The Captive (8 page)

“I hope we shall encounter no more hurricanes.”

It was past ten o’clock when I reached my cabin. Mary Kelpin was in her bed. I went to the next cabin to say good-night to my parents. My father was lying down and my mother was reading some papers.

I told them I had dined with Lucas Lorimer and was now going to bed.

“Let’s hope the ship is a little steadier by morning,” said my mother.

“This perpetual motion disturbs your father’s train of thought, and there is still some work to do on the lecture.”

I slept fitfully and woke in the early hours of the morning. The wind was rising and the ship was moving even more erratically than it had during the day. I was in danger of being thrown out of my bunk and sleep was impossible. I lay still, listening to the wailing and shrieking of the gale and the sound of the heavy waves as they lashed the sides of the ship.

And then . suddenly I heard a violent clanging of bells. I knew at once what this meant for on our first day at sea we had taken part in a drill which would make us prepared, in some small way, for an emergency. We were told then that we were to put on warm clothing, together with our lifejackets which were kept in the cupboard in our cabins, and make for the assembly point which had been chosen for us.

I leaped down from my bunk. Mary Kelpin was already dressing.

“This is it,” she said.

“That ghastly wind … and now … this.”

Her teeth were chattering and space was limited. It was not easy for us both to dress at the same time.

She was ready before I was, and when I had fumbled with buttons and donned my life jacket I hurried from the cabin to that of my parents.

The bells continued to sound their alarming note. My parents were looking bewildered, my father agitatedly gathering papers together.

I said: “There is no time for that now. Come along. Get these warm things on and where are your lifejackets?”

I then had the unique experience of realizing that a little quiet common sense has its advantages over erudition. They were pathetically meek and put themselves in my hands; at last we were ready to leave the cabin.

The alleyway was deserted. My father stopped short and some papers he was carrying fell from his hands. I hurriedly picked them up.

“Oh,” he said in horror.

“I’ve left behind the notes I made yesterday.”

“Never mind. Our lives are more important than your notes,” I said.

He stood still.

“I can’t … I couldn’t … I must go and get them.”

My mother said: “Your father must have his notes, Rosetta.”

I saw the stubborn look on their faces and I said hurriedly:

“I’ll go and get them. You go up to the lounge where we are supposed to assemble. I’ll get the notes. Where are they?”

“In the top drawer,” said my mother.

I gave them a little push towards the companionway which led to the lounge and I turned back. The notes were not in the top drawer. I searched and found them in a lower one. My life jacket rendered movement rather difficult. I grabbed the notes and hurried out.

The bells had stopped ringing. It was difficult to stand upright. The ship lurched and I almost fell as I mounted the companionway. There was no sign of my parents. I guessed they must have joined others at the assembly point

and been hustled on deck to where the lifeboats would be waiting for them.

The violence of the storm had increased. I stumbled and slid until I came to rest at the bulkhead. Picking myself up, feeling dazed, I looked about for my parents. I wondered where they could have gone in the short time I had taken to retrieve the notes. I was clutching them in my hands now as I managed to make my way to the deck. There was pandemonium. People were surging towards the rail. In vain I looked among them for my parents. I suddenly felt terrifyingly alone among that pushing screaming crowd.

It was horrific. The wind seemed to take a malicious delight in tormenting us. My hair was loose and flying wildly about my head, being tossed over my eyes so that I could not see. The notes were pulled from my hands. For a few seconds I watched them doing a frivolous dance above my head before they were snatched-up by the violent wind, fluttered and fell into that seething mass of water.

We should have stayed together, I thought. And then:

Why? We have never been together. But this was different. This was danger. It was Death staring us in the face. Surely a few notes were not worth parting for at such a time?

Some people were getting into boats. I realized that my turn would not come for a long time . and when I saw the frail boats descending into that malignant sea, I was not sure that I wanted to trust myself to one of them.

