by Jennie Finch
He’d toyed with the idea of setting fire to the whole thing but that would attract a great deal of official attention. The coppers tended to get a bit riled up about arson and it carried a very heavy penalty if you got caught. Besides, he had nothing against most of the crew – apart from a general contempt for their brown-nosing and sucking up to the probation staff. No, he was after something a bit more personal. He examined the underside of the raft and chose several of the plastic tanks mounted on the left. These were empty to give a bit more buoyancy, the air acting to counter the weight of the crew. Choosing a place on the inside, near the top of each tank he made two deep cuts. Then he turned his attention to the lifejackets, picking the lock on the box in seconds. Rummaging through the contents he found what he was looking for, made a few adjustments of his own and put everything back neatly, closing the lock once more. He flipped the catch on the window behind him and set off through the park keeping in the shadows of the trees to avoid startling the natives. He’d done the best he could to repair his face but he knew he would never be considered handsome again.
Alex woke on the day of the race feeling sick. She’d resolutely avoided thinking about the actual day itself despite all the drills and practices, all the time spent with the small group who made up the crew and the larger supporting cast of builders, drivers, planners and general odd-bods who kept appearing to swell their numbers. Somehow she’d managed to keep the reality of this stupid adventure walled up in a tiny corner of her mind. Well, she thought, as she opened her eyes, the walls are down and this tiny voice is screaming. She sat up in bed and pulled an Edvard Munch ‘face’, mouth open, cheeks in and hands to the sides.
‘You’ve not got toothache have you?’ asked Sue, materializing at the door with a huge mug of coffee.
Alex dropped her hands hastily. ‘No, sorry, just trying to calm my psyche,’ she said taking the mug. ‘Mmm, good. That’s better.’
Sue eyed her suspiciously. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You’re never this calm and pleasant in the morning.’
Alex shook her head and took another sip. ‘I think I’m going to throw up,’ she said.
‘Perfectly reasonable and sane reaction to this afternoon,’ said Sue, with a distinct lack of sympathy. ‘Hurry up and get ready. You need to eat something before we set off. We can’t have the life-saver fainting and falling overboard now can we.’
Alex glared at her retreating back and wondered how the hell she’d got herself into this predicament.
On the beach at Watchet the crowds were already gathering and a holiday atmosphere reigned as families settled on the stony beach, unpacked picnics and settled in to enjoy the sun. Alex arrived just behind the minibus hired for the day to make sure the rowers and support crew all arrived safely and on time. It was driven by Paul Malcolm, who got out looking harassed.
‘Hi Alex,’ he said. ‘Getting this lot out of bed was a joy I can tell you. Why did I agree to this? I’m dying for a pint but I daren’t drink in front of the lads.’
The bus emptied out, a cheerful bunch, covering their nerves with jokes, insults and the occasional shove.
‘Where’s Brian?’ she asked, looking over the group.
‘It’s okay, he’s coming with Pauline,’ said Paul. ‘How’s he done anyway?’
Alex had to admit she’d been pleasantly surprised by Brian over the last couple of weeks. He’d turned up, worked hard and fitted in with the rest of them with a minimum of fuss. Pauline assured her he’d not been drinking and the tell-tale spots around his mouth and nose had faded away. They were a little awkward with one another at first, seated crammed up against each other on the raft and having to work as a pair, but this faded as they developed a level of mutual respect. Brian had heard the story of the rescue and joked he was glad to be sitting next to her because she’d save him first. She watched how he picked up the unfamiliar art of rowing and was impressed by his stamina and his almost instinctive ability to adjust to the pitches of the raft. Above all he seemed to be enjoying himself despite the blisters, the aching muscles and the occasional ducking over the side. Perhaps he’d found what he was good at, she thought.
