A Ravel of Waters

'Good man!' I said. I tried to imagine how Tideman would act. He would have everything furled except a couple of top-gallants, just enough to keep the ship from being pooped in order to have the maximum time to search for us over the previous area. He'd have every light aboard full on in the hope that we would spot him. He'd use rockets and flares.

Jim Yell edged the boat near the growler. Kay started to shudder. I said to Jim, 'If the ship doesn't come soon, she'll die.' ‘She won't be alone, sir. The rest of us can't last very long either.'

The growler seemed almost a friend, something stable, amongst the gyrating waters. One face angled away like the shape of a radar dish. Jim threw the life-belt plus flare against its base. The unreal light made our faces look like those of sacrificial victims. Kay's was corpse-like. 'Boat flare next, sir?' 'Fire away.' This flare was blue. It blinded us. 'Careful – keep the boat off!' I warned. 'A bang against the growler and we've had it.' Two minutes. Five minutes.

I was starting to shake with the cold. Sea-water Kay had gagged inside my oilskins froze on my chest. 'Try another flare, sir?' 'Not yet. Give the first one time.'

One of the men exclaimed suddenly as the boat soared to a wave-top. 'Seems like a bit of a glow – there, astern, sir.'

'Could be another berg’ I replied cautiously. 'Keep an eye on it.5 'It is something’ the man insisted. 'There – something white-square’ Tabular berg – or top-gallant?

We strained our eyes into the murk. It was difficult to judge distances – the grim uniformity of the water offered no scale. 'Two, sir!' yelled the man excitedly. 'It's two – it's a couple of top-gallants, sir!' ' See anything, Jim?'

Yell managed to stand on the gunnel while the others supported him.

'It's them all right, sir!' he shouted. 'It's the ship! Wait – she's turning away – that growler's scared her off…' 'Fire another flare! Note the ship's position!'

The brilliant spurt of orange-yellow penetrated even my closed eyelids. When the flare had burned down, we fixed our eyes on the quarter where we had last seen the sails. There they were. 'She's answering, sir!'

A brilliant white flare rose from the still invisible hull. I saw the angle of the sails diminish – she was turning towards us!

Tideman handled the rescue like a genius. In minutes the hull appeared below the burnished, streaming yards and masts which rose up out of the murk like the bright wings of an angel of salvation. We burned our last flare. The ship neared, slowed, then turned to give us a lee under the stern to bring the boat alongside. Tideman furled all sails except one top-gallant; his judgement of the balance of forces between the amount of sail necessary to keep the ship from being swamped and overshooting the boat was masterly. One false move, and Jetwind could never have beaten back a second time. They threw ropes down to us. 'You and Kay first, sir!' Kay couldn't be swung up alone for fear of her smashing against the ship's side. Jim Yell and I roped her fast to me. We waited for the ship's roll; eager hands hauled us up and grabbed us. 'Get those men aboard – quick,' I told the group on deck. 'Then cut the boat loose. Let it go.' 'Aye, aye, sir.'

I gave rapid-fire orders for blankets, towels and hot-water bottles for Kay. Her cabin was close by, in the stern; accommodation.

One of the rescuers remarked, 'You look pretty done in yourself, sir. Let us carry her to the cabin.' 'No. Just get me some clothes. Anything warm. 'Wait – a glass of hot rum too.' 'At the double, sir.' 'I'll be in her cabin.'

I laid Kay on her bunk. I stripped the soaking, icy under-garments off her. I got to work towelling her dry and warm. Her nipples were purpled and crumpled like metal foil; an old scar near her right groin had come lividly alive from the cold. Her head still lolled; her colour was a blend of grey and blue. She breathed: I could not detect any telltale choke-gurgle which would mean her lungs were full of water.

I paused only long enough in my life-restoring massage to renew my supply of towels and hot-water bottles. The messenger thrust a pair of pants, woollen shirt and jersey at me. I whipped into the clothes; the hot rum down my throat was worth more than any of them. I turned Kay over on her face; she was still senseless.

I turned away to switch the heating to maximum. When I returned to Kay, she had managed to roll herself over. Her body was now pink from my rough massage. Her eyes were open and conscious. She extended her arms to me with a lead-like effort. 'Peter!' 'Kay!'

I took her under the armpits and held her to me. Her mouth was against mine; her lips were cold but her tongue was warm. 'My love, my love!'

I reached for the survival gear heaped on her bunk and chair. Kay smiled and shook her head. 'Not that. Just you.’ I never got to her.

From down the corridor came the rattle of automatic fire.

Chapter 22