Safe Harbour Page 2

  ‘Still a couple of miles, maybe more with the drift.’

  Roger grunted. ‘See if you can raise them. Lana had pretty much given up by the time we left.’

  Darcy tried repeatedly, but there was nothing from the Phoenix on any of the channels.

  Lana replied on channel sixteen. ‘Nothing heard for thirty minutes, Sea Witch, over.’

  ‘Roger, out.’ Darcy hung up the mic. ‘No power, perhaps?’

  ‘Let’s hope that’s all it is.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Darcy shook out her wetsuit. She’d need maximum protection from the water and the wind. ‘Might as well be ready.’

  Noah’s expression was hard to read. ‘I wish I was the one going over the side, Darcy.’

  She shrugged. ‘You’re dreaming if you think I’m hauling you out of the water. Besides, there’s no saying any of us will need to go swimming. He might be fine to secure his own harness.’

  Noah didn’t reply, but the tension was obvious in his ramrod straight back and the clench of his jaw. They both missed Grant, but now wasn’t the time to revisit that awful night when the sea claimed their friend. Tonight they had a life to save. Tonight they were two adults with the skills and training to get the job done. Sixteen years ago they were young and inexperienced. Sixteen years ago Darcy was on a stricken vessel being rescued and Noah had swum through a stormy sea to get to her. It was too vivid, too real, but she knew she had to ignore those memories for now.

  Darcy changed the range on the sat nav. ‘I reckon we need to head down ten degrees,’ she said.

  ‘Really?’ Roger glanced at the screen. ‘That’ll put us fuckin’ close to the rocks on the point.’

  ‘From his last position, I can’t see him going anywhere else.’

  ‘She’s right,’ Noah said. ‘I’m also picking up something faint on the radar. It’s got to be the vessel.’

  ‘Bloody great,’ Roger growled as he altered course. ‘We take this steady as she goes. That wind’s pushing us onshore.’

  Darcy swallowed and saw Noah’s fist clench. Fear reared its head for a brief instant before she punched it away. No! It would not cripple her again. ‘That looks like a better course.’ She was proud of how steady her voice sounded as she plotted their new direction. ‘Stay with that and I’ll get ready.’

  Noah turned his back as she wriggled out of her waterproofs, then stripped down to her swimmers before tugging the wetsuit up over her hips. She fitted the inflatable life jacket and secured the clips at her waist. The safety line from Sea Witch would attach to the harness and enable Noah to reel her in. They’d done it before. But this time she was determined the outcome would be different.

  The rescue boat was moving more smoothly now as their speed increased. It shouldered the waves on its bow, then shook them off like a fur seal, water running clear from its curves.

  ‘A mile at most,’ Noah muttered from behind her.

  ‘Hey, the locator’s picking up a second beacon. Weaker. Probably personal.’

  ‘Hell,’ Noah swore as Darcy peered at the screen. ‘So he’s left the yacht.’

  ‘Probably realised they were headed for the rocks.’

  ‘Yeah, but harder to find a man bobbing in the ocean.’

  ‘Or a woman.’

  ‘Or a kid,’ Roger chipped in. ‘Get the spotlights on full beam.’

  As Darcy directed the portside light into the ebony night she knew this was when more hands on board would have made the job easier. The sharp beam of light shimmered on the spume whipped from the top of the waves. The wind tore at her hair, lifting the short waterlogged strands. On the other side of the back deck she could see Noah adjusting his spotlights. His words were torn away in the storm, but she didn’t need to hear them to know he was swearing like a trooper. The light wouldn’t turn on. She watched as Noah ducked down inside and she knew he’d be checking the cabling and connections. Steve would have made sure it was working before they’d left the dock.

  She turned back to the scene in front of her, looking away from the beam so her eyes became accustomed to the dark again. One Tree Point jutted straight up into the night sky, its black bulk like a gaping hole in the grey scudding cloud. Spray shot high as though it sought to touch the heart of that darkness. The waves dashed themselves against the foot of the soaring cliff. The wide flat ledge where Darcy used to fish as a child would be neck-deep in water. The seals, which usually sunned themselves there like languid tourists, would have sought shelter before this blow hit. Darcy had no idea where they went but, like birds before a cyclone, the seals knew when it was time to pack away the deck chairs and hole up somewhere more protected. The bottom metre of the iron stairs and railings that ran down from the cliff would be fully submerged by now.

