“I don’t think he’s going to make it,” he said. Andrew tried to find a pulse on Malcolm’s neck, but abandoned his attempts when another large wave struck the raft. He shook his mournfully and said,
“I’m not a doctor, but it’s not a good sign that he hasn’t regained consciousness. As you said before, he should be in a hospital. We can’t care for him out here in an ocean desert, he’s too far gone. We might have to prepare for the prospect, that he might not be with us when we get rescued.” Bull looked at Malcolm with a heavy sinking feeling in his heart. He shook his head erratically and stated,
“What happened to all your confidence and leadership qualities Sherlock? Have they deserted you when we need them most?”
Andrew’s mood plunged as he mused on their chances of survival. He tried to block out the contemplation of the raft being torn apart by the elements, treading water and finally succumbing to the sucking vastness of the ocean. He held his hands aloft and yelled,
“I’m doing the best I can with limited resources! We’re in a damaged raft, taking in sea water and being battered by a storm! We’re too heavily in the water! We’ve got too much ballast onboard!”
“So you’re saying we need to jettison the case? Let’s do it. We’ve used practically everything in it anyway.”
“I’m not talking about the luggage. We need to consider other options.” Andrew raised his eyebrows and looked at Malcolm. Bull, his voice full of emotion, whimpered,
“What, are you saying? That we should just let him die? Look at all this rain? We’ve got drinking water to last for weeks now. You’ve been catching fish, so we have food. We must hit land sometime or come across a shipping lane. We could get him to a hospital then.”
“That would be a great plan, but what are we going to do about the here and now. We’re sinking or has that escaped your attention?”
“He’s only a little fella. How much can he be weighing us down? We can keep this bucket afloat if we keep trying. You can’t tell me there’s no hope, because I won’t give up on him, not until the last moment.”
“He’s probably beyond the point of no return. I couldn’t even feel a pulse for goodness sake, so he might even be dead. We’ve done our best for him, and without any professional medical help. I’m not saying we should throw him overboard right now. All I’m saying is that the time may come when we might have to. Stark choices have to be made in situations like this. It’s a case of sacrificing the few for the greater good.” Bull turned away in disgust. He adjusted his fur coat like a petulant school boy.
Sheet lightning flashed above their heads, the ultraviolet discharge filtering through the canopy and illuminating the gloom of the raft. This was followed by the predictable sound of rumbling thunder, and then another electrostatic pulse accompanied by a new clapping roll. The wind howled around the raft, violently shaking the canopy. Amazingly, a blitz of hailstones bombarded the canopy. They felt the powers of nature converging upon them. Bull looked around for his woollen bobble hat. It was floating in the expanding water at his feet with Lisa Formby’s diary, the ink running on the saturated pages. Dullest, poorly written book I have ever read anyway, he thought.
Wave after wave slammed into the raft. Bull stuck his head outside the aperture. A black wall of rain moved towards them and shut out what was left of the residual light. Bull wanted to zip the aperture up but he needed it open to dispose of the water he collected in the bailer. The darkness was nearly complete apart from the intermittent channels of fork lightning flashing like electrostatic veins, pulsing against the black aura. Through the canopy they could witness the natural spectacle. It unsettled them both. Bull coughed violently then rubbed his hands together to regain some warmth and muscle movement. He pumped the inflator with new resolve until he looked towards Malcolm who had slumped over after the last big wave. The strap of his bag had risen up and twisted around his neck. Bull leaned over and pulled him back to a sitting position. He removed his bag from over his shoulder. He whispered in his ear,
“I’ll look after this for you Malcolm.” The intenseness of the waves made bailing impossible. They would spill most of the collected water before they reached the aperture. Finally, they zipped up the aperture and sat back and contemplated riding out the storm, hoping the raft would stand up to the punishment being meted out by the weather. They held onto the wall of the raft as it rose and fell in the sea swells. Malcolm’s body was in freefall. The other two men looked on, powerless to help.
