heâd supposed, because heâd not stopped to think what heâd been doing and the adrenaline had kept him going. That same kind of instinct was driving Sue today, and he admired her for it and hoped that at least for a while the exertion and the stress hormones would help keep her warm.
She arrived beside the capsized dinghy, manouvering her craft to place its pointed stern near Andy.
He could make out a rope being passed. It looked as if Andy was trying to get it under his armpits. There was a flurry of foam. Barry could see thrashing in the water, Sueâs higher-pitched voice calling something, but what, he could not tell.
âDear God, sheâs going til turn turtle,â a man standing beside Barry said. It was Lenny Brown, Colinâs father. He had his hand on Colinâs shoulder. Murphy sat at the ladâs feet, his front paws restlessly kneading the sand as if he wanted to be out there helping. Barry knew just how the dog felt.
The kayak assumed a frightening list to port and Barry gasped. All three of them, including the dog, leaned forward, willing the little craft upright. As best as he could tell, Sue had tied a rope around her waist and somehow to Andy. He had slipped off the keel of his boat and his weight must be pulling Sue down. Now she was paddling as hard as she could. Barry exhaled. He hadnât realised heâd been holding his breath. He and the little crowd moved to their left as the breeze pushed the kayak and, Barry hoped, the survivor along the coast. At least Andyâs head was above water and the boatâs list was less.
Lenny, who might have been cheering on his soccer team, was chanting, âGo on, you girl, yuh. Go on. Go on.â
Colin imitated his daddy with shrill cries of encouragement.
Ten yards from the shore the kayak shuddered to a halt. Had she hit a rock?
âYour manâs grounded, I think,â Gerry said. âLook. Heâs trying til stand up.â
As Barry watched, Andy struggled to his feet then pitched forward on his outstretched hands. Barry could tell his friendâs lips and ears were blue.
Sue untied the rope and stepped into mid-thigh-deep water. Barry felt the chill for her and shivered. Damn it, he thought, Andyâs a big man. Fifteen stone at least. Sheâll not be able to support him by herself. âHere.â He started to hand her clothes to Lenny, who shook his head and said, âNot at all, sir. Stay you here. Weâll need a fit doctor on shore, so we will. Iâll go.â He dumped his coat and jacket, pulled off his shoes, and raced for the water. Lenny Brown was a big man, used to hefting big chunks of metal in his job as a shipbuilder. Heâd probably be able to oxtercog Andy unassisted.
Now a young man with a wild head of long blond hair, warmly dressed, trotted past. âItâs my kayak,â he called. âIâll see to it.â At least, Barry thought, thatâs one of the two abandoned craft looked after. He glanced out to sea.
Farther out, the capsized little dinghy drifted down the wind, helpless, alone, and, if she had a soul as Barry sometimes imagined boats did, as terrified as a winged mallard.
Barry heard a car engine, a slamming door, and a bellowed, âGet to hell out of the way.â OâReilly was roaring in his best quarterdeck voice. âOut of my bleeding way.â
A more blasphemous Moses and the Red Sea, Barry thought, turning to see the crowd break apart. OâReilly had an armful of bath towels. The big old Rover was parked nearby on the sand, engine running to keep the car heater going at full blast.
OâReilly handed Barry a towel. âHere,â he said, âyou see to Sue. Iâll look after the sailor. Sueâll just be a bit cold and wet, sheâs only been in the water a few minutes, but the other fellow may have hypothermia.â
Barry, whose own soaked feet were afire with pins and needles, understood that