“Easy on the stick, there, rocket man!” Jo complained, shaking water off her arms.
Reese frowned. With the debris streaming off the coast of Maine and piling up at the bow, and now the extra weight of all the water filling the bottom of the hull, Reese was certain their forward momentum had all but stopped. It would only be a matter of moments before they began drifting backward, despite the outboard engine screaming in protest.
"We’re not gonna make it,” Reese said, angrily wiping sweat and saltwater from his face. "We’re not gonna make it.”
"You can say that again!" Ben hollered, trying to regain his seat. Soaking wet, he wiped his face and glared at Reese. "Next time give a fella a heads up! I almost went over the side!"
“Don’t argue, just do something,” Jo urged, her eyes wide.
“We’re being pushed back offshore—the current’s too strong,” Reese warned.
“If we don't plug these leaks, we’ll sink,” Ben said, hunched over with his hands under the surging water at the bow.
Jo’s face went pale. “I found a second hole!"
Reese spotted a familiar shape in the water coming toward them. The rear end of a motor yacht stuck up out of the water, its golden propellers flashing in the sunlight. He squinted but could just make out the name on the transom: Excelsior. Despite being partially submerged, the big motor yacht had survived the night, tossed against all the debris as the vestiges of the tsunami carried it toward the coast. The Excelsior drifted along with the other debris.
Reese grinned. “I got an idea! See if you can get the holes plugged—get as much water out of the bottom. We might be able to get out of this!”
"Oh yeah? How's that?" Ben asked, using his hands to scoop water over the side. "This is never going to work…
Jo moaned. “We should've stayed on that dadgum island.”
Ben looked over the bow and stopped bailing. “Reese, dude that boat’s coming right at us!"
“I didn’t sign up for the Titanic cruise--steer us around that thing!” Jo complained.
"I know, I know!" Reese snapped, concentrating. The current threatened to push them far to port, meaning they would miss his intended rendezvous with the Excelsior. He angled the tiller hard over, bringing them closer to the wrecked yacht.
Ben looked at Reese in horror. “What are you doing?”
“We’re fixin’ to crash right into it!" cried Jo.
Reese smirked. "That's the idea! Get ready, we’re almost there. That's the only thing we’re going to be able to hang onto. I saw it last night. If it survived the night and it’s still floating, it might be able to hold us. The currents can take us right back to the island. We just have to make sure we catch it."
Closer and closer, inch by inch, the little wounded dinghy struggled through the debris and clogged waters, gaining ground on the Excelsior. The big motor yacht swirled in a sudden eddy, and the aft end swung away from Reese and Ben. Watching the debris move on the surface of the water, Reese knew that the motor yacht would continue in its counterclockwise rotation. He pulled the tiller amidships and aimed for where he thought the bigger boat would be in a few moments.
"What are you doing?” Ben demanded. “We’re going to miss it!"
"No, we’re not," Reese said. He pointed at Jo. “Get to the front and hang on!”
She moved forward and took a position at the extreme front of the little wooden boat just in front of Ben. "I see what you're doing,” she called over his shoulder. “But I don’t like it!”
They ran into something hard, lifting the boat up and nearly flinging Ben off his precarious perch. When the bow smashed back into the water, Ben slammed forward, grunting in pain. "It's all right, I'm all right,” he wheezed, struggling to his knees.
"Hang on,” Reese called. "We’re almost there! Ben, move to the other side. I think I saw a couple of ropes hanging off this thing. Maybe we can snag one of those."
"Gettin’ real choppy up here!” Jo said as the dinghy entered the current that had forced the Excelsior to spin around. Reese did his best to angle their boat even closer, but in the end his calculations had been spot on. The Excelsior swung, creaking and groaning in the current, and crashed right into the side of the dinghy.
Jo scrambled for the chrome railing sticking up out of the water attached to the main deck. Ben disappeared when the dinghy dipped to starboard, but looked like he found a handrail. Reese was not so lucky—as the motor yacht turned the dinghy into a pile of splinters, Reese was flung backwards out over the motor.
His last sight before he entered the murky, garbage-filled water, was a bright yellow and orange rope dangling from the tiny mast sticking off the top of the yacht's bridge. Reese went under, surrounded by the cold Atlantic water, and felt something unseen bump into his legs—hard. His hand slapped the surface of the water and found a snake-like coil.
Desperate, Reese latched on and pulled as hard as he could. Feeling the material go taught, Reese pulled himself up until his head broke the surface. Sputtering and gasping, he opened his eyes and saw immediately that he had indeed managed to grab the rope.
"Yes!" Jo yelled. She’d already pulled herself halfway up the side of the boat and raised one meaty fist in triumph at spotting Reese emerge from the water. "You got it, man!”
Coughing, Reese pulled himself hand over hand along the rope through the current that threatened to drag him under, until he was able to wrap an arm around the deck railing. Hanging there for a moment to catch
