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He emptied the bucket over the side again. It must be near a million times he'd dipped the cracked wooden bucket into the freezing water and dumped it over the side. It was a losing battle. He knew the water would keep coming into the boat, and it was getting faster and faster. He on the other hand was tiring.
At least his hands didn't hurt anymore. He knew that he'd lose his fingers. The frostbite had set in long ago. He stole a glance at Cora. She was asleep but her breathing was regular and the bandages seemed to be holding out. He could see her face, pale and white in the morning dawn. The sun would bring some warmth at least.
The oars held her weight nicely and he wished that he could get his feet out of the freezing water and feel the blessings of a few hours sleep. But that would sign their death warrant. In twenty minutes the leaking craft would be flooded and they would both be in the dark water. Hypothermia would kill them both. He had to keep going. His back ached and he stopped bailing for a few seconds to adjust his position.
The crew would be dead. He knew that too. He didn't know why the yacht had sunk, but he knew that this was the only lifeboat and he'd not seen any other people. The freezing depths would have claimed them by now.
The sun rose slowly above the horizon. Its gentle beams caressing the waves. He silently thanked God for stopping the squall last night. He'd never have been able to keep up with both the sea and the sky pouring into the boat.
He ran his swollen tongue against his cracked lips. He should have caught some of that rainwater. They would need it if they were to survive.
Pulling the bucket to his mouth, he drank deep from the biter salt water. The taste was horrible, and a sailor would have berated him for drinking salt water. But as a doctor he knew that saltwater was all right to drink as long as the body had sufficient water to metabolise the salt. It was only deadly if you waited to start drinking it. If you waited until you were dehydrated the saltwater would kill you.
He would have to wake Cora soon and check her wounds and make her drink.
What a wonderful way to spend an anniversary. Caught in the middle of the Atlantic in a wooden boat. The bucket grew heavier by the minute. He needed to sleep, even if only for an hour or two.
"Cora! Cora! Wake up!" he shouted at her sleeping figure. "Cora! I need help!"
"Ralph, where are you?" she awoke startled and dazed.
"Behind you honey. I'm here." he croaked. "Cora, I need you to help me bail the water."
"I can't, I can't move my legs!" she stammered. "Oh Ralph! I can't move my legs!"
"I know! Calm down! I have splinted them together because your left leg is broken. I gave you some painkiller, which is why they're numb. Just sit up and move them over to the side," he soothed.
The boat was small and Cora's makeshift cot took up two of the three seats. He watched her struggle to do as he asked. Her bravery made him so proud. He wanted to let her lie but he needed her help.
"What now?" she asked, the brisk wind blowing her long matted red hair.
"Look around for a can of beans. I saw it last night in the moonlight. It should be near the bow of the boat." Ralph gestured with his swollen hand toward the front of the boat.
"I found it!" Cora shouted above the growing wind.
"Great! There is a can opener in my medical bag. Open the can and eat it." shouted Ralph.
"What about you?" Cora said as she struggled with the can.
"Don't worry there, are three or four more in the stores," he lied. She needed the food because of the broken leg and the loss of blood from the wound on her hip. He turned away as she ate. The smell of the beans wafted back to him. His stomach churned with hunger.
"Stop! Don't" he shouted as she was about to throw the tin overboard. "We'll need that. You'll have to help me bail out the water. I need to sleep and with just me bailing I'm just keeping up. We need both of us to bail, that way I'll be able to get some rest."
"Is the boat sinking? Is it leaking, Ralph?" She trembled.
"Yes, but it is a slow leak. We can bail it out faster than it comes in. We need to empty it so I can get an hour or two's sleep. Then we'll try to row to the shore." explained Ralph.
"How far is that, and which direction?" Cora watched him carefully.
"About two days west of here. We can navigate by the sun. I want to get started as soon as we can. If we wait then we may not make it." said Ralph.
"Shouldn't we wait in the area? What if the rescue planes are looking for us there?" asked Cora.
"I don't know if the Captain got off a message before the yacht went down. If he didn't, there will not be a rescue plane. Besides, the closer we are to shore the more chance we have of running into a ship or a plane."
"OK, whatever you think is best."
"Right now we need to bail," Ralph said, and both of them turned to the task at hand. The bucket grew heavier all the time Ralph continued bailing. He was a machine now. He didn't think or feel or care, the water was scooped up and over, up and over. Time seemed to stop as the sun rose higher in the sky. He could see the gash in the wood at the midpoint of the boat. It was bigger than he had thought. The water poured in a steady stream. His feet were gone. he knew that he would lose them as well as his fingers.
"Ralph! I think it's OK now," Cora shouted at him. The wind was picking up again.
"OK. Pass me the medical bag." Ralph reached into the bag and grabbed out some of the bandages. He stuffed them into the gash and managed to halve the flow of the water. He reckoned he'd be able to sleep for about two hours.
"Cora, honey, I'm going to got to sleep. You have to keep bailing. When the water reaches within five or six inches of the seat you need to wake me up, or in two hours."
Ralph lay back in the boat and pulled his frozen feet up onto the other seat. He was almost asleep when Cora's scream broke the silence.
"Shark! Ralph! Shark!"
Ralph jerked up, and cast a frantic look about him. He dug the sleep from his eyes and tried to see what Cora was pointing at.
"There is a shark out there!"