Finally, the pontoon started to collapse. The sea gushed through the gap under the canopy and swirled round their legs. Bull tried to snatch the hand inflator as it flew by him, but a mountainous wave struck the raft and lifted it onto its side. Bull crashed into Malcolm and both men came toppling down on top of Andrew. Bull’s foot caught Andrew in the face as he fell. A painful scream cut through the noise of the storm. Bull crawled towards Andrew who was looking out of the aperture and into the darkness. Andrew, still rubbing his jaw, turned his head. His face was gaunt but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He pointed towards the sea and yelled,
“I thought I saw something flashing through the canopy.”
“It will be the lightning.”
“No, not lightning. A pulsing yellow light. Like a beacon.”
“You probably imagined it. You’ve been seeing a lot of imaginary things of late. We’re in the middle of nowhere. It’s pointless. You were right. We don’t stand a chance. The raft is disintegrating. I’m sorry. It was my fault. I damaged it.”
Andrew’s voice became excited. He yelled through the roaring wind, “Just look man! Look! I can see something. Something over there. An object, floating in the sea. I can see something in the water. It looks like a boat. It is. It’s a bloody boat!”
Bull, still struck down with deep foreboding, moved towards the aperture. His eyes narrowed. At first he couldn’t see anything but the black pulsing ocean and then, from between the swells, he saw the beacon flashing in the distance. Soon the unmistakeable shape of a lifeboat came into view, appearing and then disappearing in the floundering sea. It appeared to be coming towards them. Bull felt like embracing Andrew and kissing his balding head but all expressions of emotion were put on hold when the chilling sea water poured into the raft and lapped around their waists. Bull put on the life jacket that he had brought from the Andrea Starlight. Andrew said,
“I’ll swim out to the lifeboat and get them to pick you and Malcolm up.” Bull nodded his head in agreement but Andrew noticed a despairing look in his eyes as he edged his body towards the aperture.
“What are you doing? Didn’t you hear what I said? Are you mad?” Bull pushed by Andrew. He said, “I’m sorry,” and like a sea lion, he dropped into the sea and was gone.
Andrew, looking out from the aperture, tried to follow his path but failed to see him through the sea spray. There is no time to prepare, he thought. He took one last look back at Malcolm and then hurled himself forward. He fought off the bitter cold which engulfed his body, but he managed to resurface and locate the lifeboat. Andrew swam until he was upon it. He raised his head over the gunnels and pulled his body onto the deck. His legs felt weak and unsteady from days of inactivity. He held on to the grab rails and looked through a port hole, half expecting to see Bull. There were no signs of life. He edged his way round to the main cabin and located the escape hatch door. He went inside. No signs of life. He stopped to catch his breath and appreciate the respite from the remorseless wind and iced rain. He located a food ration box, cracked opened a high energy drink and gulped it down. He found a lifejacket and put it on.
When he re-emerged from inside the boat, he peered out to the sea. Apart from the faint light from the boat’s beacon, he faced a wall of blackness. Andrew surveyed the seascape for the raft to use as a reference point. From there he hoped to detect Bull. Eventually, he located him after the next flash of lightning. He was treading water halfway between the raft and the lifeboat. Andrew launched himself back into
the water. He swam until he was at Bull’s side, and then caught him around the chest. He cursed Bull’s stupidity and began the process of dragging his body in the direction of the lifeboat. He kicked hard and pushed forcefully against the sea. Andrew’s face was twisted with fatigue, and then a moment of despair descended upon him. The lifeboat was gone. Desperately, he looked for the old raft, it would be better than treading water until hypothermia took them, but he saw only bulging swells. He was overwhelmed by an urge to close his eyes and yield to his fate, but another flash of lightning elucidated the gloom. Through blearing eyes, stinging with salt water, the lifeboat appeared for a fleeting moment. He located the beacon and instantly recommenced with his swim, using the last of his resolve to safe himself and Bull.
In due course, Andrew managed to get within touching distance of the lifeboat. Another flash of lightning ripped across the sky, then the unequivocal roar of thunder. Bull’s eyes were open and startled.
