Introduction

Art Work by Doug O'Dell - Running the Edge (An online Fiction Action Novel) Matthew Jacobs, a member of an elite U.S. Coast Guard search and rescue team, finds himself facing the greatest challenge of his life. As a confident and aggressive search and rescue coxswain operating the venerable 44foot motor lifeboats, his job is to do the impossible, but sometimes the impossible can’t be done and he finds himself unable to save the crew of the fishing vessel Marc Eagle during a dramatic rescue attempt. During the failed rescue, he also loses two of his crewmen and very nearly his own life. He faces a loss of confidence and is haunted by the events of that fateful night. His world is further complicated when the former love of his life, the daughter of the skipper of the Marc Eagle, returns from her overseas missionary assignment and reveals a hidden secret, one that could forever tear them apart. Not only must they run the edge of danger presented by the tumultuous waters off the Oregon Coast, they must run the edge of their emotions as they attempt to reconcile their lives. Together they must face a final test that not only challenges their faith, but threatens to destroy them both.

2022/05/12

Running The Edge: Chapter 20 - The Challenge

 

Chapter 20

The Challenge

 

                “We’ll catch up to them about the time they reach the bar unless they slow down.” Matt shouted.

                Nathan moved in closer, “Just get me close enough so I can cross over.”

                “You can’t take Hoke by yourself. If they are in the breakers there’s no telling what will happen. If it’s as bad as I think it is, they won’t be able to handle it. She’ll go down or end up on the Jetty for sure.”

                “All I need to do is get Sharon and Nicki off. I don’t care about the boat or Hoke. If he is looking to kill himself, so be it. But, the only way to get them off is for me to get on board.  You can’t do it, Johnson can’t do it, I have to do it. No matter what else happens, you have to put me on that boat. Matt are you up to this?”

                Nathan’s desperate question gripped Matt in the chest. He turned away and felt the exploding bar pound shockwaves through him. It was the same resonance, the same conditions, possibly worse as that nightmarish night, that engulfed his mind. The pounding of his own heart roared through him filling his head with a reverberating pulse. With each reverberation, the pit in his gut tightened. Visions of that terrible night haunted his mind. He heard again the screams, the breaking spars, the tearing of flesh, the rolling, tumbling chaotic moments. His mouth grew dry and sweat formed across his brow and back. It was as though a fragile poison vile broke apart inside of him feeding his fears with venom. The closer they moved toward the bar, the more out of control his emotions became. His chest was about to explode and panic again gripped his gut. A blank stare fell across his face. He released his hold on the wheel and stared at his right hand that shaking uncontrollably. He wanted to resign this moment, to turn back, as fear fed by the poison of doubt, screamed inside of him.

                Nathan spied the look in Matt’s face. What he feared most was playing out where Matt could not face the demons that haunted him. He grabbed Matt by the shoulders and shouted, “Matthew…I can’t do this alone. I need you. Lock it in.”

                Matt stared straight through Nathan. His ashen face unable to focus. The ME II was but seventy-five yards away, the bar two hundred fifty yards beyond. They were not going to catch them in time.

                “Matthew, listen to me, look at me. I need you. Sharon needs you!” Nathan shot a glance at Johnson who shook his head with doubt.

                Matt shook his head, closed his eyes and look straight at Nathan. Nathan’s frantic voice shocked his mind and drew him back from the brink of the contagious grip of defeatism that dragged him to the flanks of a dark abys. He closed his eyes tight again trying to clear the fog, the fear that overwhelmed his sense of life would not let go. Never before had he prayed, but from within his soul he fought for control and forced a pale dawn of reason back into reality.

                 The hour he desperately tried to avoid, was upon him and he had a choice to make; to rely on his own failing strength, or cry out to God. With silent thoughts he prayed, “God if I ever needed you, it is now.”

                He opened his eyes. His insides still churned, but a new found determination swept through him. He snapped toward Nathan and with lungs filled with chilled air, he shouted back. “I’m with you. We’re going to do this. They’re going to hit the breakers before we get to them. I have to go straight in, there is no time to line it up, so you must be ready when I pull alongside. Forget about Hoke and just get Sharon and Nicki off that boat. Let’s do this.”

Nathan reached his hand forward to grasp Matts hand. Matt hesitated, then grabbed the hand of his old friend with a thumb-to-thumb grip. Nathan held with vise-like strength, unwilling to let go. He stared into Matt’s eyes, “We can do this…you can do this.”

Matt snapped a confident nod and then a beam of revelation overcame his expression. He sat higher in the chair, turned toward the ME II and no longer felt the wind or rain. The vibrations of the engines penetrated throughout his body, and he at once experienced separation from the blaring confusion that had previously held him captive. His vision drifted forward as though he could visualize what was going to happen next. A warmth of assurance swept over him like a hot wind.

“Piece of cake Nate.”

Nathan gave Matt’s hand one final hard embrace and with a quick nod, stepped into the lower well.

The radio cracked, “CG44303, this is Coast Guard Air Rescue CG1369.”

Matt grabbed the microphone, “1369…come back.”

“Matt this is Ian. We’re two miles north of your position will be on site in one minute. What’s going on down there? Do you need our assistance?”

“Standby over the bar. Hoke has lost his mind and I think he wants to kill himself in a blaze of insanity.” He paused before continuing. “Ian…Sharon and Nicki are on board.”

                Ian rolled his eyes toward Michaels caught in the realization that what was unfolding below could have more than profound consequences. Michaels shot out a question, “You know those people.”

                “More deeply than you know.” He turned his head forward, lowered it and with closed eyes he whispered. “Father in Heaven, protect these two, precious people with all of your power and glory and elevate Matthew and his crew giving them the strength and skill they will need.”

                Captain Michaels kept his eyes forward but shifted them to the right as Ian prayed. He couldn’t help but hear Ian’s words as the intercom was still on. He said nothing until Ian finished, then added, “That goes for me too, Amen,” then he crossed himself as an exclamation point. From the back, Pell added, “Yeah, count me in.”

                Michaels, not sure the position of the 331, contacted them on the radio. Still about three miles out, they were too far away to make it in time to join in the immediate situation, but would standby outside the bar once on site.

                Ian demanded, “Cap, I know this is not normal protocol, but should the need arise we’ll need to put a swimmer in the water.”

                Michaels shook his head, “Oh, no, no way buddy, you are not leaving this chopper for any reason. They’d skin me alive if I let you do that.”

                “Forget protocol, that’s why I’m here, I’ve done this before while flying out of Scotland, but the Coast Guard doesn’t have a designated swimmer program yet, but we do have the swim gear on board. You can handle the flying by yourself and Airman Pell can assist, and I’ve done this kind of rescue work. I can do it.”

                “Slow down you Limey cowboy. I said no.”

                Frustrated, Ian kept at him, “You willing to let someone die to maintain protocol or break it to save a life...isn’t that we’re here for?”

                Michaels said nothing he only shook his head as he tossed the idea around. Ian raised his eyebrows as though he was wanting an answer.

