Missing Dad 3

by J Ryan

  My numb hands swing the wheel as Monsieur tightens the main and jib. From nowhere, a torrent of sea water crashes onto the deck. Like an express train, it sweeps me off the wheel. I hit the rail. But the yacht is still heeling over. I topple over the rail into the sea. I’m underwater. It’s completely black now. There’s a roaring in my ears. I thrash wildly with arms and legs but I’m just whirled around in this cauldron, as helpless as a kitten being drowned in a bucket of water.

  A sharp jerk on the harness. My head breaks through the surface. So much spray blasts into my face, I can hardly breathe. I’m pinned to the yacht by the tether. Huge waves carry me up and then down. There’s nothing to hold onto. Another sharp jerk. ‘Give me your hand, Joe!’

  The yacht heels right over again and once more I’m underwater. She seems to be pushing me down forever. I haven’t got any breath left. I force my hand above my head, through the water. As the Lisette swings back up, two hands grasp mine and pull. Coughing my lungs out, I burst out of the sea and slide over the rail onto the deck. I look up. The tanker is around fifty yards away, towering above us like a skyscraper. She’s going to plough us into the ocean without ever seeing us.

  ‘Jibe away!’

  I grab the wheel and wrench it over. The boom swings round. We start to pick up speed. Too slowly. This huge ship has stolen the air from our sails. Tumbling into the valley of a thirty foot wave, we stare helplessly as her prow lurches above us. Then I see the mast of the Lisette tipping and rolling. And still rolling as it touches the foam. I take a deep breath. We’re going over.

  Water thunders in my ears. Blindly, I hang on to the wheel until I’m torn away. Swimming in the dark, I bump against the mast and wrap my arms round it. I think we’re upside down. My lungs want to burst. Then I feel the mast moving, pulling me with it. We rocket back through the surface. My hands slip off the mast and I crash into the rail. When I look up again, all I can see is the mast, heeling over again as the sails flap uselessly. The spray fills my lungs. I can’t see Monsieur. Then I hear him. ‘I have the wheel. Get hold of the main! We need wind speed!’ Or we’ll capsize again and again, with this huge weight of water and wind force dragging us down. And the yacht’s buoyancy will finally give up. The cabin below will fill with sea. And Becks, and Arnaud…

  The boom swings crazily around over my head as I fight my way towards the snaking rope. Slipping and sliding through the foaming water, I grab it and haul it in. With a massive jerk, the main takes the wind. We start to move, sails streaming, rivers of sea water running off the deck. The yacht reels with another huge gust. But all I can feel is relief. That massive ship has passed us by. The lights start to fade into the dark as the tanker slogs on up the next wave mountain, horn blasting.

  The wind machine screams through my ears. Monsieur shouts, ‘Jibe!’ I let the main swing free. Another huge wave catches us and we heel over. I watch the mast as it dips lower. For a few heart-stopping seconds, we slide sideways and the deck disappears beneath the foam. Then the Lisette rocks back up. I duck as the boom shoots across. The main crashes out at a right angle to the yacht, filling with air. That North West gale is behind us now. We’re running for our lives, back to Marseille.

  Chapter 12

  The Fury

  Sailing with the storm blowing behind us is as scary as trying to fight our way through it. Massive wind power shoves us up giant waves that are going in the same direction as us. The yacht veers and weaves up each mountain. She surfs on the top for a few vertiginous seconds, at a speed I’ve never sailed before. Then we slide downwards, with the following wave arcing over the stern and flooding the deck. The yacht nosedives into the trough, crashing through walls of water that flood us again from the prow. The mast rocks, sails snapping and flapping, as we hit dead air. Then the sails start to fill with wind again, the main swings out and we’re propelled up the next enormous wave. And all the time we can hardly see, with flying spray blinding our eyes.

  In one of the dead stops between waves, while we rock and roll, I notice that the cabin lights have gone out. They might have been out ever since we capsized and I just never saw. ‘Monsieur…!’

  The cabin hatch opens and Becks starts to climb on deck. A blast of spray hits her in the face. ‘Did we capsize?’

