made the decision to have him, and had been merely savouring it up until
then.
Now, with a pang, she realized that the moment might never come.
I'll help you with the others. She raised her voice above the
hysterical shriek of the wind.
Get in/ he shouted back, and swung her brusquely towards the raft. She
crept into the crowded interior and looked back at the brightly lit deck
that glistened in the arc lamps.
Ken had started back to where one of the women had slipped and fallen.
She sprawled helplessly on the wet deck, while her husband stooped over
her, trying to lift her back to her feet.
Ken reached them and lifted the woman easily; the three of them were the
only ones out on the open deck now, and the two men supported the woman
between them, staggering against the heavy sullen roll of the
waterlogged hull.
Samantha saw the wave come aboard and she shrieked a warning. Go back,
Ken! For God's sake go back! But he seemed not to hear her. The wave
came aboard; over the windward rail like some huge black slippery
sea-monster, it came with a deep silent rush.
Ken! I she screamed, and he looked over his shoulder an instant before
it reached them. Its crest was higher than his head. They could reach
neither the raft, nor the shelter of the mahogany doors. She heard the
clatter of the donkeywinch and the raft lifted swiftly off the deck,
with a swoopmg tug in her guts. The operator could not let the rushing
power of the wave crash into the helpless raft, throwing it against the
superstructure or tearing it's belly out on the ship's railing, for the
frail plastic skin would rupture and it would collapse immediately.
Samantha hurled herself to the entrance and peered down. She saw the
sea take the three figures in a black glittering rush. It cut them
down, and swept them away.
For a moment, she saw Ken clinging to the railing while the waters
poured over him, burying his head in a tumbling fall of white and
furious water. He disappeared and when the ship rolled sullenly back,
shaking herself clear of the water, her decks were empty of any human
shape.
With the next roll of the ship, the winch-operator high up in his
glassed cabin swung the dangling raft outboard and lowered it swiftly
and dexterously to the surface of the sea where one of the lifeboats
circled anxiously, ready to take them in tow.
Samantha closed and secured the plastic door-cover, then she groped her
way through the press of packed and terrified bodies until she found Mrs.
Goldberg.
Are you crying, dear? the elderly woman quavered, clinging to her
desperately.
No/ said Samantha, and placed one arm around her shoulders. No, I'm not
crying. And with her free hand, she wiped away the icy tears that
streamed down her cheeks.
The Trog lifted his headset and looked at Nick through the reeking
clouds of cigar smoke.