                “Maybe, just maybe they won’t need us. But, if the need arises, and that is a big if, I’ll evaluate the situation at the time. Until then you better get that gear ready just in case. But you stay in this chopper unless I authorized it…got that.”

                Ian lobbed an approving grin across his face and patted Michaels on top of his helmet. “Ata boy,” he said as he climbed out of the copilot’s seat. He extracted a set of swim fins, mask, and snorkel, and changed from his flight suit into a neoprene wetsuit. By this time, they were over the bar and the pilot hovered about 100 feet facing the wind.

                -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                Sharon struggled to keep her balance as the swells became more chaotic rocking the boat back and forth, then pitching it up and over. It became more difficult for Hoke to handle the helm and his eyes once bent on suicide, began to burn with fear. Above her she noticed a single lifejacket stuffed inside a wire shelf and reached high to wrench it free. She wrapped it around Nicki and fastened it as tight as she could, shifting her eyes back and forth toward Hoke and back where she was tying straps. ‘Honey, it’s going to get very rough and wet, so you must hold on tight.”

Nicki nodded. A few seconds later the ME II was rocked by the first line of breakers jolting the bow upward at a steep angle. For two seconds she hung in the air then her 20 tons arched over and slammed hard on the backside throwing out a massive spray. Hoke grunted with a deep panicked bellow as he lost his footing and fell across the helm.

Sharon screamed when she and Nicki were thrown into the air and slammed hard against the bulkhead. She lost her grip on Nicki and scrambled to regain her hold but Nicki spun away rolling against the side of the wheelhouse. The lifejacket she was wearing soften the blow, but she was jolted and screamed when she hit. Sharon gathered herself and crawled to Nicki rolling up with her into a partial ball, but extending her legs and wedging herself against the rear bulkhead and the side of the wheelhouse.

                “Hold me tight.” Nicki cried.

Matthew barked, “They’re in the breakers…stand ready, we’re going in.” He tried to apply more throttle but they were already at maximum. The 44’s were magnificent rescue boats, but he often wished they had more speed. They were designed instead for maneuverability with lots of torque for towing heavy loads, and to handle the heavy water conditions like they were about to challenge. Normally, he would work the throttles, maneuvering and timing his entry, but there was no time and he allowed the 303 to hit the first line of breakers at full speed, throwing them upward into an airborne arc. The 303 plowed through and sailed over to top, like a jumping dolphin, her bow and stern thrown clear at the top of the breaker by her momentum.  Icy waters exploded around them as she plunged bow first back into the surface.

Hoke’s panic spread across his face and dug deeper into his fear. In his mind he heard the taunting voices laughing. He grabbed his ears trying to stop the laughs, but they continued louder and louder until he screamed, “Stop it!” Angry and realizing he had been deceived, he abandoned the thought of dying and searched for a way to save himself. He vacated the helm just as another thirty-foot breaker rose to collide with them, his eyes and head shifting and twisting frantic to find something he could use to keep himself from drowning. Seconds later the breaker exploded across the bow, shoving the ME II sideways deep inside the worst part of the breakers. The ME II teetered on edge of capsizing, rolling heavily to port before dipping over and across the backside of the breaker to right herself.

The south jetty loomed out of the darkness forty yards away, its black rocks covered with foam that outlined the jagged contours of the massive boulders. The jolt from that breaker unhinged the cover to the lower hold area and tons of water poured through the opening to flood the engine room.

The starboard side outrigger broke free and began to swing wildly in a giant arc slamming hard when it collided with the side of the wheelhouse shattering a side windshield. Its base mount cracked under the strain. The pole swung back in the other direction as the ME II bucked against another swell, there was nothing to stop it and it crashed into the backside of the wheelhouse shattering another side windshield.

Matt realized the out-of-control outrigger posed a threat to the 303 blocking the best approach with its wild undulations. He had no choice but to back off the throttles. The same breaker than exploded over the MEII rolled toward them. He spun the helm forcing the 303 to face into the roller and over she toppled to slam hard again against the back side. The ME II was thirty yards away, sideways in the heart of the breakers. The south jetty was twenty-five yards to the other side.

Hoke’s rabid search around the wheelhouse locked on to the life jacket Nicki was wearing. He lunged forward to grab her trying to rip it off. Sharon vaulted to her feet hitting and slapping at Hoke with her hands. With one arm he pushed her aside slamming her to the deck. Nicki was kicking and screaming. He slapped her, Sharon hurdled to her feet, this time with a doubled fist, she screamed at Hoke, “Leave her alone.” And threw a roundhouse punch as hard as she could catching him across the nose. The blow staggered his massive bulk causing him to drop Nicki. Sharon plucked her from the deck and backed away. Before Hoke could respond another thirty-foot breaker rolled toward them like a liquid behemoth, it raced toward them, rising higher. The front of the swell picking up the ME II bucking her hard to port before it crashed into the wheelhouse.

The remaining starboard windshield exploded inward, glass shards sliced and spun across the enclosure. One shard caught Hoke in the upper arm near his shoulder causing him to cry out. He yanked it out and threw it. Tons of water flooded through the opening grabbing Sharon and Nicki with its force pushing them into the far bulkhead. The ME II bucked again, tipped sharply back to starboard slamming both him and Sharon into the helm. The ME II, now dead in the water and filling with tons of ocean,  floundering, and was shoved closer to the jetty rocks.

Matt had no more options. As the ME II rolled in front of him, the remaining force of the breaker caught the 303 at an angle and lifted her across its boiling face shoving it backwards for twenty yards before letting go. Johnson clung to the handrails keeping himself upright.

Nathan shouted, “Matt she won’t take much more…we have to get in there, now.”

Matt jammed the throttles full forward and again spun the helm to starboard. The MEII sat lower in the water inside a trough between the two main breaker lines only yards from the jetty.

“Nate…get ready…” Matt shouted barely heard above the roar but Nate already stood in position on the rear compartment ramp. Ten feet from the ME II the 303 was moving at full speed, when Matt jammed the engines into reverse, the 303 shuttered as the transmission protested at the sudden change. He spun the wheel hard to port allowing the side and stern of the 303 to fishtail into the ME II causing it to collide hard against the hull.

“Now!”

Nathan leaped with all of might and landed hard on the cluttered aft deck, rolling onto his side. Matt kept the engines in reverse trying to maintain contact with the hull of the MEII.

Matt yelled, “Johnson, get down there and be ready to help them across.” He immediately jumped into the lower well, clinging to the hand rail attached to the rear compartment.

Another oversized breaker began to build behind the MEII. Matt spun his helm to starboard ramming the bow into the side of the MEII shoving her like a tug to turn her into the onslaught. Without the turn she would capsize.

 The 303 scraped forward along the hull of the floundering vessel, but he kept pressure on her massive hull until both began to turn into the breaker. It was just enough movement to allow the breaker to roll under them allowing them to slide over the top, the breaker continuing on past them to break against the jetty. Matt continued to apply throttle to hold the ME II in position by using the force of the swells and the pressure imparted by his hard to starboard turn.

