Calypso's Mast

Chapter 3 - Hunters and the Hunted

It was dawn when Pitcher awoke in the hammock.

Her back was sore – both her muscles and the sunburn. Hammocks were great for resting in but terrible to sleep in. She turned her head and looked about the camp.

Both Banning and Suzi were gone. O'Grady was still asleep up on the platform.

Pitcher looked over to where the vehicle was. It was still there. Thank God! At least they hadn't been abandoned.

She swung her feet over the side and dropped to the ground, wincing at the pain from the sunburn on the back of her legs. The hammock was strung up high and difficult to get into. She really needed to go to the "Ladies", so she walked out onto the beach in the gathering daylight and looked up and down. There was no-one in sight. She turned right and walked south along the beach.

After she had gone a comfortable distance, she walked off the beach into the shade of the palms where she dug a shallow hole in the sand behind a bush with her feet.

This was not very cool. Why can't they have civilised restrooms in the bush?  

After a few moments, there was a noise, something that sounded like an engine of some sort, like an edge trimmer, away off in the distance. It was getting closer. She got up, filled in the hole with sand, frowned and walked out to the edge of the canopy of palms.

Out there, over the ocean, to the south, was an aircraft of some sort circling over where the yacht had capsized. It was tiny, just a dot, and it seemed to fly very slowly. It was very low over the water.

She squinted hard as she looked, excitement rising. 

They were found! Fantastic! Rescuers were here and had found the wreckage. 

Relief welled up inside her. She ran out onto the beach and began waving and yelling.

"We're here! We're here!"

The aircraft continued to circle. It was several kilometres out to sea, to the south. She continued to wave and yell, but it was clear that the aircraft couldn't see her . Eventually she stopped and started to run south towards the spot on the beach opposite the wreck, desperately hoping the pilot would see her. Every now and then, she would stop, jump and wave her arms, hoping against hope that she would be seen.

After a few minutes, the aircraft broke off circling and headed for the beach opposite the spot where the wreck of the yacht lay, which was south of her position. The sun was coming up and the whole beach was bathed in gold. She was able to make out the machine as it got closer. It looked like a hang glider with an engine. Her brow creased again in a frown and she stopped running. 

This is an unusual rescue craft.

At that moment, it appeared that the pilot saw her and changed his course to head directly toward her. She was standing about five metres back from the water's edge and about ten metres from the tree-line. She paused and began to feel a little dismayed. 

If they were found by rescuers, how was this tiny little powered hang glider going to get them out? It was too small and too slow.

The aircraft flew closer, about twenty metres above the water, as it headed toward her. In a few moments, it reached her and flew over her. The single pilot seated in it, leaned out to get a good look at her and at that moment she went cold. 

Charleton.

She didn't waste a second, but turned and started running back toward the camp. 

How the hell did he find her here?

The aircraft swung out to sea and flew north toward the camp. After about two kilometres, it swung back into the beach, turned hard left and descended toward her. Suddenly she realised Charleton's intention. He was going to land on the beach in front of her. She was cut off. He was between her and the camp.