Authors: John Gordon Davis
I’m coming up to relieve you.
’
She came clutching her way up, and a mass of flying spray hit her. She clung, head down, then she lurched into the cockpit. She snapped her lifeline onto the rail, and crashed down beside him. She grabbed the tiller and shouted: ‘
Go below …
’
Oh, the relief of not hanging onto that tiller any more, and the bliss of slumping his spine and shoulders; and oh just to throw himself down onto that narrow bunk below and let the
aches and the cold flood out of him in sleep; he shoved back his head arid straightened his spine. No way could he leave her up here alone. ‘
Only a few hours to go
.’
He clung there, head down against the flying spray, cold to his bones. It was ten o’clock. Only four or five hours before the coast of Florida … Yes, and how did he get in to the coast in seas like this? … He was too tired to care yet. Just thank God that Black Cat and his boys would not be out in this.
An hour later the Coastguard helicopter appeared.
They did not hear it coming above the crashing of the waves; it came out of the night, a great black shape with winking lights suddenly chopping towards them out of the howling sky. Anna gripped his arm and pointed. The helicopter came chopping angrily closer and closer, and then they could hear the thudding of its engines. A searchlight came on and the machine went chopping over the top of the ploughing
Rosemary.
They were bathed in light. The helicopter went thudding around the port side, and now they could see a man behind the light. He was signalling at them with his hands. Morgan stood and clutched the rigging and forced a smile onto his frozen face and waved his hand energetically. He shouted to Anna: ‘Wave! Cheerfully!’
Morgan held up his thumb. The helicopter went chopping past the bows, into another circle. Morgan waved his hand at the sea cavalierly. Then he clawed his way to the hatch. He slid it open, clambered down into the heaving cabin and grabbed a bottle of wine out of Charlie’s cold box. He clambered back into the cockpit. He held up the wine bottle to the helicopter in offering. The machine went chopping down the side of them, the co-pilot staring down. Morgan clambered back to Anna, flung his arm around her and planted a big kiss on her cheek. ‘
Laugh
,’ he rasped.
The machine went round their bows for the last time. Then it went chopping away into the blackness.
She looked at him, drenched, her hair flying like rope. He said: ‘They just wanted to know if we were all right.’
‘But they may send a cutter to look at us.’
‘There won’t be too many around in weather like this. But we’ll change course.’
He took the tiller and swung the bows away from the wind.
The little yacht came around, and he slacked off the mainsheet and the mainsail swung out with a crack, and the knot log needle jerked upwards. He slacked off the foresheet and the foresail billowed. The
Rosemary
surged, ploughing before wind, and suddenly it was almost silent and almost warm, as the yacht ran with the seas, getting the hell away from the US Coastguard.
For two hours they ran before the wind, the little yacht surging up the swells, then over the crests she went and down the other side,
down,
and the swell heaved at her stern and she was almost surfing; then Morgan swung the bows west again, and the wind came back on their beam in all its fury. And the
Rosemary
heeled hard over, her sails filled tight and her rigging twanging, fighting her way across the running seas again, and the spray flew like grapeshot again.
‘
Go below
,’ he shouted.
At about midnight the really big winds came.
Came howling up the Gulf Stream, and now the seas were great running troughs, spray flying in great lashing sheets and streaks, and now the crests were angry breakers coming crashing down like thunder; and the little boat lurched and shuddered. A wave came crashing over the cockpit, and Morgan felt himself go.
He sprawled and the wave swept his legs up and there was nothing in the world but the crash of salt water in his ears and nostrils and the deck disappearing beneath him, and he went over the side, into the sea. And there was nothing but the terror and the fighting, and then the wrench at his guts as the lifeline stopped him. He broke surface, gasping, being dragged behind the ploughing boat, stunned. The rudder crashed about, free, and the little boat swung into the wind and the sails flapped and crashed about wildly, and Morgan heaved on the lifeline. He heaved himself, hand over hand, back towards the stern, gasping. He reached up wildly and gripped the stern. He clung there, as the bows heaved up into the coming swell. Up, up, up the bows went; then the crest broke and the wave came crashing down. It thundered into the cockpit and over the stern and over Morgan, and wrenched him again, but he clung; then he kicked with all his might, and he swung up one leg. He got
it over as the bows crashed over the crest, and he rolled back into the cockpit.
