Gale Force

39

“Man overboard!”

Suddenly, she was back there. Out there. That night, her dad, the Argyle Shore. It was happening again. And another man would die if she didn’t act quickly.

McKenna throttled up the Gale Force and got on the hailer. “Salvation lost a man overboard,” she told them. “Everyone on deck. Pike poles and life preservers, whatever you can find. I need eyes on this guy immediately.”

Ridley joined her at the wheel as the tug plowed through the water toward the stern of the Lion. “You see him, lass?”

“Not yet.” Ahead of the Gale Force, the Salvation was making a slow turn. McKenna aimed the tug just past the Lion, figuring she’d meet Magnusson in the middle. Assuming Magnusson’s guy could stay afloat that long, could stay conscious. That water was cold.

“Watch that towline,” Ridley said. “Don’t want to foul a prop.”

The Salvation’s severed towline hung off the stern of the Lion. If it caught up in the Gale Force’s propellers, it could cripple the tug.

McKenna picked her way around the towline as Stacey Jonas appeared at the bow, scanning the water for the Salvation’s lost man. McKenna watched her, watched the waves, watched the Salvation in the distance.

There’s enough wind and wave to make this guy invisible, McKenna thought. If Christer doesn’t have eyes on him, he’s lost.

She picked up the radio. “Salvation, Salvation, do you see your man, Christer?”

Silence. Then: “Negative. I lost him when we went into a trough. He was a couple hundred yards back when I last saw.”

Shit. McKenna put down the radio and motored onward. Felt her heart pounding, fought the negative thoughts. Too late. We’re not going to get him.

He’s gone.

Then Stacey stiffened on the bow. Jumped and pointed forward, a couple degrees to starboard.

“I think she got him,” Ridley said. He hurried to the starboard window, slid it open, and hollered something to Stacey, who called back, never taking her eyes from the water.

“Three boat lengths,” Ridley reported. “You see where she’s pointing, skipper?”

McKenna stared out at the gray water. Rubbed her eyes, kept the tug moving forward. Didn’t see. Then she did. The guy was floating there, his head up, splashing a little to keep his face above water. He looked dulled by the cold already, looked ready to give up.

“We see him,” she told the Salvation over the radio. Then she turned to Ridley. “I’ll bring him up on our starboard side. Make sure the crew’s ready.”

She idled toward the man in the water until he was about a quarter boat length away, keeping the portside to the wind and the sailor in her lee. Stacey gestured back, Cut the engines, and McKenna cut them out of gear and drifted, hoping the poor guy had strength enough to grab a rescue line, or a life preserver, at least.

She went to the starboard window, peered out and back, watched Matt heave a line toward the sailor, Jason hanging down over the rail with a pole.

The first throw missed. Not by much, a few feet, but the sailor was in no shape to swim for it. Quickly, Matt hauled in the line, coiled and threw it again. This time, his throw was true. The line landed on top of the sailor, who took hold with both hands, his movements clumsy and slow.

Hold, McKenna thought as Matt and Jason began to pull the rope back to the tug. Hold on to that line, man. You’re almost there.

The men hauled the sailor toward the Gale Force’s hull, and McKenna returned to the controls, watching her crew on the closed-circuit monitor and keeping an eye on the oncoming waves, ready to engage the propellers or bow thruster if the seas threatened to push her boat down on top of the man in the water.

On deck, Matt and Jason struggled with the pike pole now, their faces tight with exertion as they worked to pull the man to safety. McKenna muttered a silent prayer as Al joined alongside, leaning over the gunwale and reaching toward the waterline.

Careful, she thought. Don’t you guys fall in, too.

Slowly, Matt and Jason lifted the pike pole. Al strained lower, reached with both hands, came back with two fists full of soggy clothing and the man it belonged to. Matt and Jason helped him haul the man aboard, lay him on deck.

Thank god.

McKenna put the boat in gear, turned her nose to the wind. “Bring him inside,” she ordered over the hailer. “Get him warmed up fast.”

MATT AND STACEY had the Salvation’s crewman wrapped in a sleeping bag when McKenna came down. The man was shivering, a coffee mug pressed to his lips.

“You guys saved my bacon,” he said. “I thought I was done.”

McKenna nodded, saw the man’s wet clothes lying in a heap on the galley floor. “You got pretty damn lucky you weren’t split in two by that towline.”

“I jumped,” the man replied. “Last second, you know? I saw that cable stretching, and then I heard it snap, and it was all I could do to get out of the way.”

“You know you didn’t have enough power to pull that ship,” McKenna said. “Why risk your life—and waste everyone’s time?”

The man looked down at the table. “I mean, I work for the boat, right? This is Commodore’s job.”

“Was Commodore’s job. We’re taking over.”

“Fine by me. Look, I spent most of my time on the wreck with the other guy, Japanese buddy.”

McKenna swapped glances with Matt Jonas. “Who?”

“Guy from the Lion, Hiroki or something. He paid us twenty-five grand to get him back out to the wreck without telling anybody.” He sipped his coffee, his teeth chattering. “The guy’s still on the ship, to tell you the truth. Last I saw, he was down in the cargo hold.”

McKenna frowned. What the hell was the guy doing in there?

She was about to ask the man to elaborate when Al called down from the wheelhouse. “Salvation’s coming up alongside us now, skipper,” he said. “Better tell the boy to get ready.”

MCKENNA JOINED THE REST of the crew on deck as the Salvation pulled up beside the Gale Force. Spied Christer Magnusson on the smaller tug’s afterdeck. He met McKenna’s gaze, raised a hand in greeting, looked away.

So be it, McKenna thought. You gambled and lost, now get out of our way.

Al idled the Gale Force close, and Jason Parent stood ready with a long coil of rope as Matt and Stacey Jonas readied the Gale Force’s life raft. The Salvation’s deckhand started to the rail as Matt and Stacey lowered the raft to the water. Then he stopped and turned around, came back to McKenna.

“Robbie Peters,” he said, his hand outstretched. “You guys saved my life.”

McKenna shook the man’s hand. He had a firm grip, though his hand was frigid. “Glad we got to you in time,” she said. “I assume this means you guys are giving up on that freighter.”

The deckhand glanced back at the wounded Lion. “Hell,” he said, “I’ll be happy if I never see that ship again in my life.”

The two boats inched closer, and Jason Parent heaved the line across the narrow chasm to Christer Magnusson, who made it fast on his end. Then Robbie Peters was climbing over the gunwale and into the life raft, and, gripping the rope with one hand and steadying the raft with the other, he pulled himself across the rough seas to the Salvation.

McKenna watched the kid make it home to the Salvation’s scuffed hull. Watched Magnusson pull him to his feet, help him into the house. Tried not to think of her dad in the water, lost and alone.

Christer Magnusson didn’t stop to help you then, she thought. He raced right past and claimed the Argyle Shore as his own. Sent that damn pile of flowers to the old man’s memorial.

Would he have done what you just did, if it was Jason Parent in the water?

She shook the thought from her mind. Watched the Salvation until Magnusson and Robbie Peters were long gone from the deck and Jason Parent had the raft reeled in and the line coiled.

“Okay, enough of this amateur hour,” she said, starting back to the wheelhouse. “Let’s get our line on that ship.”