"Cora, honey calm down!" Ralph watched the ocean carefully for any sign of a fin. He was fairly sure that there were no sharks this far north but he wasn't certain. He twisted and surveyed the entire horizon. Faintly in the sunlight he caught a glimpse of a gleaming white reflection.
"Cora! What is that? Look over there and tell me what you see." Ralph pointed toward the distance.
"It looks like a iceberg or something I think" she sobbed. "Ralph, there really was a shark. I saw the fin, I'm sure of it"
"It's all right, hon. If there was a shark its gone now. We need to get to that iceberg. Help me get the oars in." Ralph, groaned as he moved into position near Cora's feet. His back throbbed unmercifully and the warmth was bringing back feeling to his fingers. Unfortunately, that feeling was pain.
"The iceberg is in the wrong direction. I thought we were going to row towards land?" Cora asked.
"The iceberg is land. Hopefully we can get off of the boat and drag it onto the berg. I think I could repair the hole, or at least patch it with the stuff in my bag. And, more importantly, I remember watching a show on the television about the ice patrol." Ralph wrapped his swollen hands around the oars and started to row north. "The coast guard monitor icebergs that are moving into the shipping lanes. Each day they send out a plane to monitor their movements. If they are watching this berg we should see a plane today or tomorrow."
"But what if this isn't one they are watching?" Cora asked. "How long are we going to have to stay on it?"
"Long enough to patch this hole and to get some sleep. I can't row for two days with no sleep and we have to stop the water from coming into the boat." Ralph grunted as he dug the oars into the waves.
The hours dragged by as the iceberg took shape on the horizon. Ralph was ecstatic about it. The iceberg was old and had melted almost flat on the surface. The top was only three or four feet off the ocean, but there was a sloping portion which stood almost ten feet above the water level.
"Look Cora! This is a gift from God. The slope we can use to keep the wind off us and we can stay warm and rest."
"Ralph! The shark!" Cora shouted and pointed behind him.
Ralph turned and looked. Between the iceberg and the boat there really was a fin. It was huge and black. Ralph knew that this was no shark. It was an Orca, killer whale. The whale was some way off yet but between them and the iceberg. Ralph waited, watching the fin travel off to the west. After a brief second it submerged into the dark sea and was gone. Ralph grasped the oars and dug them into the water.
"I knew I saw it" Cora shouted. "What are we going to do? Will it attack us?"
"We're going to get to the iceberg. Just keep bailing and I'll row." Ralph yelled.
Ralph felt as if his arms were going to drop off by the time they reached the iceberg. His hands burned like fire. Keeping a fearful eye on the ocean he brought the boat to the side of the berg.
"Cora, you have to help me. When we get near the berg you'll need to keep a close eye around the boat. The ice is rock-hard and if the waves drive us into the side it might break the boat." Ralph watched his wife. She managed a nod and turned. The ice was flat and featureless. Ralph studied the sides as he rowed around the massive dreadnought.
It was getting late now and the darkness was beginning to close in on them. Ralph knew that he had to find somewhere to dock the boat before dark. Neither of them were in any shape to bail out the leaking boat and the orca would not have gone that far away. To spend another night in the boat would mean death.
Finally, as they came around the other side of the berg, he could see a nice spot where the waves had worn down the sides. The water lapped up onto the ice, and he thought he would be able to beach the boat far enough up for it to stay on the berg. Ralph approached and turned slightly out into the ocean to get a good run at the sloping ice. He ignored the burning muscles and dug deep into the water. The boat shot in toward the berg. The waves helping to push the boat.
Ralph stole a glance at the on rushing ice, hoping that the berg wouldn't tip up, causing the boat to crash head-on into the hardened pack ice. He turned and dug deeply into the water again. Suddenly in front of him he could see the torpedolike shape of the killer whale coming at them like a train. Ralph screamed incoherently and rowed with all his might. The whale was going to try to smash them against the ice.
Ralph could hear Cora screaming, and he could hear his own voice as well, but his mind was watching the approaching shape. "Graceful, it looks truly graceful," he thought.
The boat slammed into the ice with a bone jarring crash, just as the furrow of water from the forthcoming whale slammed into the aft of the boat. The water drove the boat even higher onto the berg.
Ralph laughed deliriously and stood to see the whale. The whale rose from the ocean and slammed down onto the berg. Ralph could hear the ice crack under its ponderous weight.
As the iceberg tipped Ralph felt himself flying over the side of the boat. Pain screamed up his arms as his hands smashed into the rock hard ice. He was sliding down the slope toward the monster.
Ralph snatched desperately for something to hold onto. He could hear Cora yelling. He grabbed the side of the boat and he felt Cora's hands holding his arm. He had stopped sliding.
Ralph watched the whale slide off the ice back into the water. Its eerie, intelligent eyes watching him as it returned to its element.
"God, Ralph! It almost got you!" Cora gasped. "Is it gone?"
"We need to move the boat farther up onto the ice!" Ralph struggled to stand and push the boat. He heaved against the aft, he never saw the explosion of water behind him. He looked into Cora's horror-stricken eyes, and heard the crash of the whale against the ice.
*
Delta-Tango-Five to base. We are at the iceberg where the spotter plane sighted the boat. There is no one here. Over. I repeat no one present, do you copy?
The story A Drop in the Ocean is Copyright 1998 by Rick Dearman.
The collection of works called Fish Eggs For The Soul is Copyright 1998 by Brian Rickman.
Copy edited by Sara Fawbush, editor of The Young Writer's Collection.