Page 73 of Untamed Coast

The engine had probably overheated and shut itself off. Hadn’t cooled enough to restart yet. It would be useless for quite a while.

The rocks were getting closer.

Marco stepped cautiously onto the bow, keeping one hand on the rail to steady himself against the waves, trying to ignore the pain racking every part of his body. He took the bow line that was attached to the port-side cleat and made a long U shape, tying the other end off at the starboard-side cleat. He threw the rest of the line over the bow into the water. He could use it as a makeshift tow harness.

Keeping one hand on the rail, he made his way along the side of the boat back to the rear cockpit. He untied the lines that held the dinghy stable on the davit and lowered the dinghy into the water.

Rocks are getting closer.

The dinghy banged loudly against the davit arms as the wind waves rocked the big boat, jerking the attachment harnesses. Marco put a foot onto the swim step, holding on to the rail with one—

—The rail slipped from his hand.

The icy grip of the sea embraced Marco like a gorilla, squeezing his breath out. His mind was clear. His body detached, no longer belonging to him.

Cold.

Numb.

Radio Flyer rocked in super-slow motion as the enormous swell passed under her keel.

Marco willed his arms to reach out—to grab her—to bring her back to him. His body didn’t respond.

The big boat rocked away again, as if waving goodbye.

Marco tried to think with his legs, to get them to kick, to propel him forward. They dangled useless in the depths, his comatose corpse hanging from his life-jacket armpits in the frigid brine.

Another gust of wind and Radio Flyer moved well out of his reach.

I could never swim that fast.

Marco felt a sense of peace as the situation settled into his mind.

He relaxed into his fate.

Sparkles of light in his peripheral vision swirled like glittering snowflakes.

Loud bang—Radio Flyer’s hull struck a rock.

She needed him.

The boat slammed against the rock again. She couldn’t take much more of this—might be taking on water already.

The rock had stopped her from blowing away.

Marco focused on his legs, coaxing them to life.

He kicked.

Then kicked again, harder. Moving toward the boat.

Two more kicks and he managed to grip something under the swim step.

He felt on his life jacket for his handheld—the radio was gone. He’d left it on the salon floor. The cold water had cleared his head but weakened his body. He struggled to breathe.

The emergency boarding ladder was just out of reach, and he’d have to put himself between the rear of the boat and the still-attached dinghy to use it. With the violent rocking of the boat, that would be deadly for sure.

I need another plan.