by Ken Follett
However, no interference was necessary. After a moment Baker said: “Here. In this channel. That’s where we’ll come down.”
Eddie turned away so no one could see his expression of triumph. He was another step closer to Carol-Ann.
As they all went through the procedure for emergency splashdown, Eddie looked out of the window and tried to gauge what the sea was like. He saw a small white vessel like a sports fishing boat bobbing on the swell. The surface was choppy. The landing would be rough.
He heard a voice that stopped his heart. “What’s the emergency?” It was Mickey Finn coming up the stairs to investigate.
Eddie stared at him in horror. Mickey would guess in a minute that the F-valve on the hand pump had not been reset. Eddie had to get rid of him quickly.
But Captain Baker beat him to it. “Get out of here, Mickey!” he snapped. “Off-duty crew must be strapped in during an emergency splashdown, not wandering around the aircraft asking stupid questions!”
Mickey was gone like a shot, and Eddie breathed easy again.
The plane lost height rapidly: Baker wanted to be close to the water in case they ran out of fuel earlier than expected.
They turned west so as not to overfly the island: if they ran out of fuel over land, they were all dead. A few moments later they were above the channel.
There was a big swell, about four feet, Eddie estimated. The critical wave height was three feet: above that it was dangerous to land the Clipper. Eddie gritted his teeth. Baker was a good pilot, but it was going to be dicey.
The plane came down fast. Eddie felt the hull touch the top of a high wave. They flew on for a moment or two then it touched again. The second time there was a stronger impact, and his stomach lurched as the huge aircraft bounced up into the air.
Eddie was afraid for his life: this was how flying boats crashed.
Although the plane was airborne now, the impact had reduced its airspeed, so that it had very little lift; and instead of sliding into the water at a shallow angle, it would come down hard. It was the difference between a smooth racing dive and a painful belly flop except that the belly of the plane was made of the aluminum, which could burst like a paper bag.
He froze, waiting for the impact. The plane hit the water with a terrific bang that he felt all the way up his spine. Water covered the windows. Facing sideways as he was, Eddie was thrown left but managed to stay in his seat. The radio operator, who faced forward, banged his head on the microphone. Eddie thought the plane was breaking up. If it dipped a wing that would be the end.
A second passed, then another. The cries of terrified passengers floated up the staircase. The plane lifted again, coming partly out of the water and moving forward with the reduction in drag; then it sank back, and Eddie was thrown sideways again.
But the plane stayed level, and Eddie began to hope they would make it. The windows cleared and he glimpsed the sea. His engines were still roaring: they had not been submerged.
The plane slowed gradually. Second by second Eddie felt safer, until at last the plane was stationary, rising and falling on the waves. In his headphones Eddie heard the captain say: “Jesus, that was rougher than I expected,” and the rest of the crew laughed with relief.
Eddie stood up and looked out through all the windows, searching for a boat. The sun was shining but there were rain clouds in the sky. Visibility was fair, but he could not see any other vessels. Perhaps the launch was behind the Clipper, where he could not see it.
He took his seat again and shut down the engines. The radio operator broadcast a Mayday. The captain said: “I’d better go and reassure the passengers.” He went down the stairs. The radio operator got a reply, and Eddie hoped it was from the people who were waiting for Gordino.
He could not wait to find out. He went forward, opened the hatch in the cockpit and climbed down the ladder into the bow compartment. The forward hatch opened downward, forming a platform. Eddie stepped outside and stood on it. He had to hold the doorframe to keep his balance in the swell. The waves were coming over the sea-wings, and some were high enough to splash his feet as he stood on the platform. The sun was going behind the clouds intermittently, and there was a stiff breeze. He looked carefully at the hull and wings: he could see no damage. The great aircraft appeared to have survived unscathed.
