Clive Cussler - Flood Tide

Crewmen burst from below onto decks covered in snow j and ice. Frustrated by murderous waves that had smashed the ! lifeboats, they cursed the lack of life jackets. The end came so quickly, most all were caught unprepared. This time of year the j frigid water was only thirty-four degrees, the air temperature only five degrees above zero. In panic they jumped over the side, seemingly unaware that the cold water would kill them in a matter of minutes, if not from hypothermia then from the stoppage of their hearts at the shock of having their bodies exposed to an instantaneous sixty degree drop in temperature.

The stern sank out of sight in less than four minutes. The hull amidships seemed to evaporate into nothingness, leaving a long gap between the sunken stern and the bow section forward of the smokestack. A small group of men struggled to lower the only partially damaged lifeboat, but a massive wave thundered over the forecastle and swept across the deck. Men and boat disappeared under the deluge, never to be seen again.

Holding Katie's hand in a death grip, Gallagher dragged her up a ladder and across the roof of the officers' cabins toward a life raft that was mounted aft of the wheelhouse. He was surprised to see that it was empty. Twice, they slipped on the ice coating the roof and fell. Spray flung by the gale stung their faces and blinded them. In the confusion none of the Chinese officers or crew had remembered the life raft atop the roof. Most all, including General Hui's soldiers, had headed for the remaining lifeboat or had thrown themselves into the deadly water.

“Fritz!” Katie cried in anguish. “We left Fritz in the cabin.”

“No time to return,” said Gallagher.

“We can't leave without him!”

He looked into her eyes solemnly. “You must forget Fritz. It's our lives or his.”

Katie twisted away, but Gallagher held her tightly. “Climb in, darlin', and hold on tight.” Then he pulled a knife from his boot and furiously slashed at the ropes securing the raft. Gallagher paused as he cut away the last rope and glanced through the windows of the wheelhouse. Dimly lit by the emergency lights, Captain Hunt stood calmly beside the helm, accepting his death without remorse.

Gallagher frantically waved at his captain through the windows, but Hunt did not turn. He merely shoved his hands inside the pockets of his coat and stared vacantly into the snow building around the windows.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the bridge through the swirling blanket of white. He stumbled like a man chased by a banshee, thought Gallagher. The intruder bumped against the life raft, striking it above the knees, and tumbled inside. Only when he stared up, eyes fixed more in madness than in terror, did Gallagher recognize General Hui.

“Don't we have to cut the raft loose?” Hui shouted above the wind.

Gallagher shook his head. “I've done that chore.”

“The suction from the sinking ship will drag us under.”

“Not in this sea, General. We'll be swept clear in seconds. Now lie down on the bottom and get a good grip on the safety ropes.”

Too numb with cold to reply, Hui did as he was instructed and took his place inside the raft.

A deep rumble swelled up from below as the cold water surged over the boilers, causing them to explode. The forward section of the ship shook and vibrated, then lurched downward amidships, sending the bow rising into the cold night. The cables supporting the tall, old-fashioned smokestack snapped under the strain, and it fell with a large splash. The water reached the level of the life raft, and its buoyancy lifted it from its mounts. The last Gallagher saw of Captain Hunt, water was surging through the doors of the wheelhouse and whirling around his legs. Determined to go down with his ship, he clutched the helm and stood as firm as if he had turned to granite.

It felt to Gallagher as if they were suspended in time. Waiting for the ship to drop from under them seemed an eternity. Yet it all happened in a few seconds. Then the raft was washed free and hurled into the chaotic waters.

Cries for help came in Mandarin and Cantonese dialects that were impossible to answer. Final pleas to friends slowly faded between the monster wave crests and their troughs and into the fury of the wind. There would be no rescue. No ships were close enough to notice them vanish from radar and no call for help went out. Gallagher and Katie watched with a feeling of horror as the bow rose higher and higher, as if clawing at the stormy sky. She hung suspended for nearly a minute, her ice-shrouded upper works giving her the look of an apparition. Then she gave up and slipped under the black waters. The Princess Dou Wan was no more.

“Gone,” Hui muttered, his voice unheard above the storm. “All gone.” He was staring with utter disbelief at where the ship had been.

“Huddle together for our combined body heat,” ordered Gallagher. “If we can make it until morning, we stand a chance of being picked up.”

Surrounded by the specter of death and a terrible sense of emptiness, the raft and its pitiful passengers were swallowed by the bitter-cold night and unrelenting fury of the storm.

By dawn the malignant waves were still pounding the small raft. The blackness of night had given way to a ghostly gray sky covered with dark clouds. The snow had turned to a chilling sleet. Mercifully, the wind had fallen to twenty miles an hour and the waves had dropped from thirty to ten feet. The raft was solid and sound but was an old model that lacked emergency equipment for survival. Its passengers were left with nothing but personal fortitude to keep up their spirits until rescue.

Bundled under the heavy layers of clothing, Gallagher and Katie had survived the night in fair shape. But General Hui, dressed only in his uniform and without a coat, was slowly, inexorably freezing to death. The wretched wind was cutting through his uniform like a thousand ice picks. His hair was coated with ice. Gallagher had taken off his heavy peacoat and given it to Hui, but it became obvious to Katie that the old war-horse was rapidly fading.

The raft was tossed over the crests and spun around by the brutal waves. It didn't seem possible that the frail craft could take the pounding. Yet it always recovered from the crush of the curling waves, righted herself, and steadied before facing the next onslaught. Never once did she cast her miserable passengers into the cold water.

Gallagher rose to his knees every hour and scanned the agitated waters from the top of the waves as the raft was thrown skyward before plummeting into the trough again. It was an exercise in futility. The waters were empty. During the awful night, they saw no sign of lights from another ship.

“There has to be a ship nearby,” said Katie through chattering teeth.

Gallagher shook his head. “The water is as empty as a homeless waif's piggy bank.” He didn't tell her that visibility was cut to less than fifty yards.

“I'll never forgive myself for abandoning Fritz,” Katie whispered, the tears falling down her cheeks before turning to ice.

“My fault,” Gallagher consoled her. “I should have grabbed him when we ran out of the cabin.”

“Fritz?” queried Hui.

“My little dachshund,” replied Katie.

“You lost a dog.”

Hui abruptly sat up. “You lost a dog?” he repeated. “I lost the heart and soul of my country—”

He paused and went into a coughing spasm. Misery etched his face, despair clouded his eyes. He looked like a man whose life had lost all meaning. “I have failed in my duty. I must die.”

“Don't be stupid, man,” said Gallagher. “We'll come through. Just hang in a little longer.”

Hui appeared not to hear him. He seemed to wither and give up. Katie was gazing into the general's eyes. It was as if a light behind them had suddenly switched off. They took on a glazed, unseeing look.