Disaster On The Seas

Mara’s hands tightened around the wet steel. She had wanted one thing since the first alarm sounded: get into a boat before the ship rolled far enough to make every launch impossible. Now the chance hung ten feet away, swinging over a deck that was becoming a ramp.

“Clear the passengers!” Vale shouted. “Crew only at the stations!”

“No room below!” a sailor yelled back. “The brake’s stuck!”

Mara saw the problem. The forward davit’s lowering drum had seized at an angle, its brake handle quivering in the sailor’s grip. The wire fall was taut, shining with rain and spray. Each time the hull rose and fell, the strain traveled through the cable with a sharp metallic snap.

“Release the brake!” Vale shouted.

“It won’t release!”

“Then cut the retaining line!”

The sailor looked toward the boat. “It’ll drop!”

“It’s already dropping!”

The ship rolled again. Passengers slid across the deck in a tangle of coats and hands. Mara caught a boy by the back of his jacket before he struck the rail and hauled him toward the companionway.

“Go inside,” she said.

“My mother - ”

“Go!”

A man seized Mara’s arm. “My wife is in there!”

“Then find her!”

He stared at her as if she had struck him. Mara pushed him toward the hatch, then turned back to the boat.

The forward cradle had shifted. One end of the lifeboat hung lower than the other, its bow pointing down toward the black water. The after fall remained tight, holding the boat against the ship. If the forward davit gave way first, the hull would swing like a pendulum and crush anyone beneath it.

Vale reached the controls and braced his boots wide. “Mara! Get those passengers off the deck!”

“I’m not crew.”

“You’re standing there. That makes you useful.”

A cable snapped somewhere overhead. The sound cut through the storm like a rifle shot.

The boat lurched another foot.

Mara moved.

She crossed the slanted deck on hands and knees, driving her fingers into the raised ridges of the steel plating. Rain stung her face. A suitcase slid past and vanished over the rail. Behind her, people screamed as the ship leaned farther.

At the davit, the sailor was on his knees, beating the brake lever with a wrench.

“It’s welded shut!” he shouted.

“Then stop beating it.”

He looked at her, wild-eyed.

Mara grabbed the wrench from his hand and wedged its narrow end beneath the brake housing. “Where’s the release pin?”

“Inside the casing.”

“Can you reach it?”

“No.”

“Then hold the drum.”

“What?”

“Hold it!”

He threw both arms around the mechanism. The wire screamed through the sheave, and the lifeboat dropped several inches. The sailor’s boots skidded. Mara drove her shoulder into him, keeping him against the housing while Vale shouted orders through the rain.

“Stand clear!”

The warning came too late. The forward davit arm tore loose from its socket with a grinding boom. The boat plunged. Its bow smashed into the deck, splintering a bench beneath the canvas cover. A wave rolled across the ship, carrying a man’s red suitcase into the lifeboat’s open side.

The sailor disappeared under the water.

Mara seized the back of his coat and pulled. He surfaced coughing, his cheek split open. The wire fall whipped overhead, striking the davit with enough force to bend metal.

“Cut it!” Vale shouted.

A deckhand raised an ax.

“No!” Mara yelled. “Not that one. The after fall is holding the boat!”

The deckhand froze.

The ship dropped beneath them. The lifeboat swung outward, its bow hanging over the sea while its stern scraped the deck. Beyond it, the water was a field of black ridges torn white at their tops.

Mara saw the truth in a single glance. The forward fall was jammed. The after fall was carrying the boat’s weight. If they freed the forward line without controlling the stern, the boat would swing clear - but it might take half the deck with it.

“Get inside!” Vale shouted at the passengers. “Below, now!”

A woman stumbled toward Mara, one hand pressed to her forehead. “My daughter’s still in the boat!”

Mara looked at the lifeboat. Through the torn canvas she saw a small shape curled against the seats.

The woman lunged forward.

Mara caught her around the waist. “Wait!”

“That’s my child!”

The deck rolled. The woman’s boots left the plating, and Mara dragged her backward as the lifeboat swung away. Its hull struck the ship with a hollow boom. The sound seemed to pass through Mara’s ribs.

“Vale!” she shouted. “There’s someone aboard!”

The officer stared through the rain. “Who?”

“A child!”

He pointed at the deckhand with the ax. “Get that boat secured!”

The deckhand ran toward the stern line. Another wave crashed over the rail, separating them. For a moment Mara saw only foam and the blurred lights of the ship. Then the water drained away, leaving the deck littered with rope, broken wood, and a yellow life jacket.

The woman tore free of Mara. “Let me go!”