He released the anchor, then stood surveying the sea all around, hunting for a vessel. Where were Luther’s buddies? What if something had gone wrong, what if they did not turn up? But then at last he saw a motor launch in the distance. His heart missed a beat. Was this it? And was Carol-Ann on board? Now he worried that it might be some other vessel, coming to look at the downed plane out of curiosity, which would interfere with the plan.
It came in fast, riding up and down the waves. Eddie was supposed to return to his station on the flight deck, having dropped anchor and checked for damage, but he could not move. He stared hypnotically at the launch as it grew larger. It was a big, fast boat with a covered wheelhouse. He knew it was racing at twenty-five or thirty knots, but it seemed painfully slow. There was a group of figures on deck, he realized. Soon he could count them: four. He noticed that one was much smaller than the others. The group began to look like three men in dark suits and a woman in a blue coat. Carol-Ann had a blue coat.
He thought it was she, but he was not sure. The woman had fair hair and a slight figure, just like hers. She was standing apart from the others. All four were at the rail, looking at the Clipper. The waiting was unbearable. Then the sun came out from behind a cloud, and the woman raised her hand to her face to shield her eyes. Something about the gesture pulled at Eddie’s heartstrings, and he knew it was his wife.
“Carol-Ann,” he said aloud.
A surge of excitement seized him, and for a moment he forgot about the perils they both still faced, and gave in to the joy of seeing her again. He raised his arms and waved happily. “Carol-Ann!” he yelled. “Carol-Ann!”
She could not hear him, of course, but she could see him. She started with surprise, hesitated as if she was not sure whether it was he, then waved back, timidly at first and then vigorously.
If she could wave like that she must be all right, he realized, and he felt as weak as a baby with relief and gratitude.
He remembered that it was not over yet. He had more to do. He gave one more wave, then reluctantly went back inside the plane.
He emerged onto the flight deck just as the captain was coming up from the passenger deck. “Any damage?” Baker said.
“Nothing at all, as far as I can see.”
The captain turned to the radio operator, who reported: “Our Mayday has been answered by several ships, but the nearest vessel is a pleasure boat now approaching on the port side. You can probably see her.”
The captain looked out of the windows and saw the launch. He shook his head. “She’s no use. We have to be towed. Try to raise the Coast Guard.”
“The people on the launch want to come aboard,” the radio operator said.
“Nix to that,” said Baker. Eddie was dismayed. They had to come aboard! “It’s too dangerous,” the captain went on. “I don’t want a boat tied up to the plane: it could damage the hull. And if we try to transfer people in this swell, someone’s sure to fall in the goddamn drink. Tell them we appreciate their offer, but they can’t help us.”
Eddie had not anticipated this. He put on an unconcerned look to mask his sudden anxiety. The hell with damage to the plane—Luther’s gang were coming aboard! But they would have a hard time without help from the inside.
Even with help, it would be a nightmare to try to board through the normal doors, he realized. The waves were washing over the sea-wings and halfway up the doors: no one could stand on the sea-wing without a rope to hold on to, and water would pour into the dining room while the door was open. This had not occurred to Eddie before, because the Clipper normally landed only on the calmest of seas.
Then how could they board?
They w
ould have to come through the forward hatch in the bow compartment.
The radio operator said: “I’ve told them they can’t board, Captain, but they don’t seem to take any notice.”
Eddie looked out. The launch was circling the plane.
“Just ignore them,” the captain said.
Eddie stood up and went forward. As he stepped onto the ladder leading down into the bow compartment, Captain Baker snapped: “Where are you going?”
“I need to check on the anchor,” Eddie said vaguely, and went on without waiting for a reply.
He heard Baker say: “That guy is through.”
I knew that already, he thought with a heavy heart.
He went out onto the platform. The launch was thirty or forty feet from the nose of the Clipper. He could see Carol-Ann standing at the rail. She had on an old dress and flat shoes, just what she would have been wearing for housework. She had thrown on her best coat over her work clothes when they took her. He could see her face now. She looked pale and drained. Eddie felt anger boil deep inside him. I’ll get them for this, he thought.
