The Onyx Seed - A Story of Survival by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 22

The next hour brought a transformation that would have Neptune himself cower in fear, as the sky was overtaken by heavy clouds and the sea churned itself in a dark watery mountain-scape. The wind was first to give its warning, turning the mainsail into a taut sheet of canvas. Fighting its every twist and turn. For the time being, the hatch was left open in order to maintain airflow throughout the cabin. The rain had not yet arrived. But it wasn’t the rain that was of the greatest concern. Rain is just a product of turbulent weather and there are only two concerns regarding any ocean weather, wind and waves, and each is just as dangerous as the other. Marty kept his hands on the wheel as Julie crawled beneath the cabin to inspect the bilge pump. It was necessary on any large boat to keep the lower compartments from flooding. The bilge pump siphoned any water that leaked in back out into the sea. A flooded engine compartment would prevent them from putting into any port and attempting to do so without first bringing the sails down would be suicidal. When putting into port, slow and steady is the rule. Although there were no problems in the lower compartments, Julie understood that with a boat this size comes a multitude of failure points. And as with anything mechanical, failure is always an option. Julie returned to the cockpit where Marty was finding it remarkably easy to stay on course, in spite of the growing intensity of the ocean.

“How are things up here?” she asked. With the wind gaining in strength, they had to speak louder in order to be heard.

“Not too bad,” Marty answered. “But I’m guessing that’s going to change, huh?”

Julie’s fearful expression was answer enough. Often times, silence conveys the loudest voice and speaks things that words fail to. Marty knew, by Julie’s reaction, that their circumstances would likely worsen before St. Petersburg even came into view. “So, do you think we made the right decision?!” he asked.

Julie stepped up next to him, looking at the navigational display. They had passed well into the edge of the storm as it continued to almost consciously advance on them.

“I’ll let you know when we get to St. Petersburg!” she answered.

The rain arrived roughly twenty minutes later. Not as a trickle, but a torrent, as the clouds unhinged their roiling gloom and let go their unwavering catastrophe upon the sea. The Stellar Storm had become little more than a silent dot of insignificance. Tossed around on an ocean that had suddenly acquired the roaring voice of a wild animal and with the rain came a steady, blaring wind that neither Marty nor Julie had ever experienced without the protection of shelter. Marty briefly remembered back to his first experienced in a sandstorm. The oncoming clouds of sand and dust stood magnificently as a red tower in the desert haze. At the time, the only course of action was to find shelter. Yet, it also occurred to him how something so beautiful could rain down so much terror and destruction. However, it wasn’t likely that anyone ever drowned in a sandstorm and if shelter could not be found, one could simply dig a trench and wait it out. The ocean, however, is a different kind of animal. And if there’s no place else to go, no shelter to be had, death’s arrival promised to be imminent. Julie, on the other hand, always had the foresight of technology in the form of televised weather reports, satellite tracking, and storm advisories. She’d never dealt with a storm at sea unless it made landfall. Now, no such help was available and there would be no evacuation. Marty and Julie would either live or die purely by the decisions they made and a cool head can sometimes be enough when experience is lacking. And given their lack of experience, they would have to remain as calm and focused as possible. The hurricane worsened by the minute, as Marty began to realize that getting to St. Petersburg would not be as easy as first imagined. In attempting to sail in a straight line towards their goal, they discovered the risk of capsizing when the storm-driven ocean struck the side of the boat.

“We can’t do it this way!” Marty said. “We’re going to get knocked over!”

“Steer into the waves!” Julie replied. He turned the wheel, setting the bow into the oncoming storm.

“How is this supposed to get to us to St. Petersburg?” he yelled.

Seawater was beginning to cover the cockpit floor. Julie closed the hatch and returned to Marty’s side. “It won’t!” she answered. “But it’ll keep us from getting blown over! And if we’re lucky, the storm will push us east, anyway!”

