Finder's Shore by Anna Mackenzie Page B

it around Ronan’s shoulders.
    Water has begun to pool in the bottom of the dinghy, sloshing over my feet as we rise and fall with the swell. As I hunt in my pack for something to use as a bailer, my fingers close on the torch. I charge the dynamo with a few cranks and flick it on. I don’t care if we’re still too close to the island, its frail beam bolsters my hope that Explorer will find us.
    A swell bellies us sideways and I clutch for my oar. “I’ll row for a while,” I tell Ronan, prodding him towards the stern. He moves lethargically, almost falling against the transom. I hang the strap of the torch around his neck and set it in his hand. “Point the light over the bow.”
    It’s more than exhaustion that troubles him, but there’s nothing I can do until we find Explorer — or they find us. Straightening my spine, I wrap my cold fingers around the oars. I can no longer see Dunnett Island. There’s nothing but the sea, chill and endless around us. As I lean into my stroke, fear wraps me like a shroud. 

CHAPTER 12
    The low whistle carries across the waves, nudging me alert. The muscles of my back are stiff as old leather as I turn to scan the grey waves. Nothing.
    Ronan is motionless, slumped in the stern. I check the compass. We’ve drifted again, the southerly swell shunting us off our westerly bearing. It’s a battle I can no longer win, but I can’t give up trying. Wearily, fingers white with cold, I pull on the oars.
    “Ahoy the boat,” a voice calls.
    I lurch around, oars flapping. We rise to the top of a swell and I see Explorer to our right, her bow lifting and crashing through the waves as she cuts a path towards us. “Here!” My voice is like the reedy cry of a heron. “Ronan,” I call, but he doesn’t move.
    Taxing my tired arms, I begin pulling towards the ship. When we reach it, it’s more than I can manage to throw them our mooring line. Malik tosses one down instead, and swings himself nimbly after to secure it. He takes in the state of us as he prises my fingers from the oars. The sea feels alive beneath us, bucking and battering the dinghy against Explorer ’s side. “Can you manage the ladder?” he asks, as he helps me to my feet.
    “I —”
    Dev is beside me suddenly. “Hold tight,” he says, swinging me up and over his shoulder. It’s not the most elegant way to arrive on deck, but I’ve no heart to protest.
    “Kush?” My voice cracks. “Where’s Kush?”
    A moment later he’s squatting before me. “Are you all right, Ness?” His cool fingers seek the pulse in my wrist.
    “It’s Ronan. He cut his hand. It needs stitching,” I mumble. It’s the best I can do. My eyelids feel weighted.
    “Get her to her bunk.” It’s Lara’s voice. “Kush, we’ll need the stretcher for Ronan. And get another line down. Malik, watch the gib.” The voices fade and I feel myself jostled, but from a distance. Before I can decide which part of me aches most, I’m sliding into a deep well of relief.
     
    Orange light filters through my eyelids and I climb upwards towards it. A door snicks nearby. I turn, opening my eyes. Yesterday rushes back like water through a spill-gate .
    Kush smiles. “Hello there.” He proffers a mug.
    I sit up, wincing at the aches I find. The water soothes my parched throat. “How’s Ronan?”
    “Sleeping. That’s a nasty gash on his hand.”
    “I bandaged it; it was the best I could do in the dark.”
    “You did just fine,” Kush tells me. “How about you, Ness? How are you feeling?” 
    I roll my shoulders, feeling the pull around my ribs. “I’m not much used to rowing,” I say ruefully.
    “If sore muscles are the worst of it, you’ve not done too badly. Lara wants to see you as soon as you’re ready.”
    I slide my legs out of bed. My sodden clothes are gone, replaced with fresh, though I’ve no memory of changing. “She’ll be on deck,” Kush says. “Here.” He tosses me a heavy jersey. “Weather’s turned.”
    When