Chapter 14: Stranded

"Any idea where we are?" Celeste enquired as they lounged on deck. "Has anyone thought to check the GPS?"

The other two crew members lay sprawled on the aft deck, neither one at all interested in moving, for the afternoon sun and the humidity had induced a debilitating lethargy as they waited for the winds to pick up enough to fill the sails.

"Last time I looked," Tracy volunteered, "we were about two hundred miles south of Davao and about a hundred miles west of Karakelong. Why? Are you getting tired of this hectic pace?"

There was a groan from two impatient sailors heard on deck, for with the light winds they'd encountered, the little ship hadn't moved more than a hundred miles over the previous three days.

"Maybe we should make up another sea anchor," Brandon suggested, "and see if that helps. If it wasn't for the one we have out now, we wouldn't be going anywhere."

"That would take energy," Celeste responded to his idea, "and right now, I don't have any. It's funny, though. I'm getting used to just sitting dead in the water like this. Remember how antsy we got on our way to the Galapagos? Back then, that evening wind was something we all looked forward to. But now? If the winds don't come up, I really don't care."

"Maybe you don't," Tracy challenged her, "but I'd kind of like to be somewhere other than in the middle of an ocean when this baby comes. Think we'll make it through Indonesia in the next eight weeks?"

"At this rate?" Brandon speculated. "Somehow, Pip-squeak, I have a feeling that our little one is going to enter the world in the middle of the Pacific. That's going to look interesting on a birth certificate, isn't it?

"Lover, are you saying that we're still going to be out here, becalmed, when Tracy delivers?" Celeste's somewhat panicky tone enquired.

"I doubt it," he tried to calm her worries. "This current is taking us about twenty five miles west every day. Eventually, it has to find us some wind. I just hope it comes before we drift back into the equatorial counter current, because there isn't a lot of fuel left for the auxiliary."

"Maybe we shouldn't have used the engine that much when we were in New Guinea," she reminisced.

"How was I to know that we couldn't get more in Manokwari?" Brandon made his excuses. "Besides, the winds were perfect when we left, and I really didn't think it would be a problem."

"Hindsight is always a hundred percent," Tracy defended her brother. "This is what we have to work with, so there's no sense crying over spilled milk. So we don't make it to the Philippines. Is that such a big deal?"

"It's fighting that current that has me worried," her Captain disclosed. "If we get stuck in it, it'll drag us back towards Panama again, and we all remember how much fun that place was, don't we?"

"Panama?" Celeste questioned his projected destination, a note of panic in her tone. "We've got to be able to find wind before then."

"We will," he reassured her. "If we can stay north of the equator, both the winds and the current will keep on taking us west. The only question in my mind is where we'll be when the baby comes."

"Oh stop it, you two!" Tracy demanded. "If we make it, we make it, and if we don't, we don't. All your bickering isn't going to change a damned thing, and right now, I'd rather not listen to it."

"Someone's a little grouchy this afternoon, isn't she?" her brother observed. "Are you really that uncomfortable, Sis? Maybe a quick dip might help," as he suggested a refreshing swim.

"It probably would, except that moving would take energy, and I don't have any. Getting back onboard is a hassle, too. Your kid keeps getting in the way whenever I try to haul myself out on the swim grid," she complained.

"I could always grab a bucket and fill it, then throw water on you," Celeste suggested, a sly grin on her face.

"You would, too, wouldn't you?" her sister-in-law challenged the idea. "I suppose you'd leave me to clean up the salt left on the deck, too. And all this time, I thought you loved me!" her mock exasperated tone dared the other woman.

"Now who's bickering?" Brandon looked for his own brand of peace and quiet. "Honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd think you two were angry with each other."

"She's just pissed because I can get to her pussy but she can't get to mine," Celeste made up an excuse. "Not with that belly of hers."

"Maybe she can't," he reminded her, "but we sure can get to hers. Think it would help?"

"Couldn't hurt," she giggled, "but if last night was any indication, I could go deaf when she cums. Gawd, were you ever loud, Sweetie! I just wish it was me that made you scream like that, instead of your horny brother."