He scrambled up, gasping. The yacht was ploughing into the bottom of the trough now. He seized the end of the mainsail sheet, and frantically tied it round the tiller and lashed it into the midships position. Then he heaved in the mainsail, and lashed the boom to midships. He unclasped his safety line, and scrambled for the mast. The yacht was riding up the next swell now. He made it to the mast as the wave broke over the bows. He clung to the mast with all his might, and tons of sea crashed over him. He frantically uncleated the halyard, and the mainsail came crashing down into the cockpit. He let go the next halyard and the foresail came cascading down onto the deck and he scrambled for the bows. He clutched his way, tooth-clenched. He thrust one sail-tie under the mess of sail. He frantically lashed the bunch to the railing as the bows rode up the next swell. He tied the knot and the wave hit him. Like an avalanche, wrenching, and he clung. It swept away in a crashing rush, and he started to scramble back to the cockpit, and he saw Anna.
He saw her disappear in a mass of crashing water and he bellowed, ‘
Get back!
–’ and the wave rushed over the stern, and he saw her again. She was naked, both arms flung around the boom, and she was lashing the sail down, and he cried ‘
Thank God
–’ He jumped into the cockpit as she finished the knot, and he seized her arm. He looked wildly at the next swell coming at them, and he flung open the hatch and shoved her down it. The next wave hit, and he scrambled into the hatch after her. The wave came crashing down the deck, over him, into the cabin and he slammed the hatch shut above him.
He clung, heaving, braced. She was on the bunk, clinging to the mast, dripping, her hair matted to her head, grinning at him weakly. It was the first time in six years that he had seen her naked. ‘You shouldn’t have gone there without a lifeline.’
‘Hark who’s talking. So – bare poles, is it?’
‘It’s safest.’ He lurched to the bunk opposite her, crashed down, and braced. He looked at her, his hair matted, two days’ growth of beard on his face, and with all his exhausted heart he wanted to take her in his arms and possess her. There was a thud and the boat shook, and they braced themselves. He said: ‘You should put something on.’
‘Everything’s wet.’ She picked up a towel and draped it around her shoulders. She looked at him.
‘Oh Jack, Jack, beautiful Jack. The things you’ve done for me. Now this.’ She clung to the mast as the boat ploughed down. She waited till it hit the bottom of the trough. Then said: ‘If you want to quit when we get to port, I’ll understand perfectly. I mean that.’
‘And what’ll you do?’ The boat was heaving up the next swell.
‘I’ll carry on alone.’
He said: ‘It’s nice to just sit and talk, isn’t it?’ The crest of the swell hit them, and they lurched. ‘Well, it beats ditching aeroplanes.’
‘You haven’t answered me.’
The bows hit the bottom of the trough. He said, ‘These people have got no rights over you.’
She clung to the mast. ‘You’re doing this because you think you love me.’
‘I do love you.’
‘Yes, I believe you do.
You didn’t before?’
He grinned: ‘I didn’t know those bastard pilots were coming.’ The boat hit the crest with another thud. ‘Or this bloody storm. I thought it was just going to be a breeze with Big King.’
‘So my evidence is questionable?’
‘But your verdict is sound.’
Then her exhausted eyes filled with longing. She stood up, and she pushed the mattress down onto the deck between the two bunks. She dropped to her knees onto it, and held out her hand to him.
He held her hand tight, his heart pounding.
‘I don’t want a reward, Anna.’
‘It’s a gift! Of love!’
And he came down off the bunk, onto his knees beside her, his heart hammering, and he slid his arms around her bare shoulders, and oh, the blissful feel of her smooth wet nakedness, and they toppled over onto the mattress. And she clutched him and kissed him, her mouth and teeth crushed against his; and oh, the wonderful feeling of her in his arms at last, the cool softness of her, her breasts pressed against his sodden chest,
the wonderful feel and taste of her soft-hard mouth; then she broke the kiss, her eyes full of tears, and she laughed at him:
‘I was going to be beautiful for you.’
And he laughed with her and he kissed her again, devouring her. The boat heaved and crashed and rolled about them, but they did not know it in the joy of each other at last.
The first pearly light came into the east.
