Free Knockdown by Brenda Beem Page A

door where the anchor chain was attached to the boat and stored. A much smaller anchor and lots of extra chain lay in the bottom.
    “Cole, w e should put the anchor away. There’s room in the locker.” I pushed the chain aside.
    “Do it.” Cole nodded .
    I waited for the boat to steady and leaned over the bow. Grabbing the anchor with one hand and holding on with the other, I raised it off its rubber holder. I gasped. It was heavier than I expected.
    The boat slid down a steep trough. I fell, face first, towards the water, gripping the chrome rail to stop myself. I lost hold of the anchor. It bounced off its rubber frame and dangled off the bow, hanging five feet down on a heavy chain. It began to swing back and forth.
    The boat headed up the next wave. The anchor flew back and crashed into the hull.
    “Help!” I screamed and pulled on the anchor chain, hoping to move the anchor back to its holder. But it was too heavy. The anchor swung out, arched, and came rushing back.
    “No!” I screamed.
    The anchor slammed into the bow again. This time there was a sickening crunch.
    Jervis , Nick, and Takumi hurried to help me. Jervis reached down and grabbed hold of the chain with one huge hand and pulled. The muscles on his arm bulged. The anchor moved up toward the holder. The shorter the chain got, the less the anchor swayed.
    The boat slid sideways into another swell. Cole had increased the angle we were taking the waves in order to make the ride smoother. Freezing water crashed across the bow and drenched us.
    Jervis stopped hauling up the anchor and made a face. “It’s slipping.” He reached out with his other hand to grab it, but the boat rocked, and he fell against the rail. Water ran in rivulets down his face. “I can’t hold—” he bellowed as he lost his grip on the anchor chain and it dropped down again. The anchor swung back in a wide arc and rammed into the bow.
    Without a word, Takumi and Nick dropped down and slid on their stomachs to the opposite sides of the bow. They simultaneously reached down to stop the swinging anchor.
    The boat rocked to the right. The anchor swung to the right. Nick grabbed for it. The anchor pivoted on its chain. Nick jerked his hand away seconds before his fingers were smashed between the anchor and the boat.
    The anchor swung toward Takumi. I held onto his feet as he hung over the side. With both hands free, he grabbed hold of the top of the anchor. “Got it,” he called out. “Someone pull the chain in from the top.”
    When the anchor was almost up, Nick moved to the tip of the bow and grabbed hold of it from above. Soon it was back in its holder. I opened the locker. Jervis easily picked up the anchor and chain and stuffed them into it. When I closed the lid, we collapsed on the cabin deck. Spray from a wave soaked us.
    “I can’ t look,” I moaned.
    Takumi leaned over the side and inspected the damage. “It’s not that bad.”
    I to ok a deep breath and slid on my stomach to the edge. Someone grabbed my legs. I knew by the current flowing between us that it was Takumi.
    There were two dents in the hull, but I couldn’t tell how deep they were. Takumi helped me up and we made our way back to the stern.
    “Cole, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to pick up the anchor. It’s all my fault.”
    Cole closed his eyes and inhaled. “How bad is it?”
    “Two pretty deep dents. The paint is intact and the dents are all above the water line.” I hung my head.
    Cole nodded. “That’s good. Maybe it didn’t crack the fiberglass.”
    I started to shiver. The wet guys looked as miserable as I felt. Then I realized. None of them had a change of clothes.
    Dylan appeared on deck, squinted, and ran his fingers through his messy hair. “What’d we hit?”
    Cole told him about the anchor swinging loose.
    “How stupid can you be?” Dylan snarled at me.
    “I told her to move the anchor,” Cole said. “It’s my fault.”
    “I didn’t know how heavy it was.”