by Margot Bish
Dean was groaning when they got back.
“Is he worse?” Ross asked, anxiously.
“Actually, I think it’s a good sign,” Arthur said, competently lashing half the mast to a boom and leaving Susan and Ross to wedge the other lashed boom and half the mast between some rocks.
“That’s it. We’ll use the other mast as a ridge pole”, Arthur said. He frowned as he gazed at the sails, but it was Susan who said, “How do we fasten the sails to the mast?”
Ross was glad to make a contribution. “We could use those shackles to join the sails together and then tie the ends using those other bits of string on the boom”.
“You mean the outhaul and the halyards?” Susan said.
“Er yes”, Ross agreed.
WAITING FOR RESCUE
The tent worked pretty well in the sheltered spot Dean and Arthur had landed in, although Arthur reckoned it wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes out in the open. Susan’s teeth were chattering as she huddled under a corner of the sail.
“I wish we could start a fire”, she giggled a bit and looked at the others. “Your teeth are chattering almost as loud as mine. Anyone got any matches?”
The storm was coming round again. The thought of more cold rain to come was unbearable. She felt a sob rising in her throat, but forced it down. “I hope we get rescued soon”, and didn’t know if she meant it for herself or for Dean.
“Yes. Before the tide rises”, Arthur said.
Ross nodded, but couldn’t at first see what the tide had to do with it. Perhaps it was just a way to measure time, but then he realised Arthur had been gazing anxiously at the sheltering cliff, and then out to sea as he said it. Seaweed and barnacles made a neat line on the cliff about a metre above their heads. He gulped.
“How long?” he asked.
“About an hour I think and the water will be around our ankles. We’d have to get Dean up that cliff before then”.
They all three looked down at the semi-conscious bundle that was Dean. They all knew the dangers of moving anyone with back injuries, and even if they could make a stretcher, they didn’t fancy the clamber over slippery rocks and up the ravine which had been a tight squeeze coming down with sails and masts never mind a badly injured boy.
As the storm came round for its second bullying fit, they huddled together under the dripping sails and watched the leaping waves draw nearer in the flickering light. Dean was waking up now, and groaning more. Before, the pain had been part of a dream, maybe even someone else’s pain, but now, as he tried to open his eyes, the pain was definitely his, and it was all over, so that if he moved even a fingernail, he couldn’t breathe, and if he lay still, he wanted to wriggle away and free of it. He suddenly realised the groaning he was hearing was his, and even that hurt. As his eyes opened, Susan was grabbing his hand and talking to him and as the thunder and lightning attacked from almost overhead, it was hard to know who was comforting who, but it was Susan who could be heard as the thunder died away.
“It’s OK. Lie still. You’ll be better soon. Just wait until the storm has gone.”
Ross watched Dean’s eyes close again, although his hand remained in Susan’s. Was that good or bad? In the films, they always tried to keep injured people awake, but if Dean could rest wouldn’t that help more? He was thinking about the need for help. Urgent help. The sailing boats were no good unless the sails were no longer needed as a tent. Smoke from a fire would be great but even if they had had matches, they’d be too wet to work. A message in a bottle? No, no bottle and it would take too long for anyone to find it. The mainland was too far away to wave and shout. No one could hear even without the storm. ”Is your canoe OK?” he asked Arthur.
Arthur shook his head. “The paddle’s bust. There’s only one blade left. I could paddle it in no waves, but not in this. We’ll have to wait for the storm to go and then see if the canoe or a sailing boat will be best. Depends on the wind really.”
Arthur was shuddering with cold now. Even his insides were shivering. Ross had given him his waterproof which at least kept the wind off, especially if he forced his arms inside, closer to his body. He wondered if he would know when he was suffering from hypothermia. It was already getting hard to think about things other than the coldness of the air around them. As if to emphasise that cold, the rain became hailstones, hammering angrily on the sail cloth as if demanding entrance to their tiny tent. There seemed to be a whistling noise in his head. Was that a sign of hypothermia? No. It had gone now. Perhaps it was just the wind whistling around the rocks. Just then Susan’s head came up, like a deer scenting the breeze.
