A storm. Coming their way.
“Shit.” He kept the curse low. What should he do?
Dropping back below, he quickly scanned the charts. If they couldn’t out-run it, and he doubted they could, the storm would hit them hard while it was Ali’s turn at the helm. Did he dare let her keep control?
And if he didn’t, how the hell was he to tell her?
He took off his glasses and dropped them onto the charts before rubbing at his face.
He’d made a fine bloody mess of his relationship with Ali—had, in fact, completely screwed it up. But he hadn’t given up on it. He loved her, with every fiber of his being, and he truly believed she still loved him. If it wasn’t for his own stupidity and suspicions, they’d be enjoying a wonderful return trip to Australia with an amazing future ahead of them.
Instead, they were avoiding each other like the plague, and Ali thought he was an untrusting bastard. He gave a deprecating snort. “Well, she wasn’t wrong.”
So what was he meant to do now? The rolling of
Wind Seeker
told him the southerly had picked up, that the storm was barreling at them. But if he went above and told Ali the helm was his, he was basically telling her he didn’t trust her skills or ability to get them through it.
He rubbed at his face again. The problem was, he didn’t know if he
did
trust her ability.
She was a good—no, a great—sailor, and she’d obviously improved in the time he’d been away, but he’d asked around since returning to Sydney and she hadn’t been out in a storm since the night of her father’s accident.
Would she hold up?
He shook his head. He didn’t know that either.
Did he want to risk it?
He looked out the porthole at the ever-increasing swell. He had to.
Otherwise there was no hope for them at all.
“How’s it going?”
Ali turned from her study of the horizon, surprised at hearing Jack’s voice. He was moving towards her down the starboard passageway, crouching as he negotiated the taut mainsail and swinging boom.
“Okay.” She turned the helm slightly to meet a particularly large swell. The weather was starting to turn foul. White foam capped the growing waves around them and the wind roared in the mainsail like a turbine engine.
Jack looked at her for a beat, the fine spray of seawater on his glasses hiding his eyes. She waited for him to contradict her, but he didn’t. He just nodded, continued down along the deck, dropped into the cockpit and disappeared below.
She gripped the helm tightly, her sailing gloves, already damp from the icy spray of the rising swell letting her hands slip a little. She reacted instantly, over-correcting before she could stop herself, and
Wind Seeker
dropped into a deep, watery chasm. “Shit.” She gritted her teeth and yanked the yacht back under control.
“Everything still okay?” Jack called up from below, his voice casual and almost uninterested.
“Yes.”
She swallowed. She wasn’t scared. She
wasn’t
. But damn, she really wished the nasty weather would just go away. The Port Stephens’ storm had started this way, unexpectedly appearing from out of the blue.
A savage gust, bitterly cold and sharp, smacked against the yacht. Ali fought to stay on her feet, blinking at the water stinging her eyes.
Any second now, Jack was going to come up and take over. Part of her wished he would. Then she wouldn’t have to worry.
“Do you want a cup of tea?”
Ali’s eyebrows shot up. “
What
?”
“Tea?” Jack called from the cabin. “Do you want a cup?”
“No.” Tea? Really? Did he not know what was going on?
Another gust hit
Wind Seeker
, this time bringing a wave that crashed over the rails and Ali’s legs.
“Shit.” She shot the pooling water at her feet a dirty look. Lifting her stare to the sky, she noted the angry clouds churning across the sky. So much for the perfect sailing conditions. She snorted. Perhaps this was symbolic of her life—the calm before the storm.
She shook her head, reefing on the sails. “Bit late for the warning,” she muttered under her breath.
Another gust hit and
Wind Seeker
swung about, a wave the size of a semi-trailer rolling toward them. Ali bit back a curse. They were in serious danger of being broached, which meant she and Jack would end up in the drink. Her heart leapt into her throat, and for a horrible moment she couldn’t move.
She’d been here before. This was all so familiar.
High overhead, thunder grumbled its displeasure, followed by a wicked flash of lightning that cut the rapidly darkening sky in two. The sea suddenly lost its rhythm,
Wind Seeker
falling over a wave that seconds earlier hadn’t been there.
Cold panic reached into her chest and seized her heart.
This is not good. This is just like the Port Stephens’ trip.
“No.” She snatched at the helm, wondering how soon it would be before her knuckles popped and her hands became useless. It would happen any minute now, any second in fact. She could feel the ligaments in her fingers painfully stretching beyond their limit, could hear them tearing even now, louder than the thunder, louder than the—
Stop it.
She started. What the hell was she doing? She had to stay calm if she was to stay in control.
She had to keep her head.
Without warning, the squall hit. Viciously brutal, the wind screamed through the rigging and pummeled the sails,
Wind Seeker
heeling severely under its force.
Oh God, no.
An icy wave dumped over the rail, drenching Ali to the bone. Her hands slipped, the soft suede of her sailing gloves saturated beyond grip. She stumbled to starboard, her knee smacking against the bench seat so hard she thought she’d popped her kneecap.
The sea, angrier than ever, dropped away from the hull. With a violent lurch, the yacht thudded against the water, the jarring impact of wood and water knocking Ali off her feet.
And then Jack was in the cockpit, leaping onto the deck. “Put on your safety harness,” he ordered, grabbing at the boom. He began reefing further on the sails, but his efforts made little difference to
Wind Seeker’s
sickening pitch. Maneuvering toward the foredeck, he paused for a second, fixing her with a steady stare. “Ali, put your safety harness on
now
.”
She ignored him, battling with the helm instead. If she put her harness on she would have to take her eyes off Jack as he moved over the dangerously wet deck and there was no way in hell she was going to do that.
Another wave hit them and
Wind Seeker
pitched so far that water gushed over the stern, flooding the cockpit.
