He shakes his head again, rubbing at his forehead for a moment before he’s almost knocked off-balance by a wave. “This can’t be. We have to do something. Maybe we can fix it?”
“I’m going to have to try,” I tell him. If it’s an electronic thing, I’m probably out of luck, but maybe there are few wires that need to be crossed, something, anything.
I can’t do nothing.
“How much time do we have?” Richard asks as I move out from behind the wheel. He instinctively goes to it, even though it’ll do no good.
“You’re the one who loves trigonometry,” I tell him.
I leave him up top to puzzle over it, even though I know the answer is in the range of “way too fucking soon.”
You don’t have time, I tell myself. You need to prepare everyone for what’s going to happen.
I go down into the cabin and see Lacey leaning against the table, seemingly in disbelief, and Daisy sitting down beside her giant piece of luggage and for some reason the sight of that thing taking up half the boat makes me want to rage and throw it overboard.
I can’t do that right now. I already let it all out. Now I have to pull myself together and do what I can for the ship.
“I’m so sorry, Tai,” Daisy whimpers quietly.
“I don’t want to hear it,” I snap at her. I look at Lacey. “I take it she caught you up to speed?”
To my surprise Lacey isn’t crying. She’s not even blinking.
“Lacey?” I repeat.
“What’s going to happen to us?” she says eventually, slowly meeting my eyes. “Are we going to be okay?”
I tap the side of the stairs where the engine compartment is.
“The only shot we have is if I can get the steering fixed. I don’t know how I’ll do that, but I’m going to try.”
“And if you can’t? Then what happens?”
I take in a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. “I’m not sure what happens. But…I do know that we are at the mercy of the wind right now. It is pushing us in one direction and there is no stopping it. The good news in this is that we are heading downwind, which means we are going with the waves. It could be worse. We could be drifting and being battered from the side. If that happened, there’s a good chance the boat would capsize.”
Daisy gasps at that, bringing her hands to her mouth.
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s pretty much my worst nightmare.”
“So if there are any freighters out there…” Lacey says.
“They aren’t the biggest concern right now. We can pick them up on radar. We could call ahead and tell them we can’t get out of their way, and maybe there’s enough time for them to get out of ours.”
“What is our biggest concern?” Lacey asks carefully.
“Ten miles in front of us is an island. It doesn’t have a name, it’s just a blip on the map. Could just be an atoll with some sand or maybe not even that. But it is land and there is a reef around it and in about a half hour, we’re going to collide right into it.”
Lacey’s mouth drops open.
“So what do we do?” Daisy asks.
“What do we do?” I repeat.
“Yes. We have to prepare ourselves for the collision. So run us through the scenarios. Tell us what you think will happen, step-by-step, so we know how not to die.”
Huh. Guess she’s on top of things now.
I nod at her and then pop my head up into the cockpit and tell Richard to come back inside.
“What about keeping watch?” he asks.
“You can stay down here and keep watch,” I tell him, pointing at the navigation table. “I want us all to be in earshot of the oh shit plan while I try to fix the steering.”
With Richard at the table watching the radar, and Daisy and Lacey watching me, I lift up the stairs and access the engine. I know when I first got the boat it had no autopilot, so I had a friend install one. The fucker was cheap but it never worked quite right, so I’m wondering if it was fucked to begin with.
There are some wires. What to do with them, I don’t know. I’ve hotwired a car before and this is nothing like that.
“So, the plan?” Lacey says, finding her voice.
Right.
“Let’s do worst-case scenario first,” I say, poking through the wires. “Run the simulation. That would be that we hit a rock far from shore. Something small enough that doesn’t come up on radar. The start of a reef. Something like that. It breaks through the hull, more like rips through it at the speed we’re going, and we quickly take on water. We have to abandon ship. We grab what we can—the satellite phone, water, high caloric foods, medicine, whatever. We get all of that, then we deploy the life raft and get in. And hope that the waves don’t capsize us, hope that the wind takes us to land and not away from it. The boat sinks to the bottom of the South Pacific.”
I have the deepest, coldest chill as I’m speaking these words. It’s hard to believe this is most likely our reality. There seems to be a disconnect with my brain, maybe out of protection.
“And then what happens if we’re lost at sea?” Daisy asks, her lip quivering.
I shake my head and get back to figuring out the wires, though I know it’s no use. “No point entertaining it. But how about we go through the best-case scenario? That would be that the wind pushes us in through a natural opening into the island. No reef. We run aground, preferably on a sandy beach with minimal damage to the boat. With any luck there’s a resort on the island. You girls can have a mini vacation while Richard and I and the locals get the boat back in the water. Then, when the weather clears, we continue sailing to Suva, which is only twenty-four hours away. Lacey and Richard would miss some work, but it’s not the end of the world.”
“I like this scenario best,” Lacey says.
“We all do. But that’s not the one we should prepare for.” I pause, remembering what Daisy once told me. “Expect the worst but hope for the best.”
“We’re eight miles out,” Richard announces.
I sigh and lean against the engine cover, closing my eyes.
