of Jim's vest. In a few seconds, we flipped over the float and collapsed on the bottom of the raft.
Georgie took the container from Jim: a smooth thick cylinder welded to a long chrome harpoon with three locking rings and a winch rope fed through one of them. The crane operator unscrewed the cylinder top and produced rolled-up harnesses fitted with spring hooks. He tore off the strings and unfolded the slings like paper streamers. Then he looked up.
"What now?" I said when I saw the expression on his face.
" Only three!"
I snatched the container from the crane operator and gave it a shake. A signal cartridge rolled out.
"Have you used a harness before? Cut the rope off the floats and tie it together to make another harness. Jim - help him!"
I pulled out the machete, handed it to Georgie and started checking the package. When I undid one of the hooks and lay the straps out in front of me, they formed a primitive harness. Easier than a parachute. I pushed the container toward Wong,
"D'you know how to put it on?"
The raft lurched. Georgie screamed as his head plunged underwater. Jim grabbed his legs and pulled him back on board.
"Move it," I ordered.
The crane operator pitched Jim a length of rope and leaned overboard to cut some more. The Chinese picked up a strap, threw it across his back and clipped the hooks close.
" Wladas," I turned to him, "spread your arms wide."
The neurotech was pale, his lips shaking, panic in his eyes. I forced his elbows higher and threw the harness over his shoulders. The straps lashed across his shoulder blades. I fastened the hooks on his chest and pressed him to the float. "Stay put!"
He nodded loo king past me at the waves. I grabbed the third strap and turned to Grunt, "Raise your hands!"
When he locked his fingers on his head, I fed the straps under his arms and clipped the hooks. I straightened a twisted shoulder strap, reached for the harpoon and attached Grunt to one of the three lock rings.
" Got the straps?" I turned to Jim.
"Here," he spread out two lengths of rope tied together to form a makeshift harness. Another one was already fitted across his chest. Next to him sat Georgie, the machete on his lap, finishing yet another harness.
"Hook me up," I leaned toward Jim and spread my arms wide. He did it in seconds and pulled at the knot testing it.
"All done!"
I took the machete and the signal cartridge and checked the others. Wong, Grunt and Wladas sat still, already hooked up to the chrome harpoon. The Chinese straightened the rescue rope that hung overboard.
"Georgie, hook yourself up to the captain. I'm with Wladas, Jim with-"
Wong grabbed the youngster's shoulders, pulled himself close and clasped the boy's chest knot with his own hook. I did the same with Wladas. Georgie and the captain took quite a while.
When they were finished, I raised my hand with the signal cartridge and unscrewed the base. The lanyard dropped into my hand. I pulled it.
A snap. Hissing, a splash of white light headed for the low clouds.
" Hold on!" I managed. The rescue rope jerked out of the water, drew tight and pulled the raft toward the shore.
The w aves foamed, the thunderstorm raged overhead, bolts of lightning ripping through the dark. One or two hit the ocean piercing the water far from the raft which bobbed about on the waves. Every now and then its bottom slammed the water with a heart-stopping jolt before jumping up in the air again.
We approached the rocky shore at neck-breaking speed. As the raft jumped again, a bolt of lightning illuminated the reversing truck by the cliff and the men inside. The tripod was nowhere to be seen, and the rescue rope disappeared inside the truck.
The raft dived and Wladas screamed in my ear. For a moment, we soared over the waves - but already without our little vessel. I tried to draw my knees up to my chest. Too late. We hit the surface, jumped out and smashed back down again, drawn deep under water.
We could unhook ourselves at any
Georgie took the container from Jim: a smooth thick cylinder welded to a long chrome harpoon with three locking rings and a winch rope fed through one of them. The crane operator unscrewed the cylinder top and produced rolled-up harnesses fitted with spring hooks. He tore off the strings and unfolded the slings like paper streamers. Then he looked up.
"What now?" I said when I saw the expression on his face.
" Only three!"
I snatched the container from the crane operator and gave it a shake. A signal cartridge rolled out.
"Have you used a harness before? Cut the rope off the floats and tie it together to make another harness. Jim - help him!"
I pulled out the machete, handed it to Georgie and started checking the package. When I undid one of the hooks and lay the straps out in front of me, they formed a primitive harness. Easier than a parachute. I pushed the container toward Wong,
"D'you know how to put it on?"
The raft lurched. Georgie screamed as his head plunged underwater. Jim grabbed his legs and pulled him back on board.
"Move it," I ordered.
The crane operator pitched Jim a length of rope and leaned overboard to cut some more. The Chinese picked up a strap, threw it across his back and clipped the hooks close.
" Wladas," I turned to him, "spread your arms wide."
The neurotech was pale, his lips shaking, panic in his eyes. I forced his elbows higher and threw the harness over his shoulders. The straps lashed across his shoulder blades. I fastened the hooks on his chest and pressed him to the float. "Stay put!"
He nodded loo king past me at the waves. I grabbed the third strap and turned to Grunt, "Raise your hands!"
When he locked his fingers on his head, I fed the straps under his arms and clipped the hooks. I straightened a twisted shoulder strap, reached for the harpoon and attached Grunt to one of the three lock rings.
" Got the straps?" I turned to Jim.
"Here," he spread out two lengths of rope tied together to form a makeshift harness. Another one was already fitted across his chest. Next to him sat Georgie, the machete on his lap, finishing yet another harness.
"Hook me up," I leaned toward Jim and spread my arms wide. He did it in seconds and pulled at the knot testing it.
"All done!"
I took the machete and the signal cartridge and checked the others. Wong, Grunt and Wladas sat still, already hooked up to the chrome harpoon. The Chinese straightened the rescue rope that hung overboard.
"Georgie, hook yourself up to the captain. I'm with Wladas, Jim with-"
Wong grabbed the youngster's shoulders, pulled himself close and clasped the boy's chest knot with his own hook. I did the same with Wladas. Georgie and the captain took quite a while.
When they were finished, I raised my hand with the signal cartridge and unscrewed the base. The lanyard dropped into my hand. I pulled it.
A snap. Hissing, a splash of white light headed for the low clouds.
" Hold on!" I managed. The rescue rope jerked out of the water, drew tight and pulled the raft toward the shore.
The w aves foamed, the thunderstorm raged overhead, bolts of lightning ripping through the dark. One or two hit the ocean piercing the water far from the raft which bobbed about on the waves. Every now and then its bottom slammed the water with a heart-stopping jolt before jumping up in the air again.
We approached the rocky shore at neck-breaking speed. As the raft jumped again, a bolt of lightning illuminated the reversing truck by the cliff and the men inside. The tripod was nowhere to be seen, and the rescue rope disappeared inside the truck.
The raft dived and Wladas screamed in my ear. For a moment, we soared over the waves - but already without our little vessel. I tried to draw my knees up to my chest. Too late. We hit the surface, jumped out and smashed back down again, drawn deep under water.
We could unhook ourselves at any
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