Nathan, clambered to his feet, stumbled, and crawled up the ladder to the wheelhouse. Sharon and Nicki were huddled in a corner and Hoke was stumbling to his feet, hysterical, flaying around, grunting, howling, his eyes wild with terror.

Sharon screamed when Hoke tried to grab Nicki’s lifejacket again. Nathan saw what was happening and kicked in the door. He threw himself into Hoke pulling his massive bulk away from the girls. Hoke stumbled and fell against the helm. Nathan rolled into the girls, “Let’s go, now.” he shouted at Sharon.

She, didn’t question him as he helped both her and Nicki to their feet. Another breaker rolled into them shocking the ME II into a steep angle. Hoke, now standing lost his balance and fell into Nathan as Sharon and Nicki step out the shattered door. His rage exploded as he realized Nathan was aboard and he grabbed him by the back of his survival suit throwing him into the helm. He lunged at Nathan who raised his feet catching him across the chest shoving him back.

Sharon and Nicki spilled from the wheelhouse and lumbered onto the aft deck, then fell to their knees unable to keep their balance as the MEII rolled hard to port. Matt saw them, and yelled, “Sharon! Johnson…go get them,” as he continued to apply pressure to keep the two hulls joined.

Johnson immediately lunged over to the other side and staggered toward Sharon and Nicki. Another breaker bore down on them. Matt yelled a warning. ”Breaker!” Johnson grabbed both Sharon and Nicki pinning them to the handrail below the wheelhouse. The force of the breaker lifted both vessels, shoving them sideways toward the jetty. Matt shot a glance to his left and saw the jetty loom yards away. He tried to force more throttle to keep the bow of the 303 spinning into the side of the ME II shoving both boats away from the jetty. The 303 staggered as her hull brushed against a submerged rock, but her momentum forced them both clear.

Sharon and Nicki screamed, Johnson said nothing, he half carried, mostly forced Sharon and Nicki across the chaotic deck. The broken outrigger pulled loose from where it was jammed and swung wildly flying toward them. Johnson shoved Sharon and Nicki out of the way but the pole caught him in the chest throwing him backwards where he crumpled onto his back. Sharon rolled toward the rear of the deck and when she came to a stop, she lost her hold on Nicki. Another breaker caught them and Sharon screamed as Nicki was washed toward the opposite side. Johnson, in spite of broken ribs leaped to her rescue but missed his grab and she flushed over the side. Sharon scream, “Nicki!”

Johnson, without hesitation leaped over the edge behind her and in two painful strokes grabbed Nicki tight. She, gasping and panicing clung to him. Sharon ran to the side and Johnson with all of his strength lifted Nicki high enough so Sharon could grab hold. With strength she never knew she had, she pulled Nicki back on board, then turned to help Johnson, but he had been pushed too far away for her to help.

Overhead the crew of the 1369 saw what had happened. “Cap we got a man overboard, man overboard!” Pell shouted. Ian shot a hard look toward Michaels who without hesitation gave him the go ahead and he lowered the 1369 to within 20 feet of the water maintaining their forward view toward the incoming breakers. Ian, with Pell’s help, slid to the edge of the door, took a quick look for debris and jumped. A wall of water rose in front of the 1369 as Ian dropped toward the water and Michaels immediately climbed barely missing the top of the massive swell.

Ian came to the surface, blew the water out of his snorkel, spun and located Johnson who by this time was floundering. He kicked hard and with powerful strokes closed the distance between them, pulled up and dove to below Johnson’s feet. Righting himself, he grabbed Johnsons legs and spun him around, then surfaced and crossed an arm around his shoulder squeezing him tight. Three powerful kicks brought Johnson to level, but the tumultuous bar threatened to tear them apart. Ian tried to maintain some forward movement but found it nearly impossible in the surf.

Overhead, Michaels brought the 1369 to a lower altitude and Pell had already started lowering the sling. “Forward and right……forward……sling in the water……sling in the water. Hold……hold……swimmer has the sling……Victim is in the sling……lifting……15 feet……10 feet…….victim is in the door……victim is secured.”

Michaels shot back, “Get Ian back in here.”

Pell leaned out the door, but could not find Ian. “I’ve lost him…where is he.”

“He’s must be there…keep looking.”

“I don’t see him. Ian, Ian,” he yelled knowing full well Ian could never hear his shouts. Searching left then right he finally caught sight of him, “There he is…behind us…back and left…back and left.”

Michaels struggled to keep the HH-52 steady with the wind, but Pell lowered the sling. “Ian has the sling…he’s in the sling…lifting…15 feet…”

Michaels shouted, “here comes another one…hold on.” Again, he gained altitude. Ian, dangling below them, caught the brunt of the swell and was pushed forward causing him to swing wildly.

Pell regained control of the winch, “lifting…10 feet…5 feet…….swung and spun wildly just outside the choppers hold and Pell swiped then grabbed the collar of his survival suit pulling him inside…I’ve got ‘em…inside and secured.”

Nathan and Hoke fought inside the wheelhouse with Nathan trying to get out to help Sharon and Nicki, but Hoke’s rage blinded him, half panicked, half wanting to kill him. Hoke grabbed Nathan from behind as he tried to get away, and threw him to the other side. Another breaker rolled toward them, rising above the wheelhouse and slammed against the side. The ME II slipped deeper, slowly rolling back upright but sitting with a noticeable list to port. Hoke fell backward through the shattered door catching himself against the handrail. He grunted shaking the blurring water from his face. He took one last look at Nathan, then saw his chance to escape. He leaped from the wheelhouse to the lower deck.

Sharon, clinging to Nicki stumbled to the edge where the 303 was, but the last breaker pushed the two vessels apart. Matt jammed the throttled into reverse and spun the wheel so the stern again slammed against the ME II. Sharon, physically spent, fell at the edge, clinging to Nicki, unwilling to let go, they were both done for if another breaker were to catch them exposed.

Matt, threw the throttles into neutral and leaped from his chair and in two steps was in the lower well. “Give me your hand…now.”

Sharon cast a look of utter fatigue, frozen by fear, she could no longer move. “Now…Sharon…give me your hand...For God’s sake, try. “

She closed her eyes and forced a guttural scream to muster her final reserves of strength, she stood with Nicki in her arms, stumbled and fell forward. Matt caught her, wrapping his arms around both of them and with one final heave lifted them across where they collapsed into the lower well.

“Where’s Nathan.” Matt shouted.

All Sharon could say was “Hoke.”

Matt raised his head just in time to see Hoke lunge across the gap and collide with him knocking him to the deck. Hoke shoved and flailed in wild attempts to get to his feet. Finding his footing he scaled his way into the helm, and jammed the throttles forward pulling the 303 away from the ME II. Matt fought to raise himself and he staggered into the coxswains flat grabbing Hoke by the back of his soaked jacket. It took all of his strength, but he pulled him off the chair and they both fell onto the deck. Hoke’s seething rage caused his face to flush a deep red.

