Wave Riders

by Lauren St. John

  What use was a penniless sailor who couldn’t swim?

  For the past five and a half months, he’d avoided swimming whenever possible. However, this afternoon, his confidence had roared back. He was buzzing with the success of their outbound voyage. He felt elated. As skipper, he’d safely and effortlessly guided You Gotta Friend to Anegada. Jess had also done a first-rate job of crewing. The twins were agreed that the trip had been well worth the risk.

  Once anchored, they’d spent an enjoyable morning exploring the coral and limestone island. There were flamingos on the salt flats and iguanas scrambling over the rocks. Fragrant frangipani and feathery sea lavender grew around beaches with names like Flash of Beauty and Windlass Bight.

  To Jude, who was starving, almost the best bit was when Jess produced a bonus seventeen dollars she’d found in Gabe’s backpack. He didn’t say a word when she blew it all on takeaway tacos and pop from a cute beach hut on Cow Wreck Beach.

  After their lunch went down, Jess took out her snorkel. ‘Swim with me,’ she begged, wading into the aquamarine shallows.

  ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ said Jude with a grin, surprising even himself.

  Her face lit up and he immediately felt guilty. He knew he’d been a bear with a sore head around the boat. He also knew it couldn’t go on. He owed it to Jess to tell the truth and to live up to his promise to himself to do everything in his power to protect her and make her happy.

  The swim was as blissful as everything else on Anegada. The water felt like satin on Jude’s skin. For the first time in a long time, he remembered why he’d once loved swimming nearly as much as Jess did.

  It’s all going to be OK, he told himself. My phobia’s all in my mind. Once I’ve built up my sea-swimming fitness, it’ll go away altogether.

  They were under sail and watching Anegada recede in their wake when Jude plucked up the courage to tell his sister about the lost bank card.

  ‘Jess, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should head back to Florida. Tomorrow even. It’ll be the easiest thing. The safest too. Who’s gonna hunt us or hurt us if we’re at the diner? If anyone tries anything, Lucille will get her biker mates to have a word with them.’

  He paused nervously. ‘Why are you looking at me like that? I thought you’d be pleased. You seemed mighty wary about tackling far-flung oceans. This’ll be the easiest thing. We can return to Florida till we’re eighteen. Anita and the waitresses will look after us. We can live in a room above the diner, like Mom did. I’ll quit school and do odd jobs around the boatyard and—’

  Jess cut him off. ‘I’m never going back to Bantry Creek,’ she said with quiet determination. ‘It’s a culde-sac.’

  ‘What’s a cul-de-sac?’

  ‘If you read books, you’d know,’ Jess retorted cruelly. ‘It means we’d be stuck there for the rest of our lives and never escape.’

  Jude was stung. ‘Your problem is you read too many books.’

  ‘And yours is that you don’t read any. You haven’t even opened the one I bought you in Leverick Bay. Gabe was the same.’

  Jude glared at her. ‘Why are you always making me feel stupid?’

  ‘Same reason you make me feel like a dunce when I don’t know some sailing term,’ retorted Jess. ‘If you’re such a sailing genius, why do you want to go to back to Florida? We have over fifteen grand. Why don’t we sail to Cannes or to Sydney, like you promised?’

  ‘It’s complicated,’ Jude said defensively. ‘There are hurricanes and dangerous tides. Stuff you know nothing about.’

  ‘What I do know is that our food stores are empty and Sam’s starving hungry. I thought we had one last can of dog food, but I was wrong.’

  The Swiss Shepherd was barking at the waves. Jess watched him distractedly. ‘We’re down to two cans of carrots. I’m with you on avoiding crowds, but we need supplies.’

  ‘There is no fifteen grand,’ shouted Jude at last. ‘I lost it.’

  Jess went still. ‘What do you mean, you lost it? That’s impossible. The ATM only lets you withdraw three hundred dollars at a time.’

  ‘I forgot the PIN and the machine ate the card. Happy now? You can call me an idiot all you like. I deserve it.’ Sam was whining now, which made Jude feel even worse.

  There were tears in Jess’s eyes. ‘Jude, why didn’t you tell me? What are we going to do? Without cash, we won’t even make it out of the Caribbean.’

