Free The Immortelles by Gilbert Morris

see the mountainous wave break. It snapped off two of the masts and continued to roll the ship.
    â€œWe’re going over!” Yancy shouted in her ear. “Hang on to me. Don’t turn loose. Can you swim?”
    â€œNo!”
    Afterward, Damita was never able to remember the sequence of events that took place. She knew only that another massive wave broke over the ship, and then there was a whirling in her head. She realized that the ship had turned upside down, and then she felt water envelope her. She fought Yancy’s hold but had the presence of mind to hold her breath. Under the water, she could not hear the shrieking of the wind, but she heard the breaking noises of the ship as it disintegrated. Her lungs began to burn, and fear was a physical thing that filled her completely. She was vaguely aware of Yancy’s grip.
    When Damita could stand the burning in her lungs no longer, she expelled the air and then automatically breathed in cold water. It brought a pain she had not imagined possible. Noise and cold and water—and then her head was out. She began coughing violently, and a voice cried, “Hold on!”
    While only half-conscious, Damita grabbed Yancy. The waves lifted them high and then slapped her in the face so that more water went into her nose, and she coughed and gagged. Yancy turned her so that her back was to him, and his arm was around her chest. She clung to it and tried to cry out, but the water and wind covered every other sound.
    Damita grew feeble and conscious only of the roar of the wind and the force of the water that seemed to beat at her like a club. She cried out, “ma tante!” but then could just struggle weakly to keep her head above the water.
    Something hard struck her leg, and she felt Yancy’s arm tighten. Her eyes were full of saltwater, and she could see nothing. She felt herself being pulled, and the back of her legs dragged across something rough, and then she was thrown down so that the back of her head struck a hard, wooden surface. The blow ignited a thousand pinpoints of light in her mind. She rolled over.
    â€œAll right, don’t fight it anymore.”
    Hearing Yancy’s voice, Damita opened her eyes. At first, all she could see was the leaden gray and black of the sky and the waves that surrounded her, still frothy white and lashing the air. She felt a wooden plank beneath her.
    Damita lifted her head. She looked around wearily. Yancy was lying beside her, one arm over her back. The murky light limited her vision, but she could see that whatever they were floating on was some sort of wooden surface some ten feet or more square. It rose and fell violently with the waves, and once she started to slide off, but Yancy’s hands caught her and pulled her back. “We’re not far from shore,” he yelled. “If we can fight out this storm, it’ll carry us in.”
    Damita’s mind cleared then, and she saw that Yancy’s hair was plastered to his skull, his eyes were half shut, and his lips were a white line. “Where’s the ship, Yancy?”
    â€œShe went down at once.”
    Damita could not speak. The passage of time meant nothing, and she had no way of telling how long they clung to their precarious island, bobbing up and down and spinning at the mercy of the waves. Once Yancy yelled, “If this thing doesn’t turn over, we’re all right. I can hear the breakers.”
    Damita’s hands ached from the pressure of holding on to the board. She could see something far off that looked dimly like a dark line of coast. “Is that the shore?”
    â€œYes. When we hit, this thing will probably turn over. If it does, don’t fight me. I’ll pull you in.”
    â€œAll right.” Damita was too exhausted to suggest any other plan. The only firm object in the universe to the young woman at that moment was Yancy’s arm around her, like iron pressing her down, holding her steady.