‘The binoculars . . . quickly!’
She handed them over, flicking on the night-sight as she did so.
‘Climb down to the cockpit, Lorna! That patrol ship is coming for us.’
In the dark it was impossible to see unaided anything on the surface of the sea, but as soon as she scrambled down into the cockpit Lorna saw the radar display. A continuous signal revealed something large approaching them at sea-level, and at high speed. There was no doubt what it was.
Bradd crashed down into the cockpit from the deck, brushing hard against her. He grabbed the wheel, spun it about. The boat responded at once, turning away from Tremm, heading north towards Meequa.
‘We’ll never outrun them,’ Bradd said. ‘But this takes us further away into international waters.’
Lorna took the binoculars into the cabin and placed them somewhere out of sight. She returned to the cockpit.
When she looked back the patrol boat was so close it was possible to see the dark shape of it unaided. It was speeding towards them, throwing up a huge white bow-wave.
‘They’re going to ram us!’ Lorna cried.
‘I hope not!’
They were both shouting. Terrified, Lorna put her arm around Bradd’s waist and held close to him. The patrol boat was on them in a few more seconds, veering away at the last moment, but passing so close that the bow- wave drenched them and flooded into the cockpit. There was no engine noise audible from the launch, just the rushing of the water.
The little yacht yawed and rolled violently in the immense wake of the larger boat, shipping more water. Lorna and Bradd fell away from the wheel, soaked by the deluge of seawater that flooded into the cockpit. Lorna landed face-down and Bradd fell violently on top of her, his uncontrolled weight forcing her face down into the water. After a struggle to regain equilibrium he managed to lever himself away. He helped her back to her feet, while she spluttered and tried to breathe again.
The patrol boat was already turning for a second run at them. All they could do was brace themselves with the cockpit rail and press against the coaming. When the launch passed this time it was even closer than before and it made a sudden turn, whacking their tiny boat with its grey hull just as the bow-wave lifted it. Bradd and Lorna screamed and shouted in terror as the yacht flew upwards, then side-slipped into the sea in a flurry of spray and a rush of incoming seawater. They were both thrown from the cockpit into the sea, floundering in the dark night and the turbulent water. They were thrust under the surface several times by the strength of the wake and the turbulence of the churning water. Lorna, still gasping for breath after being crushed in the cockpit, was terrified she would lose contact with Bradd, or whatever remained of the yacht, but as the rough waters subsided Bradd’s head broke the surface. She swam to him and they held on, trying to reassure each other.
They found the wrecked yacht not far away. It was lying on its side, almost completely submerged but still afloat.
Bradd yelled, ‘So long as I can get on board . . . we’ll be OK. The boat will right itself. Help me round to the keel.’
They swam to the side of the boat where the hull was showing above the surface. Bradd showed Lorna how to hold on to the gunwales, then he clambered over to the submerged cockpit. She waited in the dark, shivering with fright and the shock of being in the sea. After a while she could feel the boat moving as Bradd did something inside. There was a sudden grind of a motor and almost at once Lorna felt the hull sliding down towards the sea, as the vessel tried to right itself. She struggled to pull herself over the gunwales, but her strength was failing.
Bradd appeared, reached down to her, pulled her up. She slithered, half-fell, into the flooded cockpit. They huddled there together while water splashed around them. She felt chilled through, by fear, by the sudden immersion, by suffering the brutal and ruthless actions of whoever had been steering the launch.
When the boat was upright again, although riding low in the sea, Bradd set a bailing pump going and the water began to jet out of the side. As the flood level gradually fell they went around inside the cabin trying to establish what had been damaged, what might have been lost.
Most of the equipment on the boat was intact, although the navigation gear had been flooded and was inoperable. The auxiliary motors, used for self-righting and pumping, were undamaged. The binoculars were missing, as were most of the food and clothes they had brought aboard. The main inboard motor appeared to be intact, but would not start on the auto-ignition. Bradd kept trying, and after a couple of minutes the engine coughed loudly before running normally.
There was no longer any sign of the patrol boat.
They were intent only on reaching dry land and safety. They removed the sails, which had been damaged in the collision, and headed for Meequa Town under power. They stood together at the wheel, holding on to each other. Lorna could not stop shaking until she was safely ashore.
She remembered Bradd’s house from before. When they went in the familiarity struck her — the piles of books, heaps of old newspapers, the photographs stuck on the walls, his three peculiar cats, the sense of affluent male chaos. The background smell: other people’s places always have a background smell you can never identify but always remember. She was glad to be there, but she went and opened the windows to allow air to move around. It was hot in there — Bradd said his cooling fans were broken. She stood by the window, making herself calm. One of the cats walked over to her and nuzzled her leg. Noise of traffic rose up from the street below; music was playing in the restaurant opposite. Because of the lights of Meequa Town it was impossible to look out to sea: all appeared dark out there.
Bradd put down what he had been carrying and went to stand beside her. He laid a light hand on her shoulder.
‘Your clothes are still damp,’ he said, and ran his hand down her back.
‘Yours are too.’
‘Shall we take everything off?’
So they did and so it happened again. She was not in love with Bradd, but he was familiar and they had gone through something together and survived it. She liked him more now than she ever had. He was making an effort and so was she in her own way. Anyway, she was an adult and he was always good in bed.
In the morning when she woke up next to him, Lorna left the bed and went to stand at the open window, watching the businesses in the town start to open. Traffic was as yet light, and she smelt the scent of flowers on the warm breeze. The sea was silver and glistening in the early sunlight. She could see the dark shape of Tremm, out on the horizon, there but not there.
They made love again, then dressed and went down to the restaurant for breakfast on the terrace, overlooking the harbour. Behind the street where Bradd lived the land started to rise towards the inland heights — because of its view of the harbour, sea and distant islands it was a sought-after zone and many more houses and apartment blocks were going up. It was some time since Lorna had been in this part of the town, and she enjoyed the morning ambience of the shops and businesses, the light in the sky, the clattering noises, the endless sound of voices.
Later they walked down to the harbour to have a close look at the boat, and to work out what needed to be repaired or replaced. In the damp mess of the cabin there was hardly room for them both, so Lorna sat on the boardwalk while Bradd moved around inside. She was wearing a broad-rimmed hat to shade her from the sun. She watched the leisurely activity in and around the harbour, feeling happy for the first time in many months. Every now and then Bradd would emerge and place something next to her on the wooden planks. Once, she leant forward and kissed him. He grinned, then ducked down again into the boat.
A drone went over, its transparent wings glittering with silver highlights in the sunshine.
Lorna stared up to watch it, as did many other people around her. The drones were of course a familiar feature of life on Meequa, but they were rarely seen during the day. This one was flying parallel to the coast, but when it was over the harbour wall it banked steeply and flew out to sea. Lorna shaded her eyes to watch it. After about half a minute it banked again, this time going into a steep turn that directed it back towards the land. Within a few seconds it had passed over the headland and was out of sight.
Bradd emerged into the cockpit.
‘The nav gear is working again,’ he said. ‘I just picked up a drone signal. Did you see it go over?’
‘Yes.’
They thought no more of it, but that afternoon, as they walked through the town, a drone appeared from out
