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All Melanie could do was stare dumbly at the space on the deck where Rolas had been. The sea roared past the boat’s fantail, dark and angry. It had swallowed his body as completely as a grass chaser consuming a tree leaper. Unconscious, with no life vest, he had surely sunk instantly, rain soaked fur dragging him down.
Another wave pummeled her back, shaking Melanie out of her shock. Sliding over the slick, wave soaked deck, the safety harness jamming itself repeatedly into her abdomen with each strike of a wave, she attached and released the lines one after the other, making her way to the navigation station. She hooked herself in front of it with both lines, as the waves continued to pound the little sailboat repeatedly, crashing over the plexiglass windscreen.
The waterproof flatscreen mounted over the wheel was a jumble of information, all in rendered in precise nautical terminology that only had a passing resemblance to the spaceborn terms she was more familiar with. Fortunately some of it was familiar. She tried the comm first. It breeped a loud error message to her, letting her know the antenna mounted to the top of the mast had ripped free in the storm. No help there. The navigation system’s rectenna seemed to be working however, giving her an idea of where she was when she consulted the electronic map. Their days of travel had put the Windskimmer a good five hundred kilometers off the western coast, according to the map display. The only nearby land appeared to be two small islands, relatively close by.
She tapped the autosailer’s nav function and after a couple of false starts managed to direct it to the larger of the two islands, some twenty kilometers away. If she could get the boat to a safe harbor at the island, or at least beach it, she’d be infinitely safer than being at the mercy of the driving storm.
The deck shuddered as the sails readjusted themselves, and the boat’s small propellers spun up to supplement the driving wind. Melanie then retreated to the Windskimmer’s cabin, stripping out of her soaking clothes and then curling up into a miserable ball on the bunk, a blanket wrapped around herself. The boat seemed to slam itself through the waves, driving towards the island, shaking everything in the cabin. Nothing fell to the floor however, aside from the first aid kit, which had slid of the table where she’d left it. Rolas had been careful to put everything away in its proper place in the latched cabinets when he’d finished using it.
Rolas was… had been.... always careful.
Melanie curled up a little tighter underneath the blanket and began to weep.
Another wave pummeled her back, shaking Melanie out of her shock. Sliding over the slick, wave soaked deck, the safety harness jamming itself repeatedly into her abdomen with each strike of a wave, she attached and released the lines one after the other, making her way to the navigation station. She hooked herself in front of it with both lines, as the waves continued to pound the little sailboat repeatedly, crashing over the plexiglass windscreen.
The waterproof flatscreen mounted over the wheel was a jumble of information, all in rendered in precise nautical terminology that only had a passing resemblance to the spaceborn terms she was more familiar with. Fortunately some of it was familiar. She tried the comm first. It breeped a loud error message to her, letting her know the antenna mounted to the top of the mast had ripped free in the storm. No help there. The navigation system’s rectenna seemed to be working however, giving her an idea of where she was when she consulted the electronic map. Their days of travel had put the Windskimmer a good five hundred kilometers off the western coast, according to the map display. The only nearby land appeared to be two small islands, relatively close by.
She tapped the autosailer’s nav function and after a couple of false starts managed to direct it to the larger of the two islands, some twenty kilometers away. If she could get the boat to a safe harbor at the island, or at least beach it, she’d be infinitely safer than being at the mercy of the driving storm.
The deck shuddered as the sails readjusted themselves, and the boat’s small propellers spun up to supplement the driving wind. Melanie then retreated to the Windskimmer’s cabin, stripping out of her soaking clothes and then curling up into a miserable ball on the bunk, a blanket wrapped around herself. The boat seemed to slam itself through the waves, driving towards the island, shaking everything in the cabin. Nothing fell to the floor however, aside from the first aid kit, which had slid of the table where she’d left it. Rolas had been careful to put everything away in its proper place in the latched cabinets when he’d finished using it.
Rolas was… had been.... always careful.
Melanie curled up a little tighter underneath the blanket and began to weep.
