Blood Ties

by A. J. Quinnell

  He nodded soberly and reached out and squeezed her hand. “I know what you mean. It feels good.”

  She smiled again. “But be cautious Cady. She’s a complicated girl . . . and apart from anything else, she’s a virgin.”

  “Yes? She told you that?”

  “She did. Also that she offered herself to Ramesh in gratitude and during twenty days alone on the boat he never laid a finger on her.”

  Cady digested that and then said, with reverence, “He’s one hell of a guy. One in a million.”

  She nodded in agreement and Cady said, “Well I haven’t bin havin’ any heart to hearts with him but I overheard them talkin’ in the dogwatch. He’s pretty stuck on you.”

  She sighed and turned her head and looked at the green smudge receding on the horizon.

  “I know. I can sense it.”

  “And how do you feel?”

  She turned her face back to him. He got the impression of defiant resolution.

  “Oh Cady, sure I feel something. It’s a bit frightening. I keep seeing more of his character every day, and I like what I see. I feel an empathy and it grows stronger. I don’t want it to happen. I’m going to keep a lid on it; clamp the thing tight. I’m not going to let any emotions hinder me. Not until I know what happened to Garret. I didn’t come all this way to fall in love or even have a pleasant but casual affair. I came to find my son.”

  “OK. But meanwhile your life goes on; you can’t shut out everything else. It’s obvious what you feel for the guy.”

  “Yes, but like Lani my prime emotion is gratitude. He’s helping me just as you are. All other feelings I might have are locked away — and they’ll stay locked away till this thing is finished.”

  She had a challenging look in her eyes.

  He said quietly, “OK, Kirsty. Ramesh is an honest guy but don’t get a helluva surprise if he picks the lock.”

  Kirsty did not answer; she was being forced to admit to herself that he had already picked the lock.

  The wind increased again just before noon. Ramesh came on deck and looked up at the sky. There were trails of thin cloud very high. He asked Cady, who was at the wheel: “The barometer’s started to drop. What do you think?”

  Cady also studied the high clouds and shrugged.

  “South-east. Could be some kind of storm down Madagascar way. We might get the edge. We’re too far north to get caught in a hurricane or anythin’.”

  Ramesh went below, and Cady guessed he’d be studying his ‘bible’ on heavy weather procedure. He reappeared on deck twenty minutes later.

  “Barometer’s still dropping even faster. According to the notes Dave Thomas gave me they very occasionally get gale force winds as far north as Providence. The last time was ten years ago.”

  Cady slid him a look to see if he was nervous. There was no sign of it. He was gazing out at the sea, where small whitecaps were already visible. Manasa heeled to a sudden gust, and Cady said, “Well, Providence is still a long way south of us. Guess we might get a force six or seven though.”

  Ramesh nodded and called down to Lani and Kirsty. When they came on deck he asked Lani to take the helm and Kirsty to start securing everything below. Then he and Cady set to reefing the mainsail.

  By late afternoon the wind was gusting to forty knots and the sea had risen to long swells disturbed by a discordant chop. It was flecked with spumed white-caps. The glass was still dropping. Ramesh and Cady had raised a storm jib and put another reef in the mainsail. Manasa was now surging and bucking in the rising sea.

  Cady had been impressed by Ramesh’s preparations. He might be a novice but he was methodical and quietly confident. First they had rigged a line fore and aft above the dog house, and clipped on four life-lines. Life-jackets were placed within easy reach in the cockpit. Two of them had automatic lights attached and Ramesh tested them. Then, while Cady checked that everything was secure in the engine room,

  Ramesh prepared a canvas sea anchor, attached it to a short length of chain and then twenty fathoms of rope. He then went around checking stays and deck fittings.

  When Cady came out of the engine room he looked at the barometer. It was still falling. He turned to see Kirsty coming out of the fo’c’sle. She was very pale, holding on to a grab rail as the boat bucked and twisted.

  “You all right, Kirsty?”

  She shook her head mournfully. “I feel lousy. I took some pills but they don’t help. It’s really rough, Cady.”

