[h2]And The Sea Shall Yield Up….[/h2] [h3]Part 4[/h3] [img]https://i.imgur.com/92NEa7Z.jpg[/img] Martinez cast a dubious eye upon his handiwork. “Not gonna hold.” With Yuri’s prompting, the machinist had fashioned a square cap to fit over the duct opening. The hasty TAC welds had given way twice during their efforts until several four by four shoring beams were wedged into place. A further attempt at reinforcement was an ad hoc lattice of ⅛” stripping, which formed a crude basket to anchor the cap in place. The whole arrangement still leaked, but if the mechanic could offer a positive thought it was the fact they’d contained the rhythmic torrents down to a regular trickle. “Just need it for a few hours,” Antonov replied. Martinez set to packing his rig. “Eighteen inch duct at twelve feet...that’s alot of water volume, Yuri. We’d better have another plan for when it starts splittin’ the seams.” He responded with a simple “aye.” The Mick wasn’t rolling quite as heavily as she’d been earlier, but com chatter told him that if anything, Hurricane Daniel had grown more tenacious. They hadn’t changed course, which meant the towering waves were still coming over the port railing. The subtle easing of the vessel’s rear and plunge could only mean one thing. She was settling. Their walkies came alive. “Engineering, bridge.” “Engineering.” Yuri could sense the quiet alarm in Edwards’ voice. The old chief was holding it together, but as the afternoon succumbed to night and the pumps slowly lost ground to the rising water in their bilge, the tremor in his voice became more pronounced. “Chief,” First Mate Gallegos spoke, his voice raised to combat the roaring maelstrom that pummeled the Eileen McSorley’s bridge. “Just lost our radars, NAVSAT, and radio. Got a mate you can send?” “Golly,” Edwards’ voice cracked a touch. “Got any electrical faults? Any idea what happened?” “Negative electrical. Portside lifeboat,” the First responded. “Pulled right off its’ davits. Wind picked it up and rolled it over top of the wheelhouse.” Yuri, Martinez, and Chrissy all reacted as a chorus. “Shit.” The account offered a clear picture of the lifeboat, broken free and bludgeoning its’ way through the rooftop radar and satellite transceivers, before snapping the radio mast like a toothpick. “Chrissy,” Yuri spoke as he sorted through their collection of tools, “think we can sway up the aux antenna?” He saw the incredulity in her eyes. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered to herself. “If it’s still there, it’s pipe clamped to the underside of the comms mounting grid...good chance it didn’t take a hit from the lifeboat.” he could see her, working the problem, weighing it to the risk of his proposal. “We gotta try.” “Holy cow,” Edwards’ voice told them he was onto the same conclusion. “That means sendin’ somebody up top…” “Captain here. Chief, we’re blind and deaf right now. Storm’s gonna take us way off course. If there’s even a chance of getting something back, we’ve gotta take it.” Yuri keyed his mic. “Chief, Antonov. Meet me on three.” Without awaiting a response, he flipped to channel three and waited for his boss. “Edwards here.” “Chief,” Yuri replied. “I’m here with Stephens and Martinez. Chrissy’s got a plan to restore radio at least. We’re selecting our tools right now.” The Chief Engineer asked, “you’re going with her?” “Yes, Chief.” “I can’t...won’t...order that,” the older man’s voice openly quavered. “You wear harnesses...head and eye protection…” “Aye, Chief,” the Engineer’s Mate said. “I’ll report when it’s done.” Without another word, he and Chrissy filled their tool pouches. Martinez started pulling his own kit together. “You’re gonna need help.” “No. We’re taking too much water. You’ve gotta keep welding patches.” “Bilge is too deep,” the machinist argued. “I can’t get to the stress cracks anymore.” “Su Yi’s a diver,” Yuri stepped into his foul weather gear. “Pair up with her.” He appraised their handiwork. The air duct, now blocked, was holding, though water pressure within was forcing a bulge which foretold of eventual failure. “You got a couple ratchet straps?” he asked. “Run ‘em around those shoring beams..that’ll keep ‘em from splaying