'Your turn now,' Mike said to her.
Sam stared at him. 'Oh, but I—I can't!' Her mind filled with fear at the thought of going into that vast empty sea.
'Why not?'
Her voice rose. 'I—I just can't, that's all.'
He came to sit opposite her. His hair was wet and drops of moisture still clung to the hairs on his chest. He seemed to loom over her, big and dominantly masculine, and Sam instinctively flinched away. His eyes narrowed but he spoke gently enough.
'Sam, you'll feel a whole lot better after you've been over the side and had a dip. You'll feel cooler and less dehydrated.'
She looked up at him unhappily. 'But I can't swim.'
His eyebrows flew up in astonishment. 'Sure you can. You swim like a fish.'
'No, I can't—I know I can't. I've forgotten how.'
His hand came up to stroke her arm gently and her flesh quivered under his touch. 'Once you get in the water it will probably all come back to you, it's one of those things that once you've learnt you can never forget. Now, come on,' he said more firmly, as if he was dealing with a recalcitrant child, 'you've been on this boat for two days and you need to take a dip. Here, I'll help you.'
His hand went to the waistband of her white denims, but she hastily-stopped him. 'No! I—I can manage.' Fumblingly she reached down to take off her shoes and then undid the button at the waist of her jeans, but hesitated over the zip. He was still watching her. Her Voice rose sharply. 'Must you sit there and look at me? You might at least turn your back.'
His jaw tightened. 'We're married, remember. It isn't the first time you've undressed in front of me. And the name's Mike,' he added on a hard note. 'But if that's what you want, you only have to ask.' And he turned and sat with his back to her.
Biting her lip, Sam took off her jeans and then went to unhook the halter-neck sun-top she was wearing, but found to her consternation that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath. Now what was she going to do? She glared at Mike's bare back and thought rather resentfully that it was all right for a man, but no way was she going over die side in just a pair of flimsy panties; After a moment she said in a faltering voice, 'I'm ready.'
'Okay, come on.' Mike glanced at her and his lip curled a little when he saw that she was still half dressed. He stood up and braced his legs in the boat, then put his hands on her slim waist and lifted her bodily over the side to lower her in the sea.
But Sam dung to him and wouldn't let go. 'No, I've changed my mind. I don't want to go in!' Her voice rose in a panic and she gripped his arms so tightly that she made marks in his flesh. The water came up her legs and she cried out in fear. 'You'll let me go. I'll drown!'
'No, I won't. Sam, trust me!'
His tone was insistent, compelling, and Sam looked deep into his eyes so near her own. Slowly the fear subsided a little and she didn't struggle any more as he lowered her gently into the water, keeping a firm hold on her arms. The sea lapped round her, luxuriously cool and reviving against her burning skin. The waves lifted her, dragging her, away from the boat, but Mike kept a tight grip on her wrists. Gradually her fears diminished, but she was still afraid to trust herself to the water alone, she knew that without Mike holding her she would sink like a stone.
'Okay?' he asked, and when she nodded lifted her easily out and back into the boat.
Water cascaded off her and made her clothes transparent. She might as well not have been wearing anything at all. '
He handed her his shirt. 'Here, dry yourself with this.' Deliberately he turned his back.
Sam raised the shirt to wipe her face and then her hands slowed. She had made him angry and he was more like a stranger than ever. Haltingly she said, 'I'm sorry. Please don't be angry with me.' Then tentatively, 'Mike?'
He turned to look at her over his shoulder, a crooked grin on his lips. 'I'm sorry too. I should have realised and made allowances. I guess it's going to take us both a little time to adjust.' The grin deepened. 'But at least you called me by my name.'
Her clothes dried on her almost at once and she was able to put her jeans back on, turning away while Mike, too, dressed. Then they had a drink of water, and Sam noticed with misgivings that the canister was now less than half full.
'How much longer will it last, do you think?' she asked anxiously.