“Listen,” she said. It was hard to hear anything over the drumming hailstones. Ross had heard nothing.
“What?” he hissed, and then they all heard it.
“A whistle,” Ross cried, and was out of the tent before another hailstone could land, and dashing up the ravine.
“Help. Help. Over here. Help”
It was Nick who limped out of the bouncing hailstones, a canvas rucksack on his back.
“Thank God”, he said. “Are you OK?”
“Yes,” replied Ross, “but Dean isn’t. He’s down here and we daren’t move him”.
As they hurried down the ravine, the first wave rushed over the rocks below and sent its spray flickering over the side of their makeshift tent. The tide had turned and was making itself known. Nick moved fast, assessing the situation. After quickly inspecting Arthur’s bandaging and giving Susan an encouraging nod as she knelt beside Dean, he was leaping up the bank. A hand held radio he cast aside as useless and, instead, pulled a flare gun out of his rucksack and sent a flare flying high to explode as a bright light and smoke signal. A second flare followed. Ross was doubtful.
“Will anyone see them?” he asked. “I mean, no one will be outside looking in this rain, will they?”
“They’ll be watching,” Nick reassured him. “We agreed one flare if I’ve found you. Two flares, medical help required. If the wind drops a bit more, there’ll be a helicopter on its way. If they don’t think that’s safe, there’ll be an RNLI rib instead.”
“What’s a rib?” Ross asked
“It’s a big open motorboat, like a big version of what Jerry was driving, normally bright orange.” Nick was digging in his rucksack again as he spoke. Out came multi coloured clothes and a thermos flask.
“Put these on, quickly” he handed Ross some dry baggy clothes, a woolly hat and some waterproofs. “And how cold are you? Can you stay up here on watch for a bit?” As Ross’s hands appeared through the sleeves of the waterproof, Nick handed him a steaming cup from the thermos. “Drink this while you watch”.
He left the thermos at Ross’s feet and disappeared back into the ravine. Ross sipped the scalding soup and felt the glow radiate outwards from his stomach – a glow of fire spreading into his numbed limbs. It was comforting to have someone older in charge, and inside the warmth made him feel contented and sleepy, but a glance at the ravine, reminded him he still had a job to do, watching for that helicopter. How long would it take, and where would it come from? It was almost as if Nick was some kind of weather god. With his presence, the hailstones had given up and moved on, and over the mountains, from where the storm had launched itself, a patch of blue sky was emerging. Arthur bobbed up from the ravine, also dressed in nearly dry waterproofs and a scarf and woollen hat, the cold blueness leaving his face.
“I’ve never seen a real helicopter rescue before”, he said. “Even Dean’s excited”. He looked around. “Just look at those waves. Even now the wind’s dropped, they’re still massive”.
Ross nodded soberly. “I’m glad we didn’t have to go for help. We couldn’t have seen where we were going from the dips”.
Down below, a wave lapped over the edge of the tent’s plateau, but hadn’t the energy to attack further, falling back like a seal fed fish at the zoo. Nick’s head popped out of the tent, as if sensing danger.
“Any sign?” he asked. Ross shook his
head, but was immediately contradicted by Arthur.
“There”” he cried jubilantly, and his finger pointed to the black dot swinging round the headland at the end of the bay. Listening carefully, Ross could hear the beating of the blades. A gentle popping on the eardrums. The rain had followed the hailstones, leaving puffy white and grey clouds, just hiding the blue above.
“Quick, Ross, Susan, let’s get this tent cleared. Arthur, stay up there and make sure the helicopter knows where Dean is. Wave your arms and then point to us”, Nick directed.
Dean was just a heap of blankets, with excited, dazed eyes as the tent came down around him. The helicopter was close now, dropping something into the sea, and then moving on towards the islanders. A man was hanging out of the door signalling to Nick to keep clear. Nick took them all out onto the headland.
