Gale Force

71

McKenna made her way forward through the bowels of the ship. Checked in on Ridley, could barely hear the engineer’s answer over the roar of the pumps.

“She’s looking fine, skipper,” he reported. “No leaks, no mess. We’re in business.”

“Keep it that way,” McKenna told him. Then she crawled along the starboard side of deck one to the bow, where Jason Parent was babysitting his own pump, the bright orange hose filled with water and pumping steadily into the starboard tank.

“You okay?” McKenna shouted down to him.

Jason flashed her a thumbs-up. “All good down here.”

McKenna returned the thumb. “Keep it going.” Then she found the kid’s access hatch, climbed up and through to deck four, and up the stairway to the outside world again.

She couldn’t feel a thing as she stood on the Lion’s accommodations house. The list remained constant, about fifty-five degrees. It hadn’t begun to ease yet, but the ship wasn’t sinking, either.

That was probably a good sign.

She radioed back to the Munro, reported her crew’s status. Then, as an afterthought, “You guys still have that helicopter handy?”

“That’s affirmative, Captain,” the radio operator replied. “The Dolphin is standing by.”

“It might be nice,” McKenna told him, “if they could stand by a little closer while we’re pumping. Can you get them in the air above us?”

“I’ll dispatch them now. Get you some eyes in the sky, huh?”

And some quick response if this all goes sideways, McKenna thought. No pun intended. She thanked the operator and signed off. Gazed down the deck and found where Court Harrington had set up shop by an access hatch, a couple of hundred feet astern.

She picked up the radio again. “I noticed we haven’t sunk yet, Court.”

A pause. McKenna watched Harrington pick up the radio. “Say again?”

“I said we aren’t sinking,” McKenna said, feeling dumb. “Just a joke. But it’s a good sign, right?”

“Oh.” Harrington laughed a little. “Yeah. Not yet.”

“Small victories, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We keep an eye on things, take it slow, we might just make it out of here. You doing okay over there?”

Harrington laughed again, more this time. “Just hoping our aces hold out.”

“You and me both,” McKenna said. She straightened. “Okay, back to work. I’m going to go check on those pumps.”

“Roger that,” Harrington replied. “I’ll be here.”

HARRINGTON COULD FEEL THE DIFFERENCE, within a couple of hours. It was getting harder and harder to sit on the Lion’s accommodations house.

Fifty degrees, maybe less, he thought, trying to find a place to set down his laptop. The closer the ship came to a forty-five-degree angle, the tougher it would be for the crew to maneuver. Harrington grabbed a handhold, a ladder up to the ship’s massive exhaust funnel. Hoped that the pumps would hold out and push the ship into a more comfortable position quickly.

McKenna Rhodes appeared, down the deck. She climbed out of an access hatch, stepped out onto the wall of the accommodations house, and slipped and nearly fell. Settled for sitting down awkwardly. Harrington picked up the radio.

“At least we’re making progress,” he said. “Even if it does suddenly feel like we’re drunk.”

The captain picked up her own radio. “I was hoping you weren’t watching,” she said, laughing. “I feel like Bambi on ice over here.”

“It shouldn’t last. And we’re moving in the right direction. A few hours, we’ll have enough water in the bow and stern tanks. We can kill those pumps and put all of our focus amidships.”

“We can’t just keep them all running?” McKenna replied. “Fill the tanks up faster, and keep this thing moving?”

“We’d get more control if we’re only filling two tanks. Plus, you can use the extra crew to relay messages from up here.”

McKenna picked up her radio again, but didn’t reply. Harrington could tell she was thinking it through.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “Okay.”

“You’re running this operation, though. We’ll probably be fine with four pumps. It’s your call.”

“No,” the captain said. “I don’t know a damn thing about how to right this ship. This is your call, Court. You tell me how you want to play it.”

Harrington studied her down the long deck. Couldn’t quite see the captain’s eyes, but could tell they were fixed on him. He picked up his radio again.

“Two pumps,” he said. “Just to be safe.”

McKenna pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll tell Ridley.”