"He does tend to do that to me whenever I get a good licking," Tracy admitted, "but I still say that you're better at it than he is. Not by much, mind you, and he's definitely getting better. Still, I miss making love with you, Sis. Think after the baby comes, we'll be able to make up for lost time?"

"We might not make up for all of it, but I have intentions of giving it my best shot," Celeste snickered happily, the lascivious thoughts of times spent with her sister-in-law roaming around in her brain.

"Give it another ten weeks, and we'll get started," Tracy reminded her sister-in-law. "The things I'm going to do to you, too."

"I'm not sure I can wait that long," Celeste moaned, the aroma of her arousal drifting through the still air to her two lovers. "Gawd, remember that night in Colon? That was one of the most erotic experiences I've ever had! Both of us licking your pussy. Sure made you cum hard, that's for sure!"

"What I remember the most," Tracy put forth, "was that night in Turtle Bay. Wasn't that the night that we both had you, Babe? It felt so good to feel you inside me at long last, too. Just remembering Celeste riding your cock while you both licked my pussy sends shivers up my spine. But when she and I traded places, I thought I'd died and gone to Heaven!"

"It was only fair that he came in you first," Celeste pointed out. "You'd waited so long for that night, and damned if I was going to ruin it for you."

The memories of that night, and several similar ones, were having their effect on Brandon, and he could feel himself hardening in response. The evidence that both women were becoming just as aroused assailed his nostrils, with the accompanying desire to taste their pussies further inducing his own lust.

"Looks like someone else remembers," Celeste mentioned. "You want to suck him before I ride him, or after, Sweetie?"

"Both," was Tracy's answer, as she shifted position to use her brother's stomach for a pillow, then took his erection in one hand and began to lick all around his glans.

"Oh my Gawd!" Brandon howled as his sister's lips slid over the head of his cock on their way down his straining shaft. "I don't know how you do that, Sis, but it feels..."

That was as much as he got out before Celeste squatted over his head, her moist pussy mere inches away from his lips. Between the aroma, her beauty, and what his own sister was doing to his manhood, there was no way Brandon could refuse the invitation. As his hands reached up to caress her distended butt cheeks, he pulled Celeste into position so that he could sample her juices. At the first touch of his tongue on her clit, she jumped, then surrendered to the pleasure in her pussy as Brandon spread her lower lips, lightly bathing every sensitive place she had.

Tracy had rearranged herself so that she was now laying with her head on her brother's thigh, and had taken his cock in one hand so that she could run her tongue up the underside from the base to the tip, savouring the taste and texture that she'd come to know so well. Even so, as many times as she'd had him this way before, she still couldn't get enough, and that lust-driven heat inside drove her to consume all that she could, starting with his purple helmet, and slowly extending her lips down his shaft until she felt him pushing against the back of her throat. Inhaling deeply, it was a matter of only a second or two before her nose collided with the skin of his groin.

Letting her esophageal muscles instinctively try to force her prize deeper into her belly, Tracy held that position for as long as she could, then let Brandon slip back out of her throat. Moving at a slow and deliberate pace, she slid back up until only his glans remained between her lips before resuming her downward slide again. With each cycle, her pace became faster, and soon she was sucking on him in complete abandon, almost fixated on the flavour of his seed that would soon be hers.

Brandon groaned a warning of his pending orgasm, and Tracy immediately released him. As much as she loved to taste him, there was a demand in her body to feel him exploding inside her.

"Oh no you don't!" she growled in her lusty delirium. "I want to feel you go off, but not like this."

Without further pretense, she changed position so that his manhood was at her entrance, then slowly sank down on his shaft as he filled her as deeply as she could get him.

"Sis? Is that wise?" Brandon's concern for her pregnancy forced him out of the sensual world he'd been in and back to reality.

