The pump was heavy, a beast to maneuver in the ship’s narrow confines. McKenna and Jason sweated and swore, muscling the pump through the access hatch and easing it, slowly, down to the lowest deck.
“Cripes,” Jason said, wiping sweat from his brow. “You’re kind of a badass, skipper.”
“You and me both,” McKenna replied. “This is teamwork.”
They wrestled the first pump into position, just ahead of the engine room on deck one. Then they climbed again, up to the fourth deck, where McKenna descended among the Nissans to where the second pump waited, left over from the crew’s initial efforts to pump out the hold. The skipper untied the pump and fastened a line to it, guided the machine up between the long row of vehicles as Jason hefted it back up to the stairs.
Then they maneuvered the pump through the access hatch to the first deck again, hauled it through the maze to the stern ballast tanks. They tied down the pump and ran hoses in both directions, up to the starboard tank, and down to the portside. McKenna connected the hose to the starboard tank’s emergency valve.
“I’m going to wait until the rest of the pumps are hooked up to do the portside,” she told Jason. “Don’t want to get this party started too early.”
Jason looked at her, then past her, down the long corridor to the portside tank. He shivered. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d say that’s a good idea.”
THE CLIMB TOPSIDE was as long and arduous as ever. The rest of the crew was waiting there. “What took you so long, skipper?” Ridley asked. “You take the lad on a tour?”
McKenna wiped the sweat from her face. “Just lazy, I guess. You guys been here a while?”
“He’s just messing with you,” Stacey said. “We just got here. All the pumps in position.”
“Perfect,” McKenna said. “Okay, we need four people down below to watch the pumps. I’ll take one. Ridley, Matt and Jason, you guys take the others.”
Stacey and Court swapped glances. “What about us?”
“Stay up here. Get ready to relay information down to us, if necessary.” She looked at Stacey. “I don’t want you and Matt down there at the same time. If something goes wrong—”
“If something goes wrong, I don’t want to be left alone on this earth without my husband,” Stacey finished. “I appreciate the sentiment, skipper, but this is your operation. We could use you and Court topside to coordinate.”
McKenna thought about it. “Damn it, fine. But be careful, all of you. Find somewhere safe to camp out, somewhere you can get out quick if something goes wrong, understand?”
“Got it,” Stacey said.
“Aye-aye,” said Matt.
McKenna looked at Jason Parent. The kid looked nervous, a little, but he wasn’t about to admit it.
A married couple and a new dad, McKenna thought. You could be sending them to their deaths.
She shook the thought away. “You good?” she asked Jason.
Jason stood straighter. “I’m good.”
“Okay. Synchronize your watches. I’ll give you an hour to get down to your stations and in position. Sixty minutes from now, we start pumping. Good luck.”
She watched her crew disperse, Matt and Stacey toward the after two access points, Jason and Ridley toward the bow. Court Harrington stood beside her. He was watching, too.
“This going to work?” McKenna asked him.
Harrington set his jaw. “Yeah,” he said. “Yes, damn it, it will.”
70
Matt Jonas found the pump ahead of the engine room on deck one. He checked that the hose was connected to the starboard tank’s emergency valve, then rappelled down the corridor to the portside valve.
He checked his watch. Ten minutes to zero hour. Matt picked up the loose end of the hose, fastened it to the portside tank’s emergency valve.
A noise, behind him. Footsteps, labored, someone navigating the tricky path through the corridor. Matt turned, saw a headlamp at the top of the hall, the starboard side, peering down at him.
“It’s McKenna.” The skipper’s voice echoed through the empty ship, an eerie, ghostly sound. “Just making sure you’re all set.”
“Doing fine,” Matt told her. “Just about to open the portside valve, start pumping this thing up.”
The skipper hesitated. “Right,” she said finally. “Okay, cool.”
“This thing going to work?” Matt called up to her.
“I hope so,” she replied. “I think so.” Then, quickly, “I mean, the whiz kid says it’s pocket aces, best shot we have.”
“Pocket aces, you said?”
“That’s right.”
Matt looked around the corridor. “Those are good odds. Eighty percent, right? Best starting hand in poker.”
“Yeah,” the skipper replied, “but did he tell you how he busted out of the World Series?”
Matt shone his light up toward her. He could see the skipper in the distance, a hundred feet up, peering down at him.
“None of us would be here if we didn’t like to gamble, right?” Matt said. “Aces get cracked now and then, but hell, that’s just variance. You sure as heck wouldn’t fold them.”
“Dad was always a gambler,” McKenna said. “Guess I’m going to find out if I’ve got that itch, too.”
Matt smiled. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.” He checked his watch and looked up at her. “I’m about due to open this valve up, skipper.”
“Roger that. I’d better check on the others.” A pause. “Be careful.”
“Always.” Matt listened to the skipper’s footsteps until they were nothing but echoes. Then he checked his watch again. Time to gamble. He hesitated a moment, thought about Stacey and the rest of the crew.
Variance, he thought. Then he opened the valve, tensed as the hose filled, muttered a silent prayer, and waited.
71
McKenna made her way forward through the bowels of the ship. Checked in on Ridley, could barely hear the engineer’s answer over the roar of the pumps.
“She’s looking fine, skipper,” he reported. “No leaks, no mess. We’re in business.”
“Keep it that way,” McKenna told him. Then she crawled along the starboard side of deck one to the bow, where Jason Parent was babysitting his own pump, the bright orange hose filled with water and pumping steadily into the starboard tank.
“You okay?” McKenna shouted down to him.
Jason flashed her a thumbs-up. “All good down here.”
McKenna returned the thumb. “Keep it going.” Then she found the kid’s access hatch, climbed up and through to deck four, and up the stairway to the outside world again.
She couldn’t feel a thing as she stood on the Lion’s accommodations house. The list remained constant, about fifty-five degrees. It hadn’t begun to ease yet, but the ship wasn’t sinking, either.
That was probably a good sign.
She radioed back to the Munro, reported her crew’s status. Then, as an afterthought, “You guys still have that helicopter handy?”
“That’s affirmative, Captain,” the radio operator replied. “The Dolphin is standing by.”
“It might be nice,” McKenna told him, “if they could stand by a little closer while we’re pumping. Can you get them in the air above us?”
“I’ll dispatch them now. Get you some eyes in the sky, huh?”
And some quick response if this all goes sideways, McKenna thought. No pun intended. She thanked the operator and signed off. Gazed down the deck and found where Court Harrington had set up shop by an access hatch, a couple of hundred feet astern.