by K W Frost
Undoing the safety reel from his weight belt, he attached it to Ritson’s. He then unclipped Ritson’s and attached it to his own. Ritson looked a bit stunned but he seemed to understand what was going on. Child unclipped the bag holding Ritson’s spare set of scuba gear and clipped that onto his weight belt too. Holding Ritson, Child gave him the thumbs up sign. Ritson slowly nodded and returned with a thumbs up sign of his own. Child hoped he would be all right down here on his own, but he had no choice but to leave him now. The likelihood that he wouldn’t make it up to the ledge didn’t cross his mind; it had to be done and he was the only person available. It had to him.
The ocean was Child’s home, he felt as one with the sea. The high waves that crashed into the rock face in front of him held no fear for Child. Hitting the rocks, however, did concern him.
Approaching the rock face, the waves lifted Child and pushed him towards land. Child stayed in relatively the same position, metres from the rocks, back peddling hard. The two figures up on the ledges seemed to have molded into the rocks, remaining motionless, showing no recognition of their rescuers.
Reaching down, Child slipped the fin off his right leg and tucked it securely up under his weight belt. Child rode the next wave right up to, but not quite onto the rock face. He backed off the wave, looking at the rock wall in front of him. He waited for the next wave to arrive. The water lifted Child, picking him up effortlessly, and Child thrust out his right hand to stop his body smacking into the rock wall. Using his right hand and left leg, Child scrambled up with the wave as high as he could, propelling the fin on his right foot. The exposed skin on his fingertips felt the sharp edges of barnacles that clung to the rocks. Then as the wave it hit its peak, his searching hand found a crack in the rock to grip onto.
Child’s left leg pushed down on a clump of seaweed, and like one of the permanent marine creatures, Child flattened himself against the wall and hung on. As the waves pulled back, he was once again fighting the terrible force of rushing water. Child gripped harder, concentrating all his force into his fingers. His fingers stayed ridged, unmoving. The spare aqualung gear trailed out behind him, tugging like an anchor and adding to the force trying to pry him off the rocks. Child counted the seconds, knowing the force couldn’t last long. Suddenly, it was gone. Child scrambled up the last few feet to fall onto the ledge. Turning, he pulled the bag containing the spare gear out of the water and placed it next to him.
Child took a deep breath. He was standing on a ledge about six feet long and two feet wide. It was almost completely covered with small barnacles and limpets. Child had climbed up onto the west end of this ledge. He wondered how two old men had made that same trip in the middle of the night and survived. There was still no movement from the two men. Cursing into the wind, Child turned towards them.
He saw Old Hans Post standing upright with his legs braced out as far as they could go. His hands were pressed back against the rock face, clutching at any outcrops. Yens was sitting between Hans’s feet, his head slumped down. A wave slapped water onto the ledge swirling around Child’s feet and up to Yens’s chest. Time was running out. Looking at Hans, Child realised why he hadn’t been seen yet. Hans’s eyes were screwed tightly shut. Child reached out and gently gripped Hans’s right arm.
His eyes flashed open and a look of complete shock crossed his face.
‘Thank God,’ whispered Hans, his voice shaking.
‘It’s all right, Hans. Do you know who I am?’ asked Child, trying to find out if Hans was functioning properly.
‘Of course, I know who you are, you’re Simon Child. Why do you think I’ve been standing here waiting to be rescued?’ replied Hans, almost irritably. ‘I should have guessed you would be one of the people to come.’
Hans spoke as if Child’s arrival on the ledge was a forgone conclusion.
‘What the matter with Uncle Yens?’
‘I don’t know… I jammed him there soon after we made it up onto this ledge,’ replied Hans through chattering teeth. Child knew he must be freezing and hypothermic by now. However, Child needed Hans to feel as perky and confident about getting back to dry land as possible, as that was the best chance of survival they had.
‘Stay where you are and I’ll have a look at him,’ said Child. He knelt down and checked Yens out.
‘What the hell did you come out on a night like this for?’ continued Child, his voice battling the wind. ‘Couldn’t you wait another day?’
