‘We’ll be going in relatively blind,’ warned Cheng, who seemed to have grown into his post as Richard’s first officer. He looked older, sounded more competent and decisive. And he was no longer shy about offering his opinions. ‘That lack of contact with anyone in Puerto Banderas is worrying. Not the coastguard or the harbourmaster. All the local radio stations are off-air. Even the local news channels FOROtv and Azteca13 have stopped broadcasting from there. It’s as though the whole place has shut down.’
‘Or been drowned out,’ added Antoine. ‘Washed away, maybe …’
‘Point well made,’ said Richard. ‘We’ll slow down and take care as we pass Santa Isabel, then we’ll positively tiptoe into the harbour on slow ahead, or as close to slow ahead as we dare go in these seas. It’d be a pity to come all this way and then go down with all hands as we approach our final destination. Which reminds me, now that Sulu Queen has settled somewhat, you and I need to go over the chart of Puerto Banderas harbour and its approaches — because, under the circumstances, I’m not expecting a pilot to come out and guide us in. Juan Jose, you know this place best — would you give us the benefit of your experience?’
The major followed Richard and Cheng across to the electronic chart and waited while Richard found the details of Puerto Banderas harbour. ‘OK,’ said Richard as the schematic filled the screen. ‘As you can see, it’s a sizeable, combined harbour. The outer area is the commercial dock and the inner is the marina. They are separated by this bridge here which takes a six-lane highway out to the breakwater here. The whole thing has been extended from the mouth of the Rio Cortez. The breakwater’s been built out in an L-shape on the Pacific side, turning the westerly flow of the river to a southerly one. The breakwater runs parallel to the Malecón as far as the Playa Los Muertos beach on the mainland. The actual harbour mouth is a five-hundred-metre-wide channel between the breakwater and the Malecón, dredged to a considerable depth, especially against the inner side of the breakwater, which is long, high and very robust, ending in the Faro, or lighthouse, here. The breakwater is substantial enough not only to have ship-handling facilities but also warehousing on the inner side, and even two or three hotels on the outer side looking out over the Town Beach to the Pacific on one aspect and over the marina up into the Rio Cortez and the Sierra Madre behind it on the other. All served by the six-lane highway coming over the bridge. The commercial section, the Malecón, is on the inland side here, and it stretches right from the left bank of the river mouth all the way along to Los Muertos beach. Is this all as you remember it, Juan Jose?’
‘Yes. But the chart gives little idea of the scale. The Rio Cortez is quite a big river. It drains straight down from the watershed among the peaks of the Sierra Madre in a series of waterfalls and lakes.’
‘That’s right,’ said Richard. ‘It’s by the lowest of those lakes that Nic Greenbaum built Dahlia Blanca, right up there in the jungle, reaching out to the edge of the cliff. Apparently you can see it from the harbour. The locals use it as a landmark, according to Biddy McKinney. I’m looking forward to seeing it. I’ve only seen pictures so far. But you were saying. About the river itself …’
‘So, it comes down from the mountains quite powerfully. And it keeps everything pretty well dredged by the strength of its current, especially along the outer edge of the main channel, which is the inner edge of the breakwater where the commercial docks are. The breakwater is the better part of a kilometre long and half a kilometre wide; a little narrower than the harbour mouth. It’s manmade but very substantial. It would be possible for several vessels of this size to berth along the inner side of the breakwater. As I said, I remember seeing big cruise ships docking there in my younger days. And these little squares that represent the hotels you were just mentioning — they are the likes of the Westin, the Marriot and the Hilton. Some of them are twenty stories high. And they have substantial grounds. Swimming pools. Decorative gardens. All on the widest section of the breakwater.’
‘OK,’ said Richard. ‘So access should be easy enough, though you see the recommended routes on the chart all come up from the south, as you were saying, Juan Jose. They come straight in past the lighthouse and harbourmaster’s offices at the point of the breakwater on one side and the port authority building part way down the Malecón on the other. If we go in on that heading we should end up here, where the loading and unloading facilities are located. But, of course, we don’t know what state the facilities are in, though if no one there is answering our radio calls then I guess they’ll be deserted. I hope Maxima was careful going in.’
‘If that is actually her sitting in the outer area where the beacon’s signal is coming from,’ added Antoine as he joined them. ‘I’d have thought a yacht like Maxima would have gone under the road bridge and into the inner marina. Always assuming she doesn’t have a private, secure dock.’
‘Which I know she does. But let’s just assume it’s her for the time being,’ suggested Richard. ‘We’ll find out the truth one way or another pretty soon. And she must have been careful, because I doubt the emergency signal would still be broadcasting so clearly if anything too terminal had happened to her. Now, Mr Cheng, let’s get some good old-fashioned ship-handling planned. After we get past Isla Santa Isabel we’ll use the quieter water in the lee of the island to swing south, track south-east across the harbour itself — still well out — swing round and head back in from the south along the recommended route on the chart here, keeping an eye out for the Faro lighthouse on our port beam and the port authority building to starboard. Slowly and carefully. Hoping that the dock we need is clear. And that Katapult8 and Maxima are waiting.’
Once the immediate plans were made, Richard used the slightly less stressful period between their passage past the Tres Marias and towards the reefs at Isla Santa Isabel to try and work out something more long term. He had experienced a wider range of weather conditions than most, but he had never had to face an ARkStorm before. He really had very little idea of what to expect beyond the threat of a truly biblical downpour lasting in the region of forty days and forty nights, as it did for Noah in Genesis. But he knew a woman who did. And Dr Jones was happy to take his contact, for she was prioritizing the National Guard and those like Richard, who were trying to help them, consumed with unreasoning guilt that she had warned California of the imminent disaster but not warned Mexico, where the real damage was being done.
‘I believe you have already experienced the primary storm front,’ she said quietly, her face on his Skype contact frowning with concern. ‘It was you, was it not, who reported the precise height and nature of the storm surge and the effect of its first impact on Baja California Norte?’
‘I flew over it in a helicopter,’ he admitted. ‘I’m on shipboard now, and much further south. I’m at one hundred and six degrees west, twenty-one fifty-five north, coming up to the reefs at Isla Santa Isabel. We still have high seas, though the storm surge has passed. The general conditions are severe storm, but everything except the rain seems to be easing. What I need to know is: what do I have to expect? Medium term and long term, if possible?’