Her Name Will Be Faith (32 page)

"TV aerials?"

"Certainly lost."

"What about the buildings themselves?"

"Solidly built and well-shuttered stone
structures should have been all
right,"
Richard said. "I say shuttered, because once the wind with that
kind
of force gets inside any house, it can act like a tornado, and lift
everything in there right out. The building really
wants to have every
single window and door on the windward side
shuttered tight, and those
to leeward ready
to close the moment the eye passes through and the
wind changes
direction."

"So you reckon that if the
folks on Eleuthera knew what was com
ing at them, and took the proper precautions, they'd have
been all
right."

Richard sighed. "I'm afraid
there's no guarantee of that, Dave. You
see,
wind doesn't actually do the greatest damage in a hurricane, so long as it's
kept out. It's the storm surge that takes lives and destroys property.
For the folks on Eleuthera, everything will have
depended on their height
above sea level, and their distance from the
sea. Unfortunately, as I understand it, it's not possible to get very far from
the sea on that island. With a storm which has been building for as long as
Faith, and packing winds of 130 miles an hour, one can expect a storm surge of
maybe 15 feet above normal, and that's the surge I'm talking about. Close to
the shore you'd have to add waves of maybe 30 or 40 feet on to that. Now,
according to my map, there are considerable areas
of Eleuthera which
are only a few feet above sea level, much less 20
feet."

"So what kind of conditions could people in those
areas expect?"

"Those on the eastern, windward side of the
island, or on exposed headlands, could expect to have seas like that breaking
around their
houses. Those on the leeward
side would be better off, but could still
expect to be flooded."

"And would solidly built stone houses stand up to
20 foot waves?"

"I'm not an architect, Dave,
but I don't think any house, in Eleuthera or
anywhere else, is built to withstand that kind of
force. Even breakwaters,
designed to keep
out the sea, are sometimes breached by seas that big."

"So you think the Nassau
authorities are right to expect that there has
been a major disaster up there."

"I hope and pray not, Dave.
But I think we have to brace ourselves
for
the worst."

Owen Michael's fingers were biting into Jo's arm, and
she freed herself and put her arm round his shoulders. Even though Richard had
earlier warned her what he would have to say, each word had still thudded into
her brain like a bullet.

"Now, Richard, latest reports indicate that the
storm has turned north
again after passing
over Eleuthera. I don't want to pre-empt your forecast,
but can you tell
us where she is now?"

"Sure." Richard got up and walked to the
wall map, which was already
marked with an
X. "She's right there at this moment. The co-ordinates
are 27 degrees 18 minutes North Latitude, and 77
degrees 3 minutes West Longitude. That puts her approxi
mately 250 miles
east of Melbourne, Florida, so you see she suddenly gathered speed after
striking Eleuthera, and is in fact now travelling at more than 20 knots."

"Is that good, or bad?"

"On the whole, good; it gives her less time to
build any more."

"So does she pose a threat to the mainland United
States?"

"At this moment, no.
There's a gale warning up along the entire Florida
and Georgia coasts, and the folks
down there are getting some pretty
strong
winds. But they're on the weaker side of the system. As long as
Faith stays offshore to the east, they're not
going to suffer anything more
than
some beach erosion. The big winds and seas are out to the north-east
of
the center."

"Well, that's good news, anyway. So… any ideas
where this lady is going next?" Dave asked.

"Well, she's travelling just east of north at
this minute, so I reckon the folks in Bermuda need to look out..."

"Oh, shit!" Owen Michael muttered. Jo did
not admonish him.

". . but she was doing that
before, and then suddenly made west.
That
could happen again."

"You mean she could still come back and hit the
States?"

"Dave, even if she maintains her present course,
she will brush Cape Hatteras. I reckon we need to keep a close eye on her for
the next couple of days."

"And will she maintain her present force, do you
think, or will she weaken as she hits the cooler waters of the North
Atlantic?"

The camera suddenly zoomed in to
Richard's face as he stared into the
lens; the director had obviously been briefed as to what
the answer would
be.
"There are no cooler waters up here right this minute," Richard
said. "This is the hottest summer we've had in
years, and the water temperatures are way above normal. As long as Faith is
moving fast she
should remain as she is,
but she certainly won't weaken – and if she slows
down again, she
could well build."

"Build to what?"

"Right now she's blowing
around 140 miles an hour at the center. If she works up winds of more than 150
mph, Dave, the sky's the limit.
Faith is
already a big, dangerous storm. She could become one of the
biggest storms we've ever seen. There's no way of
telling yet. We just
have to watch what she does, very carefully, over
the next few days."

"And we know that you're
going to do just that, on our behalf, Richard.
Thank you. That was Richard Connors, our weather expert, warning us
all to keep an eye on a certain lady named Faith.
Now, finally..."
Jo flicked the switch.

"Heck, Mom," Owen Michael said. "Do you
think Tamsin is all right? And Granpa and Granma?"

"I wish I knew. We must just..."

The phone buzzed. Jo leapt out of her chair and ran to
it.

"What's the news from Eleuthera?" Michael
asked.

Her heart slowed with disappointment; she had really
hoped, quite unreasonably, that it might be his father. "There is none.
All communication has been cut."

"That's what they're saying
here too," Michael agreed. "We'll just
have to assume they're all right."

"You know Tamsin is down there?"

"Of course I know Tamsin is down there. You sent
her, remember?"