Uncle Yens didn’t look too good. His skin was cold and pale, his eyes were vacant and his pulse was weak. But at least he was still breathing, so he had a chance of survival.
‘Don’t you think that I haven’t asked myself the same question hundreds of times in the last few hours?’ Hans replied in a resigned way.
Standing up again, Child gripped Hans’s arm forcibly.
‘Uncle Yens is alive and you are going to help me save him, do you understand? You will follow my instructions and do exactly as I tell you!’
Hans nodded obediently, but he had some fire back in his eyes and his body straightened in response.
‘Right now, I want you to put on the spare aqualung gear, but bring the wetsuit out of the back here for Yens.’
Hans stepped carefully past Child to the bag and started to put the aqualung gear on. Child looked down at Yens, his pale hair was plastered flat on his forehead. His hands were wrapped around his knees, his legs tucked up against his chest. The green woollen jumper he had on was saturated with seawater, but it had probably saved his life, retaining some of his body heat.
Hans held out the wetsuit, ‘Can we get Yens into this?’
‘We have to,’ replied Child, ‘if we don’t then he will be dead within the hour.’
With the cramped conditions and the cold slowing natural responses, it was ten minutes before they were ready in their gear. Child took a spare carabiner off his belt and looped a handhold onto it. He put it through and around Hans’s left hand; so long as he kept a gentle hold on it he would not lose his grip. He then clipped it over the line running between Child and Ritson. Hans stood next to Child looking at the crashing waves, then lifted his eyes to the dull morning light. He reached up and took the facemask off his head and handed it to Child. Another squall lashed down, rain stinging any exposed skin.
‘Use this on Yens, he’ll need it more than me,’ said Hans to Child, shouting to be heard over the drum of the rain.
Taking the facemask, Child leant in close to Hans and replied, ‘you’re a stubborn old fool, Hans,’ and he saw the beginnings of a smile appear on Hans’s face. ‘Follow the line down to Steve Ritson. I’ll be right behind you.’
Child turned to Yens and lifted him up. Then he took the rest of the cord from the top of the net bag, fashioned a sling around Yens’s body and the clipped it onto his belt carabiner. Holding Yens’s face, Child looked hard into his eyes.
‘Yens, do you read me?’
Child was rewarded with a slow nod.
‘Yens, we will need to share my aqualung on the trip to the mainland. I want you to kick with your legs to help me, if you can. When I need a breath of air I will tap you on the head, so you take a deep breath when you feel this.’
Child illustrated the quick tap he was going to give him. Again, Yens nodded understanding.
‘Then take a deep breath and hand me the mouthpiece. Don’t worry — I’ll give it back to you. We won’t go fast but I have plenty of air left, okay?’
In reality, Child had thirty minutes of air and under normal circumstances it should be enough. Child slipped the spare fin from his weight belt back onto his foot.
‘Hoped you cleaned your teeth,’ added Child with a comforting grin.
Yens’s eyes sparkled briefly, and then muttered, ‘I hope you haven’t got herpes.’
Child beamed, there was life in the old boy yet, and he suddenly felt more hopeful. The will to live reinvigorated in both men.
‘Right then, let’s go.’
Child w
atched the waves as a large one washed around his feet. He signaled to Hans.
‘Go Hans, now!’
Child watched as Hans jumped off the rock and disappeared into the murky sea. Child waited feeling, feeling the tension on the line.
Hans was still moving.
Looking at Yens, Child asked, ‘Ready?’
Again, Yens gave a slow nod.
Child watched the waves before gripping Yens’s hand and leaping off into the waiting sea.
Chapter Five
With Yens holding on tightly, Child plunged deep beneath the waves and kicked rapidly away from the rocks. He tapped Yens on the head and he removed the mouthpiece. Child took two quick breaths and returned the mouthpiece to Yens. Child grabbed the cord linking him to Ritson with his free hand. The cord suddenly veered sharply to the right, they were going past Ritson. Turning quickly, Child swam towards Ritson and Hans. A minute later they appeared out of the swirling murky water. The amount of loose seaweed floating about told of the storm’s savagery.