  Something caught her eye as it moved, swaying across the darkness of the rocks.

  ‘There!’ she screamed. ‘Starboard ten degrees. I’ve got the mast.’

  ‘Shit,’ Noah said. His light flickered to life. ‘I’ve got it!’ The white radar dome and the tip of the mast were tossing violently, but the two beams stayed focused as they caught glimpses of the vessel between the swells.

  ‘Shit, that’s a bitch,’ Roger yelled from his helm station. ‘It’s almost on the rocks.’ He throttled back a touch and the surf roared louder. ‘You can’t get to it, Darcy. You’ll be injured, or worse, in the attempt.’

  ‘No, I won’t,’ she murmured, assessing the waves and the yacht’s motion. ‘But, you’re right, it’s going to be a bitch.’

  ‘What about the other beacon?’ Noah asked. Darcy heard the note of concern in his voice. He clearly didn’t want her going anywhere near the rocks.

  ‘It’s to our right now. I can’t see anything,’ Rog replied, leaning across to check the map.

  ‘Let’s track it first. Find it, then come back for the yacht if it’s still in one piece.’ As usual Noah was making sense.

  ‘Okay,’ Darcy agreed.

  The boat lurched as Roger spun the wheel. A wave struck them side on. Darcy grabbed at the top rail, water surging over the deck. They were in the danger zone and she was glad that they had Rog’s steady hands at the helm. He’d been doing this for years, was one of the founding members of the Volunteer Marine Rescue Service; he knew the area like his own backyard.

  As Sea Witch righted itself, Darcy swung the light back towards the point, looking for the mast again. She’d only just found it when she saw the movement of the Phoenix change. ‘I think she’s hit the rocks. The mast’s stopped moving.’

  ‘Fuck. I hope we find this EPIRB.’ Roger’s face was grim. There was no way they could get to the yacht now. Darcy glanced back at it, just in time to see it tip sideways and disappear beneath the tower­ing back of a breaking wave.

  ‘She’s gone.’ As the wave rolled through they all heard the tortured grind of metal, fibreglass and rock colliding. The snap and crack as stay wires parted and the groan of the hull as it was impaled on the sharp teeth of the cliff echoed over the roar of the sea.

  ‘Fuck,’ Roger said. ‘Lights to the front. Let’s find this poor bastard.’

  ‘Yes,’ Darcy whispered. Find him so we can tell him he’s lucky to be alive, even though his yacht is gone, smashed into a million pieces of flotsam, pounded by an angry sea. Find him so I don’t have to stare into the eyes of a dead man again. Please, let us find him soon.

  ‘Darcy, you hooked on yet?’

  ‘No,’ she replied, tightening the swivel bracket on the light so its beam kissed the path of Noah’s light.

  She needed to be ready to go over the side the instant they spotted the yachtsman in the water. It took her three attempts to get the hook and its locking device secured. She knew how to do it with her eyes blindfolded. It wasn’t lack of practice making her fumble.

  Trailing the rescue line she stepped back up to the light. At least the rain had eased again. Roger was humming tunelessly behind her at the helm. Noah’s face was grim in the soft glow cast by the rear of his spottie. The wi
nd blew his hair back from his face. Authority suited him, Darcy thought, looking at his high forehead, wide-set eyes and determined jaw. He was a natural leader who’d excelled with the Queensland SERT before choosing to be a one-man band, a local copper rather than the Commissioner of Police she’d always thought he’d become. They’d been friends a long time. There were few secrets between them.

  ‘Rog, slow down, slow down! I think I’ve seen something further to our right.’

  Darcy craned her neck to see where Noah was pointing.

  ‘The current’s got him. At least it’s taken him away from the cliff. Stronger out here,’ Roger said as he manoeuvered the vessel across the swell, delicately playing the throttles. Darcy knew it was a fine line between being dead in the water at the mercy of currents and waves, and running over the very thing they were trying to rescue.

  ‘You’re right,’ Noah said. ‘I just saw a flicker of light. Twenty metres max.’

