Seeking Safe Harbor: Suddenly Everything Changed (The Seeking Series) (16 page)

Zach’s hand made contact with the polyester sail, but the durable fabric was slippery, and he couldn’t grasp it. He made one last try as he toppled over the side of the cockpit, but by then, the boom was too far away, and his own body weight was his nemesis.

They hit an oncoming wave and the bow shot upward. Arms flailing, Zach stumbled toward the starboard rail. The sharp, changing motion of the vessel sent him backwards as well. He fell toward the aft deck. Landing on the wet teak, he slid uncontrollably toward the stern.

In those few seconds, the storm forced the starboard stern down low, several feet into the water. Sloshing, unrelenting water swirled crazily around the deck, ensnaring whatever it encountered with powerful, frothy tentacles, taking everything with it as it rushed to return to the sea.

Z
ACH knew that if he continued to slide into the maelstrom that was already snatching with watery claws at his feet, he was doomed. He grabbed frantically for a handhold on top of the aft cabin as he passed but his hand couldn’t get a grip on the wet wood. His fingers slipped away and, still grabbing for something, anything that would save him, he skidded closer and closer to the turbulent waters that engulfed the ship’s stern.

He lunged one more time for a handhold, and his fingers tentatively grasped a wooden rail. He could feel his fingers slipping away again, and he tried to grip harder. He brought his other hand up in an attempt to get a firmer grip.

Before it found something to grab onto, a hand reached down and grabbed the wrist of that arm. He looked up to see that Ron, his harness attached to the cable that ran from mast to mast, had maneuvered as far aft as the restraining lines allowed. It was just enough to get him to Zach. With Ron pulling him by the arm, and Zach crawling, now with a firm grip on the handrail with his other hand, they moved toward the cockpit.

When they got there, Zach rolled onto the cockpit deck, which gave him over three feet of “wall” on all sides to protect him from the wind and water that were battering the boat. Safe at last, lying behind his wife, who was at the wheel, he gasped for breath. Stacey, who had to stay at the wheel to keep the boat under control, now relinquished it to Ron and dropped to her knees to be by her husband. They were jostled by the boat’s constant rocking, but held on to one another.

“Sweetheart,” she uttered loudly over the sounds of the storm, “that was too close. We can’t lose you!”

Still breathing hard, Zach berated himself. “What a fool I was! Me, the captain, is first to violate the rule about always being harnessed while on deck.” He reached up and tugged at the sleeve of Ron’s raincoat. When their “prisoner” looked down, Zach said, “Ron, I owe you my life. If it wasn't for you, I would have gone overboard.”

“Oh, you would have found a way to save yourself,” Ron replied. It appeared he didn’t want to continue the conversation, and couldn’t have even if he wanted to because another big wave hit the boat hard from the port side. He struggled to keep the wheel from turning as the frenzied current banged at the rudder. It took all his strength to keep it from turning.

Stacey, her harness securely strapped to her body and connected to the cable, held her husband as the boat lifted, and dropped. “You better get below and get some dry clothes on,” she advised him when there was a moment of relative calm.

“Thanks, I will. Denise and I will be up to relieve you for the next watch,” he said before he crawled forward, around the wheel and continued on to the ladder leading to the salon.

* * * * *

The storm beat at the sailboat with relentless fury well into the next day. Daybreak brought a little light but the sun was not visible through the clouds and rain. The winds, at times, hit near hurricane force and refused to relent.

The crew stayed in the cockpit while on duty, one on the wheel and the other constantly on the lookout for emergency situations. The violent weather punished the boat mercilessly and, without near superhuman effort by those on watch, would have sent it to the bottom of the ocean. It often took two to stop the wheel from turning as the churning waters tried to turn the rudder and send the boat sideways into crashing waves.

No one slept, and it was impossible to cook meals. Bread and bottled water sustained them.

Finally, a little before midnight on the second night, the winds slackened. By four the next morning, the seas were calm. Denise and George managed to get some sleep in those hours and went on watch at four o’clock. At Zach’s direction, they kept the motor running. He wanted to check everything out in the daylight to make sure nothing was broken or dangerously weakened before hoisting the sails.

Most of the crew was back on deck shortly after daybreak. They all ate a hearty breakfast during which Zach told everyone about the mistake he had made. Recalling how he came close to being lost at sea, he stressed the importance of the harnesses while on watch during stormy weather.

“Seriously, Dad, did you almost get washed overboard?” Denise queried, her face wrinkled so that her nose seemed scrunched up inside her cheeks.

“Yes,” he replied, “and if it wasn't for Ron, “I wouldn’t be here right now.”

They all looked at Ron, who knew Zach was making a point and this time didn’t attempt to minimize his part in saving the man. He made no comment about the incident, but held up a harness to emphasize Zach’s words. “These harnesses are critical for your safety,” he said.