The ship gave a sudden shivering groan as though it could endure no more. We seemed to keel over and I was standing in water. Then I saw one of the boats turn over as it was lowered. I heard the shrieks of its occupants as the sea hungrily caught them and drew them down.

I felt dazed and somewhat aloof from the scene. Death seemed almost certain. I was going to lose my life almost before it had begun. I started thinking of the past, which people say you do when you are

drowning. But I was not drowning . yet. Here I was on this leaky frail vessel, facing the unprecedented fury of the elements, and I knew that at any moment I could be flung from the comparative safety of the deck into that grey sea in which no one could have a hope of survival. The noise was deafening; the shrieks and prayers of the people calling to God to save them from the fury of the sea . the sound of the raging tempest. the violent howling of the wind and the mountainous seas . they were like something out of Dante’s Inferno.

There was nothing to be done. I suppose the first thought of people faced with death is to save themselves. Perhaps when one is young death seems so remote that one cannot take it seriously. It is something which happens to other people, old people at that; one cannot imagine a world without oneself; one feels oneself to be immortal. I knew that many this night would lie in a watery grave but I could not really believe that I should be one of them.

I stood there . dazed . waiting . striving to catch a glimpse of my parents. I thought of Lucas Lorimer. Where was he? I wished I could see him. I thought fleetingly that he would probably still be calm and a little cynical. Would he talk of death as nonchalantly as he did of life?

Then I saw the overturned boat. It was being tossed about in the water. It came close to the spot where I was standing. Then it had righted itself and was bobbing about below me.

Someone had roughly caught my arm.

“You’ll be washed overboard in a minute if you stay here.”

I turned. It was the deck hand.

“She’s finished. She’ll turn over … it’s certain.”

His face was wet with spray. He was staring at the boat which the violent wind had brought close to the ship’s side. A giant wave brought it almost level with us.

He shouted: “It’s a chance. Come on. Jump.”

I was surprised to find that I obeyed. He had my arm still

in a grip. It seemed unreal. I was sailing through the air and then plunging right down into that seething sea.

We were beside the boat.

“Grip!” he shouted above the tumult.

Instinctively I obeyed. He was very close to me. It seemed minutes but it could only have been seconds before he was in the boat. I was still clinging to the sides. Then his hands were on me. He was hauling me in beside him.

It was just in time. The boat was lifted up on the crest of an enormous wave. His arms were about me and he was holding me tightly.

“Hang on … hang on … for your life,” he cried.

It was a miracle. We were still in the boat.

We were breathless. , “Hang on. Hang on,” he kept shouting.

I am not sure what happened in the minutes that followed. I just knew that I was roughly buffeted and that the velocity of the wind took my breath away. I was aware of a violent crash as the Atlantic Star seemed to rise in the air and then keel over. 1 was blinded by the sea; my mouth was full of it. We were on the crest of the waves one moment, down in the depths of the ocean the next.

I had escaped from the sinking ship to a small boat which it seemed certain could not survive in such a sea.

This must be the end.

Time had ceased to register. I had no idea how long I was clinging to the sides of the boat, while only one thing seemed important: to stay on.

I was aware of the man close to me.

He shouted against the wind.

“We’re still afloat. How long …”

His voice was lost in the turmoil.

I could just make out the Atlantic Star. She was still in the water but at an unusual angle. Her prow seemed to have disappeared. I knew that there could be little chance of anyone’s surviving on her.

We continued to rock uncertainly, waiting for each wave which might end our lives. All about us the sea roared and raged . such a flimsy craft to defy that monster sea. I found myself wondering what would have happened to me if this man had not come along when he did and made me jump with him. What a miracle! I could scarcely believe it had happened. I thought of my parents. Where were they? Could they have escaped?

Then it seemed as though the storm was a little less fierce. Was it my fancy? Perhaps it was a temporary lull. But it was a small respite.