He raised the collapsible capstan, then waved to the launch, pointing to the capstan and miming throwing a rope. He had to do it several times before the men on deck understood. He guessed they were not experienced sailors. They certainly looked out of place on a boat, in their double-breasted suits, holding their fedoras on their heads in the wind. The guy in the wheelhouse, presumably the skipper of the launch, was busy with his controls, trying to keep the boat steady relative to the plane. At last one of the men made a gesture of acknowledgment and picked up a rope.
He was no good at throwing it, and it took four tries before Eddie was able to catch it.
He secured it to the capstan. The men on the launch hauled their craft closer to the plane. The boat, being so much lighter, rose and fell more on the swell. Tying the launch to the plane was going to be difficult and dangerous.
Suddenly he heard Mickey Finn’s voice behind him, saying: “Eddie, what the hell are you doing?”
He turned around. Mickey was in the bow compartment, looking up at him with a concerned expression on his open, freckled face. Eddie yelled: “Stay right out of this, Mickey! I’m warning you—if you interfere, people are going to get hurt!”
Mickey looked scared. “Okay, okay, whatever you say.” He retreated toward the flight deck, his face showing that he thought Eddie had gone mad.
Eddie turned back to face the launch. It was quite close now. He looked at the three men. One was very young, no more than eighteen. Another was older but short and thin, with a cigarette dangling from a corner of his mouth. The third, wearing a black suit with a chalk stripe, looked like he was in charge.
They were going to need two ropes, Eddie decided, to hold the launch steady enough. He put his hands to his mouth to make a megaphone and shouted: “Throw another rope!”
The man in the striped suit picked up a rope in the bow, next to the one they were already using. That was no good: they needed one at each end of the launch, to make a triangle. “No, not that one,” Eddie called. “Throw me a stem rope.”
The man got the message.
This time Eddie caught the rope the first time. He took it inside the plane and tied it to a strut.
With a man hauling on each rope, the launch came rapidly closer. Suddenly its engines were cut and a man in overalls came out of the wheelhouse and took over the rope work. This guy was obviously a seaman.
Eddie heard another voice from behind him, coming from within the bow compartment. This time it was Captain Baker. He said: “Deakin, you’re disobeying a direct order!”
Eddie ignored him and prayed that he would keep out of the way for a few moments more. The launch was as close as it could come. The skipper wound the ropes around the deck stanchions, leaving just enough slack to allow the boat to rise and fall with the waves. To board the Clipper, the men would have to wait until the swell brought the deck level with the platform, then jump from one to the other. To steady themselves, they could hold on to the rope that ran from the stern of the launch to the inside of the bow compartment.
Baker barked: “Deakin! Get back in here!”
The seaman opened a gate in the rail and the gangster in the striped suit stood ready to jump across. Eddie felt Captain Baker’s hand clutch at his jacket from behind. The gangster saw what was happening and reached inside his coat.
Eddie’s worst nightmare was that one of his crewmates would decide to be a hero and get himself killed. He wished he could tell them about the navy cutter that Steve Appleby had sent—but he was afraid that if he did, one of them might accidentally forewarn the gangsters. So he just had to try to keep the situation under control.
He turned to Baker and yelled: “Captain! Get out of the way! These bastards have guns!”
Baker looked shocked. He stared at the gangster, then ducked out of sight. Eddie turned around to see the man in the striped suit stuffing a pistol back into his coat pocket. Jesus, I hope I can stop these guys from shooting people, he thought fearfully. If someone dies it will be my fault.
The boat was on the crest of a wave, its deck a little above the level of the platform. The gangster grabbed the rope, hesitated, then jumped onto the platform. Eddie caught him, steadying him.
“You Eddie?” the man said.
Eddie recognized the voice: he had heard it over the phone. He recalled the man’s name: Vincini. Eddie had insulted him: now he regretted it, for he needed his cooperation. “I want to work with you, Vincini,” he said. “If you want things to go smoothly, with no snags, let me help you.”