“Have you the strength to hold onto this warp?” shouted Andrew. Bull nodded his head wearily. Andrew hauled himself aboard the lifeboat and located the windlass. He jumped back into the sea and tied the rope round Bull’s chest and then returned to the deck of the lifeboat. He cranked the handle of the windlass and was able to drag Bull’s body up and over the gunnels. Andrew untied him and then pushed him through the hatch door.
Bull fell unceremoniously onto the cold solid floor and Andrew stood on the deck, gazing out to sea. The raft had vanished. He returned inside and turned the locker to secure the hatch door. He limped to the wheelhouse, believing if he could start the engine, he might be able to locate the life raft and save Malcolm. The ignition turned over but the engine was dead. Bull lay on his back and in-between deep breaths he asked,
“What about Malcolm?” His voice was faint and laced with remorse.
“If you want to go back and get him, be my guest,” replied Andrew.
By midnight, the storm faded. Bull hauled himself up from the floor and joined Andrew on one of the side benches. They sat in silence, staring through a porthole, into the darkness. Sea water drained from Bull’s hair, congregated with his tears and as one, ran like tributaries down his harrowed face.
Chapter 19: Time to reflect
Bull was swathed in a foil emergency blanket. He thought of Malcolm. He lamented not knowing his surname or practically anything about him, apart from his occupation as a waiter onboard the Andrea Starlight. He wondered if he had a family back home, a wife or a partner. Curiously, his passing felt like the death of a friend he never truly got to know. Despite them sharing no words they had been brought together by a wretched fate, and although his wounds may have proved fatal, thought Bull, he held himself accountable for abandoning a helpless man. On seeing the lifeboat, he hadn’t considered Malcolm’s welfare, he had only thought of saving his own life.
Andrew sat in silence looking out a porthole, gathering his own feelings. He called to mind the episodes where he had twice offered him up as a human sacrifice to the sea in order to save his own life. He quelled the urge to submit to despondency and decided that any staid observance should be conducted after they had been rescued. This was not the time for grieving, he thought. As Andrew dampened the fires of guilt, Bull’s mourning was stoked by it. Andrew broke the silence first.
“I know you’re feeling bad right now but this is not the time to apportion blame. That time will come during the inquest, when we get to shore.” Bull unfastened his nose from the porthole. He turned his head and offered Andrew a sorrowful expression.
“Inquest?” A lump emerged in Bull’s throat.
“There’s always an inquest. I wouldn’t worry. It’s a formality. There’s no need to blame yourself.”
“I do blame myself though. A mental fog must have descended upon me. Seeing the lifeboat in-between the waves, the darkness, fear, my heart beginning to race, falling forward, and then…”
“Your pitiable attempt at swimming towards the boat?”
Bull fell silent. He could feel Andrew watch him. The realisation that his actions had jeopardised Andrew’s life had finally sunk in. He felt pathetic. He thought of himself like an over excitable puppy dog, let off the leash and bounding off towards the cliff edge. If it hadn’t been for Andrew coming back for him, he would have certainly perished. After they had boarded the lifeboat, Bull had shivered violently but there had been emergency blankets and chemical heat pads onboard. Andrew wrapped him up then attended to himself. He had saved Bull’s life.
Bull analysed every emotion. Was it selfishness, irrationality, the instinct to survive or unadulterated cowardice? Or a combination of them all, he thought. He challenged the morals he believed he once carried and held dear. In the end he concluded that no one is entirely sure how they would react when such a desperate situation is forced upon them. Bull said,
“I suppose his suffering is at an end now.” Andrew sat trembling under his foil blanket. He grunted,
“And at least you stayed with him until the last moment, as you said you would.” Bull wondered if Andrew was, in some twisted way, enjoying the moment and revelling in his torment.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” sniffed Bull, “you saved my life and I owe you one, so I’ll forgive your attempts at schadenfreude. The only consolation is that he was unconscious and he would have been unaware of his own death. That must count for something. He might even have been dead already.”
