~ Retreat To Danger ~

by

Carol McPhee

“Mauri, there’s an unusual island about nine miles out that would be a nice place to picnic. It would provide a good history lesson for Sam. We can take time to go if you’d like. Are you game?”

“Please, Mom?”

“It’s fine with me, Sam. What is its history?”

“The island is almost surrounded by rocks which have seen many ships wrecked there in the last two hundred years. It’s all been recorded. There’s not much on the land but an automated lighthouse, an empty lighthouse keeper’s home, and lots of birds.”

Mauri could see the interest in Sam’s eyes. She’d bet he was already thinking he might find souvenirs of the day’s fun. “Okay, let’s go.”

Greg nodded and entered the wheelhouse. The boat lunged toward deeper water. A frothing white wake surged behind as they slashed through the waves. The island’s lighthouse had just come in sight when several misses in the motor’s rhythmic purr took all ears in the direction of the engine. The boat regained its even momentum, continuing to within a half mile of the far side of the land where the passage was situated. Suddenly, the motor sputtered and died.

Greg walked from the wheelhouse and shrugged. “I thought I had that glitch repaired; doesn’t scare you does it?”

“Not at all,” Mauri answered.

Greg tilted his head and studied her. She was fibbing. Her clenched fists gave her edginess away. He checked the sky again. The clouds hadn’t cleared. Just then he heard the static-laced radio voice of another fisherman mentioning a shift in the storm pattern. “It looks like the storm may fall back on itself and head your way, Greg. We’re going in. Suggest you do the same.”

Greg quickly answered. “I have another repair job; will do so as soon as I can.” He tapped Sam on the shoulder. “Sam can you haul my tool box over to the engine hatch while I pull off these coveralls so I can be more flexible?”

“Sure.”

“Casey, get out of the way.” Mauri spoke with an edge in her voice that she regretted when the dog’s ears flattened and his tail drooped. “Here, boy, come with me.” The dog, looking mournfully over his shoulder at Sam followed her to the bow. Mauri scanned the water on all sides. The boat rolled back and forth causing her to hold onto the railing. Greg crawled down the hatch.

“Greg, you better see this,” Mauri yelled.

His head rose above the opening. “What?”

“There.” She motioned to the front of the boat.

“Bloody hell!”

Nineteen

“Bloody, bloody hell!”

“It looks like a solid sheet of rain, Greg, and it’s coming this way.”

“Mauri, get into your life jacket! NOW!”

“Okay! What about you?”

“I can’t, yet. There’s hardly room for me around the engine. I’m dropping the anchor to try and steady the boat’s roll, then I’ll work fast.”

Greg threw the heavy weight overboard and disappeared down the hatch.

Mauri’s plea to put on his life vest hadn’t carried weight, but doing as she had been ordered, she donned hers. Taking her eyes off the distant vista, she quickly removed her floppy disk-loaded “A” drive attachment from her laptop’s case and hooked it to her machine. It took only seconds to save her work and transfer the disk to her laptop’s small vinyl storage pouch. Pressing the self-seal closure, she shoved the package in her shorts pocket, praying it was waterproof like the label said.

“Sam take my computer with you and call Casey into the wheelhouse.”

“But, Mom, it’s excit...”

“The wind is picking up and we don’t want him or you going over the side.”

His mouth in a pout, Sam did as he was told--snapped his fingers and led Casey into the cabin.

Mauri knelt by the hatch and alternated between watching Greg and the expanding wall of water. Whitecaps slapped against the vessel in increasing frequency, as the Gimme-a-Break’s pitch and roll increased. She looked into a dark horizon constantly widening and narrowing; this didn’t speak well for the boat’s stability, anchor dragging or not. “Greg, wasn’t this rough weather forecast?”

“Storm patterns change, sometimes they intensify as well. The storm that swung out to sea yesterday must have veered back. I haven’t been watching the radar.”

A deluge of rain struck her face. “It’s getting worse out here.” She couldn’t believe how fast the surroundings whipped to a frenzy. Hoping not to show poor seamanship, she suffered in silence until an extra large wave washed over the side and cracked her already overstrung nerves.

“Greg, you have to get out of there.”

“Go inside with Sam. I’ll be right in.”

Mauri’s stomach twitched violently. She stood, held onto the rail for a moment, then made a dash to get inside the cabin and shut the door. “You all right, Sam?”

“Yeah, sorta. It’s awful rough though; Casey’s scared.”