  ‘Yes! Don’t come any further, Becks – you’re not roped on!’

  She closes the hatch behind her and hangs on to the wooden handle beside it. The yacht lurches suddenly as we’re pushed violently up another wave. ‘We were falling all over the place. It was awful. I thought she was going to hit that button by mistake.’

  ‘Is Arnaud OK?’

  ‘We daren’t say a word to each other. She just sits there while we all hang on like grim death in the dark.’

  Monsieur turns the wheel as another gust hits from behind. ‘Did she tell you to come on deck?’

  ‘I told her I was feeling seasick.’

  ‘You must have another attack of seasickness if her behaviour changes.’

  ‘Changes like how, Monsieur?’

  ‘Anything that makes you think she could press that button. You and Arnaud are doing the right thing, saying nothing.’

  ‘How long…?’ A flood of sea water rushes across the stern, soaking her completely. Shivering, she pulls strands of wet hair from her eyes.

  I can’t bear this any longer. ‘We’re heading back to Marseille, Becks.’

  ‘We’re going back? Oh-my-God.’ Then. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

  ‘Like, that would have been just so easy with a tanker about to run us over?’

  ‘What tanker?’

  ‘The one that made us cap…. Look, you know you’re not interested in tankers, Becks.’

  ‘You should have been down there! There’s broken crockery and glass everywhere.’

  ‘Point is, you’ve got to make her think that we’re still going to England.’

  Her green eyes flash at Monsieur. ‘How long for? I’d run a Karaoke, but…’

  He looks at her steadily. ‘Courage, Becks. I know you have it in plenty. Maybe, two hours before we are in reach of the harbour.’

  ‘And then what, Monsieur?’

  ‘A great deal could happen before that.’

  ‘So if she asks, I tell her…?’

  ‘We are heading on through the storm towards the nearest English port.’

  Pushing her wet hair up onto her head, Becks twists it into a knot. Before she opens the hatch, she turns back to me. ‘Any more than two hours and you and I swap places, Joe!’ The cabin hatch slams behind her.

  ‘Actually, she meant that, Monsieur.’

  The main fills with wind again, pulling us onwards. ‘You are a lucky man, Joe.’

  ***

  All through the darkness of the storm-ridden day, the Lisette battles on. Rising up these black, foam crested waves, the roaring North Westerly snapping at her running sails. My hands are blistered from the ropes. Salt water stings my face. And I dread what could be happening in that cabin down below. But there’s some kind of hope in my heart now. Maybe we’re going to make it.

  I don’t know how long we’ve been struggling through this day-time night, when Monsieur calls. ‘Over there!’ I stare into the blackness ahead. For a few seconds, there’s nothing. Then a small white beam pierces the dark and disappears. Five seconds later, it’s back. Vanishing again. ‘Le phare de Marseille. The lighthouse. We are nearing the port.’

  I so wish I could tell Becks as I watch this pencil beam of light come and go. Slowly, it gets bigger and brighter through the flying spray. ‘We must keep to starboard of the lighthouse. There is a group of islands, with rocks that we must avoid at all costs.’

  Hardly hearing him, I stare at the light; thinking about how its rays must be visible from the dark cabin. At that moment, the hatch opens. The Contessa stands there. Her
white dress billows around her; the gale whips her coils of hair into long, pale shreds. She’s not wearing a life jacket. ‘What is that light?’

  Monsieur’s voice is calm. ‘Beyond the lighthouse is shelter, where we can refuel, and get provisions for the voyage. Without those, we will never reach an English port.’

  A flash of lightning cracks over the mast. Two seconds pass before the thunder. The deck heaves, foam pouring across it. She recoils as the water drenches her. The white dress goes grey with the wet. There’s a venomous anger in her voice. But I can hear fear, too. ‘You are lying, Christian. What a fool you are, to try and deceive me!’

  Desperate to stop her from pressing that button, I blurt out, ‘He’s lied to us all!’

  The cold blue eyes turn on me. ‘Would you like to tell me more, Joe?’

