The Prisoner's Dilemma by Sean Stuart O'Connor Page B

captain’s great strength was no match for the weight of water that forced him below the surface and in an instant he was pummeled and tossed before being spat out, blood streaming from a great gash to his head, lifeless, face down in the foam.
    The villagers knew the reef and had seen the disaster. Those closest to the water’s edge pointed urgently to the prone body and Mona McLeish snatched up a line and tied it round her son’schest.
    â€˜Go, James, you may save him yet,’ she shouted and, with a push that left no argument, the boy plunged in to swim the short distance to where Zweig’s body was floating. Yet even though it was so close to the beach James was nearly spent as he reached Zweig and he shot out a desperate arm to grab at his half sunk frame. The villagers saw his hand close about Zweig’s shirt and with a huge roar they ran backwards with the rope, pulling the two men to the shore.
    They now lay on the beach, James shattered by the effort and quite still as his mother, proud of him beyond measure, rubbed his back. Bit by bit his breathing steadied.
    Zweig was unconscious and blood streamed unchecked from a long wound over his right eye. He had been left on his side, higher on the beach, as the villagers took the line from around him and started the long operation of pulling it in. The light rope was little trouble but once the weight of the heavy cable followed their real work began. But they gained, manhandling it yard by yard through the turbulent water, the rope bucking and jumping as if a wild animal was at its end. At last the cable reached the shore and once they had enough of it looped on the beach, a boy was sent up the side of a large boulder with it.
    â€˜Take it twice around the top,’ shouted Andrew McLeish. ‘Now loop it round the rest of the line!’
    Strong hands pulled at it until the villagers were sure they had it securely anchored. Once done, the little group turned and waved frantically to the ship.
    On board a great cheer went up from the crew and the Master gave out brisk orders. Their end of the cable was quickly wrapped around the capstan and the villagers could see the men run to snatch up the winch’s poles. A dozen turns later and the slack in the line had been drawn smartly into the capstan’s rotating barrel.
    Hartmann looked on as the cable started to tighten and hismind began to turn to the future – and the chances of salvage and insurance. He left the men to their long task at the ratchet and raced below to retrieve the ship’s logbook and other papers, vital if there was ever to be a claim for the lost ship. He ran down the companionway towards Zweig’s cabin but twenty steps were enough for him to become aware of the other disaster that was engulfing the ship. He pushed open a cabin door, only to be immediately forced backwards by the huge sheet of flame that leapt out to meet him.
    Yet more of the same, he thought to himself, resigned to seeing all their troubles coming at once - there was little he could do about the blaze, and anyway the poor old barky could have little time left. If there was ever to be a tomorrow, then such things as claims would have to take care of themselves.
    He went back the way he had come, climbing the lurching stairwell and making a slow progress along the angled deck. He saw that the men were finding it difficult to circle the capstan because of the list but they pressed on and yard by yard the line drew gradually tighter. As he approached them Hartmann even allowed himself a second of hope as he saw the cable begin to stretch clear of the surface of the water. Each turn of the barrel was lifting the hearts of the crew and a few of them now started to cluster at the rail, desperate to be climbing down the rope.
    On the beach the villagers were shouting that the line was tight at their end. They now waved wildly to the ship, screaming that the crew should start to make their escape. They