“ Here you go,” she said, stepping up to him. He downed the tequila in a quick gulp and then took a long pull on the beer.
“ Aren’t you having anything?” he asked.
“ No.”
“ Look ahead,” she said and Earl followed her pointed finger.
“ Holy shit,” he said, staring at the boiling seas, three foot swells coming from all directions, churning as evil as any witch’s caldron.
“ Confused seas where the Caribbean meets the Gulf,” she said. “We’ll keep the motor on till we’re through it.”
The first hint of breeze started to fill the sails before she finished her sentence and in seconds they were full and Sea King was bucking and thrashing through the end of the churning passage. Earl held the wheel with a tight right handed grip and tossed the beer can over the side with his left.
“ Keep her straight, Earl,” Dani said.
“ Yeah.”
“ And stay away from the rock on the left.”
“ What rock?” he said. Then he saw it, large, dark and forbidding, hogging the center of the channel.
“ A little to the right,” she said, her voice calm, reassuring.
He pulled the wheel to the right and felt the boat turn.
“ Too much, come back a little.”
He obeyed, feeling the sweat dripping down his back as they sailed up to it. He checked the knot meter. Eight knots. Eight point two, three, five, seven. Sea King heeled back over and Earl pulled the wheel sharply to starboard, convinced they were going to hit the rock, then they were past it and into the choppy, churning, open sea. Sails full, wind whipping his face, knot meter reading ten-five and rising.
Huge swells, made more powerful by the current, slammed into the side of the boat. Sea King’s bow bucked to port with each hit, then jerked back to starboard. The wind, howling now, kept the boat heeled over so far to port that her rails were in the water. Spray slapped his face, salt stung his eyes, and sheer terror stabbed at his thumping heart.
Then they were past the bubbling, boiling seas and had only the swells, the wind and the current to contend with. The rails were still in the water, sending spray shooting over the side, showering them like they were under a giant sized salt water spigot, and Earl watched, horrified, as Dani white knuckled the stainless steel bimini supports in an effort to keep herself from going over the side.
“ We’re in trouble,” she shouted.
“ No shit,” Earl shouted back.
“ I have to reef it in.”
“ What?”
“ I have to take in some sail.”
“ Do it!”
Dani pushed the furling button for the main. The motor whirred, then whined in protest, but the sail stayed full.
“ Head up some,” she shouted back to him.
“ What?”
“ Turn a little to the right.”
He did and some of the wind spilled out of the sail. She hit the button again and sighed as the sail started to wind itself into the mast, but again the motor screeched in protest. She let up on the button, afraid she was going to burn it out.
“ Turn all the way into the wind,” she shouted, pointing.
Earl pulled hard on the wheel, spinning it, feeling the boat shudder and quake. Would he ever see land again.
“ More,” she shouted and he obeyed, turning the wheel till they were headed directly into the wind and the waves.
The jib cracked like an amplified thunder blast.
“ Shit, shit, shit!” Dani jumped to the large port winch, where she took the jib sheet out of the self-tailing jaws. Then she grabbed a winch handle from a plastic holster in the cockpit, jammed it in the furling winch and started grinding, bringing in the heavy sail. The jib cracked again, sending the jib sheets whipping and twisting, smacking the deck, the shrouds and the sails with enough force to maim, or to kill.
“ Down!” Earl screamed.
Dani dropped over the winch like she’d been shot. The boom whipped over her head, breezing her hair in its killing arc. Now the main was thunder-snapping as the boom whipsawed from port to starboard and back again with the fury of a log riding the rapids.
Once the jib was halfway in she stopped grinding and pulled out the winch handle. Now she had to tackle the swinging boom. She thrust the handle into the mainsheet winch and started grinding on it. Earl could see that she was almost done in, but he didn’t know what he could do to help. He was at her mercy. If she succeeded and got the boat under control, they might make it. He had no doubt about what was going to happen if she didn’t.
Once the mainsheet was tightened and the boom’s violent motion curtailed, Dani went back to the button that operated the main’s roller furling gear. The boat was still rocking and slamming, but a lot of the fury had been tamed. He watched as the main again started to disappear inside the mast. Then it stopped.
“ It’s jammed,” she said.
“ Oh, fuck,” Earl said. The main was three quarters of the way in and still flapping.
“ I’m going to have to let it out and try again,” she shouted.
“ Hurry,” Earl shouted back.
She pushed the opposite button and the sail came out a bit. Then she pushed the other and Earl sighed loud enough to wake the dead as the sail retracted into the mast. “Are you taking it all the way in?”
“ No, we’ll need to keep some of it out for stability,” she shouted, but the ripping sound told them that the sail had gotten caught again, only this time the motor overpowered the canvas. There was nothing for her do to but to keep her hand on the button and get as much of the torn main in the mast as possible.
Chapter Eighteen
“ I talked to a friend of mine on the radio this morning,” Ramsingh said. “He’d just made the crossing between Trinidad and Grenada.”
“ You’re a HAM operator?”
“ Not licensed, but I use it every now and then to keep track of my cruising friends.”
“ Isn’t that against the law?”
“ Not for the prime minister.”
“ What did your friend say?”
“ He said that it was the worst crossing he’s made in the seven years he’s been in the Caribbean.”
“ Swell,” Broxton said.
“ This isn’t going to be like our last sail together. Then we were on a much bigger boat and the wind was just horrible. Tonight will be a lot worse.”
“ How much worse?”
“ You can’t imagine.”
“ But you can?” Broxton said.
“ Sure. I’ve lived a good part of my life on boats, remember? I’ve sailed around the world twice, been in three hurricanes, several tropical storms and more squalls than you can count.”
“ Hurricane winds out there tonight?” Broxton asked.
“ No.”
“ Tropical storm?”
