Jim shouted this to Neil, who brought Moonchaser to a complete halt in the water, waiting while the cutter moved farther west and away from them. Once the light swept in their direction and played over the smack, but rapidly, without pausing. Though the glare temporarily blinded Jim, the cutter apparently didn’t notice the black hull. Jim saw Neil look at his watch, grimace, and increase speed. The rain was only sporadic now, but the wind was gusty and blew in sweeping bursts of spray against the windshield. Ocean swells made the boat pitch from side to side as they approached the open water of the ocean.
In another two minutes the cutter was a little more than halfway across the inlet and still heading for the far side. Neil gave the boat full throttle, his face knitted in tense concentration, and Moonchaser pounded forward at seven knots into the tide and the ocean swells.
The small boat rose and smashed down on one big swell that seemed to rear up out of the darkness like some living sea mammal to lift them up momentarily and then toss them back into the water. Jim was thrown hard against the control panel, and Neil was swung around—still holding the wheel—to bang against the ship’s combing.
“We may really need that Mayday,” he shouted with a grim smile. Jim, shivering, felt a fearful exhilaration. He peered ahead and could see two flashing white lights, one after another—the lights of a range that normally guided ships down the center of the channel, but that Neil would use to guide them onto the sands of Shackleford Bank. The Coast Guard cutter was off to the right someplace, but Jim couldn’t make it out.
“Bring the dinghy up closer,” Neil shouted to him, and Jim stumbled aft, falling against the stern combing when Moonchaser plunged down another swell. Righting himself, he hauled in the towline to the dinghy until it was only a few feet off the stern, where he recleated it. Returning forward, he stared out into the rain and blackness again and realized Neil was easing the boat toward shore.
“Hold on!” he shouted. “Here we go!”
With a harsh, grating sound, the fishing vessel ran aground, slowing down at first and then, as Neil killed the engine, stopping abruptly. Jim grabbed the deckhouse shelf and held on, looking to Neil for orders. As Moonchaser seemed to sit contentedly in the sand, Jim turned to get into the dinghy; a wave smashed broadside into the boat with a tremendous crash. Jim was flung against Neil, and the two men smashed into the side of the deckhouse, then against the combing, and then they were in the sea.
It happened so suddenly and the chill water of the ocean was such a shock that Jim didn’t realize clearly what had happened at first. He was standing in four feet of water that suddenly became seven feet of water when a swell surged past.
“Get the dinghy!” Neil shouted from somewhere off to the left. Jim could barely make out Moonchaser heeled over in the surf a few feet in front of him, but he struggled over to her stern and felt for the rubber dinghy. It was there, bobbing and tearing at the towline like a wild horse. As he reached for it, the edge of the protruding outboard struck him on the shoulder. He swore, reached again to control the dinghy, and was submerged by a huge swell that slapped him in the face like a lazy porpoise flipping its tail. He spit out salt water and felt a sudden panic. He couldn’t get the dinghy. It danced away from him, then swung its engine shaft at him like a club.
“Cut the line!” Neil shouted, appearing beside him and handing him a knife.
Jim swam the few feet to Moonchaser’s stern, pulled himself up, and slashed the towline. In an instant the inflatable pulled its line out of Jim’s grasp, surged away on a breaking wave, and was swallowed up into the darkness.
“Get it!” Neil screamed, and Jim plunged away after it.
“Mayday! Mayday!” Olly’s voice crackled urgently as Frank stood by, operating Vagabond’s radiotelephone. “Damn engine went and killed himself. I’m aground on Shackleford Point. Mayday! Mayday! Do you read me? Over.”
Frank switched to receive, deciding that Captain Olly’s unprofessional way of sending a distress call was probably more credible than the scenario he himself had planned. He leaned backward to look up at Macklin in the wheelhouse, who was expected to keep Vagabond heading steadily into the tide barely inching forward. He nodded at him in reassurance.
“Roger, Mayday,” a distant static voice said from the radio. “This is the Coast Guard station at Fort Macon acknowledging Mayday. Identify yourself and your position. Repeat. Identify your vessel and your position…Over.”
Frank switched the button and nodded at Captain Olly.
“This is Cap’n Olly,” he said irritably. “Moonchaser is banging on the beach here at Shackleford Point and getting swamped. I’m at Shackleford Point just south of the range. My ship is beginning to…” Captain Olly banged his fist down on the console and shouted: “Jesus! Help! We’re foundering! Help!”
Frank cut the switch, and they listened for the Coast Guard’s response.
“This is Fort Macon Coast Guard calling Moonchaser,” the voice said with more urgency. “Please repeat position and clarify. Over.”
Frank shook his head no to Captain Olly and kept the button switched to receive. After twenty seconds the voice came through again.
“This is the Coast Guard calling Moonchaser. We have received your Mayday. Will send assistance. Do you read me? Over.”
Frank shifted the dial to the frequency he knew the Coast Guard usually used for routine traffic. For twenty seconds there was nothing, but finally the same voice crackled out, calling the cutter Avenger. After they had established contact the voice said: “A vessel called Moonchaser radioed a Mayday. Ship reports being aground and foundering off Shackleford Point. Can you provide assistance? Over?”
“Roger, Macon. Affirmative. Are you sure it was a genuine Mayday? Over?”
“Affirmative, Avenger. Sounded real to me. Over.”
“Okay, Macon. Avenger headed for Shackleford to provide assistance…”
“I’m going up and get us moving full speed to the rendezvous,” Frank said to Captain Olly. “Keep listening.”
After Frank went up on deck, Captain Olly lowered his head toward the radio. For a minute or so there was nothing. Then: “… Avenger now only about three hundred yards off Shackleford. No sign of a vessel aground… Okay, Macon, we’ve got our light on a fishing smack aground and partially submerged… She’s taking a pounding…Moonchaser?… It’s Moonchaser… No sign of anyone aboard. We’re sending the launch to investigate. Stand by.”
As the seconds ticked away Captain Olly realized that Vagabond was beginning to pitch and smash into the ocean swells as she rushed at full speed toward the inlet. He heard Frank saying something loudly to Jeanne but couldn’t hear what. Two minutes passed before the voice spoke again from the radio.
“This is Avenger. There’s no one aboard Moonchaser, Macon… When was your last radio transmission from the vessel? Over.”
“Just before we radioed you, Avenger. Over.”