"I don't give a damn if it is or not," she declared. "I want to feel you spurting inside me, dammit!", and Tracy began to slowly ride up and down on her brother's member, grinding her clit against his pubic bone in the process. Within minutes, she was as close as he was to slipping over the edge, both of them encouraged by Celeste's moaning as he went back to teasing and tasting her pussy.

"Gawd, I'm going to cum in a minute!" Celeste let the other two know. "Cum with me? Both of you?"

That was all it took to push Tracy over the edge of her precipice and send her soaring into the euphoric elation of her orgasm. The wild convulsions in her pussy milked the seed from her brother's balls as he joined her in flight, with Celeste scant seconds behind. The sounds of the orgasmic release from the two women mingled with the forced grunts of their lover as Brandon shot streamer after streamer of seed deep into his sister. Each eruption created an electric-like shock of sensations that radiated from Tracy's clit to every nerve ending in her body, and she rode her brother in full abandon until a loss of muscle control forced her to collapse into Celeste's arms.

Their afterglow held the three for many wonderful minutes as the magic of their loving caressed and cradled them, and only when Tracy finally eased off to one side of her brother did they drift back down.

"Are you okay?" Brandon's concern finally overrode the hazy fog in his mind. "You worry me sometimes, Sis. I'm always afraid that we'll hurt the baby."

"You worry too much," she reassured him. "As much as I love the taste of you, I needed to feel you cum inside me. When I'm too close to my time, I'll know, and I'll let you know, too. Okay? I love you too much to hurt your little one, Babe. You have no idea how much I want to give you this child, and nothing is going to change that."

"I love you too, Pip-squeak," he softly told her, then took a last swipe at Celeste's pussy lips, who was still squatting above him, and he lapped the last of her juices in the process. She jumped slightly at the unexpected stimulation, then gazed down at the man between her thighs with a look of pure adoration.

"Not trying to ruin the moment, but isn't it amazing how we have the energy to make love, but not to make up another sea anchor? Or go and check the GPS for a position?" Celeste observed.

"Making a sea anchor is work. Making love isn't," her sister-in-law pointed out. "If I had to make a choice, I know which one I'd choose."

"You two can argue all you want, and maybe you'll eventually figure out the difference between work and making love. Me? I'm going to take a nap," Brandon declared, as the remaining energy of staying awake left him. Within minutes, he was asleep, vaguely aware of two women curled up on his chest, one on either side.

Afternoon slipped into evening, and it was dark out when first Celeste, then Brandon finally awoke. Between their earlier exertions and the humidity, both of them felt clammy and in need of either a good shower or a swim in the warm waters of the Celebs Sea. When Tracy finally woke, she had to agree with their idea, and proposed that they all take a swim, as long as they'd help her get back onboard afterwards.

"Think we'll need some light to find our way back?" Celeste's concern had her asking.

"We're not going that far away from the ship," Brandon reminded her, "and with our luck, the light will attract some kind of fish that we really don't want to share the night with."

Despite the warning he'd given out, Brandon was the first one in, followed by his sister, with Celeste right behind her. They spent a good half hour frolicking in the refreshing sea, until Tracy began to tire. With her brother's help and her sister-in-law to steady her once she was back onto the swim grid, Tracy found getting out of the water again to be less difficult than she'd originally anticipated.

"Gawd, that feels better," Tracy remarked as the three dried themselves off. "I might even have the energy to make love again."

"If you're that energetic, how'd you like to whip up another sea anchor?" Brandon teased her, and got an angry scowl for his efforts.

"I don't know about you two, but I'm ready for bed," Celeste informed the siblings. "You guys can stay up and argue about sea anchors if you want, but I'm heading below."

Tracy had to admit that her sister-in-law had a good idea, and between the energy they'd expended that afternoon and the rigours of their impromptu midnight swim, she was more than ready to retire, with her brother making the idea unanimous.

"Think we should drop the sails before we go?" Celeste enquired. "If the winds come up, we won't know from which direction, or how strong. We could get completely turned around and not know it."