  “Yeah, an’ it’s gonna get rougher. Listen, the best thing you can do is to stay in your bunk.” He pushed past her and made sure that her bunk’s lee board was secure.

  She tumbled into it and asked, “Is it dangerous?”

  He shook his head confidently. “Hell no. We’ll have an uncomfortable night, but this should blow itself out by morning.”

  By early evening they were running before a force eight with just the storm jib up and Manasa rolling wildly. The barometer continued dropping over one millibar an hour and Ramesh and Cady held a conference in the cockpit.

  “There is much, and unfortunately varied, advice about what to do in these conditions,” Ramesh said. “Everything from warps astern to a sea anchor from the bow. What do you think?”

  Cady looked back at the huge waves rolling in astern. They were surprisingly close together and each one lifted Manasa high; on occasion making her surf down to a shuddering impact.

  “Me, I’d go for the sea anchor off the bow,” Cady said. “I’d feel happier with her nose pointed into the wind and the engine tickin’ over.” He gestured astern. “With those waves we face the danger of being pitch poled.”

  Ramesh nodded in satisfaction. “I agree. Let’s do it.”

  By nightfall they were riding bow to the wind and waves, bouncing up and down like a giant cork. Very uncomfortable, but fairly stable. Ramesh and Cady sat in the cockpit wearing life-jackets clipped to life-lines. They had rigged a low canvas dodger and, although a lot of water was coming in over the bow, they were reasonably dry. Lani came up the companionway clutching a plate of sandwiches. She sat next to Ramesh and he made her struggle into a life-jacket and then clipped it to a life-line.

  “Did you eat?” Cady asked, and she shook her head.

  “I feel a bit sick. But not so bad.”

  “How’s Kirsty?” Ramesh asked.

  “She’s been sick twice, but seems a bit better now. She’s drowsy – I think from the pills.”

  “Good. Maybe she’ll sleep.”

  The storm reached its peak around midnight. Lani was below with Kirsty. Ramesh and Cady remained in the cockpit. They had debated whether one of them should try and get some rest but decided against it. If anything gave in the night it might take too long to get on deck to help.

  It was just before one o’clock when a huge sea came over the bows, ripping away the canvas dodger and soaking the two men. Cady thought he had heard a crack up front and decided to investigate. Clutching every available hand-hold he edged forward. Ramesh moved to the side of the dog house, watching.

  At the same time below Kirsty had woken from a snatch of sleep and, with nausea welling up inside her, decided she must get some fresh air.

  On deck Cady was on his knees inspecting the cleat holding the sea anchor. It seemed to be all right.

  He turned and gave Ramesh the thumbs up and then behind him saw Kirsty’s head appear over the dog house.

  “Life-jacket!” he shouted, as the prow lifted sharply, then he hung on as a wall of water swept over him. When it cleared he felt his guts contract. Kirsty had been swept back, one leg and half her body over the stern rail, one arm gripped round a stanchion. Her wet hair plastered and obscured her face. Ramesh was moving rapidly towards her like a crab, arm outstretched; then Manasa shuddered again; another wall of water and Kirsty was gone and Ramesh was lying on his side next to the mizzen mast. He was on his knees in a second and on his feet a second later. Mesmerised, Cady watched as he unclipped his life-line, took two short ste
ps and dived over the stern.

  Then Cady moved. His right hand quickly unravelled the sea anchor line. He felt Manasa lift and turn as the pressure was gone. She rolled until Cady thought they were going over, but then, with a shudder of disapproval, she swung back up.

  Cady scuttled back to the cockpit screaming for Lani, but she was already pulling herself up the companionway.

  He pushed a life-jacket into her arms and the end of a lifeline. Then he grabbed the wheel, unhooked the thong and slammed the throttle forward. Over his shoulder he shouted,

  “Go up to the mainmast. Put your arms and legs around it and hang on for your life. Look for a light — at the crests of the waves.” He pointed, fine on the starboard bow. “That direction.”