His panic returned, but his anger exploded as he could think of nothing but to save his own life. Combined with his bulk, his rage elevated his strength to almost super human levels. He grabbed Matt throwing a wild punch that grazed across his shoulder. Matt stepped back to press against coxswain’s chair and lifted his legs while supporting himself against the helm with his arms, he kicked Hoke in the face, once, then twice, his ribs screaming at him.

The blows staggered the monster of a man and he fell away, but regained his feet and tried to move toward Matt who launched another defensive kick catching him on the chin. Hoke, stunned, wobbled, his feet catching in the tight confines of the space. Another enormous breaker born down on them lifting, then partially rolling the 303 onto her side. Sharon clung to Nicki as they were tossed across the lower well, swallowed by the tons of water. Matt grabbed the helm and held on. Hoke with nothing to grab, flipped backward over the side.

Matt leaped to the side searching for Hoke who was floundering a few feet away in the tumultuous swells not far from the jetty, shouting with panicked fear, ”I can’t swim, can’t swim.” Matthew spun around and grabbed a ring buoy, throwing it toward Hoke. It fell within an arm’s reach but Hoke in his panicked state only splashed with ineffective movements of his arms trying to keep his head above the water.

He gagged and chocked as he tried to reach the buoy, but another large swell lifted and shoved him away from the lifesaving buoy, smashing his body against the black rocks breaking his massive bulk. He lay motionless for a moment, then he rolled off and went under. “Hoke!” Matt tried to find him and pulled the buoy back to throw it again, but he was gone. He grimaced knowing there was no more he could do and had to get the 303 out of harm’s way.

Sharon raised her arm pointing to the MEII, now only moments away from being broken across the black boulders of the jetty. “Nathan…Nathan.”

Matt leaped again into the coxswain’s flat, climbing into the chair he applied more throttle and turned the 303 into the next breaker preventing them from being tossed onto the rocks. The breaker exploded across the bow of the ME II. Nathan rolled from the wheelhouse and tumbled onto the lower deck. Sharon saw him and screamed again, “Nathan.”

Matt jammed one throttle forward and one backward to spin the 303 within her own radius. Once turned he applied full forward throttle and sped to the ME II’s side turning the wheel and jamming the throttles into reverse at the last moment so the 303 rammed into the ME II. Nathan, stumbled and clawed his way to the lower deck and crawled to the edge. Matt yelled, “Now Nathan…now.”

Using the last reserves of his strength, Nathan lifted himself and fell across into the 303’s lower well. Sharon grabbed hold crying, pulling both he and Nickie close. Matt worked the helm to maneuver through one more breaker and away from the rocks. Once out of the breakers and inside the main channel, he backed off the throttles and brought the 303 to an idle.

He checked on Sharon and Nicki who were sobbing. He helped them into the coxswains flat. Nathan struggled to his feet and stood next to Matt. He placed his swollen hand onto the Matt’s shoulder, “Thank you…you did good.”

Matt grabbed hold of Nathans shoulder giving him a strong shake, “We did good.”

Two blankets were extracted from the forward compartment and wrapped around both Sharon and Nicki. Sharon asked Nathan, “Where is the ME II?”

He and Matt had all but given up believing it would succumb to the rocks, but when they shifted their eyes toward the bar, they could see she had somehow passed around the end of the jetty onto the south side.

“She’ll end up beached,” Nathan said.

The radio crackled. “303 this is the 1369.”

Matt lifted the radio microphone, “Go ahead.”

“Just wanted you to know we’ve got your other crewman onboard and will deliver him at the station in few minutes. That was one heck of show you guys put on down there…one fine performance.”

Matt looked at Nathan and then into Sharon’s eyes. “1369…Roger that…thanks for the help. We had a lot of help tonight…a lot of help.”
 

Running The Edge: Chapter 19 - Escape

 

Chapter 19

Escape

                Hoke skidded his truck to a stop near the top of the pier where the Marc Eagle II was berthed. Nicki, still sobbing, cried. “I want to go home. I want to go home.”

                “I said to shut that kid up.” He shook Nicki’s jacket hard before he scrambled out and stormed nervously to the other side and jerked open the door. “Get out.”

                He didn’t wait for them to slide out, he grabbed Sharon’s arm and involuntarily forced her out. She struggled to keep from falling as she grasp Nicki in her arms. The wind and rain cut through her thin jacket. “Come on…let’s go.” Hoke shoved them both forward and roughed her toward the ramp. Impatient with her too slow pace, he pushed her several more times down the pier until they reached Nathan’s boat.

                “Get inside and shut up.”

                Sharon stumbled into the wheelhouse, the piercing dampness plunging into her core. A terrified shiver trembled her soul. Nicki shook uncontrollably as both were drenched from the torrential downpour that spilled from the storm. The ME II, even though tied to the dock, pitched and rolled from the force of the wind like a toy boat.

                Sharon tried to calm herself, but her chest heaved and her voice quivered but she forced out some words, “She’s just a child Hoke. What are you trying to do? She’s scared.”

                “Shut up and keep her quiet or I’ll throw you both overboard.”

                Sharon pulled back clinging even harder to Nicki who continued to sob. “It will be okay…It will be okay.” She tried to calm not only Nicki, but herself. Her mind clogged with fear, searching, scanning around her, grasping hold of the simplest of things she could think of to comfort both of them but her mind felt fogged over with fear.

                Nicki began to whimper and shiver because of the wet clothes, but Hoke grew more agitated and threw his hand around in a powerful backhand slap that caught Sharon across the shoulder knocking her and Nicki to the deck. “I said shut up.” She crawled then hunkered low into a corner of the wheelhouse turning Nicki away from any potential harm Hoke might try to inflict on her.

                 Matt arrived back at the station. He walked into the now crowded outer office sensing that something was up.  “What’s have we got?”

                “Ah Matt, I’m glad you are here. Chief Adams is out with the 331. A Sailing vessel, Marooned, is taking on water about 12 miles north.”

“Where are they now?”

                “They just crossed the bar. And the 1369 is in route from North Bend. They should arrive on site at about the same time.”

                “What’s the bar like?”

                “Bad. Real bad.”

                Matt moved toward the rain drenched window.  An echo from his nightmare reverberated within his mind to fill him with dread. Visions of massive breakers crashed in on him and engulfed his thoughts. He began to breath more heavily. He fought against the anxiety that was starting to well up inside of him, but his struggle failed to slow down its effects. He closed his eyes hoping to shake loose of those visions. The radio cracked.

                “Mayday…mayday…this is sailing vessel Marooned…mayday…please hurry we haven’t got much longer to stay afloat.”

Sheriff Joe’s cruiser pulled into the station and within a few seconds Nathan and Joe entered the building. Nathan’s face filled with agitation, blurted. “What are we doing here? We need to be looking for Sharon and Nicki.”

“Hey, we’re doing everything we can. We’ll find them.” Sherriff Joe tried to calm him down.

                Matt, shook himself free from his nightmare and looked at Nathans bruised face. “What happened to you?”

                Joe spoke first. “Hoke happened again…Matt he’s taken Sharon and Nicki.”

