He got his second wind and started diving again, and it quickly became apparent that his actions were futile. He was very cold and tired now, the yacht was a long way off, and he didn’t know if he could swim that far. He began to try.
He swam slowly, his arms heavy with fatigue. Lance was taking the genoa down on the yacht, and someone, probably Monica, was lying on top of it, trying to keep it from blowing overboard. He thought he heard the engine start. He hoped to God he heard right.
Suddenly, he was only fifty yards from the yacht, and it was headed toward him. Sarah brought the boat to a halt when he was abeam of the helm. “Switch off the engine,” he called out weakly. He didn’t want to get chewed up by the prop.
Somebody tossed him the other horseshoe buoy, and he grabbed it gratefully. Lance was reaching out to him, grabbing at his clothes.
It took Lance, Monica, and Sarah to haul him aboard, and he wasn’t much help. He lay in the cockpit, shivering and gasping for breath.
“Did you see him?” Sarah asked, oddly calm.
Stone shook his head. “He’s gone.”
Chapter 12
STONE WOKE SLOWLY. THE ROOM WAS dark, but faint daylight showed around the edges of the heavy curtains. Something had woken him, but he wasn’t sure what. Then there was a knocking at the door.
“Come in,” he said, as loudly as he could, struggling into a sitting position.
The door opened, and Lance Cabot walked in. “Good morning,” he said.
“Morning?”
“You’ve been asleep since we got you back to the house.”
“Then it’s tomorrow?”
“It’s today; the, ah . . . accident happened yesterday. How do you feel?”
Stone got a pillow behind him and leaned back against the headboard. “Dull,” he said. “I think I’ll probably ache a lot when I start moving around.”
“The police were here yesterday, but the Wights wouldn’t let them near you. They were very concerned about your health. The local doctor came, but you showed no signs of waking up, so he said just to let you sleep it off.”
“What time is it?”
“A little after nine. Why don’t you come down and have some breakfast? All the guests left yesterday, except you, Erica, Monica, and me. We’re all witnesses.”
Stone nodded.
“There’s going to be an inquest tomorrow morning. The locals hurried it up so they could get it done while we’re all here, so we’re staying over another night.”
“I see.”
“I thought you, Erica, Monica, and I ought to get our stories straight.”
Now Stone was awake. “Straight?”
“We should be in agreement.”
“About what?”
“About what happened.”
“Is there any disagreement about what happened?”
“That depends on how you see it.”
“The yacht gybed, and James went overboard, then I did.”
“The yacht didn’t gybe; Sarah gybed it. She knew what she was doing.”
Stone resisted the thought. “Lance, how much sailing have you done?”
“None, to speak of.”
“Then you don’t really understand what happened. Boats accidentally gybe all the time; people sometimes get hit with the boom. James was unlucky.”
“So that’s the story you’re sticking to?”
“It’s what happened; I was there, too, remember?”
“You weren’t on the yacht after James went overboard.”
“No. Did something happen then?”
“Very little. Sarah seemed . . . Well, I had the distinct impression that her only real concern was getting you out of the water.”
“Tell me exactly what happened after I went in.”
“I heard you yell, ‘Stop the yacht,’ and then Sarah yelled, ‘Gybing back.’ Or maybe it was the other way around. Why would she gybe back?”
“To get the sails on the same side of the boat.”
“But she didn’t gybe back,” Lance said. “She just turned into the wind.”
“That was the right thing to do,” Stone said. “When I looked back and saw the yacht, the genoa was aback, and that would stop the yacht.”
“Sarah wouldn’t start the engine—not at first, anyway. I asked her to, and she ignored me.”
“She did start the engine; she came back for me.”
“Only after I pointed out that you were still in the water.”
“She would have been stunned by what happened,” Stone said. “We were lucky she was able to function at all.”
“She was as cool as ice,” Lance said.
“Lucky for me.”
“All right, Stone,” Lance said. “You’re the lawyer. How should we handle the inquest?”
“Tell the truth; relate the facts as they happened; don’t offer any opinions, unless you’re asked, then be circumspect. The family is certainly going to have a lawyer there, and—”
“He’s already arrived,” Lance said. “Sir Bernard Pickering, QC. Very famous barrister, I’m told. A polite shark.”