  She edged quickly past him, paused as the stern lifted violently, made a dash for the mast, reached it in three strides and wrapped herself around it. Cady eased the throttle slightly trying to get Manasa to follow the momentum of the waves. He had no illusions. Unless they spotted them within two minutes it would be too late. In such conditions, combined with the terror of the event, a person could drown even with a life-jacket — and Kirsty did not have one. He prayed that Ramesh had found her and thanked God that he was wearing a life-jacket with a light.

  Two hundred yards off the starboard bow Kirsty could see that light intermittently. She could also hear Ramesh’s anguished voice.

  “Kirsty! Swim to the light. The light!”

  She saw it flash again and moved her arms. They felt leaden. She opened her mouth to shout and it filled up with water and then her head was under and she felt the panic rising through her like a hot blade. Her face cleared the surface and she saw the light, closer now. They were in the trough of the same wave. She kicked towards it and screamed: “Ramesh!”

  Then she was under again, with more water in her mouth and the crystal clear thought that she was going to die. She could not feel her arms or legs. She felt a lassitude.

  Her mind screamed “No! No!” and she kicked, and there was the light and suddenly a hand gripping her arm and Ramesh’s exhausted voice in her ear.

  “Turn, Kirsty. Hold your arms out. Put your head back against me. Don’t struggle! You must not struggle!”

  On Manasa Lani’s arms and legs ached as she clung to the mast. Every few seconds water sprayed over her, obscuring her vision, and she sobbed with frustration. She willed herself to be calm. Closed her eyes tight for a second, then peered forward. Nothing but blackness and spray. She shifted her gaze a few points to starboard as more water came over her; but had she seen something? Yes, it was there again. A light. She pointed and screamed and then saw it again. So did Cady.

  “Get back here!” he shouted, and reached out an arm. She turned, gauged the movement of the boat, then ran to it.

  “You have to take the helm,” Cady said urgently. “It’s one thing to find them, another to get them aboard. I have to launch the dinghy. Hold her steady like that. Keep watching the light.”

  She gripped the wheel and he leaned inside the companionway and flicked on the lights; then edged up to the dinghy on the foredeck. With one hand he started unlashing it. With the other he unscrewed the air vent of one chamber. The air hissed out until it was half deflated. Then he screwed the air vent tight. He eased open the fore-hatch and pulled out a coil of heavy rope and attached it to the painter.

  Fighting against the wind he heaved the dinghy over the lee side and saw with relief that it landed right side up. Then, with the end of the rope gripped tight in his hand, he scrambled to the stern, passed the rope through a fair lead and then round the mainsail winch. The dinghy bounced, twenty yards astern.

  “Right,” he grunted, coming up behind Lani. “I’ll take her. You’ll have to work that winch when I tell you. Where’s that light?”

  She pointed and he saw with satisfaction that it was only fifty yards ahead, just off the starboard bow. He knew precisely what he had to do and that he might only have one chance. He pushed up the throttle and turned the wheel. He would pass them slowly on the weather side and then take off the power. The line and the dinghy would then drift on to them. They would have to pull themselves to the dinghy and scramble on. By half deflating one chamber he had made it easier.

  “Lani, there’s a big torch in the saloon locker —please!” A minute later, in its beam, he saw the two heads. One dark, the other blonde. His relief was tinged by the knowledge that they would be exhausted and the hard part was coming.

  He concentrated now on the waves, using the wheel and the throttle to edge up wind. The light disappeared from his view under the bow, then it was alongside and he saw they were rising on the same wave, and he was taking off the power and screaming,

  “Ramesh! Rope astern. Grab it! Get the dinghy. Starboard side!”

  He saw an arm wave as they slid past and he moved the gear lever into reverse and revved the engine briefly. Then he grabbed the torch and trained in on the looping line. Two more waves. He saw the light close to the line and then it tightened and he let out a whoop.

  “Start winching in, Lani! Real slow.”

  She swung the handle and Cady watched as the dinghy edged towards the light and the two heads. He noticed with relief that the wind was slackening. The dinghy and the light came together.

  “I hope he has the strength left,” Cady murmured, Ramesh had. They watched as he manhandled Kirsty’s inert form over the starboard chamber and then hauled himself in.