Bull staggered to the bench and sat beside Andrew. He stared lugubriously through the porthole. For most of the time all he could see was the reflection of his own face in the glass window, and then the lightning would flash on the horizon and supplant the pitch blackness to provide a fleeting glimpse of the monstrous sea. He began to mumble,
“I’m sorry that I nearly got you killed. I’m sorry I acted so recklessly.” Andrew opened a flask of water from the emergency ration box. He took a drink and then passed it to Bull. Andrew said,
“He’s gone now and there’s nothing we can do about it and who knows, with our weight out of the raft, he might even make it. I didn’t see the raft sink, did you? He might even get picked up before we do, and we’ll see him again. He won’t know us but we will know him and we can tell him what a delight it was to have him onboard.”
Andrew attempted a wry laugh but it got stuck in his larynx and escaped as a grunting noise. Bull clasped his hands as if in prayer and stared at his bleached white feet. His long dishevelled hair fell forward and clung to his face.
“In the meantime,” said Andrew, “we need to figure out how we’re going to get out this damn sea and get our feet onto some dry land. If we look at the positives, we now stand a better chance out of the raft and in a thirty foot rigid vessel.” Andrew brought his boot down on the hull as if to test the sturdiness of the boat and then he surveyed the interior. “And I’m sorry to say, without the encumbrance of a dying man.”
Bull’s eyes flashed for a second. He had noticed that his flip-flops were not on his feet. Bull fumbled around the floor on his hands and knees, fretfully searching the floor like a blood hound. Andrew looked on bemused. He said,
“What are you doing man, have you gone mad?”
“No, I’m looking for your sense of compassion, have you seen it, you might have left it around here somewhere or possibly you weren’t even born with one.”
“I don’t quite follow you.”
Bull sighed. “If you must know, I’m looking for my flip-flops. Have you seen them?”
“Your sandals? I threw them away. They were dragging you back in the sea, when I was hauling you towards the lifeboat.”
Bull sat up and put his head in his hands. He sighed and pulled his foil blanket closer around himself.
“I’m up to here with this. I’ve lost everything. That was the last thing I owned in the world. I know it wasn’t much but they were mine and not some hand-me-downs from a frustrated old spinster’s suitcase.” Andrew looked at the woollen tights, fur coat and bobble hat dry
ing on the bench.
“You’re still alive man. That’s all that counts. You’re not the only one who has lost something. Many of my personal artefacts went down with the Andrea Starlight. Some only had sentimental value but other items, I actually need and more important than plastic sandals.”
“I know it sounds ridiculous but I feel naked and vulnerable without a pair of boots or at least something on my feet. It wasn’t so bad on the raft because we spent all of our time sitting on our backsides, but in here I’m proper feeling it.”
“Perhaps you should have taken Malcolm’s shoes when you were back on the raft. They would have been no use to him anyway.”
“You’re totally amoral Sherlock, do you know that?” Bull stared at his bare feet and then added,
“He was a size seven and I’m a size twelve anyway.”
They sat in silence until finally exhaustion and then sleep took them.
The storm had passed the following day, but the wind was still strong and the lifeboat rocked violently on the sea. Andrew and Bull looked around the inside of the vessel, inspecting every compartment and cubby hole. Andrew entered the wheelhouse and sat on the pilot’s seat. It was raised up inside a viewing turret and afforded him a decent view of the flat sea. He tried to fire up the engine. A high pitched whining noise came forth from under the boat, and then the motor went dead. Bull concerned himself with a box, concealed under the far side bench. He opened it and found a number of Datrex food ration bars. He ripped the foiled packaging with his teeth and then greedily forced the whole bar into his mouth. Bull ignored the pain from his chapped lips and chewed lovingly, emitting absurd moaning noises as the food dissolved in his mouth. On hearing Bull’s satisfying groans, Andrew jumped down from the pilot’s seat and raised his hands in alarm.
We Float Upon a Painted Sea Page 20