The Devil's Eye (19 page)

Willie Tanna gripped the tiller and stared into the mouth of Sam’s devil. Flying water stung his face and his shirt stuck to his chest and flapped at his back. He shivered.

It felt as if they were sailing fast, except they weren’t moving at all. At least, he hoped they weren’t. It was an odd sensation, trimming the lugger to stay in place. He’d raised a storm sail to keep the
Zoe
’s nose into the wind, but everything else had been double-lashed.

He fought the rudder through the tiller, the rudder fought the sea and the sea was trying to wrench it all away. He had to keep the lugger’s nose to the wind, but the lunatic cross-sea made it almost impossible. And yet all he was trying to do was stand still.

The devil blew until his lungs were empty, paused, gathered the breath in his throat and roared again. Willie could hear the wind coming down the mountain and he locked his arm around the wood.

Emerging from the hatch, he’d found to his surprise that he wasn’t at all scared. As the wind flew around him and the spray came over the deck, the awareness of his own lack of fear even fed a sort of exhilaration. He was alone on deck. The blow to his head might have cleared his mind.

Before that, all the gear had been stored below. The anchor was holding. He’d taken his bearings from the rocks to port and the
Vision
starboard, both revealed by the almost constant lightning.

He could hear the waves dashing against the rocks, but the
Zoe
, tucked under the cape and two cable lengths from shore, had only to worry about the swell that swung around the cape and the wind that screamed down the mountain and tried to lay her flat.

Something slapped him in the face and he clawed it off, flicking away a leaf, noticing that the deck was being plastered with vegetation.

The devil took another breath. It’d be hell in open water, Willie thought.

A shape came out of the cabin and Sam stumbled towards him.

‘I’m all right,’ said Willie.

‘Charley’s hurt.’

‘What?’

‘I asked him to pray with me and when he put his head down, the deck rose and knocked him out.’

‘Jesus Christ!’

‘A clear case of God’s will,’ said Sam.

‘Is he alive?’

‘He’s been spared both his life and his senses, the lucky bastard.’

‘I can’t leave the tiller—’ but then, in the dark, there was a crash and the
Zoe
lurched.

Sam fell on top of him shouting, ‘We’re on the rocks!’

‘Jesus,’ said Willie, pushing Sam away. ‘Get everyone up on deck.’

Sam crawled back to the hatch. Willie couldn’t see what they’d hit.

A flash of lightning revealed the black hull of a boat rising above the
Zoe
and falling with a crack against the gunwale. The railing burst and sent splinters across the deck, a great flood of green water sweeping them away and knocking the crew off their feet as they emerged from the hatch.

Willie screamed at Sam to come aft and take the tiller, as the strange boat rose again and came down, grinding itself into the
Zoe.

‘It’s the
Vision
,’ cried Willie. But a flash of lightning revealed no one on deck.

‘They’ve all gone.’ Sam took the tiller.

The
Vision
hit the
Zoe
with another sickening crack, chewing away more of the lugger’s side. The two boats seemed to be locked in battle, and on a rising wave Willie heaved himself to the broken railing and threw himself onto the
Vision
’s deck.

He crawled against the wind to the hatch and pulled it open, amazed to see a light and faces staring up at him.

‘Get up! Get up! Your anchor’s dragging. We’re being smashed to pieces.’

Joe Harry’s grinning face appeared. ‘Hello,’ he said. He had a bloody bandage around his forehead and smelt of whisky.

At that moment the
Vision
and the
Zoe
were brought back together with a tremendous crack that flipped Willie onto his back. ‘You’re dragging your anchor, you idiot,’ he yelled as Joe Harry emerged, wincing at the wind. Joe Harry might have stepped ashore in hell, and his eyes opened wide as he saw the
Zoe
riding beside.

‘You anchored too close, Kanaka,’ Joe Harry screamed down at Willie, still on his back. ‘I’ll kill you.’

‘It’s you. You’re dragging your anchor and hit us—You’ll hole us both any minute. We’ll all sink!’

Joe Harry seemed suddenly to realise what was happening and he hit the nearest crew member hard on the side of the head. ‘Throw out the second anchor.’

Two men stumbled forward.

The boats collided again and Willie felt the
Vision
, something deep inside it, break. Both luggers now seemed to be locked together by their splintered gunwales and Willie simply rolled over and crawled from the deck of the
Vision
back on to the
Zoe.