  “OK, Lani. Winch in. Slow and steady. Now listen there’s still a difficult bit. When they’re close I’m gonna have to throw them two life-lines and another life-jacket to be sure. I might have to jump in the dinghy myself to help them out.”

  Lani looked up at him and shook her head. “You know that’s stupid. You mustn’t leave the boat. If something happens I wouldn’t know what to do . . . I’ll jump in and take the lines and jackets. Don’t argue, Cady. You know I’m right.”

  He did not argue. She was right.

  She timed it perfectly, waiting until the dinghy rose under the port quarter; leaping out clutching the jacket and trailing the two life-lines, and her own.

  She landed next to Ramesh, who was cradling Kirsty in his arms. She appeared barely conscious.

  With life-lines attached to all three, Cady breathed easier. The wind was abating now and the sea moderating.

  He manoeuvred Manasa at a fine angle into the wind, looped the wheel and pulled the dinghy up the lee side. Ramesh and Lani were on either side of Kirsty. As the dinghy rose on a wave they lifted her. Cady reached down, got his hands under her arms, and in one movement swung her aboard.

  Lani came next, and finally Ramesh, who was shaking with relief and shock.

  Two hours later, with the wind down to a steady force five and a little sail up, Cady and Ramesh sat in the cockpit drinking coffee.

  “We were damn lucky,” Cady muttered. “Nine times out of ten, in conditions like that, we’d have lost you.”

  Ramesh merely nodded. He seemed too tired even to talk, but he had refused to go below.

  “Hell of a thing you did,” Cady said. “You must have known the odds.”

  Ramesh raised his head. “Yes. But what could I do? I am the Captain, she is my responsibility,”

  Cady realised that he was not being modest. It was that simple. He meant it.

  Lani came up the companionway and said, “Ramesh, she wants to talk to you. She’s fine. She drank some soup.”

  Ramesh went below and Lani sat in the cockpit opposite Cady. “What a night,” she muttered.

  He smiled. “In a way it’s good. It brought us all together. I guess sharing terror does that.”

  She was seated with her shoulder hunched against the side of the dog house. She looked impossibly frail, and he remembered her leaping across six feet of foaming sea into the dinghy.

  “Lani I want to tell you something.”

  “What?”

  “It’s an expression we use on the rigs . . . You got balls al
l the way down to your toes.”

  “But Cady, I’m a girl.”

  “Yeah . . . don’t I know it.”

  In the fo’c’sle Ramesh sat on the bunk opposite Kirsty. She reached out and picked up his hand.

  “I don’t want to talk Ramesh. I don’t know the words to thank you. Maybe one day. I’m going to sleep now. I wanted to touch you – to hold on to you for a little while.”

  He said nothing. He sat there in the tiny cabin, and she closed her eyes and slept. He stayed for an hour, her hand in his, watching her face in the dim light.

  They saw the two sets of masts while they were still far out to sea. Cady studied them through the binoculars and announced, “One is Jaloud. The other a schooner – probably an inter-island trader.”

  Half an hour later they started the motor and dropped the sails. Kirsty took the helm while Ramesh studied the chart and Cady pumped up the rubber dinghy. As they approached the fairway Ramesh took back the helm and Kirsty picked up the binoculars. The Jaloud was only a quarter of a mile away, anchored close in to the beach with the big schooner on its starboard quarter. She could recognise Lascelles and Carlo on deck sitting at a table on the stern. She panned the binoculars along the beach. Three dugouts and two rubber dinghies. Behind them in the palm and casuarina trees she could make out a cluster of thatched roofed buildings.

  She put the binoculars down and said to Ramesh, “Can you anchor just with Lani?”

  He glanced at her and nodded. “I’ll put her close in off his port side.”

  She turned and called to Cady, “Let’s go below for a while.”

  Carlo and Lascelles watched with interest as Manasa crept in towards the beach. The remains of a meal and several bottles of beer were scattered on the table. Carlo gave a low whistle when he saw the girl in the bikini move up to the forepeak and loosen the anchor. As they drew level about forty yards away Lascelles stood up and called,

  “Hey! You’re a bit close.”