She nodded in the direction of theSanta Guadalupe. In the flurry of fighting to keep the ship upright, he hadn’t noticed Weissmuller’s boat had hit the same rogue wave that they had. Somehow theSea Monkeyhad pulled ahead, and the crew of theSanta Guadalupewas still getting their boat back on track.
By George, Olivia was right. The finish line was in sight.
He grinned at Olivia. “Stay there.” Flynn sprinted to the front of the boat, where Rex was deftly handling the jib.
“Rex, we’re in the lead.” Flynn was breathless with excitement and felt like a boy again.
Rex looked over his shoulder at theSanta Guadalupeand gave Flynn a shit-eating grin. “That we are.”
“Think we can do it? I had to tie the sail back to the frame.”
Rex craned his head up to look at the top of the mainsail, studying Flynn’s handiwork. “Those are good, strong knots. They should hold.”
Excitement sparked in Flynn’s belly. He hated losing. At anything. Cards. Horse racing. Women. But he especially hated losing out here on the water, a place that felt like his second home. “Let’s go for it.”
Rex smiled and turned the jib more sharply to the port side. The sail caught a fresh wind, gaining speed in the water.
Flynn whooped and hollered, sprinting back toward the helm. “Olivia, keep her steady, we’ll do the rest.”
She bit her lip and gave him a tight nod.
He ran to the rigging lining the side of the cabin on the port side, loosening it so that the mainsail billowed and ballooned with the force of the wind, once again picking up speed. He grabbed hold of the rigging and leaned over the side of the boat, looking toward the finish line. He raised his fist in the air and cheered, knowing in his bones that this was it.
“Flynn, look out!” He turned at the sound of Olivia’s voice, only to see theSanta Guadalupegaining on them. Weissmuller was leaning off his own rigging, giving Flynn a wicked grin and brandishing a cutlass as if he was mocking him.
If he wanted to make fun of Flynn’s swashbuckling ways, so be it. Flynn would earn the title all the more by besting the ape-man in this race.
Olivia seemed to read his mind. “Flynn, we need to pull to the left.”
“What? No, that will put us in danger of capsizing again.”
“Fine, suit yourself.” She winced as the wheel of the ship tugged her arms to the right and she fought to hold it steady. “But if you want to win, your only chance is pulling to the left.”
He looked back, studying the narrowing distance between him and theSanta Guadalupe, and theSea Monkey’s path if they did as she said. Damn it, she was right. But what she suggested was madness. He’d done it only once. In a movie. He had no idea if it would actually work in real life.
Rex looked back at them both and called out, “Mate, youcan’t seriously be considering that. It’s potential suicide. The sail might not hold with that kind of wind pressure.”
Flynn looked up at the knots he’d tied, the ends of the sail starting to fray. They only had a couple more miles to go. They could make it. They had to.
“What should I do?” yelled Olivia, a steely determination in her gaze.
“Pull to the left.” He heard Rex swear loudly as he leapt from the rigging and crouched to the deck, allowing the boom and the mainsail to swing back to the port side of theSea Monkey. He worked swiftly, retying the knots he’d only just undone and racing to the starboard side to undo the rigging there and change the direction of the wind in the sail. It was riskier with the current.
Olivia was pressed against the wheel, using all her weight to hold it steady. “It’s too heavy.”
“It’s only a few more minutes.” He stood. TheSanta Guadalupehad stopped in the water. It had worked. They’d cut off the other ship’s wind power with their sail.
They raced ahead as the crew of theSanta Guadalupestruggled to pivot, their sails flat and lifeless. Flynn crowed with excitement and extended a two-finger salute in Weissmuller’s direction as theSea Monkeymade a swift clip through the water, drawing ever closer to the isthmus.
“Flynn,” Olivia gasped. He looked over to see her bent over the wheel, her toes lifting from the deck.
He ran to her, placing his hands over hers and wresting the helm into place. “Hold on,” he gritted out. She nodded and he felt her fingers tighten under his.
He heard a ripping sound and their heads snapped up to see the sail tearing from the makeshift knots he’d made. Shit. He looked ahead to the finish line; they were so close.
“I don’t think we can make it,” Olivia hissed. Her eyes widened as the next knot tore from the metal rung holding it in place. There were four more knots and they had a mile to go.
“We can make it. Just, whatever you do, don’t let go of this wheel.” They were committed now. It was too late to turn back. They’d all be pitched into the sea if they didn’t stay the course.