out.” ********************* Chrissy’s plan was a good one. “Like mountain climbers,” she told him. “We’re gonna crawl the deck, roped together. Keep your head down. Don’t try to talk. At that windspeed, a drop of rain or salt spray can break a tooth.” The First Mate stood by, his expression grave as she guided Yuri through the steps of their plan. “Only move when you’ve got a sure hand or foothold. The deck’s easy. Plenty of grips, and it’s painted with no-skid, which’ll help. The aft facing ladder,” she cautioned, “is the tough part. You gotta go up the port side. Let the wind push your chest right into the side rail. That’s where you’re most exposed, so you’ve gotta hurry...but Yuri! Remember...three solid holds before you move! You half-ass that and we could both go for a ride.” “I understand.” [i]”Ku.[/i] Once you’re topside, we’ve got the mounting grid for our holds. Go all the way port; we’ll be sheltered by the roof coaming. From there, we can take a breather and scope out the damage.” “Copy,” he replied as he checked the fit of her harness. Satisfied that all was secure, he presented himself for her inspection. Chrissy tugged at his straps. “We’re most like to solder a new connector onto whatever cable’s left up there. Then we release the aux mast. Tricky part is pulling it up through the grid...like threading a needle. We’re gonna take our time..move, tie wrap, cut. Move, tie wrap, cut. You with me?” He gave her a single nod. “Yes.” “Most important,” she cinched a final strap down snugly, “we don’t sway up til we’ve got a hard connect to the grid. Wind’ll strip that mast right out of our hands. We’re gonna wrench the mount down, and we’ll both check it for tightness. Then we sway her up, screw on the connector, and be double careful on our way back down. You got that?” Her brows lifted. Yuri responded with an appreciative smile. “You must be an amazing mountaineer.” Chrissy’s focus didn’t waver. “A climb’s not a success until you’re home and safe. I’ll lead.” After checking their connecting rope, she exited the bridge through the starboard door. Yuri followed. Even on this sheltered leeward side, the hurricane’s roar made conversation impossible. The deck they’d use for their traverse was little more than a balcony, roughly three feet wide down the starboard side, widening to perhaps four feet as it cut across aft. He watched the woman ahead as she first dropped to hands and knees. She crawled toward the corner as Yuri played out the rope between them. Chrissy turned, offering him a thumbs up. Though Yuri couldn’t see her eyes behind the goggles or the face wrap, he presumed she’d offered a smile. The greeting exchanged, she dropped onto her belly, flattening herself to the deck as she rounded the corner into the teeth of the hurricane. This would be the last time he’d see her until the top. At one hundred forty miles per hour, a drop of water becomes a projectile. Despite the padding of jackets and foul weather gear, it strikes with sufficient force to bruise deep tissue and denude a bare knuckle to the underlying tendons. The shock and power of the wind was enough to completely disorient, but an onslaught of freezing ocean spray and rain would transform a frightening experience into a hellish nightmare. Yuri kept his head turned, an instinctive act that didn’t seem to slow his progress, if the slack between them was any indication. Move. Find your grips. Check them. Wait for the slack to play out. Move. The pain was blinding, but he couldn’t dwell on it. Follow her lead. Move. Find your grips. Check them. Watch the slack. Move. He came abreast of the ladder. A thousand bullets struck his back as Yuri labored to climb. He had to hurry...but the punishment of wind and the icy sea had worn him to the bone. With a roar, a powerful gust dislodged both of his feet from the ladder. His body went completely horizontal, leaving but one arm draped around the siderail. Terror flooded through him. Yuri kicked at the aft bridge windows, his screams unheard beneath the tempest. He latched on, one hand clutching the other as the wind attempted to dislodge him. While such an experience would be considered surreal, the sudden dissipation of the wind seemed to verge upon the fantastic. He fell to the deck, gasping for air, his body writhing in pain as the roar seemed to give way to an ominous quiet. This was when he knew this to be a dream. [i]Peace, perfect peace.