Clive Cussler - Pirate

The Golfinho motored away. Sam reached out and grasped Remi’s hand.

“On the bright side,” she said, calling out over the roar of the wind and the roiling ocean, “we’re alive.”

“There is that.” What they didn’t need was the extra weight of their near-empty air tanks sapping their energy as they treaded water. They removed and dropped them. Sam turned, taking in their situation. They’d drifted quite a ways from their dive location, the island looming close, and the waves crashing against the treacherous rocks. The strong current continued its relentless pull, and they swam farther out, away from the danger.

Sam glanced up at the sky, the dark clouds threatening imminent rain. “Looks like we have two choices. Try to make it to the mainland or wait it out here.”

“In the water?”

“Or on the island,” he called out. “Sharks or pit vipers?”

She took in the island, her gaze sweeping across the rocky shoreline. “What if I don’t like either choice?”

“Sorry, Remi,” he said. “Unless you can think of Plan B?”

“Wait for Selma to send help?”

The whitecaps grew higher and the wind picked up as the storm neared. All too soon, the first few raindrops fell. Trying to swim to the mainland in this would be near impossible even for the best of swimmers. And that was assuming they didn’t get caught in a crosscurrent and get pulled out to deeper waters.

“The island,” he said. Better to stay put. Wait for help. And hope the snakes didn’t like the rain.

Remi nodded, undoubtedly realizing that was their safest course of action. They’d have to find a safe, rock-free place to get to shore — and together started swimming north parallel to the island, staying on the west side. Unfortunately, it was against the current, and after several minutes Sam realized they hadn’t gone far.

They needed to reassess.

Remi treaded water next to him. “Sam…”

“Give me a minute,” he said.

“Look!” She pointed south.

He turned, worried that the Golfinho was back, searching for them. “What?”

“There. Plan B.”

He saw nothing but gray, choppy water.

“About two o’clock. I think that might be the Zodiac.”

And there it was. A bit of red popping up over the swells, then dropping down again. If it wasn’t the Zodiac, it was something bright. At this point, they had nothing to lose. “Let’s go.”

The upside was that they were moving with the current and not against it — the downside was that so was the object they were swimming toward. Eventually they made headway.

Definitely the Zodiac, but partially submerged. As they neared, he realized the stern with the outboard motor was beneath the surface. The bow was all that was left holding it above water.

More a life preserver than a boat, it wasn’t going to get them home, but the bright red surface would certainly show up better than their black wetsuits if a search party happened to come for them.

Unfortunately, as they grabbed onto the front end, it didn’t look as though it was going to stay above the water. Too much weight and not enough air left, the transom and stern were completely submerged. “Stay here,” Sam said. “I’m going to check it out.”

Remi nodded, holding on to the bow. Sam adjusted his mask, took his flashlight from his belt, and dropped below the surface. It was extremely hard to sink an inflatable boat. Delgado’s men must have missed a few air tubes when they shot it up. A sickening feeling that young Nuno had met his fate in this boat swept through him as he loosened the motor’s clamps, detaching it from the transom and letting it drop.

That, he hoped, would buy them more time, and he rose to the surface and joined Remi. “Let’s hope it holds air long enough. Lot of bullet holes.”

She said nothing for several seconds, then, “He saved our lives.”

“Temporarily.”

A crack of thunder in the distance brought them to attention, and Sam hoped that if lightning struck anywhere nearby, it would hit the island, not the water.

As the rain pelted down, dusk turned into dark. They clung to what was left of the Zodiac, the wind tossing them about. And just as it occurred to him that the tiger sharks they’d seen earlier were nocturnal hunters, Remi said, “I’ve been thinking…”

He looked over at his wife, grateful she was alert and calm. “About what?”

“That vacation you promised me.”

“Oh?”

“We should hold off for a bit. Don’t you think?”

It was moments like this that his love for Remi magnified. Here they were, clinging to a sinking raft, and she found the absurdity in all of it. “Good idea. Let’s say… day after tomorrow.”

“ Not tomorrow?”

“We should at least wait until we get back to the mainland. Figure out where we’re going next.”

She smiled at him, and he grasped her hand a moment, thinking about how they’d ended up in this predicament. There was only one way their whereabouts could have been revealed. Bree.

Now was not the time to bring up the obvious betrayal by his wife’s friend. They needed to concentrate on surviving. But she must have read his mind because her next words were, “I’m sorry.”

“Never, Remi. We’re in this together, you and I. Always.”

He wasn’t sure, it was too dark to tell, but her smile this time looked pained. When she gave her heart, she gave all of it. It broke his to see her hurt, but there was nothing he could do or say to change their circumstances.

Except survive.

For the next several hours, that’s what they concentrated on. The Zodiac was losing what was left of its buoyancy, and he feared they were being pulled out to sea, far from the island and where anyone might look for them.

They both were exhausted and hungry. The strangest thought came to Sam as he closed his eyes to rest a moment, the crazy idea of seeing a desert mirage on the water. A light nearing them as though they were drifting closer to shore. He blinked, then realized there really was a light and it was getting closer.

Remi…”

“I see it.”

A boat heading toward Snake Island.

If it continued in that direction, it would miss them. They’d drifted too far.

Sam and Remi called out, waved their arms, but their voices were lost in the wind.

They watched for several minutes when suddenly the vessel turned away from the island, a beam of light sweeping the choppy waters as it moved toward them.

They shouted and waved again until their voices were hoarse. After what seemed to take forever, the most beautiful, ancient, rusty, hulking shrimper Sam had ever seen chugged toward them, its spotlight bouncing over the waves, then blinding them.

Sam and Remi waved as the boat pulled alongside and someone threw over a couple of life preservers on a rope. Sam reached out, caught the first one, slipped it over Remi, making sure she was safely assisted on board, before he grasped the offered hand.

António, their angel in disguise.

“Thank you,” Sam said.

The young man smiled. “Not me. My uncle.” He nodded toward the helm. “Come inside. Out of the rain.”

He drew them into the cabin where his uncle, a grizzled man with salt-and-pepper hair, stood at the helm. He said something in Portuguese to another man, slightly younger, who took his place as he walked back toward Sam and Remi.

“This,” António said, “is my uncle, Henrique Salazar.”

Sam shook hands with the man. “We can’t thank you enough.”

Henrique reached over and gave António a playful push, saying something in Portuguese.

António grinned as he gave Remi and Sam blankets. “My uncle, he says that if he did not come out here, I would lose my first big fare. And then he would have to support me. His son already eats too much!”