But Their Struggles Were Far From Over
The radios crackled. The Coast Guard had acknowledged their distress call. “ETA: three hours,” came the reply. It was a long time to wait on the vast expanse of the Indian Ocean, especially with the seaplane slowly being tossed around by the swells.
“I don’t think we can last three hours out here,” Noah said, glancing out at the horizon. The drifting was becoming more erratic. “We need to stabilize the drift.” He leaned forward, studying the compass, then looked at Jamie. “Can we fix the rudder?”
Jamie wasn’t sure, but there was no time to waste. He crawled through the narrow access to the back of the plane, hoping that they could free the rudder and regain control. As Jamie worked, Noah kept watch, his eyes scanning the horizon, praying for some kind of miracle.
Then, the unthinkable happened.