  ‘Call me in.’ Roger’s eyesight might be failing him, but Darcy knew how instinctively he controlled the boat. Teamwork was vital.

  ‘Five degrees right. Hold that course.’

  ‘Noah, you see him?’ Darcy asked.

  ‘Got him,’ he called. ‘Looks motionless.’

  ‘Can we hook him?’

  ‘No chance.’

  Roger poked his head around the side of the bimini. ‘I don’t want to get that close in these seas. We haven’t had a big set in a while. You’ll have to go in, Darce. Sorry, love.’

  She nodded as the adrenalin spiked again and she took a deep breath to steady herself against the rush of it. Fear caused panic, led to bad choices. Fear had no place in a rescue, unless she could harness it to make her stronger.

  ‘Let’s go, then.’ She swung her light around so it illuminated the inky sea to her left. Roger would take them seaward of the yachtsman and then it would be her turn to do the work.

  She blinked as Noah’s light swung around to portside. Seconds later he was beside her, his hand on her shoulder. ‘You ready for this, mate?’

  She mustered a smile. He needed the reassurance as much as she did. His eyes had turned smoky black in his face, the planes of his face seemed more angular and his expression was sombre. That day sixteen years ago felt like yesterday.

  ‘Of course – you’ve got my back. We might as well put those muscles to work, buddy.’ She tapped his shoulder and turned to search for the faint light bobbing in the water. Noah was right. There was no movement. Another body retrieval.

  ‘Right, lass,’ Roger called. ‘Good to go.’

  She hesitated an instant on the gunwale as Sea Witch rolled with the swell. At the lowest point she dived, feeling the rope feed out behind her. She ignored the surge of apprehension. Noah had her back. The top of her head felt like it was in a clamp and she shuddered as the water seeped into her wetsuit. The bulk of the rescue boat flattened the surface of the water enough to enable her to gulp in a couple of quick breaths before she struck out for the drifting body, her exposed skin tingling with cold. The orange jacket and weak strobe light disappeared as a swell rolled through. Darcy kept swimming, her head coming up every third breath as she maintained the line to her target.

  The next wave lifted her and she saw the man directly ahead, a pale face with dark hair. With a couple of hard kicks she was on him, grabbing at his legs and hauling him towards her. There was no response. ‘Shit,’ she muttered, reaching her arms around him. He was no lightweight. She struggled to get the harness and float around him with his bulky life jacket.

  She was pinpointed in the spotlights and raised her arm straight up. The rope went tight and Noah began the arduous task of reeling them in. She lay back, the man’s body secure against hers – chest to back, thighs to buttocks, like lovers, his longer legs trailing behind.

  The echoes, the memories, tried to crowd her, claim her. ‘No,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘No.’ She kicked out, focusing on breathing, keeping their bodies aligned and as close together as she could.

  ‘Darcy!’ There was fear in Noah’s voice. ‘Breaking wave.’

  The harness bit into Darcy’s groin and armpits as Roger turned the vessel. The motors screamed and Darcy’s yell of frustration was lost in the white maelstrom. She hung on to the stranger as the towering wave pummelled them, forcing water up her nose, into her ears and hammering the breath from her lungs. It didn’t matter that he might be dead – she wasn’t letting the sea claim this one. She coughed up some water and snorted through her nose.

  They were being towed behind the vessel now as Roger fought to get enough speed up to meet the next wave straight on. Sets of three and the last one would be the worst. She coughed and leant her head forward so she could gulp in more air. The stranger’s head rested high against her shoulder. She had the barest impression of his face: a proud nose, a thick line of eyebrows. She heard the roar of the next wave.

  ‘Hang on, buddy. Stick with me.’ She tightened her grip again and sucked in as much air as she could. Behind, she heard Noah shout a warning. She judged that they were doing about ten knots by now, which should be enough to keep the vessel straight, although with the pendulum swing of the two of them on the towrope it wouldn’t be easy. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about and she hoped Noah wasn’t going to be faced with that awful decision again.

  For a second time the ocean swept around them, deluging them, burying them in freezing cold water. Her lungs were burning by the time she could draw breath again. She could hear Noah yelling, but his words were lost in the howling wind. In the relative calm of the flat water between the waves she could feel Noah frantically reeling them in. The pressure was choking her and she struggled to clear her throat. She risked a quick glance over her shoulder. Five metres, at most, to safety. Behind the vessel the horizon was white. A monster wave was bearing down on them.