Marty nodded his understanding and continued aiming the Stellar Storm into the mountainous sea. Hopefully, Julie was right. But the demand for proper perspective dictated the urgency to survive first. Even if they missed their mark and landed some place other than St. Petersburg, they would still be alive. Minutes passed like hours as the hurricane forced the rain to fall with the direction of the wind. Each wave lifted the bow up above the stern by several feet. And with each pass, the ocean fell away, letting the bow slam down into their watery valleys. Marty inched his way closer to Julie.

“Is there any way to keep the bow from coming up like that?” he yelled.

With the intensity of the storm growing, he began to fear that the bow might rise up enough to send it back over the stern, capsizing the boat. “Julie!”

With the sound of the ocean crashing into the boat's forward hull, Marty wasn’t sure if she had heard him. “Give me a second!” she replied. The next few seconds seemed like an eternity as the next wave left the Stellar Storm nearly airborne. “Now would be a good time!” Marty said. Her eyes suddenly widened with realization as the answer rose into her conscious mind. “I got it!” she yelled.

To Marty’s fear and confusion, he watched as Julie dropped the anchor.

"What are you doing?!" he asked. I’m dropping the anchor by about twenty feet!” she yelled.

It should create just enough drag to keep the bow steady! Just keep her aiming into the waves! Are you sure about this?! Marty asked.

The idea seemed to be a complete violation of common sense. But, as the next wave struck the bow, he immediately noticed a difference in how the boat reacted, feeling as though it was being pulled towards the water, instead of simply crashing down into it. “I think it’s working!” Marty yelled. “Of course, it’s working!” Julie replied. “The bigger the anchor, the better it works!”

As the storm continued its inland course, the wind suddenly shifted, forcing Marty to steer away from the waves. They could either be blown over by the wind or knocked down by the waves. A critical decision had to be made. Marty held the wheel as Julie grabbed his arm to avoid being thrown into the cockpit wall.

Pulling herself towards his side, she yelled, “We need to bring down the sails!”

“Now!?” Marty asked. “Are you serious?!” Julie briefly explained the most serious hazard now was the mainsail and under these conditions. It wouldn’t take much for the boat to be blown over on its side. And the waterlogged sail only added weight. “Just try to keep us into the waves!” she said. She stepped carefully toward the stern, fully intent on making her way out onto the deck, towards the mainsail.

“Wait!” Marty yelled. “Can’t this wait until the storm calms down?!”

Julie hesitated as she looked out from the opening of the cockpit. Seeing the storm through the security of a window barely provided the illusion of safety. But, being confronted out in the open by the seemingly sinister intent of the hurricane momentarily twisted Julie’s perception, giving it an overwhelmingly surreal quality. Her mind was simply unable to process not only the size and intensity of the storm but also her less than singular existence within it. She looked back at Marty and yelled, “We don’t have time!”

Marty reached out from the wheel and grabbed her by the arm.

“Take the wheel!” he said.

He pulled Julie back towards him. She was already soaked with rain and seawater as the wind continued to force its chaotic dance with the Stellar Storm. “Be right back!”

Looking up into his eyes, Julie realized the true depth of their connection with each other. And now, he was willing to risk his life by stepping out on the slippery deck of the forty-foot yacht, as it lay at the mercy of an angry sea. He’d already worked with the sail several times and in calm waters, he could bring it down in a matter of minutes. But, on the rolling deck of a vessel at war with the sea, just getting to the mainsail would require a miracle. He moved his grip from her arm down to her hand as he stepped toward the opening of the cockpit. As another wave crashed into the bow, Marty rushed back across the cockpit and holding Julie’s head between his hands, kissed her deeply on the mouth. Closing their eyes, they each absorbed a moment of passion they knew might never happen again. Releasing her, Marty moved back by mere inches as they opened their eyes and gazed into each other’s souls.

“You can do it next time!” he said.

Pulling himself away from the moment, he stepped out into the rain and wind. The storm-driven spray struck his face with the pain of a cascade of flying needles. Marty immediately found that he was unable to walk against the hurricanes’ forceful hand and dropped to his hands and knees. He would have to crawl out to the mast. And if he wasn’t stolen away by the churning ocean, he would have to crawl back as well. Having taken the wheel, Julie continued to steer the boat into the waves as she watched Marty slowly crawl out onto the deck. By the time he got to the mainsail, he was lying flat on his stomach and already shivering from the wind and rain.