Paul distributed packed lunches to everyone and they sat down to eat whilst they waited for the raft. The sea was a bit rough, Alex thought, casting an anxious look over her shoulder as she munched on her sandwich. She was getting very nervous and the food tasted of nothing. She was just wrapping it up again when a familiar voice said, ‘Are you wanting that?’ and Lauren, their nominated first-aider, appeared, clambering determinedly over the piles of stones towards them, followed by Jonny who looked decidedly rakish in a pink vest and tiny cut-offs.
‘Nice outfit,’ she murmured, as he settled next to her, stretching out on the beach.
‘Mmm … well, you’ve got to look your best. I often come down here. It’s the perfect place to pick up things.’
Alex looked at him suspiciously and he gave a disarming smile. ‘Fossils dear, the place is just lousy with fossils.’
Somehow she doubted Jonny spent his afternoons hunting for ammonites, but before she could think of a suitable retort a shout went up from the group and Eddie’s car appeared down the road towing the raft. There was a scramble for the trailer as it slowly ground to a halt and in a few minutes the men had the craft unstrapped and were checking it over.
‘Leave it on the trailer,’ yelled Eddie, as he got out of the car. ‘It can get damaged on the stones, so leave it there. We’ll have to carry it down to the water after the inspection but it’s safer up there until then.’
‘What inspection?’ asked Alex, who for one mad moment had hoped they would drop the raft on the rocks and scupper the whole thing.
‘It’s got to be measured and checked over to make sure it complies with the rules,’ said Eddie.
‘There are rules for this event?’ Alex was incredulous.
‘Of course there are,’ said Eddie. ‘You don’t think you can just turn up with any old thing and paddle out to sea? There’s rules about size, number of crew, type of paddles – everything really.’ He handed her a piece of paper with a dozen bullet points printed in dark blue ink.
‘At least four feet wide,’ she read. ‘At least two crew members. No oars or double-ended paddles and life jackets must be worn …’ She turned the page over but it was blank. ‘Nothing about it being seaworthy I notice.’
Eddie laughed and slapped her on the shoulder. ‘I love your sense of humour,’ he said. ‘Oh, here they come. I’ll get the life jackets out. Time to suit up.’
He almost skipped over to the car in his excitement, leaving Alex regretting even the minimal part of the sandwich she had just eaten.
About twenty groups were now gathered on the beach and rafts of every size, shape and colour dotted the pebbles. Some were strictly business-like with sleek lines and stern; several were almost playful with sea horses and mermaids fixed to the sides; at least one looked downright lethal, comprising several oil drums, some wood that appeared to have come from a broken fence and a pirate flag nailed to its stern. The harbour master stopped at this sorry craft and shook his head, consulting with the coastguard before, with a marked reluctance, handing the lads next to it an official number.
‘Right,’ said Eddie, giving a bright orange tabard with the number ‘7’ printed on it to Pete their bow man, ‘everyone ready? All checked your jackets? Now, remember, keep the raft up until you’re a good way out. If a wave catches it and it hits the bottom that can damage the air tanks and we need those. You’re allowed to go out above knee deep before you have to get in, so Alex and Brian – you hop in first and keep it steady for the rest. Tom,’ he pointed to the steersman, a sleek, muscular man with long dark hair, ‘you keep pushing as far as you can, but make sure you do get in. We’d be stuffed without you.’ He grinned nervously and suddenly it was all very real and happening very fast.
Alex just had time to catch Lauren’s eye and receive a quick thumbs-up from Jonny before a whistle blew
and the beach was a mass of crews hauling their rafts towards the water. There was a lot of shoving as the teams jostled for position, the strongest and fittest standing ankle deep in the water whilst the less experienced took their places behind them. Alex gripped her paddle in both hands and took up position behind the rest, wondering how she could be so cold yet still sweat so much. The pause seemed to last for ever as the sun beat down and Alex’s vision seemed to narrow to a tiny point focussed on the waves just beyond Mick’s right shoulder. Then there was a second blast of the whistle and the teams lunged forwards into the surf.