                “What do you mean taken.”

                Nathan spoke up, “I took them home from the hospital and Hoke was waiting and jumped us. He’s out of mind, he’s gone crazy like he’s on drugs. We fought…Matt, I tried, but I just couldn’t stop him, he was too strong. He must have taken them both. He’s crazy Matt. There is no telling what he might do.”

                Matt said nothing, the two of them just locked onto each other’s expression. Nathan lowered his head, “I understand now what it must have been like for you when you could…”

                Matt said nothing, he only projected an acknowledging nod and placed his hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “We’ll find them. Joe, you have any idea where he might be headed?”

                Joe shook his head, “Every available cruiser is out looking. They are in the process of setting up roadblocks, and have already surrounded Hokes living quarters. Hostage situations can be tricky, but if he’s still in town, we’ll corner him.”

Nathan, frustrated walked to the back window that offered a good view of the harbor and the entrance channel. He stared intently through the storm looking for anything that might provide a clue. At first, he didn’t notice the obvious, then he took a second look.

                “I know where they are.”

                Joe turned around. “What do mean.”

                “They’re here. Hoke may big and strong but he’s also stupid. There’s his truck sitting at the top of the pier and my boat is lit up. I never leave lights on inside.”

                Joe and Matt joined Nathan at the rain-soaked window. “See, there’s someone inside. It has to be them. Let’s go.”

                Joe stopped him from rushing out the door, “We can’t just go running over there. Let me call in backup. If we barge in there’s no telling what he might do.”

                Nathan shot a worried look at Matt. Joe removed the transceiver from its holder on his belt and contacted the dispatcher requesting backup.

                “Matt shifted his view to the water’s edge and saw exhaust bubbling from the ME II’s engine room. Hoke then stepped out and disconnected the mooring lines and stepped back inside and motored the ME II away from the dock.

                “They’re getting underway.”

                “Where does he think he’s going. There’s no way he can cross that bar. It would be suicide.”

                Nathan jumped in, “I said he was out of his mind. He said he’d get even. He killed Ruth and now he’s probably bent on killing himself along with Sharon and Nicki.”

                Matt ran to the comm room, “We need to light off the 303. Get Johnson and a duty seaman in here. Maybe we can intercept him before he gets to the bar.”

                Nathan blurted, “I’m going with you.”

                “Oh, no. no way.”

                “Matt, you can’t do this by yourself, I’m going and that’s final. No time to argue. Now let’s go.”

                Hoke motored the Marc Eagle II at almost full throttle down the entrance channel and turned into the main channel in the river. With the high winds even the river channel was rolling with heavy swells and the boat undulated through all four axes of rotation. He could barely see forward because of the windblown and torrential rains, but he knew the channel well cutting a course down the middle toward the bar.

Nicki continued to whimper as Sharon tried to comfort her. “I’m cold.” Sharon took a deep breath and with a broken voice shouted at Hoke, “You don’t want to do this Hoke. Turn back now before it’s too late. She’s just a child.Take her back and I’ll stay with you, understand, I’ll stay, but let her go, please.”

                Hoke said nothing for several seconds. “Aint nobody ever cared about me. What about me. Aint I worth something. That no good worthless brother of yours dared to fire me, humiliated me in front of everyone.”

                “No Hoke, he was just angry. He didn’t mean to.”

                “Yes, he did! I know better.”

                “Nicki had nothing to do with any of it…please let her go. I promise, I ‘ll stay. Just let her go.”

                She bit her lip, and strained to find something that would get through to Hoke. “I care. We can talk if you want to, I’ll talk with you, just stop, it’s too dangerous to cross the bar in this storm. Please stop so we can talk.”

                “Aint nobody cares if I live or die, not even you. You’re just trying to trick me. Well, it aint gonna work so shut up.  I just want respect and nobody understands that. I aint never had noth’n. I’ve had to scratch and claw my way through life alone with no help from no one, and all I got was ridicule and being put down. Told all my life how I wasn’t nobody, would never amount to anything.”

                “Nathan hired you because he thought you were a good worker. That means something.”

                “I did work hard. But I still wasn’t good enough for him or nobody else. He fired me because I got a little drunk.”

                Sharon ran her hand across the back of Nicki’s shoulder, still clinging to her as she sobbed. “All that can change if you try.”

                “Shut up. I’ve heard enough from you.”

                “I’m just trying to understand.”

                Hoke spun around and grabbed Sharon with his massive hands, pulling her to her feet, then slapped her across the face again. “I said shut up.”

                She sank against the rear bulkhead holding her free hand against her face trying to soften the sting she felt. Nicki sobbed but tried to keep it quiet. “I’m scared Mommy,” she said in a whisper.

                “Me too, hun…Me too.” She closed her eyes, swallowed hard and quietly offered a prayer. “Dear Lord, deliver us from this moment, protect us from this danger, and bring us home safe.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                Johnson fired off the 303 as Matt and Nathan let go of the lines. Matt climbed into the Coxswains chair and Nathan placed himself to his right.

                “Better put these on.” Johnson climbed out of the forward compartment carrying the survival suits.

               ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                Chief Adams labored with the wheel as the massive swells tried to alter the course of the 331. Keeping his course was accomplished more from dead reckoning and luck than skill as the compass bobbed and swirled with a chaotic movement in time with the lunging of the 331.

The radar was all but useless in the slop as they sat too low in the water and the hull of the 331 was thrown around like so much driftwood. He simply prayed he guessed right by purposely steering a few degrees farther west than north. Better to pass in front of, than to pass behind their target. He knew Marooned would drift some distance in this tempest even dragging their mast over the side. If they could park themselves down wind of their direction, they just might be positioned to intercept them.

“Chief, I figure we should be right on them by now. If they are still afloat that is.”

                “Should be. We’re still picking up their distress beacon, but I think we’re a bit south of their position. We’ll turn north more and hopefully will intercept them shortly.”

                Overhead, they heard the whirling chop of helicopter props pass by with its doppler droning that grew higher in pitch upon approach, then faded as it moved away. Chief Adams lifted the microphone, “CG1369, 331…how you read.”

                “331, we just passed over you. We can see Marooned just ahead about a half mile. She’s still afloat but probably not for long. Can you pull alongside her and pull them off or do you want us to drop a line to them.”

                “We’ll pull alongside. Dropping a line is too dangerous in this storm and might take too long. They’re probably in a state of panic by now anyway and might not handle an extraction by air. Standby, to one side and keep a light on them. We’re going to be pretty busy over there.”

                John Ackers stood half submerged on the deck, waving at the 1369. “Sailing vessel Marooned, this is Coast Guard Air Rescue 1369.”

                “1369…I have you. Can you pull us off?” Came the frantic reply.

                “The CG44331 from Umpqua River will be on site in a couple minutes. They will have a better chance to get you off.” We’ll stand by in case we are needed. Over.”

                John changed his position for a better view forward, “I see them…thank God…I see them…thank you…thank you…please hurry, we’re sinking.” His wife and children struggled forward and huddled together fighting the wind, the rain, their fear. John pulled them together. “Sweetie, you and Mark will go first. Be brave…they will help you.” They nodded with a terrified stare pasted across their faces.