With both hands clutching the halyard line, Marty unwound it and began lowering the mainsail. As it was being taken down, it would be tied to the boom with canvas straps that lined the bottom of the sail. To minimize the risk, Marty tied the sail down by only a dozen or so straps. He didn’t want to stay out on deck any longer than he had to. But the process seemed to take forever as he continually fought with the wind-whipped sail. Making his task infinitely more difficult. Having secured the sail in several places, he made his way toward the end of the boom where he secured two remaining straps. Having accomplished this, he lowered himself from the boom and onto the stern deck, at the opening of the cockpit. Physically exhausted, Marty stumbled into the cockpit and collapsed in the corner near the hatch. His body ached from his fight with the waterlogged sail. But in the end, Marty forced it into submission, leaving it haphazardly tied down and unaffected by the storms constant lashing. Julie had been watching the entire time. Her concentration divided between Marty’s largely inexperienced, yet successful, effort to stabilize the Stellar Storm and the onslaught of nature at her most enraged.

“Marty!” Julie yelled.

In spite of his exhaustion, Julie needed him on his feet. It would take both of them to get the boat headed in the right direction and hopefully to St. Petersburg. “Marty, get up!”

Marty struggled to his feet, occasionally slipping on the wet floor if the cockpit. He grabbed the rail and pulled himself toward Julie, who held out a hand to him. He stood behind her, bracing himself against the wheel housing.

“Where are we!?” he asked, looking at the navigational display.

The image on the display was still frozen and broken into blocks of multicolored static. “What happened?!”

Another wave broke over the bow as Julie made her best guess as to the cause of the breakdown. “I think the storm is blocking the signal! I hope you saved that heading on your GPS!”

“I did!” Marty replied.

The sky began to clear as the wind diminished. The shrieking storm suddenly abated as the sun rose from its ocean shroud.

“It’s gone?” Marty asked. “Just like that?” The sea had mysteriously turned from a raging menace into the calm serenity of a sleeping puppy. In his joyful relief, Marty grabbed Julie around the waist, holding with such excitement as to lift her off her feet.

“Marty,” Julie began. “You don’t understand. This isn’t over yet.”

Setting Julie back on her feet, he walked to the stern and took a deep breath of cool ocean air. “Of course, it’s over,” he began. “Look, the sky is clear. The water’s calm. All we have to do is raise the sail and go to St. Petersburg.”

Stepping towards him, Julie took his arm and pulled him back over to the navigational display. Pointing to the frozen image if the hurricane, she explained that at its center was a small area of calm called the ‘eye’. “That’s where we are,” she said. “And we don’t have a lot of time. Ten minutes, thirty tops.” Marty pointed to the fractured image, saying, “So, this is all around us?”

He felt cheated. After everything they’d gone through, the storm would soon be upon them again. And it would return with even more ferocity as they collided with the eyewall.

“We have to find out where we are,” he said. They were in a race against time as Marty frantically disappeared into the cabin, reemerging with his binoculars.

“We need to get a look around while it’s still clear.” He ran to the stern and raised them to his eyes, studying the horizon in every direction. “Which way are we pointing?” he asked. Julie turned back to the wheel and checked the boat’s compass. It bobbed and turned in its water-filled brass housing.

“South-southeast!” she answered.

“Perfect,” Marty replied.

With the Stellar Storm oriented in this direction, Marty was able to search the horizon for any sign of land that might lie in the general area of St. Petersburg. And as if by some miracle, Marty’s view fell upon a distant, almost imperceptible, thin stretch of land sitting at the very edge of the ocean. Had the cloud cover been even slightly denser, it would have been obscured completely.

“Come here!” he urged.

He pulled Julie to the stern and held the binoculars up to her eyes.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Look,” Marty said. “Do you see that?” He pointed in the direction of the nearly invisible thread of relative safety. Even in the world as it had become, anyplace would be better than being catapulted from wave to wave, across the tempestuous sea. Julie gasped with joy as her eyes began to tear up.