"With your parents."

"That doesn't alter the fact
that the poor kid has had at the very
least
a traumatic experience, while you've been sitting on your ass in
Manhattan."

"If you just rang up to abuse
me," Jo said, "I suggest you get off the
line. But perhaps, before you go,
you might like a word with your
son."

"Hi,
Dad," Owen Michael said. He
had been bewildered by what he
had heard
of the exchange, but there could be no doubt that he wanted to hear his
father's voice.

"Hi, son," Michael said. "How was the
operation?"

"Not so bad, Dad."

"And is all going well, now?"

"Pretty good. Mom says we
may be able to go down… oh, I guess
we won't,
after all." He looked at his mother.

"We'll have to see," Jo told him.

"Yeah. Where are you now, Dad?"

"In the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club. We're going to
stock the boat this afternoon and leave at dusk."

"Leaving? Where are you going?"

"We're coming home,"
Michael told him. "We don't want to be here
when Faith arrives."

"Heck… are you sure you can make it?"

"Sure I'm sure. If necessary
we'll motor; we're taking on extra
fuel. Oh, sure, we'll be home in about three days. We'll
beat that
storm. Tell your mother I'll
call her from sea tomorrow, and that she'd
better
have an update on the Eleuthera situation for me by then. Got
it?"

"I'll tell her, Dad. Have a good trip."

"Looking forward to it," Michael said.

"Give me that." Jo took
the phone away from her son. "Listen, you
should stay in Bermuda until the storm is past."

"Stay here? You have got to be crazy. This island
is totally exposed. I told the boy, we'll be home long before that hurricane
gets here; it's
travelling north-east, we'll
be heading north-west, and we'll have a
48-hour start. What I want is
the earliest possible news from Eleuthera. I'll call you tomorrow."

The phone went dead.

Jo replaced the receiver and looked at her son.

"Mom," Owen Michael asked. "Why did he
sound mad at you?"

"Because he is mad at me, I guess."

"But why?"

Jo rumpled his hair.
"Grown-ups are always getting mad at each other,
Owen Michael. You enjoy being young while you
can."

The phone rang again, and again she grabbed it.

"Hi," Richard said.

"Oh, thank God," Jo gasped.

"I've been trying to reach you for the past five
minutes."

"I had Michael on the phone. Richard… is there
any news?"

"Nothing as yet. But listen… I spoke to Mark just
before the news
program. It was one of his
buddies reported the northern turn and the
present position, but he's out again this afternoon to make another
check.
I asked him to take a close
look at Dolphin Point when he's done. He'll
tell us what's
happened."

"Oh, thank God, Richard.
Thank God!" But, she wondered, did she
really
want to find out?

"That system just seems to
get bigger and bigger every time we look at
it,"
Landry remarked.

"It
does
get bigger every time we look at
it," Mark agreed.

They had emerged from the clouds
and climbed to twenty thousand
feet, yet virtually
as far as the eye could see beneath them to the north
was white and black, swirling, looking just as menacing as it was
possible
for a weather system to be. Even at their height there was the
occasional buffet of wind spiraling out of the eye.

"Take those co-ordinates,
Mac," Mark told his navigator, "and send
them back to Coral Gables."
He was without Eisener on this trip; the
doctor
was in constant demand to appear on television screens through
out the eastern states. "I think we can
confirm that she's still on
track."

The co-ordinates were pushed in
front of him. "She seems to be slowing
up
again, though," Mackenzie said.

"Yeah. That'll make everybody
real happy. Okay, gang, let's take a
look
at Eleuthera."

He put the aircraft into a steep
turn, and they raced to the south. Below
them the clouds started to break up, and as they sank
into them they could
see
patches of white-streaked blue water. Now the buffeting increased, but
it was mild compared with what
they had experienced earlier that
afternoon
when they had flown into the eye.

"Land," Landry commented.

"The Abacos." Mackenzie had returned to the
flight deck after sending off the message. "They don't look too bad."

The amphibian had sunk lower yet, and was now flying
at 5000 feet.
Below them the seas were
still tumbling, but the settlements they passed
over looked reasonably
intact, although they saw several boats washed ashore, and one or two lying
sunk in the clear water.

South of Abaco was the twenty-mile wide northeast
Providence

Channel, deep water, in which the
white-topped waves could be seen
as the
aircraft dropped to 3000 feet. And by now North Eleuthera was in
sight. Mark turned to the left, to pass down the
eastern, Atlantic side of
the island,
heard a low whistle from Landry as they looked down on Palm
Island, the
roofs torn off, the collapsed buildings, the fallen post office
aerial, the wrecked boats and overturned vehicles… but
there were
people down there too,
working at clearing the damage; one or two waved
at the plane. Palm Island
was some forty feet or so above normal water level, and the town was on the bay
side – it had obviously escaped the worst of the surge.

Mark waggled his wings and went on. His chart told him
he was over Dolphin Point, thrusting out into the Atlantic, the waves surging
at the
narrow entrance into the sound, and
smashing on the rocks. The Point
was quite heavily wooded with pines,
and coconuts by the shore, and he
looked at
what might have been a gigantic lawn cut by an equally gigantic
motor mower; there were scattered trees everywhere.
He also looked at an island, for it had been entirely cut off from the mainland
by a torrent
of water, which was
still pouring across from the sea into the sound. There
was no sign of
habitation at all.