"Good idea, Angel. I'll get the jib if you and Tracy furl the mainsail," Brandon took charge, although with the electric motor that would roll the sail into the mast, the women had been given the easier chore. Only when he was satisfied that the sails had been properly taken in did he usher the other two below.

Now laying on their oversized berth, the three arranged themselves into what had become a customary orientation, with Brandon in the middle, Celeste on his right side, and his sister once again curled up on his chest on the left. Within minutes, he heard the soft and gentle breathing of two women who had returned to the relaxation of slumber. Soon, his own gentle snores harmonized with the sounds of unconscious bedmates.

It was barely light out when Tracy woke to a strange sound, and she raised her head in an attempt to get a better idea of what made the noise. Try as she might, identifying it was more than her semi-conscious mind would allow, yet the need to find out became stronger with each passing minute. That curiosity drove her to wake Brandon and ask for his opinion.

"Babe? What's that noise I'm hearing? It sounds like waves breaking on the shore, but it can't be, can it?" she murmured to him.

"You stay there, Sis, and I'll go topside to see what I can find. Back in a moment," he muttered as his muscles dragged him to the foot of the berth, then propped him onto his feet.

Once upright, Brandon searched for a robe that would fit, but couldn't find one. Why he bothered was beyond him, though. He wrote it off as being instinctive, and after all those months of spending most of their shipboard time naked, it seemed ridiculous anyway. Without a second thought as to who or what might be outside, he shrugged his shoulders, then made his way topside.

Looking aft as he climbed out of the hatchway, all Brandon could see was the usual expanse of water that had been their constant companion for the last seven months. but the sounds that had woken his sister came from towards the bow, and he stepped onto the deck, then turned to survey whatever lay ahead of them. What he saw sent a chill through his body.

Directly ahead of them lay a substantial-sized island, surrounded by the unmistakable sight of waves breaking over a reef that surrounded the land mass. As a guess, the distance between them and that reef was less than an eighth of a mile – with the current pulling them directly towards it on a collision course.

"Tracy! Celeste! Topside! Now!" he hollered, with the two women scrambling up the ladder moments later.

"Holy shit!" Tracy spat out in shock. "Where the hell did that come from?" as she took in the sight of the island directly in front of them.

"It's probably been there for centuries," Brandon told her, "but if we don't get our asses moving, we're going to hit that damned reef. Take the helm, Sis. Angel, I need you to break out sails. Maybe we'll get lucky and find enough wind to steer clear. I'm going below to see if I can get the auxiliary started. It won't respond to the key."

That had been Brandon's first idea as soon as he realized that they needed power for steerage, and while the little engine had turned over freely, it wouldn't stay running for more than a few seconds. They'd have to rely on whatever wind they could find to fill at least one of the sails if he couldn't breathe some life into the little diesel. Unless the problem with starting was obvious through a quick and cursory glance, there might not be enough time to worry about it. At the speed they were approaching the reef, immediacy spurred Brandon to get into the engine compartment as quickly as he could.

A fast look around the compartment revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Using the engine's localized starter button, Brandon cranked the little engine, which still refused to fire. He wondered if there was enough fuel left for the pump to pick up, and opened the tank's access cap to check. By dipping a stick into the opening, he'd be able to find out how much they had. Looking down the tube cursorily, his dismay at seeing light caught him off-guard. Only with a flashlight should he be able to illuminate anything inside.

Running back up on deck, Brandon found the source of the light, and of his trouble starting the engine. Somehow, the cap had been left off the on-deck filler, with a good chance that water had got into the tank. Returning below, he grabbed the first thing that came to hand, an old piece of rubber hose, and shoved it through the access opening. The reading on the tubing showed that the tank was over half full – but most of what was in it was water.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" he screamed out in frustration.

"That damned pump is trying to feed water into the injectors!" he told himself. "I wonder if I have time to siphon off enough so it'll pick up fuel instead? And how much water is in the fuel line?" all went through his mind. With the hose still in the tank, he tried to get a siphon flow started, hoping that he could get the fuel level down to where the pump would pick it up. But the flow was slow, and it became obvious that he wouldn't be able to get the little Yanmar running in time. Leaving the hose to pour water into the bilge opening, Brandon ran back up on deck to assess how much time he might have.

