Normalcy somewhat restored-given the world continued to pitch in a colorless panorama of blustering cloud and billowing wave-Anna spoke again. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Hal. First put on life jackets. You got any?”
He dragged two disreputable-looking orange vests out from beneath a seat and the men began buckling them on.
When Hal’s hands were free again, Anna said: “You’ll need to cut that bow line loose. You…?” She looked at the second man, who was beginning to come to life.
“Kenny. Ken.”
“Ken. You untie the stern. Hal, I’m going to hand you my towline. Make it fast to the bow. Then the both of you get aboard my boat. The Low Dollar’s riding too low in the water. I’d just as soon nobody was on board. Got all that?”
Kenny started unlooping his line and Hal returned to the bow to tug and jerk at the knots he’d made. The boats climbed a slick cold hill of water, teetered at its summit, then slid down on the other side. Kenny screamed out that his hand was caught between the two hulls, but he was more frightened than hurt.
The yell did a good turn, convincing Hal that slicing through a $1.59 piece of rope might be worth the time saved fumbling with his desperate knots.
In another minute both men were on board the Belle Isle and Anna was powering slowly away.
The towline grew taut, was dragged above the churning of the Belle’s wake. When the full weight of the sodden Low Dollar hit, Anna heard her engines growl over the challenge, then dig deeper into the lake for purchase. The Bertram might not have the personality of a good horse but it had the power of a sizable herd. Anna was grateful: glad to have a good piece of equipment between her and the bottom of Superior, glad to be leaving the oceanlike expanse for the more protected channels and coves of the north shore.