Hans was gripping Ritson by his aqualung harness, his eyes still tightly shut against the stinging seawater. Child checked Ritson’s responses. He had been in a holding position for many minutes and the time seemed to have helped his recovery. Using universal diving signals Child ‘Asked are you OK?’
With slow movements Ritson replied ‘Yes’.
Child signaled ‘Follow me’ and Ritson gave him a thumbs up.
Child led the group back towards safety. This time Child headed west. There was no way any of them could ever get back up onto the rocks where they had left off. They had to use the beach and the quickest way was going west.
Every thirty seconds or so Child tapped Yens on the head and took a couple of breaths from his aqualung. Yens’s feeble kicking movement gave little help, but at least it showed he was still alive. To Child it felt like he was towing a dead weight.
Following behind on a short lead were Ritson and Hans, working on finning and kicking gently, trusting Child’s judgement to get them out. Hans was just a passenger following wherever Ritson led him. Within minutes Child’s breath was getting shorter. His arm muscles were beginning to protest against the weight of Yens. His legs were working overtime. They were beginning to use up oxygen at an alarming rate, yet to try to go faster would be punishing, exhausting and lead to failure. Slow and steady was the only way to survive.
The water was deep at the northern end of the island, so the wave motion was limited at that depth. Progress was slow and after five minutes Child turned to the south, skirting the northern end of the island to head for the beach. The waves were directly behind them now. Child swam slowly, grim determination forcing him to continue. Up ahead was an underwater reef. It stuck out from the southern end of the island, jutting out towards the mainland at an angle. They would have to go around it. There was no way they could cross atop it in this weather.
Child focused on the murk ahead, the ground below was slowly rising. Suddenly, the sand in front of them exploded. Child frantically pulled Yens up and rolled away. A huge stingray’s tail whipped up, narrowly missing Yens’s face. Then with a dark flash and an extra swill of sand, the ray disappeared again.
Still holding onto Yens, Child tapped him on the head and took another couple of breaths, knowing that was a close call. Being impaled by a stingray barb would have almost certainly killed Yens.
Breathing more normally again, Child turned to see Ritson and Hans almost on top of them. They were unaware of the near miss. They would have swum straight past them but Child caught hold of Ritson. Ritson was in a bad way, and the knock on his head was worse than Child had originally thought. Wispy trails of blood flowed from Ritson’s forehead. There was nothing Child could do now. The best thing for everyone was to get to shore as quickly as possible. Looking at each person in the group, Child gave them the thumbs up sign and begrudgingly received a reply from each one in turn, even Hans. Child turned to Yens and then wrapped his right arm around his torso again. The procession continued on through the water. This rescue mission had become a nightmare for Child, their progress now measured by how many metres he could swim before needing another breath from Yens.
A cluster of rocks appeared out in front of them and Child knew they had reached the underwater reef. Looking up, Child could see the movement of turbulent waves across the top of the rocks. Child stopped for a moment, giving Ritson and Hans time to catch up. Child moved around the reef and continued to head for shore. Again, Child stopped and waited for Ritson and Hans, and slowly they caught up.
Finally, Child motioned for the group to stop. Child needed to surface to gauge their position. Child attached Yens to Ritson before swimming up to the surface. They were opposite the beach but still a long way out. They still had over a fifty metres to swim to reach landfall.
Child dove back down to find Ritson, Hans and Yens huddled together. Hans still had his eyes screwed shut and Yens seemed to have lapsed back into an almost coma-like state. If it wasn’t for the breathing coming from the aqualung, Child would have thought Yens was dead.
Child reattached Yens to himself and grabbed Ritson, motioning ‘50’ and then ‘Move faster.’
Ritson nodded slowly back at Child.
