almost underwater.
‘Hold this, Fern.’ Alf shoved the grappling iron into Fern’s hands.
For a man in his eighties, Alf was moving lightning fast. A man a quarter of his age couldn’t have moved with this speed. As Fern took the grappling hook he disappeared and was back in seconds with rope to secure the rubber craft to the side of the fishing boat.
From nearby the rest of the fleet watched helplessly. There was no time to launch another boat…and their fishing boats were too high…
Then Alf was back. Almost before he’d secured the dinghy, Quinn had assessed what was happening. With the dinghy safe from sinking he could act
‘OK, Lizzy,’ Quinn ordered harshly and his words were tight with strain from hauling the two sodden figures. His voice was still strong enough, though, to cut into Lizzy’s exhaustion. ‘You have to help me. Pull Sam forward and then hang on to the dinghy rope. Now!’
The girl in the water cast a hopeless look back up at Quinn but something in Quinn’s authoritative tone must have got through. She was so exhausted now that the only thing possible was to follow orders.
Fern held her breath. Without Lizzy’s assistance Quinn could do nothing and the dinghy wasn’t big enough to take anyone else’s weight. Neither she nor Alf could help. But if Lizzy held on herself…If she forgot she was intent on suicide…
She had forgotten. With a jagging effort Lizzy hauled Sam further forward and Quinn grabbed him by the collar. Then Lizzy’s hands caught the handhold on the dinghy’s side.
‘Can you pull Lizzy up?’ Quinn demanded of the two in the boat.
‘Sure thing, Doc,’ Alf said as though he were agreeing to pass the salt. ‘Hang on to me, Fern, girl.’
The old man quickly leaned over to the side of the dinghy. Fern grabbed him by the belt as Alf caught Lizzy by the hand and pulled.
He’d never have done it alone.
As soon as she was sure that Alf had his balance, Fern let him go and reached down to grab Lizzy’s other hand. The girl came on board in a sodden, slithery rush.
Fern and Alf hardly had time to see her crumple to the deck. They were back, leaning over to grab Sam from Quinn’s clasp and haul him aboard.
Sam came with more than sea water. A gush of blood followed him on board. Alf was still helping Quinn over the side as Fern started frantically trying to staunch the flow.
It wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
He wasn’t dead.
There was a massive wound on Sam’s side. The shark’s teeth had sliced into his right loin, tearing away skin, muscle and…
And what else, Fern hated to think. Heaven knew what damage had been done under the bleeding but for now the bleeding was the only thing that Fern could worry about. With a wound this size he’d be dead in minutes.
So all Fern had to do was stop the bleeding.
All…
The pressure points…Where were the pressure points here? For heaven’s sake, what was she dealing with?
‘OK, Sam,’ she managed to say in a voice that was almost even. ‘You’re safe now…’
Sam gave an agonised grunt; his head rolled to one side and he slid into unconsciousness.
May he stay that way until they had some morphine!
Frantically Fran tried to assess the wound, feeling in the dim light the extent of the torn flesh and where the bulk of the bleeding was coming from. No pressure point would stop abdominal bleeding. The only thing that might help was pressure on the wound itself.
Fern had looped her cotton windcheater round her waist when she had come out for her walk-hours ago, it seemed now.
There was sacking on the deck-but it stank of rotten fish and the consequences of using that were horrible to contemplate. The windcheater would have to do.
Swiftly Fern folded it into a heavy pad. Then her hands went straight to Sam’s loin, shoving in hard.
Harder…
The gushing blood slowed to an ooze…
On the deck beside her, Lizzy was whimpering with shock and exhaustion. She’d be suffering from hypothermia, Fern thought grimly, but there was no time for Lizzy now…
Heavens, she couldn’t cope with this by herself.
Dear God…
‘What’s the damage?’
Quinn’s voice cut her panic dead. Unnoticed by Fern, Alf had helped haul Quinn aboard from the dinghy. Now Quinn knelt beside her, eyes cool and appraising.
There was no panic here.
‘We need blankets, Alf,’ Quinn said brusquely, as he took in what Fern was doing. His eyes moved momentarily to Lizzy, noting her absolute exhaustion. ‘And, Alf, strip the girl, wrap her and get her below. Get her warm fast. How bad is it here, Dr Rycroft?’
From his tone they might have been back in the casualty department of a major hospital, with all its resources at their disposal. The horror of the night receded a little as professionalism took over.
Sam-this man lying here bleeding to death on the deck-might be the man she intended to marry but with Quinn’s harsh approach Fern could switch back into clinical efficiency. Sam became a patient.
A patient with life-threatening injuries.
‘There’s flesh ripped right out from the side of his abdomen. I can’t see-but his bowel may be involved, at the very least. Heaven knows what else. The wound’s maybe eight inches across…’
‘Right. Hold on there while I fix his position.’
Quinn glanced round fast. Beside them was a piece of planking that Alf used to wheel crates of fish from deck to jetty.
It was perfect.
Quinn hauled the planking across beside Sam. The lawyer was still heavily unconscious, his skin pale, cold and clammy. He’d die of shock and blood loss, Fern thought desperately.
‘We need to get him back to the island,’ she whispered. ‘It’s his only hope. We need saline…plasma… morphine…’
‘There’s saline and morphine in my bag. It’s on the other boat. I yelled at them to bring it over while I was still on the dinghy.’ Quinn was working as he talked, tucking the planking as far under Sam as it would go without lifting Sam’s body. He looked at Fern’s gory hands, noting the slowing bleeding. ‘Hold tight. I’m moving the top half…’
With a swift tug he shifted Sam’s head and chest onto the boards. Without pausing for breath he was down at Sam’s thighs, lifting the rest of Sam’s body across without disturbing what Fern had achieved.
Then to Sam’s feet…
There were folded craypots lying nearby. Quinn lifted the planking with an audible grunt of effort and shoved a couple of folded craypots underneath at foot level. Sam’s body was now lying with head down and the lower part of his body elevated.
It’d help a bit.
Enough?
Alf emerged from the cabin. He’d taken an unprotesting Lizzy below, half carrying her, and he must have undressed and wrapped her with lightning speed. For a fleeting moment it crossed Fern’s mind to wonder just how many young women this crusty old bachelor had been asked to undress in his time but the thought wasn’t enough to bring a smile to her lips. Not now…
Alf’s arms were loaded with blankets.
‘Lizzy’s crook,’ he said grimly. ‘I undressed her like you’d undress a rag doll. I’ve put her in my bunk with the electric blanket up full.’
‘Electric blanket?’ Quinn was ripping off Sam’s sodden shirt and already tucking Alf’s offering of thick wool around him. It was vital that they get Sam warm as well-but they couldn’t shift him below. The less movement the