Time to expect the worst.
“Okay,” I say, shutting the compartment. I turn around to face them. “I’m not going to be able to fix this in the little time we have left. Lacey, Daisy, go grab a small bag, and Daisy, I mean small, okay, and fill it with whatever necessities you need for a week at sea. Medication, sunscreen, hats, more sunscreen, toothpaste, clothing to protect you from the sun, a deck of cards, stuff that can get wet and survive. Lacey, do the same for Richard.”
Both sisters are staring at me with fraught eyes.
“Go, now,” I tell them.
Suddenly, they scamper apart, Lacey heading past me to the back cabin, Daisy running to the front.
I look at Richard. “Keep an eye on the radar and gather charts and emergency equipment. The satellite phone. Put the portable radio in a waterproof bag. Take the first aid kit. And tell me when we’re five miles out. I’ll put in the distress call.” I open up the fridge. “I’ll be in charge of food and water and I’ll get the life raft ready.”
Richard swallows hard and then nods. “Aye, aye Captain Wakefield.”
“Richard.”
“Yes?”
“Please don’t start with that right now.”
I get to work, getting the smallest amount of food and water so that it won’t weigh down the life raft, while being the most calorie dense and nutritious.
This is fucking crazy, I tell myself.
It’s all I can tell myself.
I can’t allow myself to really think about what’s happening because if I do, I will lose it. And if I lose it, I can’t keep my friends safe.
After Atarangi’s death, I swore I would never be afraid of the ocean. That I wouldn’t let it take that power from me. As if the ocean was a sentient, malevolent being that wanted to harm her. I felt like I made a bargain every time I stepped on a boat, and now I’m afraid that maybe that bargain has run its course.
It’s time to coll
ect.
I shove those thoughts away. I can’t right now.
I have to fix this.
When I’m done with the food, I head up top and look around. The waves are bigger, the cockpit is filled with an inch of water that barely has enough time to drain before it’s filled again.
Once I’m clipped in, I make my way to the life raft at the back. There’s the dingy too, that’s been hauled up for the voyage, resting on its side on the starboard side of the boat, but it’s smaller and there’s not enough time to get it ready.
When everything looks ready to go, Richard pops his head up briefly.
“Five miles,” he says grimly.
I go back downstairs and sit at the navigation table. Lacey and Daisy have gathered around us.
I pick up the VHF receiver, searching for a signal.
I hold down the button and say something I never thought I’d say.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the sailing vessel Atarangi.”
Eleven
Daisy
My phone.
I know Tai just said to grab whatever essentials we needed for a week at sea, but I have to take my phone. Sure, there’s no signal out here but maybe on whatever island we might crash on there will be. What if there is wi-fi? I could make a castaway Instagram account. At the very least, my phone could keep us entertained.
Better grab a charger, too.
I stick the phone and the charger in a Ziploc pouch, sealing it tight, then shove it in my Louis Vuitton Speedy, which is the size of a small duffle bag and already stuffed to the gills with everything else I’ve deemed an essential item. For a moment I’m worried that the salt water will damage the patina but then I realize how stupid of a concern that is when we all might die.
I haven’t been letting myself think that way. In fact, I’m trying not to give much thought to anything right now. My heart is pounding and I feel like I’m floating as I run around trying to pack for what could be weeks at sea.
There are so many “what ifs” that want to tear through my brain right now.
What if the boat sinks before we can abandon ship and we drown?
What if the life raft doesn’t work and we’re stuck on top of the ship, waiting for help?
What if the life raft sinks?
What if we fall overboard and are eaten by sharks?
What if no one will rescue us?
It doesn’t do me any good, so I just bat each hysteria-inducing thought out of my head, and focus on anything else I need right now.
“Do you have everything?” Lacey asks frantically as she pops her head in the cabin.
My heart sinks. “I don’t know. I don’t want to leave any of this behind. What about my Kindle, my laptop? I have an expensive crossbody bag in my suitcase, I…”
She shakes her head and gives me a vicious little glare. “Really? That’s what you’re worried about right now? Your fucking purse? Maybe stop being shallow for a moment and realize what’s happening.”
“I know what’s happening, okay?” I yell. “I’m trying to, just, handle this!”
“Ladies,” Richard calls out from the nav table. “We’re at five miles.”
Shit.
I grab my bag and we head back into the main cabin, while Richard pokes his head into the cockpit. “Five miles,” he warns Tai.
Tai appears a second later, soaked to the bone, a lock of wet dark hair sticking to his forehead. He avoids my eyes and sits down at the nav table, eyeing the radar.
Picks up the VHF radio receiver.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the sailing vessel Atarangi.”
The words make my stomach churn.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday,” he repeats. “This is the sailing vessel Atarangi. We are in a distress situation. Steering has gone out. We are being pushed toward land, five miles out. We are at…” he pauses to read the chart. “18°13'53.2 south and 178°46'22.0 west. There are four people on board. I believe we are in danger of running aground a reef near one of the Lau Islands. Over.”
Silence.
Tai eyes us all.