Moving more quickly now, Child and Yens led Ritson and Hans towards shore. Child could feel his own reserves decreasing rapidly. He needed to get to shore before he too collapsed. Child pushed on and with dogged determination continued dragging Yens along too. Child’s arms and legs screamed for release, but nothing mattered more than making it to shore now.
Then the seabed changed. A few rocks appeared and more seaweed floated past them. Child felt the waves beginning to lift him up and push him forward. He had to fight hard just to maintain his position as the backwash swept over him. Child willed himself for one last burst of effort before feeling a wave break over him. He found his footing and stood upright.
Child was standing eight metres from shore. He vaguely made out some dark figures running towards him before he was knocked over by the next wave. Yens was almost torn from Child’s grip as they tumbled over and over, held captive in the waves power. Child staggered to his feet again, coughing out seawater.
Suddenly, Yens was lifted from Child as Doug and Terry splashed through the waves to reach the men. They carried Yens to shore, met by a small army of medical staff and helpers.
‘Extreme hypothermia,’ called Child after them as he stumbled into the shallows. Child gulped in a lungful of cool fresh air, relieved to able to breathe normally again. Child turned and began to pull on the cord connecting him to Ritson. Nothing… fear for his friend caused him to pull faster and faster, his eyes searching the waves.
Dr Withers and Samantha quickly realised that Ritson had yet to return and they plunged into the knee-high water to help Child pull the line. Suddenly, the line jammed and didn’t move again. Unclipping the carabiner that secured the line, Child handed it to Samantha.
‘Hold onto this,’ he ordered, ‘I’ll be right back.’
Striding onto shore, Child shed his spent aqualung set. He picked up the spare set that Doug had brought down and headed back into the water, strapping it on his body as he went. Taking the carabiner from Samantha, Child clipped it over the line, then through the loop on his weight belt. Child gave his orders clearly and with renewed energy.
‘Keep tension but no more than that,’ he ordered, ‘two tugs mean that I want some slack, and three tugs means haul away.’
Child knew Ritson must be in trouble. He was a good friend and there was no way Child was leaving him down there.
Before Dr Withers and Samantha could reply, a gigantic wave came crashing down and caught them off guard, sweeping everyone off their feet. By the time they found their feet again, Child was gone.
Child had glimpsed the wave in his periphery vision and reacted instinctively by ducking low and diving forward under the wave. With single-minded determination he followed the line towards his friend. For ten, fiftee
n, twenty metres he trailed the line. Then, out of the swirling murk, a formation of rocks appeared with the line disappearing into a narrow gap in between them. Giving two sharp tugs Child swung away, pulling the line up and away from the crack and freeing it. Just beyond the crack, Child found the two men.
Neither was moving.
Grasping Ritson’s body, Child turned him over to see his face. Ritson’s mask was a pale red colour. There was a nasty gash on the top of his head from which blood was flowing freely. The original split in his skull had opened further. Ritson, head down, had been blindly following the line and had hit his head against the rocks as the line ran between the two rocks. Already weakened, Ritson had blacked out. The thickness of the wetsuit had saved his life. Child was just thankful he was still breathing.
Hans was breathing too, his eyes still screwed shut. He too seemed barely conscious. Child couldn’t find anything immediately wrong though. Maybe Hans had physically given up. Grasping each man under an armpit, Child tried to lift them up and away from the rocks below.
The two unconscious men dragged Child down again. Already weakened by his own ordeal, the energy seemed to drain out of Child. But Child’s mind refused to accept defeat. Willing his body forward, he lifted Hans and then Ritson over the offending rocks. Letting go of Ritson, Child gave three sharp pulls on the line, and then grabbed both men again, pulling the men on top of him. Then he waited.
With a sharp jerk, Child was dragged forward. Kicking as much as possible, Child tried to lift himself off the bottom. His aqualung tank dug shallow furrows in the sand as he was dragged along, rocks and corals scratching and cutting him as he went. Faster and faster they moved. Suddenly, there was sky above him. Then, as if the sea wanted one last reminder, a wave smashed into Child’s face and tore off his mask, leaving his eyes stinging with saltwater.