  ‘This is both of our faults, not just mine,’ Jude said in furious despair. ‘Because of your books, we left Tortola a day early and Gabe was washed overboard. And in Leverick Bay, you sent me to get cash on my own because you just had to go get your mysteries. Your books have cost us everything.’

  ‘I hate you,’ Jess said coldly.

  ‘Not as much as I hate you.’

  He swung round. ‘Sam, will you stop barking. Just shut up!’

  Jess cried, ‘Jude, look! What is that?’

  A vast anvil-shaped black cloud with smoke-like streaks issuing from its flat lower edge filled the horizon.

  Jude’s heart rate tripled. Blood pounded in his ears. It was a sight he’d hoped he’d never witness. It was a sea squall.

  8

  SEA SQUALL

  Jude lunged for a safety line and threw it to Jess. ‘Clip this on to your life jacket NOW and fetch your deck boots! Get ready to do what I say when I say it. Every second counts. We need to reef the sails before they overpower the boat.’

  The expression on Jude’s face as he ran to take the helm while tightening the straps on his own life jacket frightened Jess more than the approaching squall. There was not a scrap of boyishness in it. He reminded her of the sailors who tackled the mountainous waves of the Southern Ocean. All he cared about was survival.

  Theirs.

  That’s when Jess knew they were in trouble. Sam, who hated storms, knew it too. He skittered down the steps and on to Jess’s bunk, where he covered his eyes with his paws.

  The pace at which the anemometer flipped to 35 mph and day turned to night blew Jess’s mind. When the black wall of rain came driving in, it hit the yacht like a freight train. You Gotta Friend gave an almost animal shudder and groan.

  Crouched on the aft deck, Jess gasped at the physical force of it. Within seconds, she was soaked through.

  At the helm, Jude had to cling to the wheel with all his might to avoid being blown off the stern. He turned the boat downwind as the mainsail filled, the roar of it merging with the gale and sea. Overhead, the rigging clanged and screeched.

  ‘Jess, furl away the jib, quick as you can,’ yelled Jude, struggling to make himself heard above the din.

  For one paralysing moment, Jess couldn’t remember where the furling line was or what it did, though she’d used it only that morning. She could barely recall her own name.

  But as the yacht tipped dramatically, giving her a premonition of what lay ahead, she snapped into urgent life. The furling line was in the cockpit. Her job was to reduce the headsail and slow the boat.

  While she worked the line, Jude battled to steer a safe course. Gale-powered, You Gotta Friend was already at racing pace. Any faster and he feared she’d take flight. Angry waves came at them from every angle. If the boat was caught side-on by a breaker, she’d capsize.

  ‘Hurry, Jess,’ he shouted, desperately trying to get a read of their position. ‘Keep a steady pull on the furling line or it’ll snag. No, no, not like that! You’re doing it all wrong. Oh, where’s Gabe when I need him?’

  ‘I’m trying, I’m trying,’ cried Jess, nearly in tears.

  ‘Sorry, sis – you’re doing great,’ called Jude, contrite as the line released. ‘I need to get the boat under control is all. It would help if we could ease out the main . . . Well done. You did good. Now lock it down—’

  The yacht heeled dangerously. Her sails skimmed the waves. An instant of lost concentration and Jude had turned the boat too close to the wind.

  Before he could right her, disaster struck.

  The jib cau
ght the wind and ballooned again. Thrown off balance when the yacht powered forward, Jess was helpless as the furling line burned through her hands. The pain was ferocious.

  Struggling to scale the sloping deck, she slipped and fell against the guard rail. A plume of salty spray smacked her in the face. Spitting seawater, Jess got an up-close-and-personal glimpse of greedy grey waves, waiting to swallow her, before her safety line pulled tight.

  Jude gripped her arm and hauled her into the relative safety of the cockpit. ‘Stay strong, sis. We can do this,’ he shouted into her ear.

  The twins clung to one another briefly before returning to the fight.

  What happened next happened at warp speed; Jess’s brain had trouble processing it.

  Unsure which way to steer, Jude overcorrected. The boat gybed. The boom swung wildly.

  Jess blinked. The Jude-shaped space at the helm was empty.

  ‘No!’ she screamed.