"Can you get the engine to work?" Celeste quietly asked.

"No," he gave his honest opinion. "Someone left the cap off, and the tank's full of water. I've got a siphon going, but it'll take a miracle to get enough of it out so that the engine gets fuel. And I still have to bleed the water out of the injector lines. Even if we had enough time for all that, I have a feeling that the engine's too wet inside to fire. How's that sail doing? Can you get enough speed for steerage?"

"We'd do better with Tracy and me blowing into the fucking thing!" Celeste's exasperation came out. "Remember I said that I didn't give a damn if we never found a wind again? I lied. Right now, I'd give my left boob for a breath of air."

"We're in deep shit, aren't we, Babe?" Tracy summed up their situation.

"I won't lie to you, Sis," he gave her his feelings. "That reef isn't deep enough for us to go over top of it. If it doesn't hole us, it'll rip the keels off. One way or the other, only a miracle is going to save our asses this time."

During their assessment, Brandon had been looking at the looming site of their demise, and spotted a location where the waves weren't breaking quite as violently. That implied a possible passage into the lagoon and out of the current that had them captive. He pointed the location out to Celeste, who still maintained the helm.

"Angel, see that spot where the waves are lowest? Try to aim for that. Maybe drop the centerboard so it'll grab the current, but you'll have to pull it back up as soon as we get too close. That should be the deepest point through the reef. If we're lucky, we'll get through that gap, and once we're in the lagoon itself the current might release us."

"I might as well go whaling with a fucking toothpick!" she snarled back at him. "I can't get this ship to change course even a fraction of a degree. If I could get through that gap, I could steer us away from the reef completely!"

"It's a long shot, Angel, but it's the only chance we have. Try to get as close to the nearest edge of the gap as you can. I'm going to go below again and see if I can get that damned engine to run," he ordered, but with a pleading tone to his voice.

"What can I do, Babe?" Tracy sought a direction that would be useful in some way.

"Dig up some life vests, Sis," he suggested, "then pray to whatever entity you believe in. Oh, and maybe act as Celeste's eyes when we get closer. She's got about fifteen feet of wiggle room going through that opening, and she'll need every bit of help you can give her. Call me if you need me?"

"Brandon? Are we going to die?" Tracy's fear came out in words.

"Some day, Pip-squeak, but I'm working on it not being today."

"Brandon, I'm scared. Really, really scared," she confessed through her tears.

"That makes three of us, Sis. It's what we do about being afraid that'll make the difference. Me? I'm going to see if I can get that piece of cast iron to run. It takes my mind off what's about to happen. Now go put that life vest on, and get ready for a morning swim. Okay?"

"I ... I love you, big brother," she stalled for time.

"I love you too, Pip-squeak," he assured her, "and you, too, Angel.'

"Really?" Celeste tried to cover her own fear. "How about you tell me that after we hit that fucking reef, and get me to believe it?!"

As much as he'd have loved to argue with her over that pessimistic attitude, there were more pressing things that had to be done, and he gave his helmsman a quick kiss on the cheek, then headed back below to see if he could resuscitate the engine. All they really needed was for the damned thing to run for five minutes; enough to give them the steerage to get past the reef and into the lagoon. What happened after that would take care of itself in due course.

As he descended the cabin ladder, Brandon remembered the sea anchor, and the fact that it was the only thing that gave them any manoeuverability. While it wasn't the most reliable means of locomotion, it had done its intended job so far, but could also be their eventual downfall. If they could use the current coming off the reef to pull themselves to relative safety, that anchor would save the day. But if it pulled them even closer to the reef, it was more of a liability than an asset. Anticipating a possible problem, he headed for the galley, picked up a chopping block and a cleaver, then returned topside.

"Sis, that sea anchor might pull us away from the reef if we leave it out. If it does, let it do its job, but if it starts to pull us into the coral, slide this block under the line, then chop it with the cleaver. I'll leave it to you to make the value judgement. Keep it in mind that as soon as we lose the sea anchor, all we'll have to move us is the current. Can you do that for me?"