                Chief Adams peered through the windshield searching for Marooned. The 1369 had them bathed in light. He quickly surveyed the situation.

                “Looks like the mast fell over the port side. We’ll have to stay clear of that area and come in on the starboard side. From the looks of it, they may stay afloat for a few more minutes so let’s put this down asap.”

                He jammed the throttles forward and swung around to their starboard side to a spot beyond their stern. He checked for debris in the water. It looked clear. “Okay here we go.”

                 Motoring forward he timed his approach to coincide with the swells. When Marooned dropped into a trough, he swung the 331 around, spinning the stern so it jammed against their side. Suzy and Luke, who held on to his sister, stumbled as they tried to reach the side. Their mother screamed, but Luke found his feet and lifted his sister. Andrews, standing on the narrow deck wrapping his arm around the rear compartment handrail, grabbed Suzy under the arm lifting her across and pinned her against the side. Luke, more athletic, jumped on his own and grabbed the handrail.

John and their mother, clinging to each other, shouted approval. “Your turn…you can do this,” John encouraged his wife and helped her to stand, supporting her as she approached the side. Andrews stood at the ready and when they dropped to the lowest part of the swell he shouted, “Now.”

She clumsily stepped over the edge, slipped and screamed, but was caught by Andrews, who pulled her across and pinned her to the side until she gained her footing. Her panicked eyes locking onto his. “Get my husband…I’m okay.”

The 1369 hovered overhead about forty yards off at about 100 feet altitude. “Good show 331. Standby…crap…We’re losing her.” Marooned rolled under the surface stern first, the bow hanging with one final bubble of air holding it in place. John was swept from the boat as a powerful swell engulfed him. His wife screamed, “John!”

“Chief man overboard.” Andrews grabbed one of the ring buoys. Holding the attached line, he tossed it toward John, but the wind caused it to fall short. Caught In the surge he struggled to keep his equilibrium, choking, splashing against the waves. Chief Adams pulled forward slightly to avoid swallowing him with the props.

“Give it all you got…now.” Andrew yelled.

His wife cried out, “John…swim…swim John.”

He engulfed one large clear breath of air and lunged forward, kicking, clawing his way against the onslaught until when he had no more strength, his hand found the ring buoy. Andrews pulled him close, dropped into the lower well and pulled him over the edge. The four of them rolled into one single heap, John’s wife cradling him in her arms crying.

Andrews, breathless from his effort, extended his arm and patted John on the shoulder. “Good job.” John gabbed his forearm and with a weakened voice, “Thank- you- for coming.”

                Chief Adams half turned in his chair, watched as the bow of Marooned slipped below the surface. “Don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m ready to go home.”

                “Yeah right…let’s go home.”

                The 331 headed south toward the safe confines of the Winchester Bay harbor. The 1369 began their return to North Bend which with a trailing wind would reduce their travel time.

                “Station Umpqua River, this the CG44331. You read. Over.”

                “331, station what is your status.”

                “We’ve four extra souls onboard and returning to station. ETA at the bar in thirty minutes.”

                “Roger that Chief. Be advised we have another issue going on right now.”

                “What now?” Chief Adams expression changed again from one of victory to one of frustration.

                “Seems we have a hostage situation on Marc Eagle II. Hoke kidnapped Sharon Adair and her daughter. He’s lost his mind and he’s heading out toward the bar. Matt and Nathan are on their way to intercept.”

                Chief Adams murmured half aloud, “Good grief…What else can happen?”             

Running The Edge: Chapter 21 - A New Beginning

 

Chapter 21

A New Beginning

                Chief Adams and the 331 crossed the bar about two hours later, during slack tide as the breakers began to lay down and the worst of the storm moderated. The four souls he rescued were to be taken by ambulance for a checkup at the hospital, but before they left, John Ackers shook the Chief’s hand and the mother gave him and his crew a thankful hug. Their teenage boy was talking to EN1 Conners about the 44’s, and their preteen daughter seemed more infatuated with seaman Andrews than anything else.

                Captain Michaels of the 1369 was on the phone with Commander Reese trying to explain why Ian ended up in the water, Sheriff Joe was on another line passing along information about what happened to Hoke and lined up a search team to find his body. One of the paramedics was checking Johnson and Ian.

                “I’m telling you laddie, we’re okay. We’ll be fine.” Ian protested at the extra attention they were receiving.

                A few moments later, Sharon, Nicki, Nathan, Ian, Johnson, and Matthew stood inside the mess area drinking some hot coffee, Nicki hot coco, made especially for her accented with sweet marshmallows by Cajun. Sharon applied an icepack against the bruised and battered face of Nathan’s battle scars.

                “Can’t help but feel bad for Hoke.” Sharon said.

                “Ouch,” he flinched. “Maybe so. He was a troubled man searching in all the wrong places…ouch.” Nathan smarted again when Sharon touched a sensitive spot.

                Matt inhaled another long slurp of his coffee, always black, never creamed or sweetened. Its warmth flowed well into his insides calming his taut nerves. He absorbed its fragrance, a delicate blend as soothing as any rose, more satisfying.

                Nathan rolled his head toward Matt as he stopped Sharon with his hand from her nursing attempts. “Matt,” he paused, swallowed a breath, “I just want to say…”

                Matt stopped him in midsentence, “No words are necessary, Nate. I’m just glad you and everyone are okay. We did this together, a team.”

                Nathan squeezed out a relieved smile and simply nodded in agreement. Sharon continued her attempt to doctor his wounds and as she was gently pressing the compress against his eye, she lifted her eyes toward Matt elevating her smile of approval in his direction. Matt winked in return as he took another sip of his coffee.

                ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

               

 

 

 

Late the next afternoon Matt, Sharon and Nicki sat on the retainer wall in front of the lighthouse. A golden hue rolled across the waters stretched out before them. It was one of those uncommon moments, a stillness actually, when the elements decided it had inflicted enough of its wrath upon the land, and was permitting it to recover. The sun fell below the line of clouds that hovered low across the horizon, and cast a reflection of warm regeneration upon the coast.  

                The ME II, although missing destruction on the black jetty rocks, was driven onto the beach on the south side. She was battered and beaten, but salvageable, ready for a refit, ready to motor again, someday, across the fertile fishing waters she once plowed. Nathan had his work cut out for himself, but he was up to the task, and as he stood on the beach talking to the salvage crew, the sun hurled a long series of rays, low, over the sands, some of them catching the profile of his Marc Eagle II as she slumbered, beached in shallow water, just below the highwater mark.

                As the three of them, Matt, Sharon, and Nicki, paused next to the retaining wall marking the edge of the lighthouse compound, Sharon turned toward the dominating structure.

                “She is beautiful, isn’t she, the lighthouse I mean.”