  Rushing to the stern, she looked back. Jude and his red life jacket were in the sea, already shrinking into the distance. She was alone on an out-of-control yacht, with no way of saving him.

  Just when it seemed impossible that the situation could get any worse, it did.

  A blur of pink coral was the only warning Jess got before the yacht hit the reef, splintering with a ghastly crunch and catapulting Jess high into the air. As she crash-landed on the deck, she heard china and other breakables smashing down below. In the saloon, Sam was barking hysterically.

  It didn’t take Ellen MacArthur to know that You Gotta Friend, the twins’ only home, was wrecked beyond repair.

  Jess lay winded on the deck. Rain needled her cheeks. Seawater spilt across the deck and lapped at her ankles.

  She sat up suddenly and painfully. Now, more than ever, every second counted. With the yacht stopped, she had a chance of saving her brother.

  Hope lent Jess strength. Grimacing, she staggered to the stern, salt-spray biting into her raw hands.

  She spotted him almost at once. That was a miracle, but her heart froze at the sight of him. He wasn’t waving or yelling for help. He hung lifeless in his red life jacket, blood streaming from his head.

  Jess clung to the rigging, unsure what to do first. She needed at least two crew to help her: one person to watch Jude; another to send out a distress call; and a third to try to save Jude. With no one to assist, it was hard to decide which to do first.

  The sound of gushing water got her moving. Pushing back the companionway cover, she rushed down the steps. Sam was beside himself with gratefulness to see her. She gave him a reassuring cuddle before tuning the VHF radio to Channel 16.

  She’d been practising emergency drills since she was six, but it was surreal to be doing it for real. Clutching the receiver with shaking hands, she called: ‘Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is sailing vessel You Gotta Friend. We have a man overboard and we’re taking on water. We’re sinking.’

  ‘Copy that, sailing vessel You Gotta Friend. This is the United States Coast Guard. State your position.’

  ‘I’m not sure. We’re in the Anegada Passage, I think, south of Horseshoe Reef. Everything happened so fast.’

  Water was swilling around Jess’s ankles. Sam was shivering and whimpering. She put a comforting hand on his head and wished someone would do the same for her.

  ‘How many souls on board?’ the operator was asking.

  ‘Three if you count Sam, my dog. I’m Jess Carter. Oh, please come as fast you can. My brother, Jude, is in the water and bleeding. I think he has a head wound.’

  ‘Is he wearing a life jacket?’

  ‘Yes and, uh, let me think, blue sailing shorts and a white T-shirt.’

  ‘How long has he been in the water?’

  ‘Five minutes. No – more like seven. I have to go look for him. Please come quickly.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Jess. I’ve already notified Virgin Island Search and Rescue. VISAR, they’re called. They’re on their way. Best thing you can do for your brother is to stay calm and keep a close watch over him. Do not let him out of your sight. And DO NOT, under any circumstances, enter the water yourself. The VISAR crew will rescue Jude for you.’

  If it hadn’t been for the dolphin, she’d never have found Jude, of that Jess was one hundred per cent certain.

  When she returned to the deck, there was no hint of his red life jacket amid an endless vista of grey. The wind had eased, but the waves were still wild. Tears mingled with the rain on Jess’s cheeks. She’d made the wrong decision in calling for help before trying to save him. Her brother had been swept away.

  Just as she was fearing the worst, a flash of silver split the gloom.

  A dolphin arced above the waves.

  Beneath it, Jude’s head and shoulders rose briefly before sinking beneath the turbulent sea. His life jacket should have been keeping him afloat, but it wasn’t. He was tangled in something and being dragged under.

  Jess didn’t think twice. She went against the advice of the US Coast Guard and everything Gabe had ever told her about ocean rescues, namely, to stay put and watch the struggling swimmer until help arrives. Acting purely on instinct, she tied the lightest of the lines to her wrist and jumped into the ocean.

  In Florida, Jess had swum the length of the nearby bay most days with Gabe and a couple of the Castaway staff. She’d been doing it since she was seven and was one of the fittest, most fearless swimmers in Bantry Creek. Even so, the violence of the current shocked her. For every ten strokes she took, it forced her back five.

  She dived deep to try to escape the waves. Once or twice, she thought she glimpsed the dolphin again. She never doubted she would reach Jude. They were twins – half of the same whole. They belonged to one another.