“What’s happening?” Lacey asks.
“Have to wait a minute for it to go through,” he says.
It’s the longest minute of my life.
Finally.
“Can you…repeat…” A garbled voice comes through and then is buried by static.
“Fuck,” Tai swears and then switches the radio to another channel.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the sailing vessel Atarangi. Do you copy?”
We wait. No one dares to move or breath, all of us straining to hear any response over the constant roar of the ocean, the hull slamming against the waves.
Tai repeats the call again, louder this time.
“Uh,” Richard says, and we follow his gaze to the portholes. All we see outside are waves, but the difference is now you can actually see the waves instead of the blackness of before.
Richard turns and runs up the stairs to the deck, while the rest of us wait for an answer from the radio.
Tai sighs, getting visibly frustrated, his hand gripping the mouthpiece so hard I’m afraid he’s going to break it. He makes the call again.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday.”
“Comrades?” Richard says, and I look at Lacey as if to say, What is wrong with your husband? Comrades? Can’t he say, you guys?
“You’re going to want to see this,” he adds.
“I’ll keep trying,” Tai says quietly. “Be careful.”
Lacey and I quickly head up to the top.
Richard is standing on the side of the ship, holding onto the railing for balance, facing forward.
Neither Lacey or I stray far from the hatch, instead we peer through the clear dodger at the horizon.
There is a horizon now. Somewhere in the east the sun is rising, breaking through low dark clouds in some places, making the faintest grainy light shine across the ocean. On one hand, that’s great, because it means the storm is breaking up over there.
On the other hand, we can see exactly what we’re getting into.
There’s a mass of island rising right before us.
“Oh my god,” I whisper.
We’re still far out but we’re moving fast and, more than that, the light is shining on the tops of the waves breaking just a few hundred meters in front of the ship.
“It’s a reef!” Richard yells. “Collision eminent!”
Again, does this guy think he’s in charge of the Starship Enterprise?
That snarky little thought feels good before the feeling of immense dread sets in.
We’re fucked.
“What?” Tai says, bounding up the stairs and onto the cockpit. He stands beside Richard and stares at the sunrise.
Atarangi.
The morning sky, showing us our fate.
“We’re going to hit,” Tai says. He looks to us. “Go downstairs, get everything and throw it up here!”
I don’t hesitate. I scramble down the stairs with Lacey in tow.
I’m panicking, as I think anyone would in this situation, when the boat you’re on is going to collide with a reef and you all might potentially die. I’m not even thinking, I’m just doing, grabbing everything we all had gathered and passing it to Lacey who is throwing it all up top.
“Is this it?” Richard asks when we come back up.
We nod. We all have our own bag, plus a bag of food and a bag of supplies. We’re wearing rainproof gear and lifejackets. We’re ready for something.
Or, we should be. I glance at the bow of the boat again just as we slam down another wave and the landmass looms larger, a murky sun behind its silhouette. The island seems fairly big, though with the way the boat is moving, it’s hard to say. In the distance I can see another glimpse of a much smaller island.
But it’s the reef that terrifies me. The way the waves are breaking, indicating how shallow it is. In fact, the body of water between the reef and the island, the lagoon, isn’t as r
ough as it is out here in the deep.
The deep.
I feel so scared I might pee my pants.
“We’re going to collide soon, another twenty metres,” Tai yells at us, going back toward the life raft, which is housed in a large cylinder. “If anyone is clipped in, you need to unclip now. We can’t afford to be dragged if that’s the case. We need to get in the raft, now.”
“Hold on!” Richard yells, and with a groan flips open the bench seats, revealing the storage underneath. He grabs a fishing pole.
Tai nods at him. Good idea.
Meanwhile I’m thinking our survival might depend on Richard’s fishing skills.
Then Tai lifts up the life raft cylinder, which must be at least four feet long and wide as a tree trunk, and raises it above his head with a huge feat of strength, tossing it in the water where it’s immediately swallowed by waves.
It pops back up, and Tai begins to tug on the line attached to it as it drags behind the boat
“Come on, come on!” he yells, yanking at the line, trying to get the cylinder to open and inflate.
“Tai!” Richard yells, and then his words disappear as the most horrific screeching noise, the sound of wood splintering and fiberglass being punctured fills the air and I am thrown to the floor.
I land on the bench just opposite of the one Richard opened, my hands trying to break my fall as the waves start washing over the boat as it starts to pivot to one side. The sound continues to fill my head until I think that’s all that’s left of the world.
Then I hear screaming.
Lacey!
I manage to get up and look to see her slipping off the side of the boat, one hand desperately reaching for the railing before she goes over.
Without even thinking I lunge forward, landing on my elbows and sliding forward on the teak deck, splinter city, as the waves rock me in her direction. I reach for her hand, grasping it.
Then she throws her other arm up and I grab the other hand.
Her legs are in the water when the waves hit and my grip is slipping.
So am I.
I’m tumbling, almost going over the railing and losing my contact with her but I manage to keep my ass low and place the soles of my feet at the railing bars for leverage.
Lovewrecked Page 12