He shrugged non-committally. 'There's plenty there. And if it rains we can fill it up. As soon as. the sun goes down I'll row again.'
They settled themselves under the blanket to wait. Mike's arm lay negligently along the side of the boat and for a while Sam sat stiffly, something inside her unwilling for any physical contact with him, but gradually she relaxed and leaned back against his arm, and presently he moved to pillow her head more comfortably against his shoulder, but he didn't say anything.
After a while she said questioningly, 'Mike, did you manage to rescue our passports?'
There was a sudden tenseness in him that she could feel and it was a moment before he answered. 'No, there wasn't time. Why?'
'I—I wanted to look at the photograph. I wondered what I looked like.'
Immediately the tenseness eased and he put up his other hand to turn her face towards him. His blue eyes under their rather heavy lids scanned her face, studying each feature as if imprinting them for ever in his mind.
'You're very, very lovely,' he said, and then he bent his head and kissed her. His lips were hard and firm and tasted of salt. His two-day growth of beard scratched her skin, but she was hardly aware of it. For a few moments she was surprised by his action and her lips were soft and. yielding under his, but then he felt her stiffen under his touch, become tense and fearful. Immediately he released her. Sam started to speak, but he stopped her, a finger against her quivering lips. His face was expressionless as he said brusquely, 'Your eyes are hazel and your hair's brunette, with a sort of chestnut glow to it. You look…' his eyes settled on her again and his voice became more gentle, 'you look okay.'
Slowly Sam went over what he'd said. She put up a hand to feel her hair and found that it was quite short and curly; she tried to pull a few strands forward and squint sideways at them, but it didn't tell her very much. Then she explored her face with her fingers, much as a blind person would, trying to find out more. Her nose was straight, her mouth even with a slightly fuller lower lip, and her eyebrows felt as if they arched slightly. And hazel eyes, he'd said. Did that add up to very, very lovely? She remembered the sudden flare in his eyes as he'd bent to kiss her, the firmness of his mouth on hers. Had he really expected her to respond? Presumably he had, if she was his wife. But there was no 'if about it. She was his wife, albeit a very, very new one. She just had to get used to the idea and try not to be so on edge with him. For a moment she tried to put herself in his place; it must be very hard' for him too, to go from having a loving bride one minute and then to be treated like a complete stranger the next.
Sam stole a glance at Mike under her lashes and found him watching her with a rather brooding expression in his eyes. This changed as soon as he realised she was looking at him and he said, 'The sun's low enough, I'll row again now.'
Moving to the other end of the boat, he bent to the oars as the sun began its descent through the empty sky. He rowed steadily for over an hour, seemingly tireless, but then he stopped to rest. Ruefully he looked down at his hands and then took a penknife from his pocket and cut some strips from the bottom of his shirt and started to wrap them round the palms of his hands.
'Are your hands very sore? Here, let me see.'
Sam got up to go to him, but he said sharply, 'Stay where you are. It's just to avoid getting blisters, that's all.'
Feeling strangely rebuffed, Sam subsided into her seat again. She felt hot and thirsty, even though the heat had gone out of the sun. Her mouth was parched and she longed for a drink of water. Mike picked up the oars and began to row once more. The sun dropped to , the horizon, turning the sky to a brilliant, molten red that lightened to orange above before it sank and was gone
, leaving them alone in the darkness of the empty sea.
The next day was much as before; they both went over the side to wash themselves, although Sam didn't feel any more confident than she had before and still clung to Mike's hands. He allowed them just a mouthful of water each three times during the course of the long day. They rested during the hottest part, huddled under the meagre shade of the blanket, and they didn't talk much, their throats were too dry and swollen, and besides, there didn't seem to be mulch to say, although Sam did rouse herself sufficiently to ask a question that had suddenly become important:
'Mike, will you tell me about my family? I—I'd like to know.'
There was a long wait before he said in a harsh, terse voice, 'You have no family.'
Appalled, she turned to look at him where he lay so close beside her. 'No one? No one at all?'