“You can watch from there and still be well clear. I’ll be back in a minute or two”.
He hurried back to shelter Dean’s body from the helicopter’s air wash and the reaching sea. The helicopter noise was immense. The man dropped slowly, a life saving spider on a giant thread, and landed with pin point accuracy on the rocky plateau. A stretcher followed with 100% efficiency, and Dean was winched aboard with his rescuer. Nick returned to the spectators.
“Right. Just got to get you lot home, now,” said Nick. “Just a boring old motor boat for you”.
He gazed at the sad looking canoe and dismasted dinghies and made a decision. “We’ll come back for those another day. Sea’s too lumpy to tow them today”.
CHAPTER 9
On the way back, Susan said in a small voice, “What happened to the others?” It was almost as if she didn’t really want to know, in case it was bad news.
Nick gave a half laugh, half sigh.
“All’s well that ends well. Shakespeare said that, though when the parents hear…….well, we’ll see. Jerry will by now be at the hospital with Maureen. Patrick will be showing off a couple of stitches above his left eye. That squall capsized him near the rocks off the island headland and Jerry had to put in a fair amount of fancy engine work to get him safe without wrecking the safety boat and making things worse. By the time he’d got Patrick clear and into the safety boat, you lot had disappeared in that torrential rain. With Patrick’s head gushing blood and Maureen nearly fainting with that broken arm, he had to head back and raise the alarm, and he’s darn near had a nervous breakdown not knowing if he’s done the right thing, poor guy. If only we could get a good telephone signal out here, things would have been a whole lot easier.”
“What about Jack?” Ross interrupted.
“Ah. Jack is the hero. Another hero, I should say”, he glanced at Arthur who’s once blue face, had now gained a tinge of red glow. “He managed to sail to shore, even in that wild wind, ran along the shoreline for over a mile and raised the alarm. I had just managed to get my canoeists back safe, except Arthur who disobeyed all instructions and paddled into the squall, and nearly sent me the same way as Jerry…” Even now, the thought of Arthur’s action sent him sick and shivery, and he gave Arthur a look of mixed fury and admiration. Arthur was definitely blushing now. Trying to explain himself, he said, “I saw Dean’s boat blow away from him when he capsized. I think it was because the sail was still sticking up in the air. I knew he couldn’t swim fast enough to catch up with it on his own. I couldn’t just leave him”. Looking into Nick’s eyes, he added, “Sorry”.
Nick sighed again. “Please, never do that again, but, well, today, I’m glad you did. The trouble is that when you went off on your own, I didn’t know whether to get the others straight back to shore and safe, or risk their lives, coming after you. Anyway, when Jack said what had happened, we called the Coastguard and then Jerry turned up with his pair, so we called an ambulance, too, and alerted the police for good measure, and agreed that I’d come out to check the island on the off chance. The lifeboat was patrolling further out, where you’d have ended up if the tide and wind had taken you and you’d missed the island.”
He paused, knowing that even skilled and experienced lifeboat crew would have had trouble spotting all four tiny specks in time, if the island hadn’t netted them. The results of that just couldn’t be thought about. The others were studying his strained face. He managed a grin. “Anyone else you’re worried about?
“Do our parents know?” Ross asked, thinking about his promises about safety before they’d let him go.
“Not when I left”, Nick replied. “Don’t know about now”.
“I hope not,” Ross sighed.
Nick throttled back the engine as they came alongside the jetty.
“Mind your fingers. We don’t want any more casualties,” he warned.
Jack and David and the other canoeists could hardly wait for the survivors to come ashore before the bombardment of questions began.
