Hal surprised me by popping into the cabin again. I whipped my hands behind my back, my pulse pounding in my ears like heavy footsteps. At first I thought maybe he’d had a change of heart, but he stopped at the navigation station, pulled open a drawer, and rummaged through it, completely ignoring me. He pulled out something that flashed brightly in the gloom, a winch handle. He’d need this special tool to crank up the sails, particularly as he would be working alone. Halfway up the ladder he stopped and turned back to the navigation station to pull out something else. I heard a click-click. A powerful beam of light swept around the cabin until it caught me, frozen in fear like a possum in headlights. It took all my willpower not to throw up my untied hands to shield my eyes. I sat on them instead.
“You okay?”
“That’s a dumb question.” I held my eyes open until they watered, staring at the spot where I guessed his eyes would be in the blackness behind the powerful flashlight that Connie used for spotting navigational markers after dark.
“Hal! What the hell’s keeping you?” Liz yelled. “Get your ass up here!”
The beam switched off, leaving spots swimming before my eyes, spoiling my night vision.
Hal disappeared through the hatch and almost immediately, I heard the grinding of the portside winch that controlled the unfurling of the jib sail. Behind me up on deck, the jib flapped and slapped its way across the bow.
Sea Song surged forward. “Finally!” I heard Liz exclaim.
“Shut up, Liz.” Over my head the fiberglass groaned under Hal’s weight as he climbed to the cabin top to deal with the mainsail. I remembered how we’d accomplished that task together, only three, no, was it four days ago? Now completely free, with the element of surprise on my side, I wanted to storm the deck while Hal was distracted, wrestle the gun from Liz, and get the drop on Hal, but I could see that was a lousy plan. Someone would surely get shot in the process, and with my luck lately, it would probably be me.
I needed a weapon. I tried to remember where Connie kept the box containing the flare gun. Was it on my right, in the compartment with the hats? Or was it in the navigation station? I’d never be able to find the stupid thing in the dark. Maybe I could ease a knife out of the utensil drawer? No, that was in the galley, too near the main hatch. I’d be seen. Something big and heavy, then. What?
I looked at Connie for inspiration. I could see her standing tall and straight behind the wheel, the light from the compass reflecting red off her face. I willed her to look at me but knew it would be fruitless. She’d never see me down here in the dark.
The squeal and grind had stopped. The mainsail must be fully raised. When I saw the corners of Connie’s mouth turn up slightly, as if she had just remembered a joke, I thought she might be looking at me after all. Hal hadn’t left the cabin top. I supposed he’d be tying off the main halyard about now, wrapping it in a neat figure eight around the cleat. I couldn’t see Liz, but I figured she was nearby, perched on the cabin top, because I could hear her complaining. “Hurry up, Hal. I don’t know a goddamn thing about boats, and this bitch is making me nervous.”
It was a subtle thing, and Hal would have noticed it at once if he hadn’t been so occupied with the sails. Connie turned the wheel slightly to the right. Sailors are always doing that, I’ve noticed, moving the wheel back and forth from one side to the other even when the boat is sailing in a straight line, but this was different. Sea Song’s course shifted slightly, and suddenly I knew what was going to happen.
Connie had altered course just enough so that the wind crossed the stern, filling the sails from the other side. Any second now the boom would swing to the other side of the boat. The boat jibed, sending the heavy boom slashing across the deck. Hal yelled a warning, but it was too late. With a thud and clanking of metal cables and fittings, the swinging boom connected solidly with something, sending shock waves undulating down the mast, vibrations even I could feel as I sat below. “Liz!” There was the squeak of Hal’s rubber-soled shoes scrambling across the deck, followed by a splash. Then something heavy fell into the cockpit, spinning like a pewter plate, and I saw Connie desert the wheel and dive for it. Hal got there a second later, and the two of them struggled, grunting and swearing, for possession of the gun. I sprang toward the hatch and had almost reached the ladder when Hal shoved Connie away and pointed the gun at her triumphantly.
“Get back behind the wheel!”
I melted back into the shadows.
In the scuffle Connie’s shirt had ridden up, exposing her bra. Without embarrassment she tugged it down over her slacks and did as she was told. From behind the wheel, she glared at Hal with undisguised hatred.
Hal’s voice was controlled and edged with menace. “You’ve killed her, you realize. Even if she survived the blow, we’ll never find her out here in the dark.” Since Hal clearly had no intention of going back to look for his partner in crime, I found his sentiment a little cheap.
Connie at least was honest. “Frankly, Hal, I don’t give a shit.”
Connie couldn’t know it, but she’d nearly killed me, too, with her well-timed jibe. As I crouched in the V-berth entertaining fantasies of rising to the rescue like Superwoman, Craig’s tackle box had come sliding across the cushion and fallen to the floor, narrowly missing my head. With all the crashing going on up on the deck, Hal hadn’t noticed the racket it made as it landed at my feet.
Back in the forward cabin after my aborted plan to tackle Hal, I lifted the tackle box to my knees. I remembered that lovely sail on the bay, and I remembered the lures. My mind fastened on the bright, shiny spoon Dennis had demonstrated only days before, and I wondered what kind of weapon it would make. I eased the latches open, praying they wouldn’t creak. Where was the spoon? Working in the dark, I felt around the upper tray, pricking my fingers on hooks, stifling the urge to cry out, silently sucking blood from a tiny puncture in my thumb. It wasn’t on top. Carefully I lifted the top tray and began feeling around in the compartment underneath. I encountered the soft plastic of a surgical eel, the wiggly jelly of something squidlike, and then my fingers closed around it, the silver spoon with the big, ugly hook.
I withdrew the lure from the box and cradled it in my palm, feeling the cool metal, the ornamental feathers, and the hook, now safely capped. I admired the balance and the way it fitted snugly in my hand; thoughts of Peter Pan and Captain Hook rose, unbidden, to my mind. Quietly I reassembled the trays, fastened the lid and pushed the box into the head, where I wouldn’t trip over it in the dark.
Now what would I do? I knew that if I appeared on deck, brandishing my lure, one or both of us might be shot. But we’d be floating in the bay anyway if I couldn’t come up with an idea soon. Okay, if I couldn’t get to Hal, how could I get him to come to me?
I crept into the head and sat on the toilet seat, turning ideas over in my mind, wishing I had paid more attention in sailing school. I couldn’t sabotage the electrical system; we were sailing without power. Maybe I could set the boat on fire! But I had no matches; I could think of nothing combustible nearby that I could lay my hands on. I cursed Connie for being so damn fastidious. Tie it down. Turn it off. Put it away. That damn checklist!
My prior experience with operating systems aboard Sea Song was limited primarily to the bilge. What if…? I knelt and ran my hand over the floorboards near the V-berth, feeling for the opening I knew would be there. The varnished teak felt smooth and clean underneath my fingers, but the boards fitted together so snugly, each butting against the next piece so smoothly, that I couldn’t feel the seam. My fingers eventually found the hole, about the size of a quarter. I inserted my index finger and carefully pried the floor panel upward, holding my breath, afraid that it would groan or scrape, alerting Hal to the fact that I was up to something down below. I eased the panel out of position, leaving a rectangular hole.