“Is that real?” she asked.

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Marty answered. “And I don’t care if it’s St. Petersburg or not.”

He went to the wheel and looked at the navigational display. The image was still frozen, but Marty was able to pinpoint the storm’s center as an approximation of their current position. “The storm’s going to be on us before we can get there,” Marty began. “But we’re a lot closer to land than we were before.”

Marty continued to study the display. “I just wish I knew where this thing was going.” Standing next to him, Julie examined it as well.

“It’s going northwest,” she replied. “Northwest?” Marty replied in a puzzled tone. “How do you know that?”

Julie explained that in the northern hemisphere, hurricanes are born out of northwestern Africa’s rainy season. They emerge into the Atlantic and spun by the planet’s rotation. The warmer the water, the stronger the storm. And having a tendency to wander northwest, it was a safe assumption that this one would continue on that course.

“Should we pull up the sail?” Marty asked. “No,” Julie answered. “We’re just going to have to bring it back down, anyway.”

She continued to study the distant outline that lay where the sea meets the sky. But as she did so, a thin fog moved in like a ghost drifting through a graveyard, obscuring her view.

“Where’s your GPS?” she asked, hurriedly. “Can you save another heading on that?”

Marty turned it on and pushing a few buttons discovered that several headings and coordinates could be saved.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I’ll create a heading for that spot.”

He pointed the digital compass at the horizon, locked the heading, and saved it to the next entry of its memory. The wind began to pick up from the stillness typical of a hurricane’s calm eye. “Shit!” Julie said. “It’s moving faster than I thought. Either that or we’re at the edge of the eye and not in the middle.”

“So, what do we do?” Marty asked. Julie sighed with a noticeable degree of anxiety.

“We steer into the waves,” she answered. Marty gave her answer a moment’s thought. “There’s nothing else we can do?” he asked. Julie looked at him with a worried expression. “I think that’s our only option,” she replied. Marty’s mind fought for ideas.

“There has to be something,” he said. “Well, the waves haven’t come up yet,” he continued. “And as long as we have the wind, why not use it? We need to close that distance by as much as possible!”

The thought of capsizing with no hope of rescue was one that Julie had been trying to avoid. She would rather ride the storm with Marty at her side than be swallowed up by the sea alone, watching the boat slip beneath the waves. Possibly taking him with it. Of all the things Julie had experienced as a trauma nurse, there wasn’t a lot that bothered her. But the one she was afraid of was the idea that she might die alone, with no one to come to her aid. No one to comfort her, or say goodbye to. And now, that fear seemed to be rearing its head, paralyzing her thoughts and feeding on her sudden realization that death could sweep her off her feet at a whim.

“Julie!” Marty yelled.

Julie forced her consciousness back from the taunting shadow of her demise.

“We can’t take the risk!” she replied. The wind picked up enough to lift a spray from the ocean as Marty decided that getting to land was worth the risk of raising the sail.

“Julie!” he said urgently. “We have to get to land!”

He pointed out to where they’d seen the thin strip of land against the horizon.

“It’s right there!”

He walked to the stern on his way out to the mast when Julie grabbed his arm. Stopping in mid-step, Marty turned and saw the terror and desperation that had swept over her face.

“I don’t want to be alone again! Not out here!” she said pleadingly.

Marty removed her hand from his arm. “I’m going to be right back,” he said. “I promise, but we’re running out of time.”

Leaving Julie in the cockpit, he climbed out on the deck and crawled to the mast. Untying the dozen or so canvas straps, he pulled the halyard line and raised the sail. It caught the wind with ease while Marty tied the halyard back in place, near the bottom of the mast. He immediately felt the boat list to the left as the sail submitted to the growing wind.