After breakfast, Zach, Glen, and Stacey checked the sails and all the rigging to be sure everything was safe to use. Denise stepped down into the cockpit and put on the harness Ron had used to demonstrate the importance of the safety device. She pulled to make sure the line was snuggly attached to the cable that was still hooked up between the two masts.

The boat was on autopilot, but George was at the wheel, standing several feet behind Denise. “You don’t need that in this calm weather,” he advised the girl.

“After my father went to such great lengths just to make a point,” she joked, smiling at her father, who was stepping into the cockpit to check out the main boom, it seems to me that I ought to.”

“That’s awfully flip…” George started to say in reproach, but Zach put a finger to his lips.

He leaned over and whispered to George. “Denise has a good sense of humor,” he said. “And it almost always serves a useful purpose. Right now, it’s keeping her from dwelling on what she had to do back in Hilo. Believe me, a little flippancy is better than having her dwell on shooting a man and watching as we blew up a boat with four men aboard.”

George signaled his understanding with a slight nod, and Zach undid some lines and bungee cords to get a look at the sail and the boom to which it was connected. When things looked okay there, he went forward to the mast. He was about to start climbing the mast steps to take a look at the spreaders that extended out about three-fourths of the way up, but stopped and looked back.

George had reduced the engine speed to idle and took it out of gear.

“Why are you stopping?” he called back to George.

George pointed ahead.

Zach and all the others looked forward in amazement. A submarine was surfacing less than seventy-five yards ahead of them. It stopped dead ahead. Well over two hundred feet long, it had an oblong conning tower that was longer at the top than on the part that was between it and the craft’s hull. There were square objects that looked like windows at the front of the rounded section at the top.

Glen pulled two pairs of binoculars from the storage bin in the cockpit, handing one to his father. He offered the other pair to Ron, who waved it off.

“I don’t need them to know that’s a Ming Class sub.”

“Ming Class?” said Glen.

“Red Chinese.”

As they watched, twelve Chinese sailors climbed down from the conning tower onto the sub’s deck.

All were armed with automatic weapons.

“W
HAT do you think they’re up to?” Glen asked.

“I have no idea, son,” Zach replied. “If they wanted to kill us, they could have done that with a torpedo.”

“Maybe they didn’t want to waste one on a boat as small as this,” George offered.

“I suppose that could be it but I don’t think so. They’re armed. At this distance, they could easily pick us off with those rifles. They’re not shooting for a reason.”

“The Ming Class subs are older, and diesel powered,” Ron said. “I’d suggest they’re after your extra barrels, but that wouldn’t take them two miles.”

“How is it that you know so much about Chinese submarines?” Zach asked.

“I was in the U.S. Navy for eight years in the Pacific waters. It was my job to know.”

“Any idea what they’re up to?”

“Not a clue.”

“Look, Dad, they’re lowering a boat,” Glen said, pointing.

They could see that several of the men had lowered an inflatable boat, and three people were getting in it. One looked like an officer. He held a piece of white cloth in his hand. None of the men in the inflatable were armed.

“They want to talk,” George said. “Does anyone speak Chinese?”

They all shrugged and looked at Ron.

“Sorry,” he confessed, “we were always at sea in Asia, so I didn’t learn a word.”

“Maybe talk is all they want,” Zach said, “but we need to be ready for anything. Based on what we learned from Commander Kotchel, we’re officially at war with these people. Stacey, I think you and Glen should go below and bring up the AK-47s. Hand them out to everyone except me. I’ve got the .38 in my pocket.”

“Does that include Ron?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered. He smiled at Ron. “I guess that means that, as of now, you officially cease being a prisoner.”

“Thanks,” Ron said. “Although being a prisoner in these circumstances wasn’t all that bad.”

The inflatable rowed over, giving the crew aboard the
La Sirena
time to secure their weapons and find suitable locations to ward off an attack.

The man, who was obviously in charge of the inflatable, watched the sailboat with stoic interest as they approached. He looked to be in his early forties. The other two were younger, probably in their twenties. All three appeared to be in good physical condition. When they came alongside the starboard beam, he appeared to be looking for a suitable place to latch on to the sailboat. Seeing that and anticipating that the visitors had no way of asking for help, Zach found a line and tossed it over the side for one of the rowers to grab.

A man grabbed hold of the line, pulled the inflatable close to the sailboat, and stabilized it. Then the man in charge stood.

“Greetings,” he said in perfect English.

“Y
OU speak English?” Zach gasped in a tone of obvious surprise.

“I graduated from the California State University at Santa Barbara. It was a most enjoyable time in my life. May I please come aboard, captain?”

“Yes, of course.” Zach turned to Denise, who was near the stern. “Denise, would you bring the boarding ladder over to this side, please?”

Denise slung her AK-47 over her shoulder and went over to untie the ladder from the stern rail, where they had tied it down before the storm hit. She took it to her father, who hooked it over the side where the inflatable was bobbing. The Chinese naval officer reached up on either side of the ladder and took a cautious step upward.