Willie found Sam and grabbed his shirt. ‘Are we holed?’

‘Not yet. Are we throwing out another anchor?’ Sam shouted back.

‘Christ no! We have to get the hell away from here. Let out all the chain.’

Willie grabbed the tiller and Sam had the crew at the winch as a large wave lifted the two luggers as one and let them drop. The tips of their masts smacked together and cut the shrouds.

The luggers parted.

Joe Harry screamed but the wind whipped his words away.

The
Zoe
, snaggle-toothed at the rail and propelled by the sea as its anchor chain ran out, slid backwards into the dark.

The
Crest of the Wave
held her head up. The lightning cracked about the schooner and provided the only light by which to see. When it flickered off for a few seconds, Maggie lost the sense of where she was and was thrust into a nightmare.

The lightning stuttered again through the cabin windows. Maggie had strapped her daughter into the cot, and the baby slept fitfully now.

The wind might have backed off.

‘Are you there, Alfredo?’ she heard Jones cry out in the far cabin.

Maggie replied, ‘Yes.’

‘Where’s the wind from?’

Maggie had no idea. Jones in any case was raving, but she felt she should comfort him.

He yelled, ‘Has the eye passed over?’

‘The eye?’

‘The devil’s eye.’

‘I don’t…’

‘The shore,’ called Jones. ‘Beware the deadly shore after the devil’s eye has passed.’

‘We’re well away from the shore, Mr Jones. I believe the wind’s still blowing
off
shore. We’re under the cape.’

‘No! A
dead
lee-shore. After Huracan’s eye passes over, the wind returns.’

Maggie groaned. The wind howled.

‘A dead
lee
-shore, Alfredo. Do you hear me? In the devil’s eye.’

‘It’s Mrs Porter here, Daniel,’ said Maggie.

‘What?’

‘Mrs Porter.’

‘Oh my God. Mrs Porter! Where’s Alfredo? He can’t swim.’

Tommy came down a short time later and relit the lantern. He’d suddenly grown remarkable sea legs and it made her furious that he could be so unaffected while she suffered. He fell just once. Maggie lay beside the cot, wretched. She had heaved herself dry and could now only cough.

‘How’s Jones?’ Tommy asked. ‘Can he stand?’

Maggie croaked, ‘His head is caved in.’

Tommy looked down the corridor. It was quiet now.

Maggie, clutching the cot, said, ‘He’s been yelling out about the deadly shore.’

‘Well, that’s not our worry at the moment. Mrs Porter, the captain says the anchor’s dragging.’

‘What?’

‘We’re dragging out to sea.’

‘My God!’

‘Mrs Porter! That’s a good thing. We’re letting the schooner drag slowly. It will take some force out of the sea. And we won’t throw another anchor out just yet. Not until there’s the danger of a collision.’

‘Christ, Tommy!’

‘And Captain Porter says—’

‘What?’

‘—to give you his love. And to hold Alice tight.’

The
Zoe
had reached the bitter end of her chain, but Willie couldn’t yet tell if the anchor was holding.

And then, ‘Man overboard!’ came from the bow.

‘Where?’ but his yell was swept over his shoulder.

Flashes lit the sea, a world of broken peaks and flying foam. There was nothing else. But then as the
Zoe
was lifted by one wave he saw a mast and part of the red hull of a lugger far to starboard. It wasn’t the
Vision.

And then the cry of ‘Help,’ from the dark.

Sam searched for something to throw into the water, and found a rope coiled around the top of the anchor winch. He unwound it, gathered it up, tied one end off and threw it across the wind and into the sea. It flopped over the side. Still, the crew looked hopefully into the water.

The voice called again and Sam shouted, ‘Swim for the rope,’ into the grey sea, and the crew yelling, ‘This way,’ but their shouts into the wind were flung back at them.

They kept shouting, but after a while they realised the voice was gone, the sea had thrown most of the rope back onto the deck, the
Vision
and the red lugger had vanished, and the only sound was the roaring of the wind and sea.

The world was full of flying things. The sea flew at Willie’s face and the deck was a blizzard of brown foam and vegetation that confused all the features of the
Zoe
, so that at one point Willie, trying to stand at the tiller, thought the boat had sunk beneath him and he was standing on the sea.

A huge wave hit the lugger on its beam and all hands clung to what they could as the deck tipped almost vertically—but with a shudder the
Zoe
came around into the wind and righted herself again.

