Next day dawned with clear skies and a strong breeze. Under Steven’s watchful eye Gerry disengaged the automatic helm and steered the boat using the traditional wooden spoked wheel and the magnetic compass in the adjacent binnacle. She adjusted the tension on the main sheet and checked the leech of the mainsail and was pleased to have his approving nod. She found it exhilarating to be in control of the big yacht as it swooped up to the top of a wave and then down into the next trough, sending a rainbow coloured sheet of spray out to leeward. Before she realised how much time had passed it was noon and Steven pointed his sextant high south and sighted the midday sun. Then he said ‘I’ll make lunch’ and disappeared below leaving her on watch.
After they had eaten, he remained at the helm while she cleared up. She climbed out onto the deck carrying two cups of coffee. She had quickly become used to drinking it without milk as the alternative was to have milk powder which she detested.
‘Hi there,’ Steven called out, but looking around the deck she could not see him. ‘Up here!’ She shaded her eyes and saw him halfway up the mast.
‘What are you doing?’ she called.
‘Checking the radar,’ he replied.
‘I made coffee.’
‘Ok thanks. Two minutes.’
In accordance with her newly formed habits she checked the navigation display and then sat down and watched him. He was wearing only a pair of shorts and she admired the play of muscles in his back and powerful arms as he clambered down the mast. She felt a little flush of embarrassment when he turned round and caught her watching him but it was too late to avert her gaze and pretend she wasn’t.
‘Is it ok, then?’ she asked.
‘Yes. It’s maintenance free, really. I was just checking the mounting bolts. You’re looking better today,’ he added.
She was sure she was blushing now, but she replied ‘Thank you but I know I look bloody awful.’ Then by way of making her reply less abrupt she asked ‘I don’t suppose you have a mini dental surgery tucked away on board, do you?’ and gave him a careful smile.
‘I’m sorry I can’t help you there, but we can search the internet for a dentist on Bermuda for you. Do you have travel insurance?’
He grinned at her and the incongruity of the question suddenly struck her as extremely funny and she burst out laughing despite the pain from her lip and swollen jaw. Then she reminded herself of her other problem. ‘You don’t happen to have any broad spectrum antibiotics do you?’
‘Yes of course. I have a very good medical kit on board. What’s the problem?’
‘Erm… it’s my throat. You see I drunk water collected off the life raft canopy and of course it wasn’t very clean.’
‘Ok, I’ll find you some.’
Next morning Gerry woke up and realised that the familiar noise of seawater rushing past the stern had dwindled to a slight slapping sound, and the pattern of light moving across the cabin showed that the yacht was rocking gently. She listened out for the familiar sound of Steven treading about the decks, but it was curiously quiet. She hurriedly pulled on her shorts, squealing ‘ouch’ when she caught some hairs in the zip and tugged on a shirt.
The deck was empty. ‘Steven?’ she called out. No reply. ‘Steven!’ she shouted. She clambered around the deck in front of the cabin and then back into the cockpit. Surely she wasn’t alone again? There was a splashing noise alongside and she peered over the side. There he was swimming alongside wearing a diving mask. She took a deep breath and tried to make her voice steady. ‘Hi! There you are. I was calling you.’
He grabbed on to a line that she now noticed was clipped on to the rail. ‘Hi. I was taking advantage of the calm to check out the rudder and propeller and have a look at the hull.’
‘What’s the water like?’ she asked.
‘Fairly warm in these latitudes. A bit of a shock when you first jump in though.’ He grinned up at her. ‘Why? Do you fancy a swim?’
‘I don’t have a bathing costume,’ she replied. She glanced at him and despite the ripples he was creating treading water she could see that he was naked.
‘Well, come in with what your wearing, or I’ll look the other way while you strip off and dive in.’
She gazed down at him and feeling reckless she began to pull her shirt over the top of her head. She was fully prepared to gaze defiantly at him but as she emerged from under the shirt he was nowhere to be seen. Feeling rather silly she nevertheless pulled off her shorts and jumped naked into the sea. Out of curiosity she dived down and saw the propeller and rudder tinged green with algae and then she suddenly had a panicky memory of being trapped in the sinking aircraft and with pounding heart she struck out for the surface and took several huge gasping breaths. She thought about her fear while her heart rate slowed and then she deliberately forced herself to swim under the boat and stare up at the hull for a slow count to twenty. Then she surfaced on the other side and looked around for Steven. He had already climbed out and was gazing beyond the stern, a towel wrapped round his waist. A thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘Hey, what about sharks?’
‘Unlikely this far from shore. Hey, I’m sure there’s a breeze coming; I think you’d better come out.’ He pointed to a rope ladder with wooden steps draped over the stern. ‘There’s a towel on the seat.’ He disappeared below and she climbed out and wrapped herself in the towel and when he emerged half a minute later clad in shirt and shorts she went down to dress.
By the time she had untangled her hair the yacht was underway again, moving very slowly with the merest v-shaped ripple left astern. She looked at herself in the mirror. If she did not give her gap-toothed smile then her face was pretty much back to normal again, apart from a yellowish tinge here and there, and after a few days of regular food and unlimited supplies of water her body had recovered. She looked down at herself. Her tan had evened out and the remnants of her bruising were fading away. Only the scars on her neck, her abdomen and her leg showed as pale lines. She dressed herself and switched on the computer. She tried to log on to the department intranet and she was pleased to see that she could still gain access. She stared at the screen and rather reluctantly she typed ‘Sandstar’ into the search engine, but now it flagged up “Unauthorised Access”. She logged on to the general personnel file and found that she was classified as whereabouts unknown, presumed dead. She sighed and closed the site.
One thousand two hundred miles away in Washington DC a systems analyst stared at his computer screen and called his boss over. ‘The key word “Sandstar” has been recorded, and a back search has found that it was used by the same internet access address yesterday.’
‘What’s “Sandstar” then? Why was it flagged up?’
‘I don’t know. The computer just says that it is a key operational code word and gives a list of contact addresses to alert.’
‘No names attached to those addressees? What’s a sand star anyway? It sounds familiar.’ The analyst called up a new webpage and googled Sandstar.
‘Uh… a kind of starfish, an all-terrain vehicle tyre, a construction company in Canada, a kind of shoe. And there’s a name Grantham… that’s the guy you have to call first if it comes up.’
‘Ok but why did the computer flag it? It’s a common enough term.’
‘Because someone was trying to use it on the British service website.’