"I'll try," was her sole reply.

Taking the time to re-evaluate their plight, Brandon took another moment to attempt to bolster their helmsman's confidence.

"You're doing great, Angel," he complimented her.

'Liar," she spat out, then softened her stance with the realization that Brandon really did believe in her. "Thanks for saying that, though. Think we'll make it?"

"We'll find out soon enough," he summed up. "There's about what? A hundred yards to go? I'm not going to have time to get that damned engine to run. Want me to stay up here?"

"You're the Captain," she confirmed. "You know best. But I could use your encouragement, if you can spare the time."

"Call me when we're about twenty-five yards out. Maybe I can pull off a miracle in the meantime. If it doesn't start in the next five minutes, it never will."

Without further word, Brandon disappeared into the bowels of their little ship, hoping that the siphon had pulled enough water out of the tank to let the pump pick up fuel instead. Once back in the cramped engine room, he picked up a crescent wrench and took the fuel line off the pump, then sucked on it in an attempt to clear the sea water out. For his trouble, he got a mouthful of salt water, and for the first time in his life, felt disappointed that it wasn't diesel, despite the horrid taste of the stuff.

"Got to get the water out of that pump while I'm at it," he muttered to himself. Opening the bleeder valve, Brandon tried to blow the water out, and succeeded in doing nothing more than wasting his breath.

There was still a slow trickle of unidentified fluid coming out of the fuel line, but a look down the tank access vent showed that there was still a good twenty gallons of water that would have to come out before he'd get fuel again. At the siphon's current flow rate, it would never happen. With that realization, Brandon lifted the hose out of the tank, then slipped the fuel line back onto the pump again. It was an exercise in futility, he knew, but keeping the engine room as clear of fuel as he could followed in the footsteps of all he'd ever learned on the rigs. Cleanliness was worth its weight in gold when it came to safety, and old habits die hard. Now if he'd only been as meticulous at checking the fuel filler cap...

"Brandon?" he heard Celeste call out to him. "We're about twenty-five yards out, I think. Can you come up here?"

"Be right there, Angel," he assured her, then took one last look around the cabin that had been their home for the last six or seven months. There was a dark sense of foreboding that this might be the last time he'd see the cabin in its current light, and it left him with a feeling of emptiness that the ship might not survive this ordeal.

Reluctantly, Brandon climbed the ladder and onto the deck, stopping to reassess their position relative to the apparent gap in the reef. A surge of hope sprang up inside him, for it looked like Celeste had put them into a position that might make safe passage a real possibility.

"Fantastic job, Angel," he complimented her. "Unless we get hit by a big one, you've got us within inches of the perfect spot to shoot that gap. We just might make it after all.'

"As much as I'd like to take credit," she replied," we're where we are by pure fluke. I could spin this wheel all damned day and it wouldn't make one bit of difference. Which God do I pray to?"

"Pray for sex, Angel. Anyone can surf," he mumbled in her ear just before kissing its lobe.

"If we survive this, I'll even offer myself as a fucking human sacrifice," she vowed.

"I think they have a preference for virgins," he tried to ease the tension, "and I think I ruined you're chances of being mistaken for one."

"Guess someone did," she agreed, "but it was worth it. I'd rather die loved than with my hymen intact. Virginity is highly overrated, in my opinion."

As the reef came nearer, Brandon caught Celeste holding her breath, then softly mumbling some kind of promise to an unidentified deity. Glancing forward, he found Tracy doing her best to lay on her swollen stomach, the chopping block under the sea anchor's line, and her meat cleaver at the ready. As much as he'd hoped it would drag them away from the bank of rock and coral, it had served its purpose as much as it ever would. He was about to suggest that she use the cleaver when Tracy's arm raised up, then sank quickly as the rope was severed. All he could do now was go forward and help her back to the aft deck.

