Slaves of Elysium by W. S. Antony Page A

finally impinged on Rebecca she desperately snatched up her jewellery case and hugged it to her chest. Then the two staggered down the corridor after Jeni to the lower helm where Ash was already seated.
    The storm worsened by the minute, increasing in ferocity as quickly as the one that had cut short the race to Nassau.
    â€˜Without the engines there’s no way we can ride this one out,’ Ash shouted to Devereaux, who nodded dumbly. A huge wave broke over the bow, pounding against the hull like a giant hammer. From somewhere forward Jeni heard a tearing, splintering sound.
    â€˜She’s coming apart!’ Ash shouted. Some of the displays on the helm dash began to flicker and wink out. The main cabin lights died. Ash snapped on a flashlight. ‘That’s it,’ he said decisively, hauled himself out of his seat and staggered across the tossing deck to the rear saloon doors. ‘I’m getting the life raft ready.’
    â€˜I’ll get the reserve water,’ Devereaux roused himself enough to say, and picked up another flashlight and headed for the galley.
    Ash slid back the saloon door onto the darkening night, letting in a spray of water and the full howling fury of the storm. He clawed his way across to a large metal cylinder mounted by the stern rail and twisted and tugged at its latch. The cylinder split apart, forced open by billowing fluorescent fabric, swelling and taking shape before their eyes as it inflated.
    Devereaux reappeared carrying two plastic carboys of water. Jeni took one from him and they staggered towards the saloon door, with Rebecca following still clutching her jewel case. The deck of the saloon was slowly tilting towards the bows, quite independently of the storm-induced pitching.
    The Galatea was sinking.
    Fully inflated, the life raft bounced and swayed on its tethers off the stern rail, a red beacon flashing on the top of its domed canopy. Ash, already soaked by the driving spray, was working his way along the rails back to the doorway, and in a few moments he had strung a line between the saloon door across the deck to a large eyelet set in the side of the raft.
    A wave broke over the deck, washing into the saloon over their ankles and almost knocking Ash off his feet. Rebecca eyed the gap between the door and the weather flaps of the bucking inflatable and shrank back.
    â€˜I can’t do it!’ she cried.
    â€˜There’s no choice!’ Devereaux shouted. ‘Look, I’ll get in first, ready to help you.’ He hauled himself along the safety line over the streaming deck and dropped into the raft, then turned about and beckoned to Rebecca.
    â€˜You’ll need both hands!’ Jeni shouted. ‘Forget your jewels!’
    â€˜No!’ Rebecca stubbornly refused. ‘I’m not losing them!’
    In desperation Jeni snatched the box out of Rebecca’s hands and threw it to Devereaux, who miraculously managed to catch it, then she pushed Rebecca out onto the deck. Ash caught her arm, closed her hands over the safety line and shoved her towards Devereaux who reached out towards her. Jeni felt the bow of the yacht dropping away behind her and sprang for the line. Ash’s strong hands caught her and helped her along.
    Jeni was right behind Rebecca when she saw a wall of water emerge from the storm-lashed night. For a moment it seemed to hang suspended over the doomed yacht, then it crashed down with a roaring hammer blow that blotted out every other sensation.
    The next thing Jeni knew she was breaking the surface supported by her lifejacket, retching and gagging and gasping for air. Lightning flashed, illuminating the Galatea twenty metres away, her stern lifting into the air. Ash was clinging limply to the handrail. To one side was the life raft, bobbing freely on the waves. Of Rebecca there was no sign.
    Then the flash faded, leaving purple afterimages in Jeni’s stinging eyes.
    When the sky lit up again she saw nothing