The wind was gone. The
Rosemary
drifted in the early-morning Gulf Stream, gently rising with the swells, slopping in the little wafts of breeze. Down in the bottom of the boat Anna Hapsburg and Jack Morgan lay together, arms entwined about each other, deep in beautiful sleep. With the sunrise, the big sleek boat came cruising towards them.
The noise of the engines woke them. Morgan scrambled up, his heart pounding, every muscle tense, ready to fight, to kill. He peered through the porthole. And stared. He saw the big, grey steel hull of a United States Coastguard vessel. Anna was pulling on her blouse frantically.
‘No! Just clutch the towel around you. Embarrass them. Stand in the hatch and act dumb.’
She clutched the towel to her bosom. She ran her fingers through her ropey hair and slid back the hatch. The cutter towered over her, the sunrise behind it. ‘Ahoy there,’ a voice called.
‘Oh, hi.’ She smiled uncertainly.
The officer looked down at her from the bridge. ‘Are you all right?’
Anna stood in the hatch, naked but for the towel clutched to her breasts. ‘Sure. We had a pretty bad time last night. Had to bare-pole it.’
‘Where’re you heading?’
Her mind fumbled. ‘To Bimini …’
‘Where you from?’
‘Fort Lauderdale.’
‘Were you approached by a Coastguard helicopter last night?’
‘Why, sure. We tried to tell them we were okay.’
‘But you were heading towards Florida at that time.’
Morgan closed his eyes.
‘Yes, we got worried about the storm, thought we better turn back. Then it got so bad we had to bare-pole it.’
‘Didn’t you hear the storm warning on the radio?’
‘I guess not. We kind of like to set sail and go.’
The officer muttered something. Then: ‘Well, you’re in the middle of the shipping lane, lady. If I were you I’d wake up the husband.’ He added: ‘And listen to the radio next time.’
Anna gushed, contrite. ‘We will.’
Morgan whispered: ‘Ask them for a bearing for Fort Lauderdale.’
‘Say –’ Anna called ‘– can you give us a bearing for Fort Lauderdale? We want to go back now.’
The officer sighed, and went into the bridge-house. He came out a few moments later.
‘Two eight five, ma’am.’
‘Thank you!’
‘Okay, ma’am.’ He saluted wearily, and gave an order.
Morgan watched the cutter go, limp with relief. Anna came down the steps, her face wreathed in smiles. Morgan turned, grinning. ‘Well done …’ He put his arms around her.
‘I think God’s looking after us!’
He squeezed her. ‘Let’s get the hell out of here.’
It would take Black Cat only one hour to catch up with them in weather like this. He yanked on his trousers. He lifted the hatch, exposed the engine. He inserted the crank, and wound her up. The little engine thudded into life,
doem – doem – doem.
He went up on deck.
Anna came up, and Morgan’s heart seemed to turn over like a porpoise. Her hair was hanging in salty tresses, her full lips unpainted, her face drawn from days of strain, and she was beautiful. And the beautiful sunrise, gold and pink and red, fanning out across the eastern sky over the gentle sea and he wanted to laugh and spread his arms and thank the Lord for giving him his true love at last.
And maybe God
was
looking after them.
At eleven o’clock on that beautiful morning the yacht chugged into Leeside Marina outside Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Morgan had a smile all over his face. Oh God, it felt good to be alive, to be with her. At the end of the mooring lane was the jetty marked ‘Arrivals’. He nosed the yacht up against it. Anna jumped ashore with the bow-line. Morgan made the stern fast.
They grabbed the bag, locked up the boat. They hurried up the jetty to the office. The concrete seemed to heave under their feet. It felt as if they were home from a long voyage. There was a public telephone. Anna went into it. Morgan went into the office. ‘Good morning!’ And by God it
was
a beautiful morning! He did the paperwork and paid for three days’ mooring. He handed the man the keys and said:
‘Tomorrow or the next day a man called Charlie will come and take the boat away.’
He got a fistful of coins from the office. He went outside. Anna was hanging up the telephone. She said: ‘A taxi’s coming. There’s a train in fifty minutes.’
‘Good.’ He went into the call box. He looked at his watch. In England it was after five pm now. He dialled the code for international calls, then the code for England, then a number in Berkshire.
A faraway female voice said: ‘Zenith Flying School.’