Ken Douglas - Scorpion

“ Gotcha,” he said.

She pushed a button and he heard the whirring of a powerful electric motor. He watched, fascinated, as the mainsail pulled out from inside the mast. The boat picked up speed as the sail came out and she kept her finger on the button until it was out all the way. The boat heeled over a little and Earl felt the apparent wind as it soothed across his face. He glanced at the knot meter. Seven knots. It seemed faster.

“ Now the jib,” she said and he watched her as she took the lines off the large starboard winch and let it lay slack. Then she moved over to the port side and pushed another button and the port winch started turning.

“ Are all the winches electric?” he asked as the sail came out.

“ No, just the two big ones. They have the jib sheets on them.”

“ What?”

“ The lines that control the big head sail. It’s too big to handle by hand.”

The jib filled as it unfurled, and she kept her finger on the button until it was all the way out. Sea King heeled over more and for a second Earl thought he was going to fall off, but he held onto the steering wheel and grabbed another look at the knot meter. Nine knots. He turned his attention back to her, long hair flying around her face as she pulled the jib sheet tight into the jaws of the self-tailing winch. He looked at the wind instrument. Twenty knots. Twenty knots of wind and they were doing nine knots over the water. He tightened his hands on the wheel. He felt the adrenaline zip through him, lighting up the hair on his arms, sparking across his skin, tingling at the back of his neck. His palms were sweaty on the wheel and the wind was whipping across his face.

“ You okay, Earl?” she said.

“ I had no idea nine knots could be so fast.”

“ We’ll do eleven or twelve once we pass through the Bocas.”

“ Shit,” he said.

It seemed like they were flying. And they were still in the gulf. And then it was calm as they entered the narrow channel between Trinidad proper and Monos Island. Sea King moved flat across the water, powered by the motor, the wind useless as it blew over Trinidad’s high mountains, ignoring the sailboat below.

Earl used the calm moments to catch his breath.

“ You want a drink?” Dani asked.

“ Shot of tequila and a beer if you can,” Earl said.

“ Okay, just keep her pointed through the center of the channel,” she said, before going below, leaving him alone with the boat, the sea and the night.

“ What the-” Earl said, ducking as something flew by his face. Bird, he thought and he raised his head as another one whipped by and he knew it wasn’t a bird. “Bats!” he yelled as another one, then another flew by. He felt his skin crawl, he wanted to swat at them, but he was afraid to take his hands from the wheel. Another zipped by, inches from his face, and he followed it with his eyes. “Jose y Maria,” he said, staring wide-eyed at the bats swarming around the boat. There were hundreds, thousands of them, silently flapping above the water, over the deck, and back to skimming the sea again. It was a miracle they didn’t get caught in the sails.

Then as quickly as they’d come, they were gone, flocking toward a small bay off to the right and again Earl was alone in the dark.

“ You say something, Earl?” Dani said as she popped up from below, holding onto the boat with her right hand, balancing a shot glass and a beer in her left.

“ No, nothing,” he said, staring at the salvation in her hand.

“ Here you go,” she said, stepping up to him. He downed the tequila in a quick gulp and then took a long pull on the beer.

“ Aren’t you having anything?” he asked.

“ No.”

“ Look ahead,” she said and Earl followed her pointed finger.

“ Holy shit,” he said, staring at the boiling seas, three foot swells coming from all directions, churning as evil as any witch’s caldron.

“ Confused seas where the Caribbean meets the Gulf,” she said. “We’ll keep the motor on till we’re through it.”

The first hint of breeze started to fill the sails before she finished her sentence and in seconds they were full and Sea King was bucking and thrashing through the end of the churning passage. Earl held the wheel with a tight right handed grip and tossed the beer can over the side with his left.

“ Keep her straight, Earl,” Dani said.

“ Yeah.”

“ And stay away from the rock on the left.”

“ What rock?” he said. Then he saw it, large, dark and forbidding, hogging the center of the channel.

“ A little to the right,” she said, her voice calm, reassuring.

He pulled the wheel to the right and felt the boat turn.

“ Too much, come back a little.”

He obeyed, feeling the sweat dripping down his back as they sailed up to it. He checked the knot meter. Eight knots. Eight point two, three, five, seven. Sea King heeled back over and Earl pulled the wheel sharply to starboard, convinced they were going to hit the rock, then they were past it and into the choppy, churning, open sea. Sails full, wind whipping his face, knot meter reading ten-five and rising.

Huge swells, made more powerful by the current, slammed into the side of the boat. Sea King’s bow bucked to port with each hit, then jerked back to starboard. The wind, howling now, kept the boat heeled over so far to port that her rails were in the water. Spray slapped his face, salt stung his eyes, and sheer terror stabbed at his thumping heart.

Then they were past the bubbling, boiling seas and had only the swells, the wind and the current to contend with. The rails were still in the water, sending spray shooting over the side, showering them like they were under a giant sized salt water spigot, and Earl watched, horrified, as Dani white knuckled the stainless steel bimini supports in an effort to keep herself from going over the side.

“ We’re in trouble,” she shouted.

“ No shit,” Earl shouted back.

“ I have to reef it in.”

“ What?”

“ I have to take in some sail.”

“ Do it!”

Dani pushed the furling button for the main. The motor whirred, then whined in protest, but the sail stayed full.

“ Head up some,” she shouted back to him.

“ What?”

“ Turn a little to the right.”

He did and some of the wind spilled out of the sail. She hit the button again and sighed as the sail started to wind itself into the mast, but again the motor screeched in protest. She let up on the button, afraid she was going to burn it out.

“ Turn all the way into the wind,” she shouted, pointing.

Earl pulled hard on the wheel, spinning it, feeling the boat shudder and quake. Would he ever see land again.

“ More,” she shouted and he obeyed, turning the wheel till they were headed directly into the wind and the waves.

The jib cracked like an amplified thunder blast.

“ Shit, shit, shit!” Dani jumped to the large port winch, where she took the jib sheet out of the self-tailing jaws. Then she grabbed a winch handle from a plastic holster in the cockpit, jammed it in the furling winch and started grinding, bringing in the heavy sail. The jib cracked again, sending the jib sheets whipping and twisting, smacking the deck, the shrouds and the sails with enough force to maim, or to kill.

“ Down!” Earl screamed.

Dani dropped over the winch like she’d been shot. The boom whipped over her head, breezing her hair in its killing arc. Now the main was thunder-snapping as the boom whipsawed from port to starboard and back again with the fury of a log riding the rapids.

Once the jib was halfway in she stopped grinding and pulled out the winch handle. Now she had to tackle the swinging boom. She thrust the handle into the mainsheet winch and started grinding on it. Earl could see that she was almost done in, but he didn’t know what he could do to help. He was at her mercy. If she succeeded and got the boat under control, they might make it. He had no doubt about what was going to happen if she didn’t.