Steven Konkoly - The Perseid Collapse

Water poured over the starboard deck while the boat teetered. Just when Alex became convinced that the boat would tip over, the Katelyn Ann slipped sideways and returned to a normal angle, turning with the rushing water. They had broken free of whatever had struck their keel. He hoped it had only been the keel, and not the rudder or hull. Damage to the latter would severely jeopardize their chances of reaching Portland Harbor.

His best guess was that they struck the western side of the cove, which was solid ledge, and drifted beyond it into open water. Barring critical damage to the steering or hull, they were in good shape to escape the tsunami relatively unscathed. The Katelyn Ann was in open water with a functional engine, which was a start. If their rudder were intact, they would be in business. As the boat settled on the same course as the surging water, the southern shoals of Cliff Island swung into view, rapidly approaching.

Alex put the engine in gear and jammed the throttle forward, deciding to take a chance. He had just added eight knots (9 MPH) of speed to the boat’s already ridiculous rate of closure with the island. He needed the propeller wash to steer the boat, not wanting to send them into another uncontrolled spin. Holding the wheel in a death grip, he eased the rudder gently to the left, painfully aware that he may not get another shot at this. They had already crossed more than half of the 1000-foot distance between islands.

The Katelyn Ann responded to the change in rudder angle, and he watched the bow start to swing left, pointing the boat into safe water beyond the visible rock barrier. Afraid to spin the rudder any further and lose control, Alex watched helplessly as the turn stalled, and the boat drifted back in the direction of the tsunami. Alex straightened the rudder and let the water carry them, building up speed for the next turn. The short period of time the boat had spent drifting to port had made a difference, and they were lined up a little further south along the island.

He waited a few seconds and eased the wheel a quarter of a turn more than before. He felt the rudder tugging at the helm, trying to wrench it out of his grip. He wrapped his right arm through the thick metal spokes and piled his body against the wheel, knowing that his bones were no match against the force of the current pushing against the rudder. He felt the metal bar press tightly against his right tricep, just above the elbow, creating a pressure that caused him to moan. He just needed a few more seconds before the pain stopped.

The boat eased to port, fighting against the continuous volume of water pouring over Jewell Island into the pass. The pressure on the wheel eased when the boat stopped turning, having reached the limit of its rudder-induced maneuver against the current. He untangled his throbbing arm from the wheel and stared at the approaching shore for a moment.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he hissed. The Katelyn Ann faced the rocks, unable to break free from the tsunami’s grasp.

He centered the rudder, careful to hold the wheel tight as the boat careened toward the ocean-sprayed ledge barricade seemingly obsessed with claiming the boat as a victim.

“One, two—move you son of a bitch!” he said, yanking the wheel left and sliding his arm between the spokes.

The thirty-eight-foot sailboat executed another strong turn to port, causing him to bite his lower lip as the metal spoke exerted a nearly unendurable pressure against his arm and shoulder. He growled at the wheel, biting his lip as it dug into his humerus, grinding muscle against bone. The pressure eased, and he struggled to his feet. The bow was pointed into safe water, and the visible end of the island drifted rapidly to starboard, less than one hundred feet away. He still wasn’t convinced that they would clear the island. Alex had always been good with angles, especially at sea. He did the math, comparing the tsunami direction with their position and shook his head.

“Kate! Get everyone on the starboard side! Heads down! I don’t know if we’re going to make it!”

He heard a flurry of activity below, accompanied by crying he hadn’t noticed during their violent journey out of the cove. He wished they had a more powerful engine. Sailboats were so damn underpowered for their size. A forty-horsepower engine in a sixteen-thousand-pound, thirty-eight-foot-long vessel. Utterly ridiculous. At the last possible moment, Alex put the engine in neutral to keep the propeller from fouling, and straightened the rudder with his left hand. The bow cleared the leading edge of the rocks with thirty feet to go, still turning with the current.

“Brace for impact!” he screamed.

He squeezed the wheel as the ledge disappeared beneath the starboard rail next to him. The massive jolt that would shipwreck them on Cliff Island never came.

“That’s right! You don’t fuck with the Katelyn Ann !” he screamed at the jagged obstacle, putting her back into gear and increasing the throttle to three-quarters.

He turned the rudder to port and eased the boat away from the southern shore, with plenty of safe water to maneuver ahead of him. The tsunami’s energy had faded quickly, allowing him to steer further port without being pushed back. A mile away, off the starboard bow, he watched the leading edge of the tsunami strike the lowlying, western half of Cliff Island, sending geysers of foamy seawater fifty feet into the air. The water swallowed the inhabited stretch of the island whole, sweeping away homes and dropping wooden utility poles. Everything disappeared. Gone.

“What’s going on!” yelled Kate.

“We made it. You have to see this.”

Kate emerged hesitantly, scanning around to gain her bearings. Her gaze once again settled on Alex.

“What happened to you?” she said, rushing over to help him.

“I decided to punch myself in the mouth for agreeing to buy a sailboat,” he said.

“It was your idea,” she said, reaching out to touch his lip.

“How are the kids?”

“Shaken up. Emily has a few bumps and bruises. I think we got lucky.”

“You have no idea,” he said, nodding behind the boat at the rocks.

Kate stared aft for a few moments, no doubt examining the boat’s wake through the water.

“You almost crashed us,” she remarked.

For the briefest moment, he thought she might be serious. He could tell she was trying desperately to suppress a grin, which in Alex’s mind saved her from being pushed overboard. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, causing him to wince. She released the hug immediately.

“What happened?”

“I think my arm is broken. I used it to keep the wheel from turning with the wave. No lectures, please.”

She looked at Cliff Island and turned to him. “I’ll give you a pass this time. Where’s the dinghy?”

Alex scanned the water behind them, quickly turning his attention back to the open water ahead of the boat.

“Shit. I didn’t notice it was missing. I was a little preoccupied.”

Kate reached over the stern safety rail and pulled on the orange line tied to the stern cleat. The line flopped onto the swim deck, frayed at the end.

“I hope the pier is still intact back at the club,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“I have a feeling we’re in for a little swim,” Alex said. “Maybe sooner than later. Our stern hit those rocks. We need to check for leaks.”

“I’ll inspect the aft berth for damage. We still have a foot of standing water in the cabin. The bilge pump light is on, so I assume it’s working,” she said and waded through the knee-level water in the cockpit.

Alex leaned back and examined the stern. He saw a steady stream of water pump from the hull into the bay. “I see water coming out of the discharge. If we don’t have any serious leaks, the cabin should be dry in a few minutes.”