Samantha dived across the deck and struggled with the flapping canvas;
above her head the producer was shout excitedly; two of the others were
trying to help her; Sally-Anne was screaming 'Go back! Go back! and
waving both arms at the great tanker. You poison our oceans! Everything
was becoming confused and out of control, the Dicky swung ahead into the
wind and pitched steeply, the person next to her lost his footing and
knocked painfully into Samantha, and at that moment she felt the change
of the engine beat.
Tricky Dicky's diesel had been bellowing furiously as Hank opened the
throttle to its stop, using full power to bring the little vessel around
from under the menace of those steel bows.
The smoking splutter of the exhaust pipe that rose vertically up the
side of the deckhouse, had made all speech difficult - but now it died
away, and suddenly there was only the sound of the wind.
Even their own raised voices were silenced, and they froze, staring out
at Golden Dawn as she bore down on them without the slightest check in
her majestic approach.
Samantha was the first one to recover, She ran across the plunging deck
to the wheelhouse.
Hank Petersen was down on his knees beside the bulkhead, struggling
ineffectually with the conduit that housed the controls to the engine
room on the deck below.
Why have you stopped? Samantha yelled at him, and he looked up at her
as though he were mortally wounded.
It's the throttle linkage/ he said. It's snapped again., Can't you fix
it? and the question was a mockery. A mile away, Golden Dawn came down
on them - silent, menacing, unstoppable.
For ten seconds Randle stood rigid, both hands gripping the foul weather
rail below the sill of the bridge windows His face was set, pale and
finely drawn , as he watched the stern of the wallowing fishing boat for
the renewed churning of its prop.
He knew that he could not turn nor stop his ship in time to avoid
collision, unless the small vessel got under way immediately, and took
evasive action by going out to starboard under full power.
Damn them to hell/ he thought bitterly, they were in gross default. He
had all the law and the custom of the sea behind him; a collision would
cause very little damage to Golden Dawn, perhaps she would lose a little
paint, at most a slightly buckled plate in the reinforced bows - and
they had asked for it He had no doubts about the object of this crazy,
irresponsible seamanship. There had been controversy before the Golden
Dawn sailed. He had read the objections and seen the nut-case
environmentalists on television. The scarletpainted banner with the
ridiculously melodramatic jolly Roger made it clear that this was a
boatload of nutters attempting to prevent Golden Dawn entering American
waters.
He felt his anger boiling up fiercely, These people always made him
furious - if they had their way, there would be no tanker trade, and now
they were deliberately threatening him, placing him in a position which
might prejudice his own career. He already had the task of taking his
ship through the Straits ahead of the hurricane. Every moment was vital