'Did I cut it too soon?" she asked, her fear evident in the tone of her voice.

"You did good, Sis," he gave her his commendation. "It's done all it can for us. Cutting it off will keep the line from dragging us into the reef if it snags on something. Come on, Pip-squeak. Let's get you aft again. There's nothing more we can do here."

Brandon gave his sole attention to helping his sister negotiate the deck back to the cockpit, fighting his inherent curiosity to look for whatever might smash into the hull of the Gon Waki 2. If they were about to be holed, he really didn't want to know, yet that morbid sense of dread still controlled all three of them.

"Brandon?" Celeste softly asked as she received her sister-in-law. "Are we going to make it?"

"It'll be tight, Angel. If we're lucky, all we'll lose is a little paint off the hull," he attempted to instill some hope in his crew.

"And if we're not lucky?" Tracy wondered, not really wanting an answer, but still needing one.

"We'll be okay, Sis," her brother tried to calm her growing fear. "Put a life vest on, just in case. That goes for you, too, Angel."

"And what about you?" the helmsman enquired. "Where's your vest?"

"A Captain goes down with his ship," he replied facetiously, and received an angry stare in return, followed by a string of expletives from Celeste.

"Fuck that nonsense!" she screamed, then softened her voice a bit before going on. "Listen, this isn't the fucking Titanic, that's not an iceberg, and you're supposed to make sure we both survive. How the hell do you expect to do that from Davey Jones' locker?"

"Ever see that movie, 'Pirates of the Caribbean'?" he joked weakly.

"Asshole!" she cursed him again. "I'd kick your ass if I wasn't so damned scared right now! You promised that you'd look after us, and there was nothing in that about whether we were onboard or on shore. Do I have to push you over the side if we hit?"

"You're right, Angel. I was just trying to lighten things up, that's all. Now how about you two get over to the port-side rail and get ready to abandon ship if we have to? Grab hold of the rail to steady yourselves."

The crew did as they'd been ordered, with Celeste ready to help Tracy off the boat in the event that they collided with the reef. By the look on Tracy's features, she was about to go into a state of shock, and her sister-in-law got ready to deal with a possible worst-case scenario in the event they did have to swim to shore.

Staring hard over the starboard rail, Brandon watched as they approached closer and closer to the reef itself, clutching the rail unconsciously as he waited to see whether they'd survive this ordeal. The closer they got, the more hopeful he became – until he spotted a jagged outcropping that was just below the surface. If anything could destroy their little sloop, that lump of rock would be the one to do it.

Waves broke over the reef on either side of the little sloop, yet the opening to the lagoon seemed relatively calm to Brandon, as he kept an eye on their progress through the gap. Some of the larger waves, however, seemed determined to send the Gon Waki 2 to a watery grave. With a little luck, as he'd told Celeste, they'd be pushed into the lagoon and escape desperate peril.

One particularly large wave lifted the ship up and over that outcrop, and Brandon held his breath in anticipation of being able to miss the reef. That malevolent rock was now less than three feet from their hull, although it looked like they'd either miss it, or glance off with minimal damage. Just as his hopes reached a peak, the waters passed under the hull, and the little ship dropped like a stone. Like watching a movie in slow motion, he stared as their fate unfolded.

Impact was violent and final. The doomed craft slammed against the unforgiving rock, with the sound of screeching metal filling the air as the hull buckled and was breached by the unforgiving reef. It was all Brandon could do to force himself to accept what had just happened, and his next thought was for the safety of his crew. Remaining onboard was riskier than sending them over the side and into the seawater, for now that the outcropping had claimed its victim, it had no intentions of letting go and losing its prey.

"Celeste! Into the water! Now!" he called out, only to find his lover immobilized with confusion.

"Go! Help Tracy, and get her to the beach!" his imperative tone commanded.

'What about you?" his sister wanted to find out. "You are coming, aren't you?"

"I'll be right behind you, Sis," he assured her. "Now get going. If she breaks up out here, we'll all go down with her, and that's not what I have in mind for the rest of my day. Just watch out for the coral. If you get cut, it'll probably get infected, and then we'll really be in a shit-load of trouble. Angel, I'm counting on you to make sure our little mother makes it to the beach."

