Ken hung on to the pump handle as water washed over the side. “How long?” he asked through clenched teeth.
Cal sputtered and coughed as the water receded. He pointed a shaking finger to the cargo. “She’s shifting!” he gasped. “We’ll turn over!” Panic drove him to the bulwark. He poised there ready to jump.
Sandy grabbed him and pulled him back. “Don’t be a fool! You wouldn’t last out there a minute.” He held on to the man while he turned his head to shout to Ken. “Go on inside and bring out the life belts—and a length of line.” He thrust Cal toward the pump handle. “Get moving. She’s not going quite yet.”
Ken was gone almost ten minutes. When he returned, sliding along the tilted deck in a moment of comparative quiet between two waves, he carried two life belts and a coil of half-inch line. He had already fastened a life belt around himself.
He handed a life belt to Sandy and took over the pump while the redhead worked his way into the canvas jacket. “Had to pick up something,” Ken said. He poked at his life belt. “Got it fastened under here.”
Sandy took over Cal’s place. “Get into the jacket,” he ordered.
“Hang on!” Ken cried. “A big one coming!”
The barge took long, agonizing seconds to rise from under the weight of water. Over the noise of the wind they could hear the rattle of stones as still more of the cargo slipped toward the portside.
Sandy looked forward anxiously. He stopped pumping and swiftly tied the three of them together with the line, leaving twenty feet of slack between them.
“Look!” Ken cried. “Blue sky!”