                Matt turned and lifted his head toward its heights, the dome still rotating, the beams still extending forward into the future, then turn his gaze toward Sharon and smiled, “You are beautiful,” he responded, “and so are you.” He knelt to lift Nicki holding her safely embraced in his arm. Then he rolled his other arm around his love’s shoulder luring her in tight. She tilted her head, laying it on his chest. “I love you Matt, I always have.”

                Matt smiled then looked over to Nicki. He examined the dark blue heavens of the evening sky accented with the warm tones of a setting sun now spreading above the lighthouse and across the dunes. A peaceful warmth filled his heart with a revelation of gratitude. Holding his gaze toward the sky, he silently acknowledged his new revelation with a subtle nod and a soft, “Thank you.”

                Lowering his gaze, it fell onto Sharon’s face. Her eyes were the most beautiful part of creation he had ever imagined. Slowly, softly, they kissed, and the sun, now embracing the final moments of the day, settled below the horizon, a restful end to a trying season.

               

 

 

Running The Edge: Epilog

 

Epilog

Present Day

Umpqua River Lighthouse

 

Internet Stock Photo

                Ron Gallagher before speaking simply shook his head in amazement after Matt finished telling his story to him. “Matt, I must admit, that was one incredible adventure. At first, I was thinking we might work in a simple storyline publication in the paper, but after listening to your account, well, this requires something much bigger. A Book. Putting it into a book form will take some work and time, but I can maybe even see a series of books produced from this. I've got connections with publishers and promoters. If you're up to it, I’m all in so whenever you are ready, let’s get started, the sooner the better.”

Matt held his words closely and as the last reminiscence from those days so long ago receded again into his memory. Sharon held his hand. His face grew somber and as he thought of those men, his friends, who failed to survive. He wasn’t wanting to benefit from the telling of his story, just wanted to keep the memory of those events alive.

                The trawler was now sitting outside the bar. As the tide flowed inward and the Umpqua River spilled its reserves into the Pacific, a break line formed across its width. The trawler skipper decided to wait it out instead of risking a crossing until the Coast Guard placed a surfboat on location.

                Matt’s eyes watched the slow rolling of the ocean as each swell found its final resting place against the beaches and ran the length of the Jetty. His eyes locked onto the spot where the Marc Eagle met its doom. Parts of it were sure to remain submerged there even now.

                Behind them they heard a vehicle approach from down the road below the hill that curved toward the lighthouse. A moment later it pulled into a parking area and a young man stepped out. Dressed in dark blue ODU’s and wearing a dark blue ball cap with the emblem “Umpqua River” embroidered in an arch across its front panel. He stood about six feet tall, was lean and well kept. As he lingered near the entrance of the lighthouse, Matt hurriedly walked over to him.

                “Yes sir, can I help you?” The young man reacted as Matt approached him.

                Matt hesitated as he surveyed his uniform. The stripes on his arm indicated he was a boatswain mate second-class. He wore no name badge but his name was stenciled across the top of the left shirt pocket. It read ‘J. Adair’.

                “Adair.” Matt inquired.

                “Yes sir.”

                “What’s the J stand for.”

                “That would be John, but most folks call me Jack.”

                “I once knew a Jack Adair. My wife’s dad’s name in fact. He was a good man. Use to operate a trawler out of Winchester Bay, but that was a long time ago.”

                “No relation I’m afraid.”

                “It doesn’t matter. Mind if I ask you a question, Jack?”

                “Fire away.”

                “What is it you do here?”

                The young man paused reflecting on Matt’s question. In the distance the rumbling sound of a powerful boat became noticeable. They both turned and saw a gray hulled motor lifeboat motoring at high speed toward the bar as an escort for the trawler.

                Jack stepped forward and motioned for Matt to follow him. They walked across the road stopping at the edge of the retainer wall where he placed one leg on the wall and leaned his forearm against the raised knee.

                “See that boat down there heading for bar. She’s one of our new 47-foot surfboats and she’s something else. Never operated one of the old 44’s, but I hear they were good surfboats, but these new 47’s, well, I’d venture to guess they could probably run rings around those older boats, faster, more maneuverable, packed with a lot more high-tech electronics. They are amazing vessels. We can get to where we need to be, faster, and complete our mission more safely, in the worst of conditions.”

Overhead a bright orange Coast Guard helicopter buzzed a couple hundred feet above the beach heading north. The high then low doppler effect sound pitch of its rotors echoing across the dunes finally fading in the distance. They both watched until it disappeared.

                “There goes one of the MH-65 Dolphin rescue helicopters out of North Bend, probably heading to one of the stations further north for some training ops. Those guys can really fly those things. Someday I hope to get into the Rescue Swimmer program. Long waiting list to get in though.”

Art By Brian David Snuffer

Matt politely nodded. “I hear it is an excellent program. I knew the guy who helped get all that started. I hope you can get in.”

                “Thanks, it’s a tough program to complete, but I’m sure I can do it.”

                Matt liked the young man’s confidence, “I’m sure you can too. But, until then, what is it you do now?”

                He smiled before answering. “Well sir, to answer your question…that is what I do.” He pointed to the bar as the 47-footer arched into position. “I run the edge, I am a Wave Warrior, like so many who came before me, for the United States Coast Guard.”

 

2022/05/10

Running The Edge: Chapter 18 - Typhoon

 

Chapter 18

Typhoon

0100 Hours

Station Umpqua River Lookout Tower

 

                Seaman Patterson tried to pierce through the gloom using binoculars, but to no avail. He scanned the weather station gauges which indicated the winds were steady at 60mph gusting to 75mph approaching typhoon strength. Outside, snapping violently in the wind, hurricane warning flags, double stacked red rectangular flags with a black square in the center, stood straight out. The large front window wobbled with each gust as the rain pelted against it in an unrelenting wash.

                The lookout tower became the eyes and ears of the station. Manned 24/7, they monitored emergency radio frequencies and when visibility allowed, they watched and logged with a decerning eye every crossing of the bar. There would be no crossings tonight.

                He opened the tide chart manual and discovered the outgoing tide was nearing its peak flow. “Wow. That bar has got to be busting its rear end.” He made an entry in the watch log book of the weather conditions and his observations to that effect.

                Standing next to the side window where he could see the lighthouse, he could see little beyond the front of the parking area yet the glow from the top cast a frail light across the compound. The radio crackled with a faint, but desperate voice barely audible. “Mayday, mayday…Coast Guard Station Umpqua River…Coast Guard Station Umpqua River this is the sailing vessel Marooned. Do you hear me? Over.”

                Patterson lifted the transceiver and pressed the transmit button. “Vessel Marooned, this is the Umpqua River Lookout Tower. Come back.”

                The desperate voice that followed was surrounded by the roar of the background storm. “Thank God…station we’re approximately twelve miles north of the bar and six miles out. We are floundering in this storm. Engine is dead and we’re taking on water. We have four souls onboard. Can you help us please?”

                Patterson jotted their position and time of call into the log book as he responded. “Vessel Marooned, acknowledged twelve miles north and six miles out. Standby one.” The direct phone line to the station comm room rang twice before Andrews answered. “I heard the transmission…standby.” Andrews activated the intercom system. “Light off the 331…standby duty crew to the outer office.”

