[h2]And The Sea Shall Yield Up….[/h2] [h3]Part 6 - (Day 3 Morning)[/h3] [img]https://i.imgur.com/jAyfXTf.jpg[/img] [i]Excerpt from radio comms recording, 07:15 hrs 08-02-2521[/i] “NS Moncrief...NS Moncrief...this is New Melbourne Marine Patrol Station Pelican Point. Do you copy?” “NS Moncrief. I copy you. Over.” “Moncrief, we’ve had no luck raising NS Eileen McSorley by any means. Can you offer a fix on her last known location? Over.” “Roger, Pelican Point. Our last radar fix had her at forty-three-point-six North, sixty-five-point-four West, course heading three-one-five at three knots. She was making for Slocum’s Atoll when she disappeared off our radars at oh-six-ten hours. Over. “Any idea if she arrived? Over.” “Negative…. ,crackles>....negative. We just arrived at Slocum’s. Sheltering in the lee with a handful of fishing boats. I’ll tell ya, Pelican Point, we were right behind her on the same heading. Had our searchlights sweep the area as we went through. No signs of the vessel or her crew...over.” “Well, Captain, that’s why we’re calling. All of our heavy search and rescue assets are too far away to render any aid. You’re the closest vessel to the McSorley’s last known position. Could you head back out and search for survivors? Over.” “We just got in….you say you want me to head back out?” “Affirmative. Over.” “Holy cow, Pelican Point. We took a helluva beating out there...but I’ll turn around if you want me to. Over.” “Captain, you’re the master of your vessel, but this is a life or death situation. If there’s any chance you could search for survivors….” “That position is twenty miles back, Pelican Point. I’ll head back out, but I’m not gonna make more than two-three knots an hour in those seas...over.” “Thanks, Moncrief. Latest weather shows the hurricane shifting further North. We’re hopeful the Southwest quadrant will calm down enough for our local air and sea assets to take over the search by nightfall. We do appreciate your help. Pelican Point out.” “Yeah, I’ll keep you posted when I get back to the search area. Moncrief out.” **************************************************************************************** The first few minutes nearly killed him. Yuri’s entire body was shocked with the penetrating cold. All around him were mountainous waves that roared as they scooped him up. Some broke in the cruel wind, sending his body pitching into the depths. Others just rolled, occasionally propelling him high enough to catch a glimpse of the violent new world into which he’d been born. Eventually, the fear subsided in favor of a bone weary tiredness brought on by struggling in the bitter cold ocean. He had to kick his legs, move to preserve some buoyancy and body heat from the icy fingers that snatched both away. And so the tortuous routine began...never stop kicking, keep your head above the surface...pull yourself up the wave face, rest on the beck end. Repeat. He had a small hand torch that worked. His walkie lay in a pocket, but the mechanic knew that the speaker and mic diaphragms were ruined, saturated. The electronics were simple enough if he could dry them out a bit...but to what end? He had his multi-tool, with its’ various blades, hand bits and drivers. What Yuri desperately needed was a life vest. Never stop kicking…. Yuri couldn’t know how long he’d been adrift when he first saw the ship. He’d just been swept to the wavetop when there, to the North, came a flash of light. A rush of adrenaline powered him to reach the crests again and again, eyes sweeping desperately for the phantom salvation...and there! She was there! [i]A big one...the Moncrief? She was following us,[/i] he thought. Her bridge searchlights were sweeping, illuminating the icy torrents of rain as the ore carrier fought its’ own battle with Hurricane Daniel. [i]Just a couple miles away…[/i] “HEY!” he shouted as he fumbled for the hand torch. “HEEEEY!!” A roller pulled him upward. Extending his arm as high as he could reach, Yuri turned on the light and frantically waved toward the distant ship. “HEEEY!” he shouted again as the wave dropped him into a trough. The next wave wasn’t so kind, lifting him into a pipeline curl that sent the mechanic tumbling through an icy churn. For a moment he lost his orientation beneath the surface, water lit by the hand torch as it danced on the end of his hand strap. Soon, he found the surface. Yuri clawed himself up the next wave, swiveling his head in a frenzied search for his rescuer. After two more missed opportunities, a wave carried him aloft, and the cruel sea parted her veils just enough to reveal the ship...holding course...moving off to the North. “HEEEY!! HEEEY!” He screamed. He waved his light. He cried out in despair. He pleaded with the storm. He prayed for a miracle. At that moment, the fates chose to deliver a life vest. Dawn was breaking, though the hostile clouds kept a curtain of darkness which slowly ebbed as he took sight of the limp yellow object. Yuri swam for it...pulled for all he was worth, watching as it would disappear behind a wave, only to tantalize him again as it topped a crest. After what seemed like hours, he grabbed it with a bitter chilled hand. It was from the Mick. [b]NS MCSORLEY[/i] was stencilled in bold black print across the collar...just above a four inch diagonal tear. “Of course,” he shook his head at the sight. “OF FUCKING COURSE!” Rage overtook him, filling him with the simple desire to finish the job and rip this fucking thing to shreads like it fucking deserved...until the futility and his own exhaustion curtailed the effort. Finally, as the blackness began to subside to a shadowy grey, Yuri slipped into the life vest. [i]At least they’ll know...if they find me,[/i] he thought of the ship’s name. The cold was creeping within him...a deep lying ghost who numbed the extremities and sought to slow the heart. God, but he was tired. Though it seemed like the winds were easing and the waves not quite so terrifying, the thought of simply being lulled to sleep was growing nigh on to marvelous in his mind. He really wasn’t that cold anymore...could just spread eagle across the water and close his eyes… Something struck him from behind...a solid blow right across the shoulder blades. A fresh jolt of adrenaline infused terror made Yuri whirl about as the object pushed itself against his chest. It was big...wood...and somehow familiar. Big enough to float on? As hypothermia stricken fingers traced the inlaid wood patterns in its’ top, he soon realized that the ship’s main dining table would be large and buoyant enough to sustain him. Now the challenges were twofold. First, there was simply climbing aboard in his current state. And then, there was the act of defying the waves and staying there. ********************To Be Continued******************* [img]https://i.imgur.com/1XfsNMP.jpg[/img]