Chapter Nineteen
They sat in the cockpit drinking strong tea out of mugs inscribed Belinda. Probably a gift to Nigel from somebody. The boat rushed through the water even faster than before, since they had hoisted the jib sail. Twelve knots, not bad, but there was a force four or five wind; a steady wind blowing from the pole.
“Since you’ve been using the galley to make the tea, did you notice if we had any vittals aboard?”
“Of course I checked. There’s a cupboard packed with tinned food. There’s also a small fridge. That has got nothing in it.”
“Enough food to last us four and a half days?”
“More than four days?”
“Well, that’s when I reckon we land in Denmark, if the weather holds.”
Ben said nothing for a few moments, looking down at his mug of tea, pondering.
“The world’s a big place, eh? This journey home is really pointing that out to me.”
“Now Ben, we have to sort out some watches. We can’t both stay awake for nearly five days. We’ll do four hours on, four hours off, okay. Like the real sailors do it. Do you want to take the first shift?”
“Sure. I can wake you if I meet a problem?”
“Of course you can, I was just going to tell you that. Problems that might arise, but probably won’t are…” he ticked them off on his fingers, “…rising wind strength. Unlikely, but wake me if that happens. We might have to put a reef or two in the mainsail. But the weather looks set fair. Two, the wind direction changes. If it does, head closer to the wind, by looking at the pennant, which you should always glance at. I’ve switched the radar on, don’t turn it off. Keep an eye on it. Ships show up as blobs of light moving, and on this radar set leaving a trail behind them, so you know the direction they are moving. When the blobs at the edge of the screen, it is about forty miles away. So don’t start panicking. Our boat is the blob in the centre. By the time the other boat is ten miles away, you should be able to tell whether it is going to miss you. If not, then is the time to wake me up. The radar also shows up land mass. It’s stationary, and bigger. There are a lot of islands in the Baltic, but not on the route we’re taking, well not until the day after tomorrow perhaps.”
“I’ll manage, get to bed,” said Ben.
“I’ll take the bunk on the port side, nearest the door. Just shake me to wake me. Give me four hours, then get me up for my shift.” With that, McBride was stepping down into the cabin, lying down fully clothed, a blanket over him, and asleep within three minutes.
McBride felt a hand tug his shoulder, and he was immediately awake, and struggling to sit up. “Yes?”
“Your watch, Skipper,” said a very cheerful Ben.
McBride got two his feet, brushed with his hand at his hair.
“What have you got to be so cheerful about?”
“I haven’t felt sea sick, and we’ve been afloat for what, about six hours. I’m cured!”
“Don’t be too sure. It’s as flat as a mill pond. We’ll still get you some medication in the next port.”
When McBride got into the cockpit to take the wheel from Ben, he saw that there was a chop to the sea, but no white horses.
“When did the wind get up?”
“About half an hour ago. It’s not that windy, otherwise I would have woken you.”
McBride grunted, and looked down at the instruments. Fifteen knots.
That was really going some. He glanced at the radar screen. A couple of ships about twenty miles away, neither of them on collision course. If the wind freshened any more, he would take a reef in the mainsail.
“Well done, get yourself in your bunk.”
One hour later, McBride was taking not one reef but two in the mainsail. The speed dropped. Twelve knots, now. The wind stayed constant on the rest of his watch, and no boats came near. The sea was no rougher, just a slight chop.
At five in the morning he woke Ben for his next watch. When he came on deck, McBride gave him a briefing.
“The wind hasn’t got any worse. I put a couple of reefs in the mainsail, and the speed’s down to twelve knots. The sea is no rougher, so you might find as the sun rises you lose the wind. If you do, take out the reefs. You know how to do that?”
“Yep, unwind the handle thing.”
“That’s it, goodnight,” and McBride was back in the bunk seconds later.
At nine o’clock, they were both up and in the cockpit. The wind had lessened at dawn, as McBride predicted. They had all the sail, no reefs. The speed of the boat had dropped to ten knots. McBride was tempted to put out the spinnaker, but Nigel had told him not to, and he had agreed to do as Nigel asked. In point of fact, McBride was basing all his transit time on an average of ten knots, so he was bang on average.
“It feels as if we are just dawdling along,” said Ben.
“It will get us where we want to be, don’t worry. Just enjoy the voyage.”
“If I stood on the cabin roof, I might see land.”
McBride nodded towards the radar set just inside the cabin.
“There’s no land showing on the screen. So you would have to see further than forty miles. Just be patient. I’m just going below for a wash, take the helm.” He vanished into the cabin. Ben put on the autopilot like McBride had shown him. It was only a couple of strides, then holding the mast, on top of the cabin, he would see whether there was land visible ahead. He would be down before McBride came back.
He quickly stepped up on the gunwale and edged forward, and put one foot on the cabin top. He missed his footing, falling backwards, put out an arm to catch the rail, missed it, and plunged into the water, shouting in panic.
Ben’s scream brought McBride dashing out of the cabin, stripped to his waist. Ben was in the sea. McBride grabbed the wheel and turned it violently to bring the yacht up to wind. The sails flapped, and the boat stopped as though it had brakes. By this time Ben was four yards back, struggling and obviously panicking.
McBride shouted: “Pull the cord! On your life jacket!”
The instruction got through to Ben’s panic-stricken brain; his hand jerked up and pulled the cord. Immediately the jacket filled with air from the small attached cylinder. He bobbed about in the water, gaining confidence. But he was still a good way from the boat. He attempted to swim towards the yacht.
McBride grabbed the lifebelt from the stern. It was attached to the boat with a nylon rope. He calculated the distance and then hurled the belt in Ben’s direction. It was an excellent aim. The belt dropped within nine inches from Ben’s outstretched arm, and a second later he had the belt clutched in both his hands.
“Put it over your head and pull it down over your shoulders.”
McBride watched as Ben performed the task. “Okay, I’m pulling you in now.” When Ben reached the stern of the boat, McBride leaned over and grasped his arms. “Try and get your feet on the transom,” he grunted, pulling Ben’s shoulders. Then Ben was in the cockpit, streaming water, and shivering violently.
“Get you clothes off here, come on, leave them on the deck, and get into the cabin. Grab some towels and get yourself dry.”
McBride followed a naked Ben into the cabin, helped him dry himself, set the kettle to boil, and pulled out the medicinal bottle of whisky he had noticed in the galley. He made a mug of tea, and added a generous slug.
Ben was still shivering when he reached for the mug. But after half the contents was getting some colour back into his face. He reached into his rucksack and started to dress in dry clothes.
McBride gauged that he could be left to dress, and went back outside. The yacht was still head into the wind, and the cockpit floor littered with Ben’s wet clothes. McBride stepped gingerly over them, and pulled the wheel to get the boat sailing again.
After a while, Ben came out, looking rather shame-faced, and began to collect his wet clothes.
“Hang them over the rails, tie them on so they don’t blow away. Put your life vest on again.”
“It’s sti
ll inflated,” objected Ben.
“Well that is how you are going to wear it, unless you can find a replacement gas cylinder. Have a search in the cabin.”
When Ben came back into the cockpit with a gas cylinder in his hand, McBride showed how to fit it, and how to deflate his vest.
“Everybody falls off a boat once. Then you learn not to be stupid.”
Ben blushed. “Yes, Skipper.”
“As punishment you can make us both an early lunch.”
Ben turned and went below again.
The next morning the sky was clear, the sun beating on their backs, as they continued westwards. And they saw the faint dark streak of land on the horizon.
Find My Brother Page 21