Warlock was slewing down on the wind, describing a slow left-hand circle
at the limit of the cable as the engine torque and the wind took her
around.
Starboard twenty/ Nick snapped, correcting the turn, and despite the
rigour of his features, David Allen's response was instantaneous.
Twenty degrees of starboard wheel on, sir!
Nick saw the lateral drift stop on the ground speedindicator, and then
with a wild lurch of elation he saw the forward speed-indicator flicked
into green. Its electronic digital read out, changing swiftly - they
were moving forward at 150 feet a minute.
We are moving her/ Nick cried aloud, and he snatched up the microphone.
Full power both winches. Still full and holding, answered Baker
immediately.
And Nick glanced back at the forward speed across the ground, 150, to 75
feet a minute, Warlock's forward . 3etus slowed, and Nick realized with
a slide of dismay that it was merely the elasticity of the nylon spring
that had given them that reading. The spring was stretching out to its
limit.
For two or three seconds, the dial recorded a zero rate of speed.
Warlock was standing still, the cable drawn out to the full limit of her
strength, then abruptly the dial flicked into vivid red; they were gong
backwards, as the nylon spring exerted pressures beyond that of the twin
diesels and the big bronze screws - Warlock was being dragged back
towards that dreadful shore.
For another five minutes, Nick kept both clenched fists on the control
levers, pressing them with all his strength to the limit of their
travel, sending the great engines shrieking, driving the needles up
around the dials, deep into the red never exceed sectors.
He felt tears of anger and frustration scalding his swollen eyelids, and
the ship shuddered and shook and screamed under him, her torment
transmitted through the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands.
Warlock was held down by cable and power, so she could not rise to meet
the -seas that came out of the whiteness. They tumbled aboard her,
piling up on each other, so she burrowed deeper and more dangerously.
For God's sake, sir/ David Allen was no longer able to contain himself.
His eyes looked huge in his bone-white face. You'll drive her clean
under. Baker/ Nick ignored his Mate, Are you gaining? No recovery
either winch, Beauty told him. She is not moving. Nick pulled back the
stainless steel levers, the needles sank swiftly back around their
dials, and Warlock reacted gratefully, shaking herself free of the piled
waters.
You'll have to shear the tow. Baker's disembodied voice . was muted by
the clamour of the storm. We'll take our chances, sport. Beside him,
David Allen reached for the red-painted steel box that housed the shear
button. It was protected by the box from accidental usage; David Allen
opened the box and looked expectantly, almost pleadingly at Nick.
Belay that! I Nick snarled at him, and then to Baker, I'm shortening
tow. Be ready to haul again, when I am in position. David Allen stared
at him, his right hand still on the open lid of the red box.
Close that bloody thing/ Nick said, and turned to the main cable