Mara caught her again. “You’ll go over.”

“My daughter - ”

“I’ll get her.”

It was not a promise Mara had meant to make. The words left her before fear could stop them.

She turned toward the lifeboat.

The forward line had wrapped around the davit head. The after line was stretched across the deck, vibrating under the boat’s weight. Between them lay a narrow gap, perhaps two feet of flooded steel, opening onto the sea each time the ship rolled.

Mara climbed over the rail.

“Mara!” Vale shouted.

She ignored him. Her boots found the outer ledge. The ship rose, and the lifeboat dropped away beneath her. She jumped.

Her knees struck the lifeboat’s gunwale. Pain flashed up both legs. She caught the canvas frame and hauled herself over as the boat swung back toward the ship.

The child was wedged beneath a seat, clutching a torn life vest. She could not have been more than six.

“Come here,” Mara said.

The child shook her head.

“I’m going to get you out. Keep your arms around my neck.”

The boat slammed against the hull. A section of canvas tore loose, filling the interior with rain. Mara crawled across the rocking floor, reached beneath the seat, and pulled the girl free. The child’s fingers locked around her throat.

Behind them, the ship’s deck tilted steeply. Through the open side of the boat, Mara saw Vale and the mother standing near the rail. The mother was screaming, but the storm tore the words apart.

“Mara!” Vale cupped his hands around his mouth. “Get back!”

The forward fall groaned.

Mara looked at the tangled wire above her. The boat was trapped between the jammed davit and the after line. It could not be lowered. It could not be pulled aboard. With every roll, the hull struck the ship harder.

The child whimpered against Mara’s neck.

Mara saw the ax lying near the stern thwart.

She pushed the girl into the bottom of the boat and crawled for it.

“Mara, no!” Vale shouted from the deck.

She seized the ax with both hands. The handle was slick and cold. Above her, the after line stretched from the boat to the ship, thick as her wrist and pulled tight enough to sing.

If she cut it, the boat would be free of the ship’s deck. The forward fall would still hold it, but only for a moment. If she cut the wrong line, the boat could drop nose-first into the sea.

The girl cried, “My mother!”

Mara looked back at the rail. The woman had both hands over her mouth. Vale held her by the shoulders.

Mara raised the ax.

The ship rolled toward the water.

She brought the blade down.

The first strike bit halfway through the rope. The boat lurched, throwing Mara against the side. The second strike severed the outer strands. The after line whipped loose and vanished across the deck.

For one breath, the lifeboat hung from the forward fall alone.

Then the jammed davit gave.

The boat dropped hard. Mara landed on top of the child, shielding her as the hull plunged through spray. The forward line snapped with a crack that seemed to split the sky.

They hit the sea.

The impact drove the breath from Mara’s lungs. Water flooded the boat to her waist. The child vanished beneath the black surface, and Mara plunged after her, finding a sleeve, then an arm. She hauled the girl up and dragged her onto the overturned seat.

Above them, the ship’s starboard side rose like a cliff. The deck lights swung wildly through the rain. Figures crowded the rail, shrinking as the lifeboat drifted away.

“Mara!” Vale’s voice came faintly. “Throw us the painter!”

She turned toward the bow. The painter line trailed from its fitting, floating just beyond reach. Mara lunged and caught it, wrapping the wet rope around her wrist.

The line pulled tight.

For an instant the boat stopped.

The ship’s next roll dragged them sideways. The rope cut into Mara’s skin. On deck, Vale and two sailors hauled together, trying to draw the lifeboat back toward the hull.

The child cried for her mother.

Mara gripped the painter with both hands. “Pull!”

The sailors pulled. The boat rose on a wave, then dropped into the trough. The rope jerked so violently that Mara’s shoulder nearly came out of its socket.

A sharp pop sounded at the bow.

The painter fitting tore free.

Mara saw the metal ring spin past her face. The line recoiled into the water, useless.

The boat swung away.

“No!” Vale shouted.

Mara reached for the ship, though it was already beyond her grasp. The lifeboat slid down the dark side of the wave, turning broadside as the storm seized it. The ship’s lights blurred behind sheets of rain. The mother stood at the rail, one pale hand raised, while Vale dragged her back from the edge.

Then the next wave lifted between them.

The ship disappeared.

Mara crouched in the flooded lifeboat with the child pressed against her ribs. Water sloshed around their knees. The broken canvas snapped overhead, and somewhere beneath the seats, something heavy rolled from side to side with each swell.

She could no longer hear the engines.

Only the sea remained, rising and falling beneath them, carrying the lifeboat into the dark.

End of chapter one. 14 more chapters in the full book.