'You have me.' Almost roughly he pulled her to him and held her head against his shoulder. 'Don't think about it, Sam. Nothing that happened to you before we got married matters any more.'
The thought crossed her mind that it was a strange thing to say, but the knowledge that she was completely alone in the world except for him put everything else out of her head. She suddenly felt very lonely. There was no one to care that she was adrift in this small boat with only a little water left between life and a certain death under the scorching rays of the sun. Listlessly she lay there until she fell into a fitful sleep in which nightmares chased one another and she woke with a start to find herself again in that pitch black part of the night before the moon had, risen. The only sounds were of the waves lapping gently against the boat and she was suddenly filled with dread.
'Mike I' Her voice was sharp with terrified fear as she groped around to try and find him but could feel nothing but the familiar sides of the boat.
'I'm here.' His voice came, low and tired from the candle in the wind other end of the boat, and tears of relief splashed down her face. 'What is it?'
'I—I couldn't find you. I was afraid that you—that you
'I'm all right.' His tone was short, abrupt. 'Go back to sleep.'
He had put the blanket over her and she pulled it closer. For a while she was silent, then she said with difficulty, 'We're not going to make it, are we?'
When he answered his voice was derisive. 'Don't give up so easily, Sam. There's plenty of life in us yet. I didn't spend weeks chasing after you to lose you as soon as I'd married you.'
'Did you? Chase me, I mean.'
He laughed. It was a croaking, wheezing effort, but it was definitely a laugh. 'Like a lovesick tomcat. Don't worry, sweetheart, we'll make it.'
Sam lay back, immeasurably heartened, but as the next day passed without any sign of land, not even a seabird, hope began to diminish again. Mike rowed like an automaton, but his strokes were less powerful and he had to stop frequently to rest. Once he put off some of the stronger material from the legs of his jeans to replace that bound round his hands. He tried to keep the old bindings from her sight but to Sam's horror she saw that they were bright with blood.
'Oh, Mike, your hands! Your poor hands!'
'It's nothing.' His voice was gruff. 'But I won't be able to go over the side today, and when I hold you I'll have to keep my hands out of the water.'
She looked bewildered. 'Why?'
'The scent of blood attracts sharks. We'd have a pack of them round us in a minute.'
He held her over the side, keeping his hands high out of the sea, but when he tried to pull her back it took him a long time and when he at last managed it they were both exhausted, lying haphazardly in the bottom of the boat, their breathing laboured in their constricted throats.
'Time for a drink,' Mike managed at last. He groped for the canister. 'Here.' There was only about half an inch left in it.
Sam lifted it to her lips and drank slowly, greedily savouring each drop as it trickled down her parched throat.
'That's enough.'
Reluctantly she gave it back and Mike screwed on the stopper.
'But you haven't had any.'
'I'm not thirsty.'
'But you must be. Mike, please!'
'I'll drink later when it's cool. I'd only lose it in sweat when I'm rowing.'
He went back to the other end of the boat and Sam dropped back into sleep. She awoke from time to time but was now so completely enervated that her mind became disorientated and she was only vaguely aware of the passage of time. She felt the coolness of the night and then the heat of another day, but she had no strength left to move, had lost the hope of ever seeing land. Once she opened her eyes and found Mike above her. He lifted her head and poured some water down her throat. It tasted warm and brackish, but she gulped at it till she'd painfully swallowed the last drop. Her lips formed the word, "More," but he shook his head.
She heard him whisper croakingly, 'It's all gone.' He lay down beside her and took her gently in his arms, his hands leaving bloodstains on her clothes. She felt his dry lips touch here for a moment and then the whisper came again. 'Sorry, Sam. I tried… God, how I tried.' But then she slipped back into semi-consciousness.
