Part Two: Eluding Davey Jones

If you haven’t read part one click here before you continue...Eyes bleary I followed Captain Tom up the companionway to the deck. The crew was standing around in the cockpit talking in low voices. “Get the life raft,” Tom ordered. Two people lifted the port seat in the cockpit and begin fishing it out – it caught and not knowing better one of them yanked it, the cord pulled and bang, it began inflating. Startled they dragged it into the pit where it hissed until it filled. Tom swore and grabbed me by the shoulder, dragged me back down below and aft, to the owners cabin. Water was up to my shinbones. I could hear the pump muttering and chugging. It smelled damp and sweaty, airless. Strange to hear water inside - slapping against the cabin walls, gurgling through the bilge as we shifted on the long, rolling swells. “It’s coming up through here,” Tom said. He shoved his flashlight at me and reaching down, tore up the teak floorboards and heaved them onto a bunk. “It’s the shaft,” he said. “Shook the plate loose. We’re taking water through the hull.” We looked at each other in the dim light for a second and then the pump whined and quit. Burned out. “This god damned tin can will sink like a stone,” he barked. No wind. We didn’t dare motor. Our only hope was Puerto Rico. Tom splashed back to the main cabin and picked up the VHF radio at the nav table...Stay tuned to Zephyr for the final chapter (and send me your sea tales so I can post them)