Sam willed his voice not to shake as he set the marine radio to channel 16. He took a deep breath and keyed the mic the way JayJay had shown him. "Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Brown-Eyed Girl. Location 58.5 North, 172.1 West. Mayday, mayday, mayday. Over."
Silence.
He tried again, "Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Brown-eyed Girl. Location 58.5 North, 172.1 West. In need of immediate assistance. We have six people on board. Two are injured, including the captain. We are taking on water. We are a 92-foot trap setter, White hull, red house. Need immediate assistance. Mayday. This is Brown-eyed Girl. Over."
Sam listened. If the Coast Guard heard him, his radio wasn't picking up the response.
Sam steadied himself in the doorway as the boat listed hard to starboard. In the darkness, he felt the unforgiving sea reach up and nearly brush his shoulders before the ship righted itself. On deck, he heard Lars, Whitey and Rog fighting with the lifeboat, but 60 mph winds and 29-foot waves made the task nearly impossible.
"Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the crabbing vessel Brown-Eyed Girl. Location 58.5 North, 172.1 West. We are sinking. Repeat. We are sinking. We are a 92-foot trap setter with a white hull and red house. We have two injured crew and are sinking. Request immediate assistance from any vessels in the area. Six people on board. Over."
"Sammy!" Mike tossed a survival suit at him, plucking the portable VHF from the charger. "We'll have to try the portable. Get this on, and get out here! There's no more time!"
