Read Online Lifeboat! by Margaret Dickinson - Free Book Online Page A

Saltershaven.
    Admittedly Howard was smartly dressed in a grey check suit and matching waistcoat, a yellow rose-bud in his lapel, but Julie hoped he had brought some less formal clothes for the weekend.
    â€˜Come and look what I’ve got.’ Behind the car was a trailer and Howard was dragging her towards it. ‘There, what do you say to that?’
    Proudly he waved his arm to encompass the trailer and perched upon it a fifteen-foot sailing day-boat, with the name painted on the bows— Nerissa .
    â€˜Oh—a boat!’ Julie said unnecessarily.
    â€˜Well, you might show a little more interest, old thing,’ Howard said. ‘Just the ticket, I thought, for a weekend by the sea.’
    â€˜Is—is it yours?’
    â€˜Oh yes,’ Howard said airily. ‘I bought her last week.’
    â€˜She’s lovely—really lovely,’ Julie said, but then she could not prevent the words from slipping out. ‘But this coast is not terribly safe for sailing, you know. Not unless you really know what you’re doing.’
    â€˜Know what I’m doing?’ Howard laughed aloud. ‘Of course I know what I’m doing. I’ll have you know that some friends I used to spend all my hols with had a boat. We were hardly ever out of the thing.’
    â€˜Oh, that’s all right then,’ Julie said, relieved and added, ‘Come along in and I’ll show you your room. Dad’s out on a service, I’m afraid, and I’ve no idea when he’ll be back. We won’t wait dinn—I mean—lunch.’ Dinner to Howard, she remembered, was at seven in the evening, not midday.
    â€˜A service? What is he—a parson or a motor mechanic?’ Howard asked, laughing at his own joke.
    â€˜Neither. Didn’t I tell you? He’s the full-time coxswain/mechanic of our lifeboat.’
    â€˜Oh, rescues people who can’t swim and kids in rubber dinghies, does he?’ Howard guffawed again.
    Ironically, she could make no retort for she now knew—Tim had rung through to tell her—that at this very moment her father was indeed searching an area of the ocean for two small boys in a dinghy.
    As the Mary Martha Clamp drew alongside the black-and-orange inflatable, anxious faces peered over the side. Half-sitting, half-sprawling against the side of the dinghy was a semi-conscious Martin, his tee-shirt and shorts saturated, his arms and legs were white, almost a pale blue, from exposure. His eyes were swollen and his lips were cracked and parched by the salt water.
    In the bottom of the dinghy lay the still figure of Nigel Milner.
    Tony Douglas and Chas Blake clambered over the gunwales of the lifeboat and down the scramble net. Carefully, so as not to set it rocking, Tony stepped down into the dinghy and picked up the younger boy in his arms. Gently Tony handed him up to Chas, and Fred and Phil Davis hung over the side, reaching down with willing hands to help.
    â€˜Come on, me little laddo. You’ll be all right now.’
    At the sound of the voices of the rescuers, Martin opened his eyes and tried to speak. ‘Me brother, what about me brother?’ he whispered hoarsely.
    â€˜Dun’t fret,’ Fred reassured the shivering boy. ‘We’ll get him.’
    â€˜Mister—’ee fell over into the sea. I thought ’ ee was drownded, but I got ’im back into the dinghy, but ’ee ain’t moved since.’
    Martin was borne away to the covered cockpit in the bows of the lifeboat.
    Carefully, Tony squatted down beside the still figure in the dinghy. From at first having experienced a profound relief at seeing, that the second boy was in the craft but out of sight until they were right up to it, Tony now felt a renewal of the fear and doubt wash over him. He felt for the boy’s pulse. It was weak and fluttery—but there!
    â€˜He’s alive,’ he shouted jubilantly, ‘ but he’s in worse shape than