The water was so cold it took Alex’s breath away. In a few seconds she was up to her knees in it and soaked down one side from the splashing, as the crew plunged forwards into the waves. Disoriented from the shock of the sudden cold, the dazzling light reflecting off the water and the shouts and roaring from the sea around her, Alex stopped, stepped forwards again and almost slipped over on a small rock. A hand grabbed her elbow to steady her and then she was being dragged forwards, water up to her thighs and shoved unceremoniously into the fragile safety of the raft. Brian popped over the side next to her and slid into his place as the craft tilted alarmingly before righting itself.
‘Come on,’ he yelled, ‘we got to keep it steady, else it’s just us all the way to Minehead!’ He dug his paddle into the water, pushing the raft around as Pete slithered in and set his weight to holding the raft against the waves that threatened to push it back on to the beach. Brian was grinning like a madman as he worked the oar and Alex took a firm grasp of her paddle and leaned over to help. The swirling water almost tore it from her grasp as she tried to find an angle that allowed her to make an impact on the raft’s rocking. Suddenly the resistance was gone and she made a great swipe at nothing, almost overbalancing.
‘Sorry,’ chorused Mick and Chris, as they wriggled into position in front of her and Brian. ‘Reckon we should have gone one at a time,’ Mick gasped. There was now a fair amount of water slopping around in the bottom of the raft, but everyone except Tom was on board. With a final heave he tumbled over the stern and Pete began to set a beat for the rowers. After a few false starts they fell into the familiar rhythm, the hours of practice paying off as slowly and painfully they pulled clear of the surf at Watchet and began the long crawl round to Minehead.
It was nothing like their training runs on the river, Alex realized. The Parrett was relatively smooth and calm, and although it had a definite current it was at least consistent. The sea was rough, wild and tore at them every way it could, at least until they were clear of the beach. The raft, steered by the unflappable Tom, headed directly for the place where the waves formed into breakers and for a horrible moment they rose up and up, hovering on the peak before plunging into the calmer troughs behind. After three breakers Alex was feeling seasick, her head spinning with the noise and the constant motion, but she gritted her teeth and dug in with the paddle, determined not to disgrace herself. Then suddenly they were clear and the sea changed from frothing madness to hard, bright glass. The sunlight sparkled as it was refracted off the rippling surface and the roaring of the surf faded away behind them.
‘All right!’ shouted Pete. ‘We is clear – off we go now,’ and he began to chant a beat. Alex glanced around and saw relief on everyone’s face and realized she was not the only one who’d wondered if they were actually going to make it out to sea. For the first time she felt a part of this motley crew and she bent to the paddling with a will. There was something almost therapeutic about subsuming your individuality, becoming part of something rather than being all of it, she thought. Despite her cold, wet feet, her terror and the lingering nausea she was actually rather enjoying herself. There were a number of other rafts around them and several lagging behind. A glance over her shoulder showed the first casualties, amongst them the pirate raft that broke apart, oil drums bobbing on the sea as the two young men tried to climb on to them to wait for the lifeboat. One of them waved the flag above his head, whooping and laughing.
‘’Tis our best race yet,’ he called out, ‘never made it off the beach before!’ As the field began to open up, the crew bent to the serious task of propelling their frail craft all the way to the finish line.
In Minehead the crowds were gathering and a party atmosphere was developing as the pubs opened and friends and rivals massed to witness the finish of the race. There were occasional bulletins broadcast from the coastguard boat standing off from the race, and bets were laid under tables and in shady corners as the ever-changing odds attracted those wanting to chance a few quid on the outcome. Eddie parked the car and trailer in the nearest pub car park and made his way down to the quayside where he was joined by Lauren, Jonny and Paul Malcolm. They found a space on a low wall and settled down to wait, cool drinks and left-over sandwiches set out around them. Eddie squinted up at the sun, which was beating down fiercely and sending reflections off the water.
‘Maybe they should have worn hats,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think of hats. What do you reckon Paul?’
