Evans had taken the wheel himself and the man on watch stood beside him ready to help in case the wheel should get out of control. Bervick stood by the chart table. From time to time he would call out their position.
The wheelhouse was dark except for dimmed lights in the binnacle and over the chart table. Martin could hear the wind howling around the corners of the wheelhouse. It sounded seventy or eighty miles an hour, and this, according to Evans, was just the start.
Martin made a quick dash for the chart table.
“When’ll we get there?” he asked.
Bervick did not look up. “Ten minutes and we should be abeam.”
“What’s that?” Evans asked, his voice pitched high above the wind.
“We’re getting close, that’s all. That inlet you’re looking for. Two miles away, as I figure.”
“Good.” Evans motioned to the man on watch who quickly took the wheel. Then Evans opened a window on the port side. A tremendous roar of wind and breaking water exploded into the wheelhouse. Spray splattered in Evans’ face as he watched the coastline.
Martin and Bervick went over and stood near him. Less than a mile ahead Martin could see a long spit of high rock pointing out into the sea. “That it?” he asked.
Bervick nodded. “Just around the corner there. Nice deep bay.”