  ‘Nooo!’ she screamed, kicking with all her might. She was in no man’s land. If she didn’t get to the vessel before the wave hit, Noah would have to cut her loose or risk Sea Witch, with its two spinning propellers, being swept backwards by the force of the water and onto Darcy and the stranger. The props could kill them both.

  The duckboard of the boat slammed into her shoulder.

  ‘Go, go, go! I’ve got them,’ Noah yelled. Propeller wash churned under Darcy’s feet as the engines surged. Noah’s fingers dug into her biceps as he hauled hard. The wetsuit didn’t provide enough protection and pain shot up her spine as Noah pulled her over the lip. For an instant her harness snagged, then with a rush she collapsed onto the bottom of the boat, the stranger’s head still hard against her shoulder.

  ‘Hang on,’ Roger roared. ‘Holy hell!’

  Tangled together the three of them rammed against the running board as the vessel stood on its tail. Propellers and engines protested under the strain, water cascaded over the vessel as the wall of white hit them, burying them, pummelling them.

  For several seconds they were submerged, then, like a cork, Sea Witch popped free and slammed down on the back of the wave. Darcy’s stomach swooped. Noah was beside her, his hand tangled in the straps of her harness. He had her back.

  ‘Darcy?’

  She tried to move, but the deadweight of the yachtsman pinned her down. She coughed and water shot out her nose and mouth. Another cough racked her and she could feel the gurgle of water in her lungs.

  ‘Are you okay? I thought . . .’ Noah’s breathing was ragged as he thumped her shoulders. She brought up more seawater.

  ‘Is she okay?’ Roger had the motors going full bore and from the brutal pounding of the waves on the hull they were still heading out to sea. He wasn’t taking any chances.

  Darcy found her voice. ‘I’m okay,’ she gasped, ‘but he’s not. He hasn’t moved.’ She gestured to the man strapped to her chest.

  ‘You sure you’re okay?’

  Noah’s intensity made her focus, get her voice under control. ‘Of course I’m okay. He needs you now.’

 
‘Right.’ Noah turned to the man and Darcy caught a glimpse of something else in his eyes, something that looked like tears.

  Guess he’s remembering Grant too, she thought. She knew she should say thanks, but there’d be time for that later.

  It took precious seconds to free the harness and get the yachtsman on his back. His head lolled to one side. His eyes were closed.

  ‘He’s got a pulse. Weak, but it’s there. Unconscious, breathing is shallow. Let’s get him into recovery position.’

  ‘He must have swallowed truckloads,’ Darcy murmured, examining the man she’d dragged from the clutches of the sea. She brushed his dark hair off his face, and saw deep crow’s feet fanning out from the corners of his eyes. Somewhere between thirty and forty, she guessed. Chiselled, gaunt but handsome, even with a slack jaw and an open mouth. His bloodless lips were full; the stubble of dark beard on his cheeks was several days old. His skin was darkly tanned.

  ‘Better check for injuries.’ Noah was frowning as he undid the clips on the man’s inflatable life jacket. ‘Roger, have you radioed for an ambo?’

  ‘Yep. They’re standing by at the dock.’

  ‘ETA?’

  ‘Ten minutes.’

  The wild pitching of the boat had calmed as they reached the relatively protected water of the seaway, but Darcy knew they weren’t out of the woods yet. This was not an easy passage at night let alone with a storm sea raging.

  By now they had the man stripped back to his clothes. His life jacket and heavy waterproof were a sodden pile on the deck. There were no obvious signs of bleeding but she didn’t like the feel of a depression near his left temple. ‘I think this may be part of his problem.’ She steered Noah’s fingers to the spot, the warmth of his hands a comfort. ‘Feel that?’

  ‘Not good.’ Noah met her eyes. ‘Sooner he gets to hospital, the better. Nothing we can do about that one.’

  ‘No.’ Darcy felt down the stranger’s arm, checking for breaks. All she found were solid toned muscles. Noah straightened as he finished checking the man’s legs.

  ‘Seems to be intact otherwise.’