After making his way back to the cockpit, he found Julie at the wheel. She had recovered from her near collapse and managed to find a degree of strength and clarity. Fearing he might be thrown from the deck, she waited for him to return before bringing the Stellar Storm around into an easterly direction. She weighed anchor as the boat gained speed. The horizon, once again, disappeared in all directions as the hurricane closed in. Their goal had become thwarted by the returning storm. But, as long as they stayed to their course it would, in time, make itself visible. The northwesterly moving storm would eventually push them eastward toward the Florida coast. It was no longer important to land exactly at St. Petersburg. All they wanted was the security of setting foot on land. Now, after most of her life with the ocean as her playground, Julie had come to the point where she’d had enough. A life at sea was not worth risking her life, and she found it miraculous that they’d come this far. Marty, however, felt like a fish out of water. Even as they left Corpus Christie, he saw himself as being out of his element. And there seemed to be only two things that were getting him through his seafaring trial by fire. His strength as a soldier and the comfort of Julie’s warm presence.

With the sail let out, and the anchor pulled up, the Stellar Storm flew across the sea. Its hull skipped along the waves like a pebble across a pond. As the hurricane traveled northwest, its spin redirected the waters off the Florida coast, pushing the boat east. The waves, again, rose up to their previous ferocity, leaving Marty to wonder if letting out the sail had really been a good idea. Now, the wind had changed direction as the ocean pushed at the stern. The horizon still lay in a stormy shroud as Marty occasionally referenced the heading on his GPS. And in their hurry to beat the storm, he had forgotten that a set of coordinates could be entered from any map. But with the boat, once again, pitching stem over stern, they would have to settle for a general direction. After all, going in a particular direction isn’t as comforting as having a direction to go in.

The waves no longer crashed against the bow but flooded the cockpit in ankle-deep water as they reached over the stern with turbulent hands. Marty and Julie were soaked to their weary bones. They took turns at the wheel. One steering as the other scanned the horizon through the binoculars. Passing well into the backside of the hurricane, the clouds oddly became just transparent enough to reveal a strange shape in the distance. Julie’s brow became furrowed as she tried to study it in detail. The only thing it presented of itself was the fact that, whatever it was, it did not belong among the sea. “Marty!” she yelled. “Look at this!” Julie took the wheel as she handed Marty the binoculars.

“Over there!” she said while pointing. “Do you see it?!”

“Yeah!” he answered. “It looks like a bridge, maybe an overpass! But it still looks pretty far away!”

“But we’re getting closer, right!?” Julie asked. As if to taunt them, the clouds grew heavy and, again, rolled into their view.

“Shit!” Marty yelled with frustration. The storm had gained in its fierceness, producing a howling that nearly drowned out their voices. Marty saved another heading on his GPS, marking the direction of the structure in the distance. Pushed by the wind and waves, the Stellar Storm cut a path through the sea like a razor through dead flesh. Their goal, still concealed by the swirling fury of the hurricane, lay somewhere in the distance. They found the fight to control the boat was not difficult as when it was being tossed by the storm’s oncoming anger. Their only immediate concern now was to keep the cockpit from flooding. And although the storm still raged, it had become more of a help than a hazard. Marty continued to peer out into the horizon, hoping to get another glimpse at what appeared to be a man-made structure.

“Is the navigation back up?!” he yelled. “No!” Julie answered. “I think it’s out for good!” In the urgency of unfolding events, they had not noticed the climbing level of seawater on the cockpit floor. And with Julie so intently focused on maintaining their course, Marty was the first to take notice as he felt the water against his feet and ankles. “Are there any drains near the floor!?” he asked. “There should be, why!?” Julie replied. “The cockpit’s flooding!” Marty answered. Julie glanced down at her feet and realized that the floor was flooded up to her ankles. “Take the wheel!” she said.

Marty quickly stepped up to the wheel as Julie carefully made her way to the stern. There were two flood ports, one on each side of the engine. She reached down and pulled out the fitted caps that covered them, sending seawater pouring back out into the ocean.

The forward movement of the boat pulled it back toward the stern, lending an efficient assist in quickly draining the cockpit floor. She worked her way back to the wheel where Marty was trying to divide his attention between staying on course and being certain that Julie wouldn’t tumble over the stern. “That ought to do it!” she said.