[/i] He would lie here, resting under a sky now aglow with flashes of lightning. “Yuri? YURI!” Chrissy’s voice jolted him to sanity. “Are you hurt?” she called, unseen from atop the wheelhouse. “No….yes….I’m okay.” “THEN GETCHER ASS UP HERE!” That did the trick. A hasty climb brought him to the rooftop, where he found Chrissy huddled on the mounting grid, a crosshatch array of welded metal piping intended to affix radio antennae, radar transceivers, and satellite dishes...none of which he could see as the lightning flashed overhead. Chrissy had hauled in the remnant of the antenna lead, which she was busily stripping to prepare a new connector. “You alright?” she asked. “Yes. Wind tried to pull me off…” “Here,” she shoved the torch into his hand. You hold I’ll solder.” With the bared cable in one hand and the torch in the other, Yuri held still as Chrissy set the new coupler into place. “Not pretty,” she clinched her teeth to tear at a length of electrician’s tape, “but it gets us something. Now. The mast. We’ve gotta hurry. That eye wall’s maybe five minutes out.” Under the brief respite, the pair worked quickly to get the replacement antenna mast into place. The sky above was filled with lightning, great spidery arcs that extended for miles in all directions, only to be devoured by greedy sweep of the approaching eye wall. As they completed their task, Yuri took a moment to gaze down upon the stricken vessel. Here in the eye, the waves were no longer breaking over the deck. He spotted the damaged vent, gaping open as a twisted handrail lay sprawled atop it. Further aft, the unloading crane had broken its moorings and collapsed atop their mobile hatch gantry. As his gaze traveled to the hatches themselves, Yuri’s blood ran cold. Of the few clamps that had been secured into place, he saw the jagged edges of some that had broken. “The hatches,” he gasped. They made it inside to hearty congratulations from the bridge crew. Much to Chrissy’s relief, the chatter of radio communications greeted Yuri and herself. “This is the McSorley,” the Captain answered an incoming call. “This is the Darryl Moncrief,” crackled the radio. “Twelve miles astern of you. You okay, Captain?” “Our bilges are high and we’re down by one pump. Lost radars and NAVSAT.” The Captain’s eye took in both his engineer’s mates. “Just got our radio back.” After a burst of static, the Moncrief’s captain replied. “Aww, gee, Cap’n, that’s some tough news. We saw you right over Eight Fathom Shoal. Think you bottomed out?” “Didn’t feel it if we did,” the Captain answered. “Moncrief, we wanna change course and head northwest toward Slocum’s Atoll. Figure we’ll ride the storm out on the lee side and get pumped out, but we’re blind as a bat. Could you use your radar to point us there?” “Pretty good plan, McSorley. We’ll follow you in. Put your navigator on and we’ll work out a fix.” “Copy.” The Captain glanced toward both Chrissy and Yuri. Then he smiled. “Good job, you two.” Yuri spoke up. “Captain, I had a look at the deck. We’ve got some broken hatch clamps…” The ship groaned audibly as the eye wall struck, heeling her slightly into a list from which she didn’t seem to recover. “New course! Three-one-five!” the navigator cried out over the sudden roar. “Helm, three-one-five. Go,” the Captain ordered. He turned once again to face Yuri. “Reactor output has dipped. Cut our best speed to seven knots. Even that wonder boy from the dog watch can’t can’t coax it back up. I need ten knots, Antonov. Urgently.” “Aye, sir.” Soaking wet, dog tired and bruised as he was, Yuri made all haste as he left the bridge, Chrissy Stephens at his side. “What should I do?” she asked. “Forward pump starboard,” he said. “Keep an eye on it. I’ll alert the Chief. And I want to go mountain climbing!” Yuri shouted over his shoulder as he descended toward the raceway that would lead him aft. He was met there by three inches of water. ***********************To Be Continued********************* [img]https://i.imgur.com/QlTYhOQ.jpg[/img]