I get to work, getting the smallest amount of food and water so that it won’t weigh down the life raft, while being the most calorie dense and nutritious.
This is fucking crazy, I tell myself.
It’s all I can tell myself.
I can’t allow myself to really think about what’s happening because if I do, I will lose it. And if I lose it, I can’t keep my friends safe.
After Atarangi’s death, I swore I would never be afraid of the ocean. That I wouldn’t let it take that power from me. As if the ocean was a sentient, malevolent being that wanted to harm her. I felt like I made a bargain every time I stepped on a boat, and now I’m afraid that maybe that bargain has run its course.
It’s time to collect.
I shove those thoughts away. I can’t right now.
I have to fix this.
When I’m done with the food, I head up top and look around. The waves are bigger, the cockpit is filled with an inch of water that barely has enough time to drain before it’s filled again.
Once I’m clipped in, I make my way to the life raft at the back. There’s the dingy too, that’s been hauled up for the voyage, resting on its side on the starboard side of the boat, but it’s smaller and there’s not enough time to get it ready.
When everything looks ready to go, Richard pops his head up briefly.
“Five miles,” he says grimly.
I go back downstairs and sit at the navigation table. Lacey and Daisy have gathered around us.
I pick up the VHF receiver, searching for a signal.
I hold down the button and say something I never thought I’d say.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the sailing vessel Atarangi.”
Eleven
Daisy
My phone.
I know Tai just said to grab whatever essentials we needed for a week at sea, but I have to take my phone. Sure, there’s no signal out here but maybe on whatever island we might crash on there will be. What if there is wi-fi? I could make a castaway Instagram account. At the very least, my phone could keep us entertained.
Better grab a charger, too.
I stick the phone and the charger in a Ziploc pouch, sealing it tight, then shove it in my Louis Vuitton Speedy, which is the size of a small duffle bag and already stuffed to the gills with everything else I’ve deemed an essential item. For a moment I’m worried that the salt water will damage the patina but then I realize how stupid of a concern that is when we all might die.
I haven’t been letting myself think that way. In fact, I’m trying not to give much thought to anything right now. My heart is pounding and I feel like I’m floating as I run around trying to pack for what could be weeks at sea.
There are so many “what ifs” that want to tear through my brain right now.
What if the boat sinks before we can abandon ship and we drown?
What if the life raft doesn’t work and we’re stuck on top of the ship, waiting for help?
What if the life raft sinks?
What if we fall overboard and are eaten by sharks?
What if no one will rescue us?
It doesn’t do me any good, so I just bat each hysteria-inducing thought out of my head, and focus on anything else I need right now.
“Do you have everything?” Lacey asks frantically as she pops her head in the cabin.
My heart sinks. “I don’t know. I don’t want to leave any of this behind. What about my Kindle, my laptop? I have an expensive crossbody bag in my suitcase, I…”
She shakes her head and gives me a vicious little glare. “Really? That’s what you’re worried about right now? Your fucking purse? Maybe stop being shallow for a moment and realize what’s happening.”
“I know what’s happening, okay?” I yell. “I’m trying to, just, handle this!”
“Ladies,” Richard calls out from the nav table. “We’re at five miles.”
Shit.
I grab my bag and we head back into the main cabin, while Richard pokes his head into the cockpit. “Five miles,” he warns Tai.
Tai appears a second later, soaked to the bone, a lock of wet dark hair sticking to his forehead. He avoids my eyes and sits down at the nav table, eyeing the radar.
Picks up the VHF radio receiver.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the sailing vessel Atarangi.”
The words make my stomach churn.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday,” he repeats. “This is the sailing vessel Atarangi. We are in a distress situation. Steering has gone out. We are being pushed toward land, five miles out. We are at…” he pauses to read the chart. “18°13’53.2 south and 178°46’22.0 west. There are four people on board. I believe we are in danger of running aground a reef near one of the Lau Islands. Over.”