It was the cold that woke her—an intense, penetrating cold that made her shiver convulsively. A strong breeze ruffled her hair and made the waves bang noisily against the boat. The sea sounded so loud in her ears. Feebly Sam pulled herself up, holding on to the side. The wind hit her more fiercely n6w and she was so weak that it almost knocked her down again, but she managed to keep hold of the rowlock and turned to ' look out. The boat was pitching wildly as large waves tossed it over the sea like a piece of straw. The tops of the waves were capped with white and spray splashed against her face and blinded her for a few seconds. Feebly she wiped her eyes. The first rays of dawn were beginning to lighten the sky, but there were great clouds, dark and heavy with rain. Rain! If only the storm would break so that they could get a drink of water, fill up the container. Hope flickered in her and she stared up at the sky for what seemed a long time, but the wind merely got stronger and drove them away from the rain clouds while the sound of the waves became even louder in her ears and despair filled her heart again.
It was several minutes before she realised that what she heard was the crash of breakers against something solid. Quickly she turned to look over the prow of the boat and then froze-in astonishment. Only a short distance ahead of them she could see where the waves spewed up great sheets of spray as they thundered against the jagged rocks of a reef—and beyond the reef, silhouetted against the golden dawning of the sun, there was land! A land of hills and trees, of water and life!
Recovering from her stupefaction, she leant down to Mike and began to shake him frenziedly. 'Mike! Mike, wake up! Oh, please wake up. There's land. Land! We're safe!' But he didn't stir and the sudden realisation hit her that he might be dead. 'No! Oh, no!' She shook him again, so hard that his head bumped against the wooden boards of the boat.
He gave a groan and tried feebly to turn his head away.
'Mike! Wake up!' Sam was almost yelling in his ear, against the noise of the breakers.
Opening his eyes at last, he stared up at her. 'Sam?'
'It's land! We made it, Mike, we made it!'
He pulled himself up and looked over the side, then his shoulders stiffened. Sam followed his gaze and then stared in fascinated horror. The boat was heading straight for the thick band of the reef, its jagged rocks rearing out of the water like the teeth of a shark, ready to take their frail little boat and tear it to pieces. They had found land, but they were by no means safe, they still hadn't made it.
As the boat was thrown towards the reef, Mike turned and grabbed the blanket and began to wrap it round her. 'Don't hold on to the boat,' he shouted at her above the roar. 'Let the waves take you.' He put his arms round her and locked his wrists into a tight grip. 'Here it comes!' He pulled her on top of him and braced himself against the prow of the dinghy.
Sam put her arms round his neck and clung to him. 'Mike, I'm afraid. Don't let me go
.' The last thing she heard him say before the boat hit the reef and started to disintegrate under them was said strongly and firmly, 'I'll never let you go.' And then the water closed over their heads as they were dragged into the boiling maelstrom of the sea.
CHAPTER TWO
Sam lay on the beach, gasping and retching, as Mike knelt over her and unrelentingly pumped the water out of her lungs until he was sure that she was all right. Only then did he collapse beside her, his breathing laboured. They lay immobile for a long time, just above the water's edge, completely oblivious of their surroundings; just thankful to be alive and on land, and spent and exhausted by the struggle to get ashore. And it was a struggle that Sam would certainly have lost on her own. She remembered being thrown against the rocks and the coral heads tearing at the blanket and scraping her skin, of being pulled down by the current no matter how hard she tried to fight it and. her lungs bursting in her chest until Mike had lifted her up, up to the surface and she could breathe again, great, wonderful gulps of air. But then they had been sucked under once more by a cruel twist of the current and the fight had started all over again, and this time she had swallowed water and been near to drowning when he pulled her out.
As they lay stretched out on the beach the sun grew higher in the sky, warming them and drying their clothes, but its heat also brought thirst back to torment them. Mike woke first and sat up slowly. Then he bent to shake her.
'Sam, wake up! Come on. We have to find water.' His voice was hoarse in his dry throat.
She didn't move at first, but he persisted and at last she stirred and tried to jerk away from him, unwilling to wake from the deep sleep that bordered on semiconsciousness.
Candle in the Wind Page 2
