, chasing me over the rough waves.
I needed to find safety, or at least I needed to be anywhere safer than here. I squinted to see through the rain, searching between the swells I could make out low shrubs maybe fifty yards ahead. I had no way of knowing how big the island would be, or if it was even big enough to beach the boat on. At this point it didn’t matter. I would run her aground if I had to and flatten myself against the low dunes. It wasn’t the best plan, just the only one I had.
Fighting the current and the exhausting waves I held tight to the wheel, shuffling back and forth with each wave, being careful not to lose my footing again. As the island neared I could see the pass leading through to the other side. If I could make it through . . .
It might work, it had to. Battling it out in the boat was no longer an option. The bilge had only just been keeping up with the mounding water.
Following the island with the bow, I lifted the prop ever so slightly. Something in the water caught my eye, pulling my gaze to it. A dolphin, swimming as fast as my boat, headed for the pass. I wondered if it was the same one from the lighthouse. She dove under the boat, just as another swell lifted me, my bow dipping into the trough.
Ethera and the Island of Evisara: Book One of The Enrovia Series Page 3