Marty nodded as the cockpit floor quickly drained. As the ocean continued to send the Stellar Storm into chaos, Julie grabbed him by the arm, having suddenly become aware that flooding could be occurring elsewhere in the boat.

“I’m going down below to check the engine!” she said.

She opened the hatch and went down into the cabin. Under the stairs was a hinged metal door leading to the engine compartment and the bilge. During the storm, seawater had managed to find its way in. The engine compartment wasn’t flooded, but enough water had leaked in to short out the wiring. She crawled through a small opening that led into the bilge, where she discovered the pump to be in perfect working order. Starting it, she began the process of removing seawater from the lowest part of the boat and back out into the ocean. Returning to the cockpit, she closed the hatch and pulled herself back over to Marty.

“The engine’s shot!” she said. “But the bilge pump’s working, so at least we’re not going to sink!”

“Nice to get a little good news!” Marty replied. He paused as a curious question arose in his mind. “How fast do you think we’re going?!”

“Without something to compare our position to, it’s impossible to say!” Julie answered. “But the wind’s at our back, so I think we’re moving at a pretty good clip!”

No sooner than Julie finished her words did the clouds give up their heaviness, exposing the structure they had previously viewed. This time, it was not so distant.

“Holy shit!” Marty yelled. “Do you see that?!”

Neither of them needed binoculars to see what was clearly a bridge.

“Yeah!” Julie answered. “But we’re not done yet!” From the few years of boating experience she had, Julie knew that trouble could still lay ahead. And the risk of catastrophe would go up dramatically as they entered shallower water. Safety would not be a certainty until they tied up at a dock and anyplace would be better than where they were. The waves pushed heavily at the stern as Marty made constant adjustments at the wheel while aiming the Stellar Storm at the bridge in the distance. Even if no port lay beyond it, the bridge marked landfall. It could be the entrance to a bay or the outlet of a river. He wondered if it was really necessary to find a port when all they needed to do was unload their supplies and go. Then again, it would be a lot easier to unload the boat while it was upright.

“We’re getting closer!” Marty yelled. The storm continued its rage, still forcing Marty and Julie to speak at the top of their voices. They were near enough to land that they could just make out the white of waves as they broke against the sandy shore. “All we need to do is find a place to tie up the boat!” Julie replied.

Marty looked out over the bow, maintaining their course for the bridge.

“Why do I think that it’s not going to be that easy?!” he asked.

“I didn’t say it was!” Julie answered. Another wave crashed into the stern, throwing both of them into the front of the cockpit.

“So, how many chances do we get to do this?!” Marty asked.

“Just one!” Julie replied. “When we get to the bridge, we need to go straight down the middle, so we can stay in deep water!”

Julie remembered the chart and wondered if it was detailed enough to read the soundings near the bridge. “Give me a minute!” she said.

She stepped away and opened the hatch. Climbing down into the cabin, she went to the dining table and sifted through the charts.

Finding the chart for the northwestern Florida coast, it took only a moment for her to realize that it wasn’t nearly specific enough to read an accurate set of soundings of the water flowing beneath the bridge. “Shit,” she muttered to herself.

Now, as they neared the coast, Julie also realized that they’d be sailing blind. The chart was of no use and with navigation out, their best guess was all they had. Returning to the cockpit, Julie closed the hatch and walked cautiously over the rolling cockpit floor back to Marty, who looked at her with obvious concern. “What is it?!” he asked.

“The charts aren’t going to help us!” she said. “I can’t even find the bridge!”

“Can’t we slow down to buy a little more time?!” Marty asked.

The bridge was well within sight and Julie knew there was only one way to reduce their speed. The sails would have to be brought down again. “It’s too dangerous!” she answered. “What is it?!” Marty repeated.

Julie didn’t want to get into any length of conversation about going back up on deck. Marty’s eyes glanced back and forth between the bow and the expression on her face. It was as though they had, for a moment, shared the same thought. “We have to bring the sail back in, don’t we?” The violence of the ocean began to decrease as they entered shallower water, but the wind still howled like a forlorn animal, abandoned by its mate to die in the cold darkness of a wooded solitude. Julie put a hand on his arm as another wave struck the stern. “Marty!” she said. “It’s too dangerous! Let’s just get to the bridge! We’ll be fine as long as we stay in deep water!”