“Hard over, Ali.” Jack’s voice barely reached her from where he precariously struggled with the sails. “Hard over. Hard over.”
She spun the wheel as far as it would go,
Wind Seeker
heaving into the gale screaming past them.
“Jack,” she shouted, fighting the weather and her own fear. “Jack, get back here.”
The sea dropped away again. The yacht fell off the wave into a sickening hole where water once was, crashing Ali against the helm.
Alarmed fear screamed through her, louder than the wind howling and baying around them. She struggled with it, just as she struggled with the wildly spinning helm, her eyes stinging with icy sea-spray and hot tears. Oh God, this was so familiar. So familiar…
The memories hit her, hard. Blow after blow of memories of her dad telling her to let him take over, that the wind had picked up too much. Of her shouting back into the gale that she could do it, that she was fine, that she wasn’t a baby anymore. Memories of the first wave crashing over the deck, the second flooding the cockpit and spilling into the cabin. Of the ocean plunging away from the hull and then snapping back at it as another gust ripped at the boom and tore it from the mast. Memories of her dad lurching and stumbling along the deck towards her, screaming at her to hold on
.
Of her screaming at him to watch out for the boom.
She’d reached for him, letting go of the helm, screaming and crying and calling him, and
Wind Seeker
had heeled violently to starboard, the loose boom swinging fiercely. Uncontrollably. Smashing against her dad. And then he’d disappeared, flung overboard into the black, angry sea. His face had been white and terrified, water filling his gaping mouth, blood gushing from his head. And then he’d gone under and she’d flung herself after him, the ferocious, eager sea pulling and grabbing at her hungrily. Trying to devour her. Refusing to let her reach her dad.
“Ali. Hard over. Now.” Jack’s bellowed order yanked her back from the terrifying memory to the terrifying present. The sky was purple with boiling, livid storm clouds that suffocated the sun and rendered the day night. Ali pulled on the helm, her moan of dismay at its resistance whipped away by the wind that tore passed her.
She searched for Jack, the sails hiding him from her view. “Jack?” she screamed into the howling wind, salty water stinging her face.
Another squall hit. And another. Shrouded in rain, the squalls roused the sea to a frothing, frenzied rabble that flung the yacht about. Drenched by both rain and sea, Ali gripped the helm and tried to keep
Wind Seeker
under control as she sent it downwind. Jack finally appeared, sliding over the deck and dodging snapping sails as he wrestled with the rigging.
He stumbled passed the sawing boom, and for a second Ali couldn’t breathe or move. But then he flung himself into the tiny space beside her and yanked on the boom’s rigging in an attempt to bring it under control.
“Hard over, Ali.” he screamed over the wind, pointing at a wave the height of a house bearing down on them.
His voice was hoarse. Desperately, she fought with the weather for control of her yacht, drawing on strength she did not know she possessed. The wheel beneath her hands felt like a wild animal flailing against an attacker. She clung on, gripping and turning until
Wind Seeker
finally responded. Crazed hope sliced through her fear. She’d done it. She’d beaten the storm.
She’d
done it.
And then a rogue wave broke over them, a dumping force that hurled the yacht into a dangerous list, floundering in the raging ocean.
“Shit.” Jack’s curse was barely audible over the wailing wind, but Ali didn’t need to ask him what was wrong. The headsail was thrashing wildly, torn from the sheave to clatter against the mast.
“Haul in the sails,” Jack shouted to her. “I’ll get the headsail. We’ll have to go bare-pole.”
“Jack, don’t be an idiot,” Ali yelled back, ignoring the rain and spray lashing her face. “You won’t be able to do anything until this squall passes.”
“I’ll just pull the headsail down.” He swung up onto the deck. “We might be able to save it.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Ali’s throat was raw. “Help me with—”
But Jack ignored her, stumbling and slipping towards the bow, flailing awkwardly as
Wind Seeker
suddenly lurched to port.
“Jack.” she screamed as another squall hit, smacking with savage force against the yacht’s starboard side. A wave the size of a two-storey building appeared from nowhere, breaking above them, dragging
Wind Seeker
up its sharp face. The boom swung to port and smashed against Jack’s temple with a heavy thud. Ali watched, frozen with horror, as he went limp.
And fell over the side.
Chapter Eleven
“
Jack!
” Ali leapt from the cockpit. Her knees struck the hard, wet deck as she crawled under the erratically swinging boom. Scrambling to the side rail, she searched the churning water for any sign of him.
Nothing.
Her heart pounded in her throat and chest and ears. Where was he? Oh God, where was he? She couldn’t breathe. Blinking against the driving rain, she frantically scanned the water for any sign of him, but all she could see was white-capped waves crashing against each other.
“
Jack?
”
Wind Seeker
rolled from side-to-side, almost hurling Ali from her tenuous place on the deck.
God, Jack, Oh God, no—
And then she saw him.
At least fifty yards away. Face down.
Crawling across the deck, she flung herself into the cockpit and grabbed the life ring from its bracket on the transom. She had to get to Jack.
She crawled back to the bulwarks, spotted his facedown body sinking in the waves and, pausing long enough to throw out a line and the emergency rope ladder, she leapt overboard into the frenzied water.
She cleared her head of everything. Refused to listen to the hysterical fear screaming at her. Refused to acknowledge the hungry waves pulling at her. All she focused on was reaching Jack. Before he went under.
Every stroke felt like she was being dragged back. The life ring bounced under her armpit, thrown about by the jagged, heaving water. It made swimming in a straight line impossible, but she didn’t quit. She couldn’t. With each cresting wave that crashed over her, blinding her for dire seconds, panic tried to tell her Jack would no longer be there, that he was slowly drifting to the ocean floor.