Читать книгу The Right Stuff - Merline Lovelace, Merline Lovelace - Страница 10

Cari was actually starting to believe she’d get her craft and its passengers safely away from Caribe when disaster struck. Unfortunately, she didn’t realize that hazy blur dead ahead represented disaster until it was too late.

“What the heck…?”

That was all she got out before Pegasus plowed into what looked very much like a net. It was a net, she discovered as the prow pushed hard against the barrier. Made of thin, loosely woven vines. No wonder it hadn’t returned any kind of a sonar signature.

The vines snared Pegasus like a giant fish, held him for a moment, then yielded to his powerful forward momentum. The net ripped apart. The vessel’s prow poked through. A long length of the hull followed. The swept-back wings and rear-tilted engines, however, snagged on the tangled remnants of the netting.

“Hell!”

Cari yanked the throttle back and reversed thrust, but it was too late. Dangling vines had wrapped tight around the propeller shafts. The twin engines gave a little sputter and died.

For a moment there was only silence.

Dead silence.

Cari felt a bubble of panic rise in her throat. Sailors the world over had nightmares about just this kind of a situation. She was trapped underwater. With her boat experiencing total engine failure.

As quickly as it rose, her panic evaporated. She shot a glance at the depth finder and confirmed they were less than ten feet below the river’s surface. Even without engines, she could float Pegasus up enough to pop the canopy and check out the situation.

“We’ll have to surface,” she told Mac.

“Not until we figure out what the heck snared us,” he returned, craning his neck to peer through the gloom at the entangling vines.

“My guess is it’s a fishing net.”

“Why didn’t we hit it coming upriver?”

“Could be the locals only string it in the afternoon, when the river’s running with the tide.”

“Or it could be a trap set specifically for us.”

The same possibility had occurred to Cari. “I don’t think so,” she said, chewing on the inside of her lip. “We swam upriver underwater. As far as we know, no one observed us going in.”

“Someone sure as hell observed us coming out. Those weren’t bees buzzing around my head back there.”

“They saw you, but I don’t think they saw Pegasus. We got you aboard and went under before whoever was taking potshots at you charged through the ferns.”

Mac’s eyes narrowed. “All anyone needed was a glimpse. Just a glimpse. They could have radioed to their buddies downriver, had them string a net.”

The terse exchange helped resolve some of the awful doubts gnawing at Cari. “Their buddies couldn’t have chopped down vines and strung something this elaborate in an hour. My guess…my considered opinion,” she amended, “is that we’ll soon come face-to-face with some local fishermen who are going to be very surprised at what they’ve netted.”

By now the questions were coming at her from the Whites as well. “What’s happened?” the reverend called anxiously from the back.

“Why are we stopped?” his sister wanted to know.

“We hit a net,” Cari called back. “A fisherman’s net I think, and fouled the engines. We’ll have to surface and try to clear them.”

Slowly, foot by foot, Cari floated Pegasus up from the murky depths.

The canopy broke the surface first. Eyes narrowed, shoulders tense, Mac twisted around and did a swift three-sixty. The only signs of life he spotted were two red-furred monkeys hanging from a branch extending over the river. The creatures ceased their antics and gaped at the monster rising from the depths before emitting high-pitched shrieks of alarm and scrambling away.

Pegasus pawed his way up inch by inch. Still tethered by the net, the craft remained caught in midcurrent. The swift moving river flowed past, rushing over the wings, swirling just a few inches below the canopy.

Cari assessed the situation once again and saw only one option. “I’m going to pop the canopy and try to cut through the vines.”

Mac shot her a swift look. “You sure opening the canopy won’t flood us?”

“Pretty sure.”

The possibility she might be putting the children at grave risk generated a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She saw no other way to free her craft, however. It was either pop the canopy and cut the vines or drift at the end of this tether indefinitely.

“Go back and tell the Whites what we’re doing,” she instructed Mac. “Stay with them and be prepared to pass the children up through the cockpit if we start to take on water. Worst-case scenario, we swim them to shore.”

He nodded, not questioning her decision or authority, and climbed out of his seat. When he signaled that they were ready in the rear compartment, Cari hit the button to raise the canopy.

The hydraulic lift pushed the nose down a few inches. River water rushed in, soaking her from the waist down. After a heart-stopping second or two, the nose bobbed upward again and the flood ceased.