Will Adams - The Eden Legacy

Knox set his anger with Rebecca aside, the better to concentrate on getting her safely back. He furled the mainsail and strode to the bow, held a coil of rope up high for her to see. He did it again and again until she acknowledged him. He fed one end through a hawse-hole, knotted it, then tied an orange life-jacket and a lead diving weight to the other end. He did everything with exaggerated movements to show her what he was doing, give her confidence in his ability to handle a crisis.

He went to the cabin, started the engine. It gave a dull, unpromising thump, then picked up smoothly. He swung the Yvette around parallel with the coral shelf, just the safe side of the breaking waves. When he’d drawn nearly level with Rebecca, he locked the wheel and hurried to the bow, picked up the lead weight and hurled it towards her, but it didn’t quite reach. A wave edged the floating life-jacket tantalisingly closer to Rebecca, but then backwash took it away again. He could see her steeling herself to dive for it, but her left arm was injured, and if she failed, she’d be in desperate trouble. He waved at her to let it go.

The sun had set by now, but it still reflected in thin bands of orange and pink off the undersides of the thickening cloud. The sea was growing bigger. Rebecca was having to hurl her hip against the waves to stay upright. He took the Yvette around for another pass, but couldn’t get as close again. He considered the VHF: but there’d be no one close enough to make a difference. He thought about going through the pass and trying to reach her inside the lagoon, but he wasn’t sure he had the time. He drew as close to her as he dared, stilled the engine, dropped anchor. The sea-bed was too sandy here for the anchor to hook on to, which meant that it would drag behind them as the breakers inexorably pushed them towards the reef.

He went below to put on jeans, boots and a sweatshirt. By the time he got back on deck, the Yvette had already been swung around by the waves, her bow barely fifteen metres from the coral. He untied the life-jacket and weightbelt, looped and knotted the rope around his own waist instead, stepped up on to the guard-rail and dived into the water, struck out hard, the coil of rope paying out behind him. He turned feet first, let the next wave take him in, bending his knees as he hit, rising up like a water-skier, then wading fast towards Rebecca across the coral. He turned his back. ‘Get on,’ he said. She did as he told her, clasping her right forearm around his throat, her legs around his waist. ‘When we get there,’ he told her, ‘don’t worry about me or the anchor. Just get to the cabin as fast as you can, give the wheel a full turn then throttle forwards. Okay?’

‘Yes,’ she said, pulling off and discarding her flippers.

The Yvette was being dragged closer and closer with every moment. Waves were crashing around her. Knox pulled the rope taut, braced against the next wave, then dived in and hauled them arm over arm through the swell. They reached the Yvette, just a few metres from the reef, every wave smashing her closer. Rebecca did as he’d instructed, clambering rudely over his shoulders and head, tipping herself aboard. He hauled himself up after her, ran to the stern, began to haul anchor. The engine stuttered but then failed. A wave pushed them on to the reef so that their hull scraped coral for a moment and their centreboard retracted and they listed violently, but then backwash took them off again and their engine caught and they began to turn. A last wave crashed against their side, water gushing over the deck with enough power to send Knox staggering, but Rebecca opened the throttle to its maximum and they began surging safely out to sea.

Davit was in bed with Claudia when he asked her to come to Eden with him.

‘I can’t,’ she told him. She was lying on her back, stroking his hand upon her stomach. ‘This is my work here. If they hire another girl, they won’t take me back.’

‘What do they need you for?’ he asked. ‘There’s no one here but us, and we’re leaving. Ask them for a holiday.’

That made her laugh. ‘No holiday,’ she said.

‘Please come,’ he said. ‘We’d pay you well. A thousand euros.’

To his surprise, Claudia looked hurt rather than pleased by this. ‘I don’t want your money. Not for this.’

‘It wouldn’t be for this,’ said Davit. ‘We could really use your help. To cook for us, translate, that kind of thing.’

She turned on to her back. ‘You want to pay me one thousand euros to cook and speak Malagasy? How many days?’

‘Four. Five. I don’t know yet.’

‘And what is this job? You look for this Eden man, yes? Why? What do you want with him? Do you mean him harm?’

‘The people I work for just want to talk with him, that’s all.’

‘Talk!’ she snorted. ‘Then why not just telephone him? Do they not have telephones where you come from?’

‘It’s not as simple as that.’ But then he wondered: Why not? He let the thought go, however; it was more enjoyable to stroke her belly. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘We really need you.’ He realised suddenly he had a way to prove it. ‘In fact, it was Boris’s idea to ask you, not mine.’

This didn’t please her as much as he’d expected. ‘I don’t like your friend,’ she said. ‘He’s a bad man.’

‘He’s okay.’

‘Men like him come here all the time. They are not good men.’ She turned to face him, pointed a finger at herself. ‘Me, I can always tell. That is why I am with you and not him.’

Her words cheered him immeasurably; he felt a rush of tenderness for her. ‘Please come,’ he begged. ‘I don’t know how I’ll survive without you for five days.’

‘Sure!’ she laughed. She gave his right hand a little squeeze. ‘This is how you’ll survive.’

‘I’m serious. I’m crazy about you. I really am.’

She looked doubtfully at him. ‘You mean that?’

He took her hands and kissed them. ‘I mean it,’ he told her. ‘I want to be with you all the time.’

‘Okay,’ she said happily. ‘Then I come.’

Rebecca quickly assessed the damage. Her own blood was smeared over the controls and wheel, and the floor of the bridge was covered in half an inch or so of redstained water that washed back and forth with each lurch of the boat. She looked outside and saw no sign of Daniel, so for a terrible moment she feared he’d been swept overboard by that last great wave; but then he emerged from the engine hatch, and her heart started beating normally again. He looked her up and down with stony eyes before vanishing below, reappearing in dry clothes carrying bottles of drinking water, a first-aid kit, two towels and some bedclothes. He soaked up water with a towel, then swabbed the floor dry and laid out blankets, sheets and a pillow. He took the wheel from her, put the engine on slow ahead, set and locked a course safely out to sea. ‘Lie down,’ he said.

She tried nonchalance. ‘I don’t take orders from-’

‘Not one word,’ he warned. ‘I’m too fucking angry. Now lie down.’

She got down and stretched out on the makeshift bedding. He poured a sachet of antibiotic into a glass, stirred in water, made her drink it all. ‘Your hand,’ he said, when she’d drained it.

‘Therese is-’

‘Give me your hand.’

‘Therese is a trained nurse. We can be there in-’

‘The longer you leave coral cuts, the worse they infect.’ He elucidated clearly, as though she were an idiot, a child. ‘The worse the infection, the worse the scarring. You want to be scarred for life? No? Then give me your fucking hand.’ She let him take it. It was trembling violently with indignation. He held it firm and studied her left palm and wrist, torn and bleeding. He rinsed it with water, cleaned out the grit and sand with cotton buds from the first-aid kit then dried it thoroughly, salved it with antiseptic cream, bandaged it with gauze, cloth and tape. He kept getting up to make sure they were still clear of the reefs. Occasionally, he’d take them a little further out to sea, where it was calmer. Night had fallen fully by now, making the lamplight seem brighter. When both her hands were dressed, he turned his attention to her ankles, shins and calves. It tickled when he examined her soles; she clenched her toes into fists. ‘Turn over,’ he said.