“Where’s Dean?” “Did the helicopter land?” “Did you see inside it?” What’s happened to the boats?”…
Arthur, who climbed out first, found his legs trembling beneath him. The tiredness he’d ignored throughout the catastrophe was taking charge. The world was trying to spin around him, and the only way to stop it was to lean on Nick who happened to be beside him. Ross was also finding fatigue overwhelming him, waves of sound, rippling faces rising and falling around him. The jetty, which should have been stable, was bobbing beneath his feet, and beside him, Susan’s eyes were spilling tears. Not that she was sad, but because it was all over and she didn’t have to be strong anymore. Nick was almost angrily clearing the way for them in his grown up voice, and with Susan supported under one arm, Arthur on one side and a hand on Ross’s shoulder, he led the way to the front seat of the minibus and shepherded them aboard, clicking on seat belts which only Susan was aware of, in a faraway manner. None of them heard the rest of the group squeezing aboard, and when Ross woke up, he was in bed at the Centre and Jerry’s head was poking around the door.
BACK SAFE
“Breakfast in ten,” he called.
“Ten what?” came David’s sleepy voice.
Another day. For a second or two, Ross wondered if it had been a dream, but the aches and bruises as he moved convinced him that it had been real.
“Why are you limping?” Arthur asked Nick as they queued for eggs and bacon. Arthur was also limping, but he couldn’t remember Nick hitting anything.
“Slight argument with a canoe in the surf yesterday”, Nick replied. “Landing was a little hair raising. I didn’t quite judge the catch right and the canoe won.”
Owen appeared at his shoulder. “If you time your visit to the hospital carefully, you should miss the press invasion.” He read Nick’s refusal in his face, so as Nick opened his mouth to say he was fine, but before he could say a word, Owen continued, ”and you may say you aren’t going, but I need to know my instructors are fit to teach. It will also save you having to answer critical questions from the press which you may find slightly annoying. Jerry got checked yesterday and was given the OK. We’ll get you down there as soon as we’ve checked this lot know what they are doing today”.
There was no arguing with Owen.
CHAPTER 10
For Ross, it was weird, picking up the old routine, the only change being a rescheduling of Nick’s canoeing. Horseriding instead, Owen said. Other than that, yesterday could have been a normal day. The whole adventure could have been a dream, well, a nightmare really, he thought, as he was given a hand to mount his horse, a friendly black beauty with a white blaze on his nose. Tess was giving instructions on how to stay on and get the horse to walk. Even this lesson seemed a bit dreamlike. Ross supposed that was because he was still tired. It was lucky the horse seemed to know what to do. They clip clopped along a few bridleways under bright sun, just as it had been before the storm arrived. The countryside was beautiful and Ross felt peaceful. That was until lunchtime, when the press conference was held.
That was a long way from normal. Nick had returned with his arm in a sling. “Busted r
ibs, and a sprained wrist,” he explained. “The ankle’s just strained a bit, but no canoeing this year, sorry”.
PRESS CONFERENCE
Anyone could see Owen and Jerry were strung up when the newspapermen arrived. Owen read out a statement from the coastguard explaining the freak weather conditions and praised Jerry’s handling of the situation. Looking around the room, he added, “As the children have to fit in lunch and afternoon activities, I’d appreciate it if you could squeeze your questions into around five minutes”, he sat back and waited.
Only one man seemed to be looking to place blame. He was over ridden by the hero hunters.
“Which boy sailed to the rescue?” Jack turned fiery red, making it obvious. “How did you feel? What did you think when the squall struck?”
“Er. I didn’t have time to think. I was just doing what Jerry had said, to try to stop capsizing, and then the beach came up and I couldn’t see the others so I went for help”.
“How far did you run?”
Jack looked to Owen, “It was further than I expected, but I don’t really know”.
“We’ve worked it out as nearly 2 kilometres. 1.2 miles to be exact”, Owen added.
Then it was Arthur’s turn. “I knew Dean couldn’t swim as fast as the boat was moving, so I thought maybe I could paddle him back to it in the canoe, but as I reached him all the rain came down, and I couldn’t see it anymore, so I had to just try to keep him afloat and close to me. I did think of the island because it was hard to paddle with Dean hanging on, but I couldn’t see it in the rain, and then it found us and Dean got banged on the rocks a bit before I managed to float us in and get out of the canoe to help him”.