  Behind her, in the dimness of the cabin, Becks and Arnaud stand, holding on, their faces pale. Monsieur flicks a quick, intense glance at me; then the Lisette sways as he steers her up another gargantuan wave. The main sheet tugs at my hands. ‘I’d tell you, if I thought you’d believe me.’

  ‘But I will, of course.’

  ‘You have to show you trust me. Give me the remote.’

  She hesitates. A blast of wind heels the yacht over. Water pours onto the deck, tearing at her dress and streaming into the cabin. ‘I’ll tell you about how you’ve been playing his game all along.’

  ‘Why are you turning against him now?’

  ‘Do you think Becks and I want to be here? He forced us to come with him!’

  ‘He forced you…?’

  She’s starting to believe me. She knows about forcing kids to do things they don’t want to. Like she told her own daughter to lie to us. And then left her, maybe dying, while she ran from the police. A fury roars in my head as I stare at this woman who killed Monsieur’s wife. Who nearly killed Becks and me. Who has no love for her lonely daughter. I hear my voice from a long way off, coaxing her. ‘I’ll tell you everything. That’s what you want, isn’t it?’ I hold out my left hand. The main tears at my right. We’re cresting the wave at a terrifying speed.

  She takes a step up from the cabin. ‘You’d better be telling the truth.’

  ‘I’m too scared of you not to. You know that.’ The main is like a wild animal, almost pulling my right arm from its socket.

  ‘Then, it seems we understand each other.’ She takes a second step, up onto the deck. Her hand holds out the remote. My hand strains towards hers.

  At that moment, the yacht tilts over. We start to slide down the wave. Above us, the crest arches higher. Then it breaks. A Niagara crashes onto the deck and I’m torn away from the main. My head bangs into the mast. Lights explode in my brain like fireworks.

  When I break surface, coughing out salt water, all I can think about is that open hatch that will let the sea flood into the cabin and sink us. As I look at it I’m seeing double, sparks going off in front of my eyes. But someone’s closed it.

  ‘Joe – are you alright?’ Becks is struggling to hold onto the main sheet. Arnaud is wrestling with the wheel. The deck is half under water, the mast at a crazy angle.

  A dull shock hits my stomach. In those moments when I was out of it, something dreadful has happened. ‘Where’s Monsieur?’

  Becks’ voice shakes. ‘She went overboard in all that water. He dived in after her. We can’t see him, Joe!’

  Numb, I stare at the waves.

  Arnaud shouts, ‘I’m turning her into the wind. We have to stop!’ He swings the wheel. Instantly, more sea water pours over the deck and the mast dips dangerously low. ‘Take the wheel, Joe! I’m going to reef in more sail.’

  As he battles to take in the main, we drift towards the circling beams of the lighthouse. Dimly, I hear Monsieur’s words. We must keep to starboard…

  ‘Arnaud, we’re going the wrong side of the lighthouse. The rocks!’ Swearing, he grabs the main while I turn us back into the gale. We tack away from the lighthouse then try again. But this sea won’t let us stop. As soon as we try and turn into the wind, we’re pushed sideways, like a giant hand is grinding us down into the waves. ‘We have to radio for help, Arnaud.’

  His face is white, the long dark hair whipping around it. ‘He is out there somewhere! We have to search for him!’

  ‘We can’t do that on our own. The sooner you send out a Mayday, the sooner the coastguard can get on the case.’

  He goes into the cabin, emerging seconds later with a powerful torch. ‘I will call, but you must keep looking for him!’

  As I turn the wheel to put us in front of the wind again, I see Becks fighting a losing battle with the main. The yacht swings over again and she slides across the deck.

  ‘Let it go!’

  ‘What?’

  I pick up the harness that Monsieur must have shrugged off before he dived into the sea. Quickly, I shove it over her shoulders and clip her on. ‘I’m not losing you too. I’ll handle the main.’

  She stares at the wheel. ‘What am I supposed to do?’

  ‘Keep her running in the same direction as the wind.’

  ‘The wind’s all over the place!’