  As she tired, Jess became possessed by the conviction that the dolphin had been sent by Gabe, or even her mum, who’d left them the Dolphin Dreams painting.

  It was the dolphin that gave her the will to keep going until she got to Jude. Somehow, she was able to hold her breath underwater long enough to use her safety lock knife to cut the old fishing net that now entangled him, dragging him down.

  Belief in the dolphin lent her the endurance to pull her unconscious brother to the destroyed yacht using a line.

  Sam, who wore a life jacket of his own, was barking on the deck. Jess heaved her aching body on to the transom. She tied Jude, still in the water, to a rail. With her last ounce of strength, she dragged herself down into the cabin to rescue their mother’s painting, twisting her ankle on the return journey. Pain exploded through her. She collapsed on to the deck and there she stayed.

  When the thirty-foot orange inflatable VISAR boat arrived, the four rescuers found her dazed and incoherent, her limbs a patchwork of bruises and bleeding scratches.

  As the crew eased Jude on to a backboard and began to assess his condition, Jess was dimly aware of their growing consternation.

  ‘Where’s Mom and Dad?’ asked one of the volunteers, after first wrapping Jess in towels and checking her blood oxygen levels with a pulse oximeter. ‘Where are the adults?’

  ‘Good question,’ Jess mumbled in response.

  Placing a warm hand on her forehead, the woman said softly, ‘Sweetie, were Mom and Dad below deck when you crashed? Are they in the water?’

  Her voice seemed to come from outer space, on an otherworldly receiver. Jess tried to answer, but no words came out.

  A torch beam burned the back of her eyes.

  ‘The girl might have concussion too,’ the woman told her crewmate. ‘Jess, are you in pain? Where does it hurt? Can you hear me?’ Where are the grownups?’

  Jess felt herself zooming out from the scene and circling high above, like a sea eagle on a thermal. She saw Jude on a stretcher being lifted on to the lifeboat. Another man gripped the collar of their stressed, wet dog.

  Lastly, Jess saw herself, colourless and limp, being stretchered on to the boat.

  ‘We have no one,’ Jess whispered to her rescuers. ‘Nothing.’

/>   The woman bent nearer. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Save Jude. I can’t live without him.’

  And then she passed out.

  9

  DOUBLE HELIX

  Jess returned to consciousness the way a ghost passes through a wall. She crossed the line in one fluid step and lay alert, listening to the soft, insistent beep of hospital monitors.

  Jude was asleep in the next bed, his head bandaged up like Tutankhamun. An intravenous drip dispensed droplets of life into his right arm. His left wrist was in a plaster cast. His bare chest was an art exhibit of bruises, iodine, coral grazes and cardiac electrodes sending readings to a bank of machines.

  Most importantly, he was alive.

  Jess wanted to rush right over and throw her arms around him, but her limbs refused to cooperate. It was if her blood had been replaced with treacle.

  Every cell in her body ached. Myriad coral scratches itched and stung her skin. Bruises throbbed on muscles she didn’t know existed. Mittens covered her rope-burned hands. A nerve jangled in her thickly bandaged left foot, propped up on a plump pillow.

  Two nurses sat with their backs to her in vinyl armchairs, watching TV. The news was starting. A breezy anchor delivered the usual mixed tidings. Corrupt officials. A row over taxes. A luxury resort with the promise of hundreds of jobs.

  Out of the blue, a helicopter view of Anegada Island flashed up, along with a scrolling headline: COPS PROBE CASTAWAY TWINS LINK TO JOHN DOE.

  ‘Who’s John Doe?’ asked one of the nurses.

  ‘That’s what they call unidentified bodies,’ said the other.

  Jess stared in disbelief as shaky aerial footage of police divers inspecting the wreckage of You Gotta Friend filled the screen.

  Squall gone, Horseshoe Reef was once again a tranquil turquoise idyll. However, the sight of it triggered a near-panic attack in Jess.

  Her heart rate began to climb on the monitor as she relived the violent waves pulling her under and bashing her against the reef. Coral raked her skin like a cheese grater as she tried to hold her breath long enough to free Jude from the fishing net ensnaring him.