Page 73 of Shipwrecked

Five days go by like that, the last night bringing with it high winds.

The wind dies down come morning, but the water remains choppy. Next to me, Jules eyes up the yacht and the waves. I wait. Jules reaches for the strap of the knife, unbuckles it, and sets off down the beach to give it to Mary. She’s been his chosen custodian throughout the week.

I get the raft pulled out from the treeline, and Seán and Mathieu help me bring it to the shore.

“You’re not tired?” Seán asks.

I am, and I know that Mathieu and Jules are too from the way they’ve been sleeping like the dead. Just dragging the raft down the beach is tiring, never mind swimming out over and over. I meet Mathieu’s eyes. He reads my expression. Maybe seeing that I won’t object, but if he does, I’ll back him up.

“I think the distraction is good for Jules,” Mathieu says. “I think he needs this. He’s not talking. Not really.”

“That doesn’t outweigh your need for rest,” Seán replies, frowning. He looks up the beach to where Jules is coming towards us.

“I can manage another trip,” Mathieu adds. “But if you need a rest…”

He communicates the same thing that I tried to convey earlier. He won’t object, but if I do, he’ll back me up. I feel inept not being able to get Jules away from Darren, so having a way to give him a little distraction is the least I can do. If I didn’t think Mathieu was genuine in his willingness to try to make Jules feel better, I would have already put my foot down about it.

“One trip,” I agree. “And none tomorrow.”

Jules joins us at the raft. “Ready?”

It’s not an easy swim out, and as we near the yacht, something about it catches my attention. There are waves rocking into the stern, making a sloshing motion. I stop swimming, putting a halt to our progress. The passing swells give the illusion that the yacht is rocking.

Jules and Mathieu both pull up, looking to see why we’re not moving.

“What is it?” Jules asks.

“I don’t know.” I let my attention be caught. Let it find the part of the image that’s wrong. It isn’t the stern, where the waves give that disorienting rocking effect, or the half-submerged deck where there’s wet sloshing. It’s further back. In the empty stretch of water where the bow of the boat is entirely sunk. “There’s something in the waves.”

“Shark?” Mathieu asks. Both he and Jules stop swimming, simply holding on to the raft. The raft starts drifting sideways past the yacht. I get a better view.

Jules follows my gaze and curses. He releases the raft and breaks into a swift, determined forward stroke.

“Jules.” I abandon the raft and follow.

“Guys?” Mathieu calls out, a hint of panic in his voice.

Jules has a head start. He’s going to reach the yacht first.

“Guys?”

“Bubbles!” I call to Mathieu. “It’s going to sink.” And I’m not delusional; those waves aren’t giving the impression the yacht is rocking—it is. “Jules, don’t you dare.”

He reaches the yacht and hauls himself up and over the railing.

“I’m just grabbing something!” Jules cries over his shoulder. “Two seconds. One second!”

I must have been stung by some sort of hallucination-causing jellyfish because I see Jules purposefully throw his entire weight into the nearest cabin window. It pops out of its damaged casing and falls into the cabin. My hand catches the rail as Jules darts inside after it.

“Get out of there.”

The yacht tips, the angle of the deck becoming steep and dangerous. Jules yelps inside the cabin. I don’t feel my body. Tiredness or otherwise. I lift myself over the rail, catch the edge of the empty window frame, and glimpse Jules scrambling up the deck that’s quickly becoming vertical. In his hands is the popped-out window.

Fear seizes my heart. “Give me your hand.”

Jules pushes the window out over my head, and I roughly shove it away.

“No,” Jules cries. “I want—”