  ‘Only when we go down a wave. You’ll feel it on your back. Keep it there.’ Long red hair lashing her shoulders she holds the wheel, swinging it right and left as the yacht veers on its way up the next wave. I can barely feel the main sheet in my hands, they’re so dead. Arnaud’s torch rolls around on the deck by my feet. I want to grab it and shine it over these relentless waves to look for Monsieur. But I know that, even if I could spare a hand, I would never find him. And yet…I can’t believe we’ve lost him. His voice is still in my head. A desperate hope, but…

  ‘Joe, I can’t keep this boat straight…I just can’t!’

  ‘You’re doing fine!’

  ‘I hate leaving Monsieur behind out there!’

  ‘I hate it too…but the only way we can help him is to keep this yacht going.’ As we reach the top of the wave, I see the beams of the lighthouse to our left. And ahead of us I can see something else. Lights, twinkling faintly through the flying surf. Then that massive acceleration powers us forwards. ‘The harbour’s not far, Becks! Try and keep her steady!’

  ‘Whooh!’ The Lisette starts to plunge downwards. I glance behind, bracing myself for the wall of water. But this time, we shoot down a smoother slope with no vengeful sea behind us. And I realise that the wind machine isn’t howling so loudly. We hit the trough and the Lisette coasts on through it, swaying but on course. I look up. There’s a gap in the clouds and a violet sky above. The harbour lights grow brighter.

  ***

  ‘Their search and rescue helicopter and the lifeboat are already launched. But they are heading first to a ship in distress out there.’ As he climbs through the hatch, Arnaud sees the torch at my feet. His dark eyes blaze with reproach.

  ‘I’m sorry Arnaud, but we couldn’t let go…’

  He seizes the torch and we watch the bright beam rake the waves. The water is calming, the foam subsiding. The wind still buffets our ears but the screaming of that dreadful machine is gone. ‘We can turn, now. We can go back and look for him!’

  ‘Arnaud, we’ll sail straight back into the gale, you know that. It’s only quieter here because we’re near the harbour.’

  Still shining the torch, he stares out at the stormy horizon behind us. His face is wet with salt water. ‘Why did he try to save her? When she wanted to kill me?’

  An awful thought is uncoiling in my brain. ‘Do you know who she was, Arnaud?’

  His eyes follow the searching beam. ‘I’ve never seen her before in my life. But my father spoke to her as though he knew her well.’ He turns to me. ‘You know her, don’t you? What is it that you’re not telling me?’

  This heavy burden of untold truth is far worse than the
weight of water that tried to push me under the Lisette. I can’t begin to find the words. Her eyes on the approaching harbour lights, hands on the wheel, Becks says quietly, ‘You have seen her before, Arnaud. Only, you were too young to ever remember.’

  His voice is dazed. ‘How do you know this? Why didn’t my father tell me?’

  I secure the main in the cleat and look at him. ‘He didn’t tell you because he couldn’t forgive himself for what happened sixteen years ago.’

  ‘Sixteen years? When I was born?’

  ‘Becks and I only began to find out on the plane back home from Marseille. When we met her…’

  His voice is angry. ‘Sixteen years ago, my mother died. I have no memory of her. Only the portraits. My father told me she died of a fatal illness. Is there something that he didn’t tell me?’ In the distance, we hear the steady thrum of rotors in the sky.

  As I struggle for words again, Becks pushes me to the wheel. She goes to Arnaud where he stands at the stern, looking at the waves. She says softly, ‘You’ve always wondered if there was something, haven’t you?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Because I don’t think parents ever tell us all of the truth. Mine didn’t when they split. They were trying to protect me.’

  ‘Your parents…?’

  ‘I live with my dad, when he’s there. And my big brother.’

  His smile is bitter. ‘It’s strange, isn’t it? We three have been through so much together. And yet we know so little about each other.’

  I tilt the wheel to Starboard, aiming for the fortifications of Marseille harbour. ‘We know enough to trust each other, don’t we?’

  His voice is quiet, ‘So, you will tell me?’

  ‘Your dad only told us today. Because he was trying to protect us. He didn’t want us to come with him to the yacht. He knew how dangerous she was.’