Sam had begun singing and Willie had grabbed him by the shoulder and screamed into his ear to drop the lead.

He heaved the string over the stern. ‘Five fathoms.’

Willie at last ordered the second anchor over the side. There was no telling from the wind or the sea whether the lugger had stopped dragging, or where they were.

‘Charley!’ cried Willie. ‘We should tie him to something that floats,’ and Sam fought his way to the hatch and went below, only to return immediately screaming, ‘We’re half full of water.’

‘Oh Christ, there’s a hole. The pump. Start pumping.’

Sam pushed the crew to the bilge pump and went back down.

When he came back he said, ‘No, it’s the hatch. Forward hatch sprung open. Charley’s nearly drowned.’

The hands took their turns at the pump, furiously turning the handles. A flash of lightning lit the manic scene: the men at the handles, heads bowing to the wind and spray, and beside them Sam, bellowing a hymn, one arm up and his palm towards the wind, daring the devil or God to strike him down.

Some time later, a tremendous jolt threw Willie backwards into the sea. He reached out blindly and managed to grab the transom, clinging there for a moment while being flung around like a rat in the mouth of a dog.

He felt a hand on his arm and Sam lifted him back onto the deck.

Sam shouted, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ but Willie had no answer. He tried to stand, but was sent staggering sideways so that he had to throw himself onto the deck to stop being blown overboard again. He bowed his head against the wind and crawled forward hardly able to take a breath. He felt the lugger being ground to pieces beneath him.

Each member of the crew held on to what they could. Sam had crawled below and was dragging
Charley onto the deck. Then Willie saw Charley being lashed to a spar.

Both anchors were out now with all of their chain, but it seemed that they held the
Zoe
over the shoal. Willie felt like laughing. If he’d left only one anchor out, the lugger would simply have been washed off. Every pitch and toss now threatened to break her back.

The vivid lightning lit a terrifying sight, waves higher than the broken tip of the mast surrounded them. Willie watched in horror as the sea built a tower beside the
Zoe
and flung it down. He had time to grab a rope before the boat was buried in the water. He felt the lugger shake beneath him, but then the sea receded. He counted the men; all were still on deck.

Willie crawled forward to the chain. He waited for a wave to make the chain go slack so he could slip it over the cleat, but it kept snapping tight and threatening to crush his fingers.

Sam, having crucified Charley and propped him up against the foremast, crawled up to Willie with a tomahawk. Willie pointed at the chain and Sam struck at it ferociously. To Willie’s amazement, a link was cut and after a dozen blows the chain parted. Willie took the tomahawk and attacked the second chain, and it fell away. The wind caught the
Zoe
and with a tearing noise lifted the lugger off the shoal.

Willie crawled back to the tiller.

Now the
Zoe
was being pushed by the wind into deeper water. The waves weren’t as high, but she was
drifting at the mercy of the storm with no anchor to slow her.

Willie wondered if it would not have been better to have abandoned ship on the shoal and try to swim for land, when at least he knew where the land was. Now, between the lightning flashes, it was pitch black, the lugger yawed crazily, and he was disorientated.

He tried without success to put the
Zoe
’s nose to the wind, but the tiller swung freely. The rudder was gone. They were helpless.

Another flash of lightning showed someone in the water, but the next wave hid the man and when it passed he was gone. Or perhaps he’d imagined it. The water was full of wild shapes.

And another bolt of lighting. Willie looked behind him. There was the black outline of a schooner. Thank God, he thought, perhaps they could climb aboard before the
Zoe
was swamped.

The next flash revealed not a schooner, but a shining black wall of rocks climbing out of the sea, foam flying like birds around it.

With no leeway and no control Willie watched the rocks approach. ‘Get ready to abandon ship!’ he yelled, but the crew were clearly ready. The lugger was doomed, heading for the dark lee of the rocks where the wind and the waves came together in a high column of spray. ‘As soon as we touch, we jump onto the rocks!’ but he wasn’t sure if anyone heard him.

A wave picked the
Zoe
up and raced her through the foam towards the base of one large boulder and when she hit the force knocked all the men off their feet. The wave retreated with a terrible sucking sound and another immediately lifted the
Zoe
again high against the boulder.

‘Jump!’ and they all leapt for the black rocks as the
Zoe
lurched and cracked beneath them.