Vincini gave him a hard look. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “But make one false move and you’re dead.” His tone was brisk and business-like. He showed no sign of resentment: no doubt he had too much on his mind to think about past slights.
“Step inside and wait right there while I bring the others over.”
“Okay.” Vincini turned to the launch. “Joe—you next. Then Kid. The girl comes last.” He stepped down into the bow compartment.
Looking inside, Eddie saw Captain Baker climbing the ladder that led to the flight deck. Vincini pulled out his gun and said: “Stay there, you.”
Eddie said: “Do what he says, Captain. For God’s sake, these guys are serious.”
Baker stepped off the ladder and raised his hands in the air.
Eddie turned back. The runty man called Joe was standing at the rail of the launch looking scared to death. “I can’t swim!” he said in a rasping voice.
“You won’t have to,” Eddie said. He reached out a hand.
Joe jumped, caught his hand, and half stepped, half fell into the bow compartment.
The young one was last. Having seen the other two make the transfer safely, he was overconfident. “I can’t swim, either,” he said with a grin. He jumped too soon, landed on the very edge of the platform, lost his balance and tipped backward. Eddie leaned out, holding the rope with his left hand, and grabbed the boy by the waistband of his pants. He pulled him onto the platform.
“Gee, thanks!” the boy said, as if Eddie had merely given him a hand, instead of saving his life.
Now Carol-Ann was standing on the deck of the launch, looking across at the platform with fear on her face. She was not normally timid, but Eddie could tell that Kid’s near-disaster had unnerved her. He smiled at her and said: “Just do what they did, honey. You can make it.”
She nodded and took hold of the rope.
Eddie waited with his heart in his mouth. The swell brought the launch up level with the platform. Carol-Ann hesitated, missed her chance and looked more fearful. “Take your time,” Eddie called, making his voice calm to hide his own fear. “Whenever you’re ready.”
The launch went down and rose again. Carol-Ann’s face wore an expression of forced resolution, her lips pressed together, her forehead creased in a frown. The launch drifted a foot or two away from the platform, making the gap rather too wide. Eddie ca
lled: “Maybe not this time—” But he was too late. She was so determined to be brave that she had already jumped.
She missed the platform completely.
She let out a scream of terror and swung from the rope, her feet scrabbling in midair. Eddie could do nothing as the launch slipped down the slope of the wave and Carol-Ann fell away from the platform. “Hold tight!” he yelled frantically. “You’ll come up!” He got ready to jump into the sea to save her if she should let go.
But she clung fiercely to the rope as the swell took her down, then brought her up again. When she drew up level she stretched out one leg toward the platform, but it did not reach. Eddie went down on one knee and made a grab for her. He almost overbalanced and fell in the water, but he could not quite touch her leg. The swell took her down again, and she gave a cry of despair.
“Swing!” Eddie yelled. “Swing to and fro as you come up!”
She heard. He could see her gritting her teeth against the pain in her arms, but she managed to swing backward and forward as the swell lifted the launch. Eddie knelt down, reaching out. She came level and swung with all her might. Eddie grabbed and caught her ankle. She had no stockings on. He pulled her closer and got hold of the other ankle, but her feet still did not reach the platform. The launch crested the wave and began to fall. Carol-Ann screamed as she felt herself going down. Eddie still held on to her ankles. Then she let go of the rope.
He held on like grim death. As she fell, he was pulled forward by her weight and almost toppled into the sea; but he was able to flop onto his belly and stay on the platform. Carol-Ann swung upside down from his hands. In this position he could not lift her, but the sea did the job. The next wave submerged her head but lifted her toward him. He let go of one ankle, freeing his right hand, and got his arm around her waist.
He had her safe. He rested for a moment, saying, “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you,” while she choked and spluttered. Then he hauled her up to the platform.