One of the lifeboats was coming close to us. I scanned it anxiously in the hope that my parents might be in it. I saw the strained white faces . unrecognizable . unfamiliar. Then suddenly a wave caught the boat. For a second or so it hung suspended in the air and then it was completely enveloped by another giant wave. I heard the screams. The boat was still there. It was lifted high again. It seemed to stand perpendicular. I saw bodies tipped into the sea. Then the boat fell back and was overturned. It was upside down in the water before it rose again as the sea tossed it aside as a child might have done when a toy it had been playing with suddenly bored it.

I saw heads bobbing in the water for what seemed interminable minutes and then disappearing.

I heard my rescuer shouting: “Look. Someone’s drifting towards us.” It was a man. His head suddenly appeared close to us.

“Let’s get him on board … quick … or he’ll go under and take us with him.”

I stretched out my arms. I was overcome with the emotion which assailed me then for the man we were attempting to haul into the boat was Lucas Lorimer. It was a long time before we succeeded. He collapsed and lay face downwards. He was very still. I wanted to shout at him: You’re safe, Lucas. And I thought: As safe as any of us can be.

We turned him over onto his back. Recognizing him, my

companion caught his breath. He shouted to me: “He’s in a bad way.”

“What can we do?”

“He’s half drowned.”

He bent over Lucas and started to pump the water out of his lungs. He was trying to save Lucas’s life and I wondered then how long he would be able to keep at it.

It was helpful to have something to do. He was succeeding. Lucas looked a little more alive.

I noticed there was something odd about his left leg. Every now and then one of his hands would move to it and touch it. He was only half-conscious but he was aware that something there was wrong.

“Can’t do any more,” murmured my rescuer.

“Will he be all right?”

He lifted his shoulders.

It must have been two hours or so before the wind started to subside.

The gusts were less frequent at first and we were still afloat.

Lucas had not opened his eyes; he lay at the bottom of the boat, inert. My other companion was tinkering with the boat. I did not know what he was doing but it seemed important and the fact that we had kept afloat told me that he must have some knowledge of how the thing worked. He looked up and caught me watching him. He said:

“Get some sleep. You’re exhausted.”

“You too …”

“Oh … there’s enough to keep me awake.”

“It’s better now, isn’t it?

Have we a chance? “

“Of being picked up? Perhaps. We’re in luck.

There’s a can of water and a tin of biscuits here . shut away under the seat. Put there as emergency rations. That will help us to keep going for a bit. Water’s most important. We can survive on that for a while. “

“And him …” 1 pointed to Lucas.

“In a bad way. He’s breathing though. He was half drowned … and it looks as though his leg’s broken.”

“Can we do anything?”

He shook his head.

“Nothing. No supplies. He’ll have to wait. We’ve got to look for a sail. Nothing you can do so try to sleep. You’ll feel better.”

“What about you?”

“Later, perhaps. Nothing more we can do for him. Have to go the way the wind takes us. Can’t steer. If we’re lucky we’ll hit the trade routes. If not…” He shrugged his shoulders. Then he said almost gently: “Best thing for you is to get some sleep. That will work wonders.”

I closed my eyes and, to my later amazement, I obeyed.

When I awoke the sun had risen. So a new day had broken. I looked about me. The sky was stained red which threw a pink reflection over the sea. There was still a strong breeze which set white crests on the waves. It meant that we were moving along at a fair pace. Where to, was anyone’s guess. We were at the mercy of the wind.

Lucas lay still at the bottom of the boat. The other man was watching me intently.

“You sleep?” he asked.

“Yes, for a long time, it seems.”

“You needed it. Feel better?”

I nodded.

“What’s happened?”

“You can see we are in calmer waters.”

“The storm has gone.”

“Keep your fingers crossed. It’s abated for the time being. Of course, it can spring up in a matter of minutes … but at the same time we’ve got a second chance.”

“Do you think there is a hope of our being picked up?”

“Fifty-fifty chance.”

“And if not?”

“The water won’t last long.”

“You said something about biscuits.”

“H’m. But water is most important. We’ll have to ration it.”