Paul stared out to sea and sipped his cola thoughtfully. ‘I reckon it’s a bit late to worry about that now,’ he said. ‘You did a cracking job Eddie, just getting them here. Let’s just hope they make it eh?’
They sat in silence as the crowd swelled around them and a band began to play in anticipation of the triumphant arrival of the rafts.
For over a mile the Probation raft held its own against better trained and more experienced crews, and there was a quality of grim determination setting in by the time they approached Warren Point. Propelling a raft through the sea, even a relatively calm sea, is a very different prospect to paddling around on a river. The salt water splashed over them, leaving their hair and faces sticky with salt, and their wet clothes began to chafe in a number of unfortunate places. Their eyes stung from the spray, their hands were beginning to blister and they were all starting to burn from the fierce sun. Alex plunged on, although every muscle in her back and shoulders was starting to complain. A short while later Tom gave an anxious call.
‘Pete? Pete, there’s something not quite right about the steering.’
Everyone stopped paddling and looked round at him and the raft began to yaw to the left.
‘Get on with it!’ yelled Pete. ‘You’m can’t stop now – we is almost at Warren Point and there’s a right strong current there. Reckon that’s what you feeling, Tom.’
Tom shook his head but said no more as they inched their way across the unforgiving sea and out of the slight shelter offered by the Point. The smooth surface of the water began to ripple and then fracture as they turned towards the stiffening breeze and for the first time Alex felt the raft tilt a little to the left and recover just a bit too slowly. Although the sea was rougher, paddling seemed a bit easier and she dug in, still matching the men stroke for stroke until there was another dip and a splash of sea water rolled over her side and in to the raft. She instinctively stopped paddling and flung her weight towards Brian bouncing him off the pace.
‘Heh, watch out now,’ he protested, nudging her back and sticking out his elbow. Then he noticed the water spilling over the side again and he stopped paddling too. ‘Oh bugger.’
Pete, still unaware of the problem, yelled at them to get working.
‘Come on, ’tis the hardest part, but once we’s round this ’tis easy into the harbour. Don’t you bloody dare quit on us now.’ He lifted the paddle and added his own weight to their forward motion, but the raft was listing more noticeably now and Tom joined Alex in leaning to the right in an attempt to lift the left side clear of the waves.
‘We’m in trouble back here,’ he yelled, but this had the effect of causing all the other rowers to swivel round towards him. Alex felt the raft dip as she overbalanced and tried to compensate by grabbing Brian as the first of the cross-currents hit the raft causing it to buck like an angry horse. The craft began to turn away from the current and she executed a neat back-flip into the sea.
Ale
x made a grab for the raft but it was already out of reach. Opening her mouth to yell she swallowed a great lungful of water and began to choke, thrashing wildly as she started to panic. A wave slapped her in the face and she went under for a second before her life jacket propelled her to the surface once more.
‘Keep your mouth closed!’ Alex thought, struggling for some self-control. The water was desperately cold but seemed to warm slightly as she ploughed through the waves towards the raft. The water dragged at her clothes threatening to pull her under again and she thanked Eddie for his insistence on decent life jackets. Suddenly she felt something give around her shoulders and to her horror the top strap of her life jacket pinged past her ear. Water snuck in between the smooth surface of the buoyancy floats and her body and she felt it begin to drag away leaving one side of her body supported and threatening to roll her over in the water. It was impossible to make any progress against the pull of the jacket and she stopped to tread water. Just as she gained some equilibrium the other strap went and the whole jacket began to uncoil around her. Her breath was coming in short gasps and her legs were getting heavy, exhausted from the effort involved in keeping afloat. Her head dipped under the water and she couldn’t see when she surfaced, blinded by the salt and her own hair. The thought that she might actually drown out here flashed through her mind and then a familiar voice called, ‘Got you now!’ Eager hands grabbed for her and she was bundled unceremoniously into the raft as the lifeboat hove to, stopping a few yards away.