Little Bear and MKG. Before she could reply, a stream of signals started to go out to Red Force allocating them new dispositions. Shenandoah grumbled at being taken from the hunt to taxi Captain du Plessis. Thornton and Blue Force abandoned their previous search area and turned on a heading towards Bellatrix. Tyler ordered all his ships into the same area.
Peace had bought another day with his ruse.
By early afternoon the squalls started to increase in violence and frequency from the north-east. Semittante took a fearful beating. The gusts, catching the old ship under the bow, laid her under with a peculiar, sickening corkscrew motion. It was impossible to stand on the bridge without holding on; the hazard of the lifelines to the radio shack was more than real. Boz and his men risked their lives to check Little Bear's lashings. Semittantes deck was continuously awash in the violent cross-sea, which jounced and jerked, pummelled and hammered her. Three of the lifeboats hung smashed, but the cutter with its precious load was secure. I had demanded some jerrycans of petrol for its auxiliary engine from Mac-the tank, I found, was empty.
Tyler and Thornton were on the air without a break. Both
HUK forces were taking a tremendous hammering, they reported. Andre and MKG were fighting the wheel when I felt the tempo of Semittante's motion change-from the long, swooping dives with water pouring off the rusty bows to a quick, shuddering action. The bottom seemed to be dropping out of the barometer, which stood at 28.80 of mercury. We had run into a fearful cross-sea. On Peace's orders I brought
Adele to the bridge-we were afraid that the radio shack might be swept overboard.
Andre shouted above the din, `Love-Apple Crossing!'
Beyond the bridge visibility was down to about fify yards.
The sea was shrouded in spray; the summits of the waves were carried aloft bodily in a white shower of salt as high as a carrier's deck. It was a formidable, awe-inspiring sight. Adele translated. ' We are coming in from the east, straight towards the lagoon.'
' Where is it?' demanded Peace.
Andre pointed, but we could see nothing. Then, slightly to port, I caught a glimpse of a coconut tree bent like a whip on a low point of land.
There!' I yelled. 'That's it-look l'
Adele said, Vingt-Cinq Coups.
The flogging,' said MKG quietly, ' is coming to old Semit- tante.'
Trevor-Davis gave a thumbs-down sign to Pete the Texan.
Peace swallowed hard. Can Andre take her through the reef into the lagoon-in this?'
Andre's reply was grave. It is a very big ship and the pass is narrow.
Peace slowed the engines. ' It doesn't matter if she strikes, so long as we get her inside.'
Without warning, the wind cut.
Semittante lay in a vacuum of silence.
Adele grabbed me. John darling, what-?'
Cyclone centre,' replied Peace. We're dead in the heart of it. We're in the middle of the whirlpooclass="underline" everything spins around creating a small patch in the very centre which is absolutely without movement. I've never seen it myself, though, until now.'
Our voices were loud, unnatural.
We waited-hours, it seemed, though it could not have been more than five minutes.
Then Adele said, Andre thinks he can take her in now.'
The narrow spit of land was a dirty grey compared to the fanged whiteness of the water. The reef was a horseshoe of wild surf. At Vingt-Cinq Coups was a small roofless hut and a strange square trellis of iron.
Peace said, That axe, John; we may have to cut the cutter clear if we strike. Boz, slack off that wire cable round Little Bear. I'll be here at the wheel with Andre. As soon as we get inside the lagoon, get up for'ard with Pete Allingham and knock the shackle out of the anchor cable. I want everyone else in the cutter, ready. Then get below and open the sea-cocks with Mac. Adele, I want you with me.'
She hesitated and looked deep into my eyes. Hers told me all I wanted to know.
I went for'ard with the big Texan. The unnatural quiet persisted. Twice I was thrown to the deck as the cross-sea dealt the old tramp a quick left-right to the jaw and water swept across the deck.
The bows swung high. I looked down into the entrance race.
I saw the coral-head too late.
Andre's course was slightly off centre in the reef passage. I yelled frantically, gesturing. The bow paused-plunged down-on to the dagger of coral.
The crash and scream of metal threw me hard against the deck. Up she came to impale herself again, but the bow swung away and the second strike was only glancing. She limped clear, tired to death, her head starting to droop. Then the sea quietened-we were through!
Pete and I clouted the inch-thick anchor shackle. Once twice. It gave and the anchor fell in a shower of sparks.
I ran for the engine-room while Pete made for the cutter. '
Mac!'
It was as quiet as a cathedral, except for the ominous sound of water flooding in.
' Mac!'
' Here!'
I dropped into the shaft, up to my knees in sea-water. Mac fought to open the rusty sea-cock. We threw our combined weight on the heavy wrench and it gave, water spurting over us. We raced on deck, making for the boat. Andre was speaking rapidly, pointing seawards. Semittante was settling at an awkward angle, making the launching of the cutter difficult. She could not be cut clear now-she would simply smash herself against the steel side.
I jumped into the boat. An icy spear of fear went through me. Adele was missing!
I clutched the fall and swung myself back on deck.
' For Christ's sake!' yelled Peace. ' She's going down like a stone-'
Semittante gave a lurch.
' Adele!' I screamed above the din. I sprinted up the sloping planks, hauled myself bodily up a steel ladder, and propelled myself to the radio shack by hauling myself along the ropes of the lifeline I had rigged. I kicked once, twice, at the shack's door, which had jammed from the angle of the sinking ship.
' Adele!'
She sat at the radio, headphones on, and stared unseeingly. For a moment, I thought she was dead.
' The ship's sinking-any moment-come, for God's sake!'
She seemed to come back from a great distance. Silently she pushed across the transcript of a newscast. It was headed Voice of America.
It read: Flash. The White House announces that the Pre- sident has suffered a severe stroke. His condition gives rise to the gravest anxiety.
1 3 G R I D E – 1 3
A violent lurch, accompanied by an ominous rumble from below, jerked me out of my stunned reaction.
I crammed the transcript into my pocket, tore the headphones off Adele's head, picked her up and staggered out. The wild motion of the dying ship ripped the flesh from my hand as I hung on to the lifeline rope. Then, as she steadied, I made a half-sprint down the ladder and deck to the boat.
Peace had already eased it down about ten feet, but shouted to the others to stop when he saw me.
Semittante lurched again.
Keeping Adele over my shoulder, I grabbed a loose fall with one hand and wound my knees and ankles round it.
Faces in the boat, so small below, were turned towards me.
Underneath lay a maelstrom of death.
The rope burned hot on my torn palm. Eager hands reached up and pulled us into the cutter.
Semittante gave another wild lurch.
' Forward bulkhead gone!' shouted Peace. ' Pay off those falls-handsomely! We don't want to go down with her!'
Andre gestured seawards. I saw the cause of his alarm.
Half a mile away loomed a threatening bank of grey. There was a steady roaring like an express train. Sweating and cursing, we lowered the cutter, fending her off the rusty side while the angle steepened as Semittante went to her grave. We clawed and shoved. Now the boat hung a foot or two above the sea. I grabbed an oar and swung round. I felt I had been struck in the face by a grey fist. The cyclone hit us anew, throwing the cutter against the steel side. Above its scream was another noise-the frightening snap of planking.