A Yacht Called Erewhon by Stuart Vaughan Page B

looked like a pile of seaweed. ‘What the hell you got there, eh fella?’ he called, as Tangle nudged the mass closer. When a hand broke the surface of the water, Rei’s heart jumped a couple of beats.
    He reached out, grasped the limp arm, and dragged a woman over the side of the punt, laying her on the floorboards. Tangle did a tail-dance into the bay and disappeared out to sea.
    Rei’s mind was racing. What was he going to do? He was in enough trouble with the law already. He couldn’t take this person to anyone who might help. He grabbed her cold arm and felt for a pulse. Nothing. He pressed his ear to her chest. Still nothing. By her body temperature he knew she must have been in the water a while, but not long enough for him to believe she was past help. He stretched her out and began artificial respiration. It was the only class at school he’d bothered to pay attention to, and at that moment he was glad he’d listened.
    Rei pumped hard at Mercedes’ chest, but there was no sign of life. ‘Breathe, damn you, breathe!’ he yelled. He thrust his ear to her chest again. He listened hard. He thought hecould detect the faintest of thumps. He resumed pumping at her chest. ‘Breathe, for God’s sake!’ he screamed. Mercedes’ lips suddenly turned white, and on Rei’s next pump she fountained a lungful of water up into the air. She started to cough and vomited up more water. Rei let out a whoop and dived forward. He grabbed some sacks and propped her up against the rear seat. Mercedes didn’t look well at all as he leaped into the centre seat and grabbed the oars. Rowing for his life, Rei willed the shore closer. He knew he had to get her somewhere where he could warm her blue body. The hut and the open fire were her only hope, and he pulled hard on the oars.
    Rei rowed the punt straight up onto the beach and leaped out. He reached back into the boat and scooped the limp body into his arms. Mercedes’ breathing was laboured and sporadic as he ran the short distance to his rough hut. Kicking the door open, he found the bed in the gloom and laid her down. He took two strides to the nearly dead open fire and threw on some logs. It wasn’t cold, but he knew that if he didn’t get her body temperature up she would die.
    Next, he needed to get her out of her wet clothes, so he hunted for something to dress her in, tipping his clothes sack on to the floor and grabbing an old bush shirt. She was shivering violently as he slipped the shirt over her head and rested her back on the rough bed.
    She continued to shiver. He’d seen this before when his mates had succumbed to hypothermia—or ‘the shivers’, as he knew it—and he knew that there was only one thing he could do. He rounded up as many blankets as he could, threw them on top of her and climbed in beside her.
    Four hours passed before colour returned to what Rei could now see was a beautiful young face. She’d stopped shivering, but remained unconscious, and he became increasinglyconcerned as he listened to her laboured breathing.
    He decided to watch her through the night, and if she hadn’t woken by morning he’d seek help from Gladys on the other side of the island.
    When morning broke, Rei hadn’t slept, keeping vigil all night. Mercedes’ temperature had risen to a point where she broke out into a sweat, but she was still unconscious and Rei knew he needed help urgently. Placing a cool, damp towel on her forehead, he bolted up the track in the direction of Gladys’s house.
    Gladys was the only person on the island with medical experience. She and her husband had retired to what they had hoped would be a quiet life. But life on the island was anything but quiet, as her nursing skills, learned on the front line during the First World War, were called upon regularly to patch up loggers and fishermen who’d sustained injuries as they tried to extract a living from a very unforgiving environment.
    Rei bashed his way along the narrow, dew-wet track.