Page 74 of Untamed Coast

Marco reached with his other arm and managed to grab the bow line of the dinghy. He released his grip on the swim step and worked his way around the outside of the dinghy to the rear, and grabbed on to the outboard motor.

Use the bottom of the motor as a step.

He found the horizontal fin on the outboard with one foot. His hands were numb, and his fingers were losing their grip. He pulled hard, and his foot slipped off, plunging him back into the water. His life jacket rotated him onto his back. One hand managed to grab the outboard again.

Radio Flyer’s hull crunched into the rock once more, louder.

Marco put both feet on opposite sides of the outboard and pulled against the transom with all his strength. He got far enough to reach some cables and pulled his body up. A hard pain went up through his side as a mounting bolt gouged him just below his life vest.

With several pulls, he got his body into the dinghy.

Now, he had to get the dinghy loose from Radio Flyer.

He held tight onto one davit arm, keeping his body clear as the stainless arms bashed into the console and the rear seat with each passing wave. He turned the key, starting the outboard. Gripping each davit harness tightly, he timed the swells so he could release the carabiner when it went slack for a fraction of a second.

The dinghy was free. Marco shoved off with a foot and gunned the outboard, getting clear of Radio Flyer as she banged against the rocks.

He motored around to the front of the big boat and grabbed the bow line he’d dropped into the water earlier. He tied off the dinghy’s shore line to Radio Flyer’s bow line, then drove a good distance away, paying out the shore line as he went.

Once he felt like he was a safe distance, he tied the tow line off to a metal loop on the stern of the dinghy. Marco put the dinghy in gear, taking up the slack until the line was taut. Radio Flyer rocking in the waves jerked the stern of the small RIB around.

Marco gently applied the power, watching as Radio Flyer’s bow began to rotate toward him.

That will be enough. Steady as she goes.

If he could slowly tow Radio Flyer out of the bight, the entrance to Funter Bay was only a short distance away.

He didn’t know if her hull had been breached. If it had, she might sink before he got her around the corner.

Never tie a line to a sinking boat.

He unsnapped the clasp on his utility knife scabbard. He’d need it to cut the line if the larger boat started sinking.

Radio Flyer made a hellish scraping sound as the chine of her hull released from the rocks. Marco had the dinghy outside the bight, pulling the big boat’s bow around.

The waves and wind increased as he pulled out of the protection of the small bay, tossing the dinghy like a fishing float. A gust of wind caught Radio Flyer and pulled her sideways, tracking her back toward the jagged rocks.

Marco turned the dinghy to port, trying to pull the big boat toward the open water. He kept the engine throttled up as much as he dared—didn’t want to snap the tow line or pull himself airborne off the top of a wave.

The dinghy hit smooth water as the rig started to pull into the protection of Funter Bay. Radio Flyer didn’t seem to be listing, so Marco was hopeful that either the hull hadn’t been breached or the bilge pumps were keeping up with the water. He disconnected the tow line and tied the dinghy off to the swim step.

Marco made his way to the pilothouse and checked the depth finder. Forty feet. Good enough. Bilge pumps weren’t running. The boat was not about to sink.

He held the Down switch on the anchor windlass and counted colored zip ties as the anchor and two hundred feet of chain deployed into the water.

He shut off the main electrical breaker, walked down to his cabin, threw his soaked clothes into the shower stall in the head, and collapsed onto the bunk.

The dim light faded to black.

He was floating in the frigid water outside Chichagof. He had a walkie-talkie in his hand, but it was shaking too badly for him to operate the buttons. He turned the radio over in his hands and it had become a banana. Weren’t bananas bad luck on boats? He squeezed it where the Talk button should be. “Somebody come help me, it’s cold.”

The sound was tiny, barely passing through his lips.

His voice sounded like Crystal’s.

Chapter 56

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