Now regaining her composure, Celeste guided her sister-in-law to the railing, then climbed up and over it, waiting until another wave came along so that she wouldn't be swept under the ship as she jumped. The theory was good, but the execution left something to be desired, for as she leaped out, the ship moved from the onslaught of the wave, and there was an audible thwack as she smacked her back against the wooden rail. Even Brandon expected to have to dive in and rescue his helmsman, but as she resurfaced, Celeste's howl of painful protest gave way to encouragement for her sister-in-law to jump.

Tracy's timing was a little better than her sister-in-law's, in that she managed to jump into the water without hitting any of the boat. The coral was another matter, though, as a polyp fragment slashed a gash in her foot when she went too deep. As soon as Celeste realized what had happened, she swam over to her sister-in-law, grabbed the back of her life vest, and began to swim with strong strokes away from the ship and towards shore.

"Gawd, Sis!" Tracy exclaimed. "I cut my foot, and the pain is terrible! I'm not going to make it. You go. Leave me behind and save yourself."

"Shut up, Sweetie!" Celeste commanded. "Either we both make it or we both drown, but whichever one it is, we do it together. Understand?"

It took all his willpower for Brandon to break away from the death scene unfolding under his feet, and only when he got to the port-side rail did his mind start to function fully again. Grabbing two remaining life vests and putting one on, he gave the ship one last survey, then dove over the side before the impact of their situation could fully register. If he allowed himself to wallow in the misery that lay just below the surface of his mind, he knew the sea would claim more than just their ship. That was a prize that he had all intentions of denying the Celebes Sea.

In her effort to drag Tracy to shore, Celeste had inadvertently been caught in a cross-current, and was now being pounded by water as waves crashed over the other ear of the reef's entrance. As he resurfaced, Brandon understood her dilemma, and struck out to assist his two crew members. By the time he reached them, Celeste had swallowed more than her fair share of salt water, and was fighting to regain her breath. In the process, she'd lost her grasp of Tracy's vest, leaving her sister-in-law to struggle on her own fading strength.

Coming to the surface again, Brandon spotted Tracy's floating form no longer being tended by Celeste, and heard the coughing fit she exhibited in an effort to clear her lungs. With all the power he could muster, he struck out for where the two women were, oblivious to the crashing waves that tried to claim his strength too. Once he reached his sister, the results of her brush with the coral became obvious, leaving him to worry that the flow of blood might attract any predators in the lagoon. But if he didn't get her to shore soon, a potential shark attack wouldn't matter, for she'd be in a precarious and life-threatening position anyway.

Grasping the life vest tightly in one hand, Brandon headed for where Celeste still fought for breath and took her in tow as well. With both hands being used to pull the women, he was forced to roll over onto his back and rely solely on his own legs. Just before doing so, his glance toward shore put the beach almost a quarter of a mile away. If it hadn't been for Tracy's injury, he would have paced himself a lot more conservatively than he did. Despite the heavy exertion, all Brandon could think about was saving the lives of his crew.

By the time he reached the beach, it was all he could do to stand on his own, yet somehow, the last of that adrenaline in his system provided the necessary strength to drag Celeste clear of the water as he carried Tracy far enough up the beach's slope to be out of the waves that broke on the white sand. Once she was as safe as he could get her, he returned to lift and carry Celeste to a spot next to his sister. Only once he'd accomplished that did Brandon allow his weak and tired muscles the reprieve they screamed for.

Slumping down himself, Brandon reached over his sister and was about to place a hand on her swollen belly, praying silently that both mother and child would survive the ordeal. But as his fingers lightly touched her soft skin, unconsciousness finally claimed him, and Brandon passed out, the rigours of their collision with the reef now completely forgotten. Only once he'd recovered sufficiently himself would the Captain of the ill-fated Gon Waki 2 be able to assess the situation fully – and that would have to wait.