Within seconds the entire contingent of crewmembers, both on duty and off clambered into the outer office. Andrews was on the phone with Chief Adams. “That’s right Chief, sailing vessel Marooned, north of us. Four people onboard. Red is off duty, Cunningham is sick, and Matthew is on leave. That leaves you. Already ahead of you…the 331 one is being lit off as we speak. Right away. I’ll call North Bend ASAP.”

Andrews punched another code into the comm system to connect to the North Bend Air Station directly. Three rings later the duty watch answered. “North Bend Air Station.”

                “Hey this is Andrews up here at Umpqua River. We just received a call from the sailing vessel Marooned. They are taking on water. Chief Adams thinks you guys might can get to them before we can. Their position is approximately twelve miles north and six miles west of our bar. That’s all the position they gave me.”

                Chief Adams stepped into the comm room and took the phone. “This is Chief Adams. Patch me in to Commander Reese.” A moment later a somewhat sleepy Commander Reese answered. “Chief, Reese here. What’s going on up there?”

                “Commander, we got another good one for you…” For the next two minutes Chief Adams explained the situation. The answer he received was what he expected.

                “Chief, we got you covered.”

Chief Adams surveyed the bar report and tide conditions. “See if you can locate Matthew and get him back in here.” Then he ran to the boathouse where the 331 was ready to go.

North Bend Air Station

                Ian Logan slid in next to Captain Michaels onboard the 1369.  Airman Pell secured the main cabin. Together they completed their preflight and the pilot revved the turbine, the blades spun faster and faster until with a tug on the collector, they lifted into the wind. “Station Umpqua River…CG1369 in route from North Bend.”

    

               -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                John Ackers, and his family were being toss around inside the cabin of Marooned. His wife Marge grabbed his arm, “John I’m scared.”

                “I know you are, so am I, but we have to remain calm. Marooned is a good boat, she’ll stay afloat until the Coast Guard finds us.”

                “How can they find us in this storm at night?”

                “I’ve activated the destress beacon so they can home in on us. They are the best in world and they will find us, that’s what they do.”

                He scanned around the room scanning the eyes of his children, a teenage son Luke and preteen daughter Suzy, who were huddled in the corner clinging to each other. Marge rolled next to them and the three huddled together.

                “The Coast Guard is on the way, when they get here it’s going to get busy. We will need to go topside and I don’t need to remind you to be careful out there. You two will go first. Michael, take care of your sister. Mom will follow, then I will. I’m counting on you to remain calm. We’re going to be okay.”

                Suzy started crying and Luke, doing as his dad asked, pulled her close.


Station Umpqua River

                Andrews acknowledged the transmission from the 1369. By this time Chief Adams, and the 44331 had entered into the bar area. The wind howled against the side of the coxswains flat whipping rain across the panel. The swells even this far inside the bar caused the 331 to snap roll and pitch in the chaotic menagerie of chocolate colored surf, with all the grace of a hippo tip toeing across an ice rink.  The Chief squinted to see forward, but it didn’t help. He flipped on the spot light and shined it toward the bar. What he saw sent slivers of ice penetrating through his spine. It was exploding.

                “Crap…” His crew looked at him with questioning eyes about the situation. “What do you think Chief. Maybe we should sit this one out and let North Bend handle it.”

                The radio crackled again. “Mayday, Mayday…this is the sailing vessel Marooned. Is anyone there. Please we need hel….” The signal was cut off, then crackled again, “Mayday, mayday…please answer, we’re sinking and we won’t last much longer.”

                Chief Adams, looked at his crew. “Does that answer your question?” He paused a few seconds. Took a deep breath. “Hang on, here we go.”

                “Marooned, Marooned, this is Coast Guard rescue boat CG44331. We have your signal and are underway…ETA in thirty minutes. Air rescue CG1369 is also in route.”

                “We’re barely hanging on…please hurry.”

                He slammed the throttles full forward and the hull of the 331 dug deep into the pitching black water. Fifty yards later they approached the first line of breakers the sight of which alarmed Chief Adams. He worked the throttles and spun the wheel to line up the bow with subconscious effort, and as the breaker crumbled in front of them, he powered the 331 over the top and through the foam. The force that hit them lifted the bow up at a sharp angle before gravity slammed them hard into the backside trough. The bow plunged into the surface throwing an avalanche of foam and water to either side.

                Their forward momentum momentarily halted, the 331 lunged, forward, against the onslaught. Facing the next level of breakers. Almost thirty feet high, the wall threatened to pulverize them, but Chief Adams slammed the throttles forward hard, spun the wheel and slid over the top again becoming airborne.

                The bow dropped triggering a weightless two seconds before it plunged into the trough. Tons of freezing water engulfed the bow and flooded the coxswains flat. The crew hung on with all of their strength, their weight pulling at the safety belts that held them in place threatening to rip them from their secured connections. Chief Adams lost his grip on the wheel, and the 331 spun violently to starboard. He frantically grabbed it, spinning it to port to turn the bow back into the next approaching breaker. His actions were too slow, and the breaker lifted them at an angle rolling them hard over into a 90-degree roll, partially capsizing them, rolling and shoving them sideways at the base of the breaker as the props lost their bite. The 331 finally slid under the remnants of the breaker, righted herself but carrying tons of extra water in her lower well, was sluggish to respond.

Chief Adams applied more power and more wheel, spinning just in time to ride over the next breaker which felt more like falling off the edge of a cliff. Their forward momentum purged the extra water through the self-bailing ports.

                One more breaker line lay ahead, then open water. He applied full throttle again trying to outrace the approaching breaker. It rose in front of them, but his timing was perfect on this one and they floated over the top before it broke tipping over the other side.

                Fifty yards more and they turned north into leviathan sea’s, on a bearing to intercept Marooned. Once clear of the breaker lines, he called Marooned. “Sailing Vessel Marooned…Sailing Vessel Marooned, this the Coast Guard rescue boat CG44331. Do you read over.”

                Three seconds later the radio crackled. “Coast Guard…yes we read. Please hurry…”

                He Replied. “We’re across the bar on our way.”

                A few seconds later the 1369 called. “CG44331…this the North Bend CG1369. Be advised we are maybe forty minutes out from the estimated drift position of Marooned. This headwind is really slowing us down. What is your ETA on site?”

                “Standby.” The Chief extracted the small chart from his survival suit inside pocket, opening it against the wheel. A quick glance at the calculated position of the Maroon and he had his answer.”

                “1369…331. Looks like we might get there about the same time as you. If they don’t sink first. they are going drift a long way south with this wind and seas.”

                “Roger that 331. We’ll see you on site,” Chief Adams whispered to himself. “I just hope we get there in time.”

                The crew settled in, bracing themselves against the full force of the typhoon winds and mammoth swells which now were rolling along at over twenty feet. The 331 rolled, pitched, and fought her way through the onslaught. Rising up and over, rolling to port then to starboard, to rise again and plunge behind each chaotic swell.