| Far off in the east, lightning flickered then dawn broke with all its special colors and with it came a steadily increasing wind. Mark didnt feel the winds growing strength because it came from behind. But before long the seas began to build and he could barely manage the boat. He concentrated more seriously on his steering as the sailboat raced up and over waves that grew in size each second. The sky darkened. Storm clouds, massive and swelling, raced toward them. Within the next few minutes, he was wrestling the wheel for control. Cotton sat at his side, a worried look drawing down her smile as the wind gathered the waves up in towering masses and tore shreds of spray from their tops. She looked at him for assurance and found none. All the bravado had gone. The angry sea and the screaming wind frightened Mark and made away with the last of his confidence. She could almost see the fear howling around inside him like the wind. Overhead, the wire shrouds screeched and howled in feeble resistance to the growing storm. The sea probed again and again, testing Marks amateur skills. Suddenly, the wind shifted causing the boom to swing in a wild arc from the port to the starboard side. The sailboat rolled and plunged sideways down the back of a large wave. Thrown off balance, Mark fell, losing his grip on the wheel. The boats bow turned into the wind. Sails slatted and flapped with a frightening, cracking staccato. Though Mark didnt know what to do, he instinctively grabbed the wheel to stop its useless spinning. The boat straightened and fell off the wind, returning to its original course. With a loud pop, the sails filled with wind. The sailboat leaped forward and slashed through the water at ten knots. Two waves appeared ahead, bunched closer together than those before. Instead of crashing through the waves, the hull rose up and surfed on top of tons of rolling water. Windsong no longer behaved as a boat but more like a surfboard on an Atlantic swell. As the first wave passed beneath, the stern rose high and then crashed down on the crest of the second wave, parting the sea with a bone-shuddering blow. Huge cascades of white spray shot outward. Another big wave came at them from a different direction and swung Windsongs stern to the side. The sails whipped and flailed overhead, adding their frightening racket to the noise of the storm. The boat cant take this beating, I dont know what to do, he shouted to Cotton who held tightly to the handrail in a white-knuckled grip. Mark swung the wheel to the right to get back on course. With a thump, the sails filled and Windsong charged up a mountainous wave. For a second, the boat paused on the top then pitched down twenty degrees and shot like a rocket into the yawning trough below, a slide that promised to bottom out in nothingness. Mark frantically spun the wheel back and forth trying to steer. The rudder, without its grip on the sea, did not respond. Out of control, the boat rolled over violently onto her side. Her masts crashed into the water. After long heart-stopping moments, Windsong bobbed upright and shuddered like a wounded animal. An onrushing wave caught the stern and miraculously turned the sailboat west, pointing her downwind again. Now, completely controlled by the seas, Windsong took off on another roller coaster ride up a wall of water to the top of the next breaker. Cotton lost her grip on the handrail. As if on ice, she slipped across the wet floorboards, banged against the steering wheel then back again to painfully slam into the bulkhead. Terrified, she looked at Mark and held her hurt side. A scream came from the stairway opening. Mom! Mom! Whats happening? a little boy shouted. Im scared. Standing shoulder high in the hatchway, a boy stared out at them, his eyes wide with alarm, a cut bled from his forehead. Frantically, he searched the deck for his mother. Wheres my mom? Who are you? Mom! Mom! What in the hell? Whos that? Mark pointed. Whered the kid come from? |