Marty’s knowledge of boating amounted to nearly nothing. But he did understand that the faster they were going, the less control they had. And as fast as the storm was pushing them, sailing under a bridge at that speed would almost certainly end in disaster. Now, with the engine out, the time for considering options had long passed.

“How can you tell where the deep water is?” he asked.

Marty assumed that an experienced boater could read the water like an open book, watching where the ripples danced around rocks, looking for the blackness of deep water. However, Julie was not that type of boater. In her recently previous life, she piloted a small day craft named ‘Catholic Girl’. She stayed to the charts, going to the islands, exploring the local coastline. She knew a lot about boats, but her knowledge far outweighed her experience with regard to dealing with adverse conditions.

“I can’t!” she answered. “Not when it’s like this!” Pushed by the storm, the bridge grew closer by the minute. Using the binoculars, Julie looked beyond the bridge to see the towering shapes of a half-obscured city skyline. It was partially draped by the hurricane but it was, indeed, a city.

“Marty!” she yelled. “A city! That means there’ll be a port!”

She was excited beyond words as Marty continued steering towards the middle of the outlet flowing beneath the bridge. And though the tide was moving out, the storm was still hell-bent on wreaking as much damage as possible.

“We have to get under the bridge first!” Marty replied.

“Just aim for the middle!” Julie said. “As long as we don’t run aground, we’ll be fine!” Entering the outlet, Marty looked up at the mast. He wasn’t so much concerned about running aground as he was with the possibility that the mast could strike the bridge. In that event, it would snap like a twig and come crashing down. Possibly killing them both. Tying the Stellar Storm up at a dock was conditional only to getting past the bridge alive. Julie looked out over the bow.

“The water looks high enough! I don’t think there’s going to be a problem!”

Marty glanced up at the mast again. “That’s great but what about the mast?!” Julie’s eyes grew wide with panic as she suddenly realized that the higher sea level brought them that much closer to the bridge. And colliding with it had become a real possibility. But before she could utter a word, they felt the vibration of the mast as it struck the bridge. It’s mounting let out a groan as tension quickly filled its length. The sagging sail continued to fill with the storm’s fury, making the possibility of catastrophe a certainty. Marty quickly released his hands from the wheel, opened the hatch, and shoved Julie down into the cabin. Closing it behind him, he pulled her toward the bow where they huddled together on the floor. Julie was paralyzed with fear. Her mind became blank as mental shock quickly set in with the anticipation of death's inevitable touch. Marty fought to remain clear-headed, motivated by the assumed responsibility to protect Julie. Having been an Army Ranger, defending the lives of others came with the job. And although he was no longer in the Army, he would always be a Ranger.

The mast creaked and let out a final groan before buckling under the strain of its collision with the steel span. Marty had never heard anything that loud outside of combat. And as he held Julie closer, there was a moment of quiet as the mast toppled, falling through the storm-soaked air. It may not have been time that slowed to a standstill. In Marty’s mind, the moment achieved an eternal grace that seemed to take on a life of its own. That divine silence was suddenly shattered by the crash of polished timber as the mast collapsed on the boom, sending both through cockpit ceiling. Julie was near-catatonic and would be unable to recall even the smallest detail of their near-death experience. Without the sail to catch the wind, the Stellar Storm lay adrift at the mercy of the storm. Wave after wave, the sea continued to push them into the outlet. The collapse of the mast left Marty’s senses momentarily shattered. But, as havoc became replaced by the sound of the storm, he forced himself to regain an ordered stream of thought. He turned to Julie and held her by the shoulders. Her face was absent of even the slightest degree of emotion as she sat with her knees pulled up and her hands covering her face.

“Julie!” he called.

If they were going to reach safety, it would take both of them working together with clear heads. Again, Marty shook her slightly by the shoulders, startling her as her mind emerged from its frozen state of trauma. She looked up at him with a slight gasp, realizing that she was still alive.

