Passage by Night - Jack Higgins [44]
He compromised and altered course half a point. Gradually, a faint pearly luminosity appeared and he was able to distinguish the dark, silver lances of the rain. Half an hour later, dawn came and he opened the window and looked out at leaden clouds hurrying across the sky.
The wind was fading and already the waves were calmer, but the Cretan Lover was moving at no more than a couple of knots. Each time she dipped into a trough, Manning thought she would never lift again.
The door opened and Papa Melos entered. He was soaked to the skin and looked on the point of collapse. 'No good, Harry. We aren't getting anywhere.'
'If my calculations are correct, we can't be far from one of the cays north of Exuma,' Manning said. 'Take over and keep her on the same course.'
Orlov still crouched by the pump, arms moving monotonously, but he looked as if he couldn't last out much longer. Manning started down the companionway and stepped into water that immediately rose to the level of his thighs.
Anna was in the act of sliding from a bunk and she lurched towards him. 'It's no good, Harry. She's going to go down.'
Her face was drawn and she was bitterly cold. He took a reefer jacket from behind the door, slipped it over her shoulders and they went up the companionway together.
'Go into the wheelhouse, you'll be warmer in there,' he said. 'I'm going to help Orlov.'
The wind had dropped almost completely and the sky was clearing fast, but a strong swell was still running. He crouched beside the Russian and took over the pump, keeping up the rhythm.
Orlov flexed his cramped hands and shook his head. 'You're wasting your time. It's coming in at three times the rate. She won't last much longer.'
At the same moment, the engines stopped. There was a sudden hiss as if gas were escaping and a great cloud of steam rose through the vents in the engineroom hatch.
The Cretan Lover wallowed sluggishly, hardly lifting as the swell undulated across the surface of the sea and Papa Melos and Anna came out of the wheelhouse. The old man looked tired and defeated and she was holding his arm as if to support him.
'I'm sorry,' Manning said. 'More sorry than you'll ever know.'
'You did your best, boy. You're a fine sailor.'
They unshipped the dinghy and slid it over the side. Anna and her father sat in the stern, Manning and Orlov took an oar each.
By now, the sea was at deck-level and as they started to row away, it slopped across the planks in a green curtain. After a while, they rested on their oars and sat there waiting.
The stern of the old boat dipped beneath the waves, the bows lifting out of the water. For a moment, it poised there at an angle and then slid smoothly under.
There was nothing left to say and Manning started to row, fixing his gaze on a point somewhere beyond the old man and the girl, trying to avoid looking at either of them.
Gradually, the sky turned blue and the sun came out and low on the horizon to the north-west, they could see land. Two hours later they were picked up by old man Saunders out of Spanish Cay after tuna with a black deckhand.
15
At the Caravel
As he walked along the jetty towards the Grace Abounding Manning could see Seth standing in the stern coiling a rope. He hung it on a hook outside the wheelhouse, waved to a passing launch and went below.
Manning was hot and tired. Too hot to wait for the others. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were coming and jumped down to the deck. For a moment, he paused, looking about him with a conscious pleasure before going down into the coolness of the air-conditioned cabin. Seth was in the galley and Manning could smell coffee.
'Better get another four cups out,' he said. 'You've got company.'
He slumped down on the padded bench seat and Seth moved out of the galley and frowned at him. 'Man, you look like hell.'
'I'm not surprised,' Manning said. 'That's exactly where I've been. These days they call it Cuba.'
Seth's eyes widened. 'So you made it into San Juan?