Page 127 of Ford
Again, and this time he added the choke to it. It grumbled to life, coughing out a gaseous, acrid cloud. In moments, Ford had them headed out to sea.
They broke free of the shoals along the shore, the spray pelting them as he cut through the waves. The wind had started to whip up, the sun fading fast against the horizon. RJ held the binoculars to her eyes, shouting directions at him.
To the north, maybe five hundred feet away, an island rose, its jagged-edged shoreline like teeth. Waves hit the cliff walls with such force the spray thundered across the water, a violent protest to the beating.
He angled the skiff toward deeper water, where the freighter sat at anchor.
“Hang on!”
He preferred a Zodiac. A flat-bottomed skiff might beach well, but it turned into a board, slamming against the troughs of the open sea. A Zodiac bent with the waves and turned without much coaxing.
RJ nearly unseated as they pitched hard, jerking forward. “RJ! Get a life jacket on!”
She hated water and didn’t swim well—he, better than anyone, knew that. To his relief, she grabbed one of the jackets. Put it on.
“You too, Red.”
But when Scarlett grabbed for the other, it came up in shreds, the neck broken. She dropped it and shook her head, holding onto her seat. Winced as they hit again, hard. He felt as if his spleen was being ripped from his insides.
The orange hull had darkened with the setting sun, the oncoming storm turning the sky a deep amber. He had the motor wide open, but they barely made 30 knots, at his guess.
At this rate, it would be dark by the time they reached the freighter. And by then the sea would be boiling with the storm.
Okay, now might be a good time for God to show up. To calm the sea.
He’d even take a miraculous parting.
Ford shivered, his body soaked through now, and the wind tore at his shirt, took off his hat, and tossed it into the waves.
The sea turned black, milky with foam, the water chaotic and undulating as he fought to find a path through the water. He rode one wave over the edge, down the backside, then the next. Again. His arm had gone numb, the throttle buzzing it to the core of his body.
Please—
He spotted the freighter a hundred yards off and cut the motor, not wanting to come in too fast. “Scarlett—grab my Maglite. Get their attention.”
His gut was back to knotted as his brain tried to work out their boarding. Scarlett found the light and flashed it on the hulking ship.
He’d forgotten how big freighters could be. In the pitching sea, it loomed nearly eighty feet above them, falling to sixty as it rode the waves, which banged against the side, shattering in a spray of destruction. He’d have to work the boat close, but not enough to slam into the side. And should anyone fall into the drink, they could get sucked under the boat.
Yeah, they should have taken their chances at the airport.
Water drenched him as he motored closer. He made out a name—theNavoo—and shouted when a seaman directed his port side light at them.
A rope accommodation ladder swayed against the boat, running up the hull.
The bosun began dropping the gangway sideways down the ship to help with the boarding process.
He just had to get the ladies on the ladder. From there, they could climb it to the gangway.
The ladder dragged into the sea. If he could grab it, he could hold the boat steady against the hull.
“RJ, reach out and grab the ladder when I get close!”
He motored the skiff toward the side, grimacing as the waves tossed them. But he waited until they’d fallen into a trough, then opened the throttle, driving the skiff against the hull. A terrible crunch rattled his teeth, but RJ had grabbed hold of the ladder.
Ford nearly launched from his seat to secure her grip. His hand wrapped around the soggy rope, pulling the end into the boat. “Go, RJ!”
He grabbed her arm, and she scrambled onto the wooden slats. Beside him, Scarlett stood up, her balance careening as the ocean grabbed them. Overhead, the clouds cracked open and poured steely rain into the blackness.