“The mast snapped!” he yelled.

Grabbing her by the hand, he pulled her toward the steps, leading to the hatch.

“We have to get off the boat!”

Running up the steps, he released her hand and opened the hatch, only to find it blocked by what had been the cockpit roof. Julie was beginning to panic as her breathing quickened and her fists clenched with white-knuckled fear. Marty turned away from the partially opened hatch and seeing the look on Julie’s face, stepped back down towards her. “Julie!” he said. “Julie, I need you to check the bilge and see if we have any leaks!”

Julie stood momentarily confused as her mind tried to sort out the details of a string of events that had not yet reached their conclusion.

“Julie!”

He grabbed her by the shoulders again, forcing her to focus on the sound of his voice. She stared up at him and for a split-second, her mind cleared enough for her to understand what needed to be done. “The bilge,” she parroted. “I have to check the bilge.” Breaking away from Marty’s grip, Julie ran behind the steps leading to the hatch. She opened the flat panel door and climbed down into the engine compartment. Immediately, she noticed the floor was covered only with a film of condensation. Making her way through the small opening leading into the bilge, Julie expected to see, at least, a foot of seawater. But to her relief, found it to be mostly dry. She kept a flashlight in the engine compartment and picking it up off the floor, shined it into the bilge. To her amazement, it still worked, and she began scanning the hull for even the smallest cracks. Having found none, she went back to the engine compartment. She placed a hand on the stern hull as a wave pitched the boat back. Her attention was immediately drawn to the coldness beneath her hand. Running her hand over the rest of the wall, she discovered it to be a cold spot where water had found its way in. “Son of a bitch,” she said alarmingly. Thankfully, it wasn’t a leak that needed repair. The Stellar Storm was a double-hulled yacht, and as such, the outer hull could be breached without penetrating the inner hull. Julie quickly determined that when the mast collapsed, the impact cracked the fiberglass outer hull, allowing seawater to leak in between it and the inner hull. The damage was not severe but eventually, the leak spread its coldness throughout the hull as stress continued to accumulate from the collapse of the mast. Julie climbed back out of the engine compartment as Marty gave the hatch one final push, opening it just wide enough to squeeze himself through.

She followed behind him and crawling into the crushed cockpit; she was taken aback by the claustrophobic conditions left behind by the collapse of the mast.

“Marty!” she yelled.

She wondered why he would want to go back up on deck. But as she left the cockpit, she quickly discovered that the sail had become draped over the back of the boat. A dry sail was heavy enough, but one saturated by seawater would be impossible to move. Marty had pushed enough of it aside that he was able to crawl out on the deck. “We can’t bring the sail in!” she yelled. “It’s too heavy!”

Marty was sitting on the deck, facing the stern. “We don’t have to!” he replied. “We just have to be able to see where we’re going!”

Marty tried to pull enough of the wet sail back from the cockpit in order to get an unobstructed view. “I don’t think it’s going to work!” Julie yelled. “The windows are smashed in! I’ll take the wheel! You tell me where to steer!”

Marty watched Julie’s face intently, trying to read her lips as the wailing storm nearly drowned out her voice. He nodded his understanding and began crawling back to the stern. Making his way back through the crawl space that had previously been a spacious cockpit, Marty found Julie at the wheel. She asked him to look over the stern as she turned the wheel, wanting to know if the rudder still turned. If the rudder moved with the wheel, they could steer with the waves at their backs. They would move considerably slower, but they’d still have control over the boat’s direction. To their amazement, both the wheel and rudder moved together. So, with Julie at the wheel and Marty standing at the stern, they were able to continue bringing the Stellar Storm into the outlet. And as the wind and waves continued to push them forward, a sprawling city laid itself out before them. The storm still hung its sullen shroud over what appeared to be an immense urban ghost town. There were no lights to be seen in any direction. And as they slowly advanced into what presented itself as a major port, Marty noticed a hint of something familiar being carried on the wind. They had been here, too.