‘And pushing us well clear of him,’ warned Toro.
‘Yes, but … Wait! You have the top-of-the-range propulsion system down there. Variable pitch, the works.’
Yes, but …’
‘It’s a hundred metres, Captain. You could swing us into position, surely. Go to full power.’
Toro frowned as he assessed the implications of Robin’s idea. ‘Mr Greenbaum? It’s your call in the final analysis.’
‘Ask the engineer, Captain. If he says he can do it without any more damage to the motor, and if you’re satisfied it won’t add significantly to the hazards of an already dangerous situation, then I think we should go for it.’
‘Swing? And at full power?’ The engineer’s answer came over Toro’s walkie-talkie so loudly that they all heard it. ‘We’ve only just got the motor going!’
‘There could be someone in the water a hundred metres or so off our aft starboard quarter. Would it be possible to get back close enough to be certain without damaging the motor?’
‘Someone in the water? In this? Hell, yes! I think we could give it a try. What are the sea conditions like? It feels like a fairground ride down here.’
‘Hairy. But that’s my call. You just get ready to start reversing on my command. And thanks for giving us power and light.’
‘That’s OK. We’ll try for heat later. Out.’
‘Right,’ said Toro. ‘We’ll try. I need someone on the radar who can feed me precise headings and distances.’
‘I can do that,’ said Nic. ‘I’ve spent enough time with Liberty—’
‘Someone mention my name?’ asked Liberty as she came on to the bridge. ‘I’ve left the others below either asleep or crouched over sick bowls. This is sure as heck one rough ride! What’s going on?’
Two minutes later she was at her father’s side poring over the collision alarm radar, calling out headings and distances even more expertly than Nic could have done as Toro began to position Maxima for a run back to where the beacon was located.
‘This is all very well,’ said Robin, ‘but you really need eyes out there too. ‘I’ll take the walkie-talkie and go aloft. I want to see which of the golf balls went west anyway.’
‘OK,’ said Toro. ‘I’ll send Manuel up after you in a minute. I don’t want anyone out on deck alone. Really and truly, I don’t want anyone out on deck in the first place.’
‘I’ll hook on to the safety lines and take extra care,’ promised Robin.
Robin was careful to do what she promised because the moment she stepped outside it became clear to her that the wind was picking up even further. Maxima was running south-eastwards and the wind was coming from behind her now. One glance at the sea told Robin that they were up to a steady nine or ten on the Beaufort scale, gusting to eleven, perhaps. It would only take one even stronger hurricane-strength gust to blow her away, but she was still able to stagger across to the starboard side of the top deck and clip on to the safety rail beneath the headless stub of the communications mast where Manuel had clearly failed to secure the golf ball covering after he had facilitated Robin’s brief contact with Sulu Queen. One glance served to settle her mind about that. Then she was looking back over the starboard, hoping to catch another glimpse of that lone red light.
She saw it almost at once, closer now, but still three wave crests away, almost lost beneath the spume torn off the wave-tops and hurled towards the distant shore of Mexico. Somehow, amid all the howling, screaming, thundering batter of the storm, she felt the engines go into reverse. Maxima did not begin to climb the wave-fronts crowding in behind her easily or quickly, but she did begin to slide sideways, slipping along the troughs of the waves towards that intrepid little light which continued to flash, beating like a heart exposed to the elements. She estimated the distance with a practised eye, even as she strove to make out what the flashing light was attached to. ‘Seventy-five metres,’ she called. ‘Has Liberty given you the heading, for all the use it is? I think I see a lifejacket and a head. Keep coming on that, keep coming on that …’
Something struck her on the back and she jumped. But it was only Manuel, trying to attract her attention. He gestured up to the headless communications mast and gave a pantomime shrug.
She shook her head and turned back. ‘Fifty metres. That’s good. Can you alert Raoul or Emilio, or do you want me to?’
The blow on her shoulder came again and she turned angrily. It was Manuel again, warning her by gesture that he was going to check on the other golf ball. ‘For heaven’s sake, be careful!’ she screamed and he nodded. She turned back — and gasped. The brief distraction had been enough to bring the flashing light almost within touching distance. And now she could see clearly the inflated lifejacket, the dark head slumped on to the bright orange cushion of the neckpiece. ‘Raul!’ she shouted into the walkie-talkie. ‘Go! Go! Go!’
Maxima hesitated partway up the wave, then began to slide down it again. The man in the water was also slipping down the face of it. Suddenly he was no longer alone — Raul and Emilio, adding exponentially to the fortune already promised by Nic Greenbaum, were swimming rapidly towards him, their lifelines dragging across the surface behind them. A moment later they had him and the three of them were being pulled back towards the side. Robin felt her heart swell with pride and relief. In the worst of all possible conditions, Maxima had put aside her own danger to come to the aid of someone who would otherwise have died.
Robin watched, entranced as the two swimmers and the man they had rescued were pulled back to Maxima’s side. She strained over the top of the safety rail, watching Raoul and Emilio handing him up to the team waiting there, then begin to start scrambling aboard themselves, a process complicated by the fact that the bathing platform had gone. And that became briefly significant because, as the rescued man was lifted aboard, something dropped from him. Robin recognized it as the EPIRB beacon that had guided them to him in the first place, and shouted ‘Catch it!’ without thinking. It skittered into the scuppers and was swept back overboard. Raoul tried to catch it but failed. It fell into the gap left by one of the big hinges when the platform was torn off. And there it stayed, wedged tight, well beyond anyone’s reach, flashing red, broadcasting its emergency signal. The swimmers came aboard. The rescued man was carried into the deck house and the motors were switched from reverse to full ahead. Maxima settled into a steadier motion. Robin knew that Toro’s best hope of keeping them all alive now was to try and match the speed of the waves surrounding them, running in towards the distant shore at a knot or two faster than the wave-sets. But it would take a little time to get to that speed. In the meantime, Maxima would see-saw sickeningly. But she would soon settle down. They had saved a life and were running for shelter.
Robin swung round, unable to contain her elation any longer, needing to share her joy and relief with somebody. Anybody. But the only person nearby was Manuel at the top of the ladder leading up to the undamaged golf ball. As she turned, another gust of that near-hurricane wind arrived. The strongest gust yet. It brought with it a haze of spume as thick as an old-fashioned pea-soup fog. And, weirdly, it brought a sound Robin half recognized. A wailing sort of a song, as though there was some kind of musical instrument out there, playing a mad, stormy tune, as though a singing whale could fly. Frowning, Robin looked around. The ghostly music got relentlessly louder. Robin’s mouth went dry. Her heart fluttered. She felt she should recognize the sound, but she simply couldn’t put her finger on it. It frightened her. As she staggered over to the bottom of the undamaged ladder and began to climb up after Manuel, the only way of communicating her concern was by touch. She hammered on the back of his leg as though it was some kind of door. He looked down. She gestured wildly: come down. And he obeyed. In an instant they were standing side by side on the deck. He pushed his lips against her ear and shouted, ‘What?’