Twice the Cross's crew threw lines and hauled people rescued by the dolphins out of the water to the dubious safety of the plunging deck. Once they overran the upturned hull of a capsized ship, feeling the grind as their keel sliced across the plastic hull.

As abruptly as it began, the storm vanished in the distance, a roiling dark vortex pierced by bolts of lightning.

Exhausted and somewhat amazed to be alive, Jim was suddenly aware that his right arm was broken and he was bleeding from a variety of cuts on both arms, chest, and bare legs. None of his crew was totally unscathed. One rescued girl had a broken leg, and a boy was concussed, his face badly contused, and a long wound giving his hair a new parting. In the sea, which was still heavy from the agitation of the squall, survivors clung to spars, half-sunk hulks, or pallets in an expanse of destruction that nearly reduced Jim to tears.

Ignoring his own wounds and his crew's urgings to attend to them, Jim scrabbled for the bullhorn in the cockpit and released it from its brackets. He gave the order to start up engines that, to conserve fuel, were rarely used. Ranging up and down wherever flotsam could be seen, he shouted encouragements and orders, directing dolphineer rescues even as he wondered if all under his command could still be alive. And what cargo could be salvaged.

"It came up out of nowhere," Jim reported in an almost lifeless voice when Fort com, manned by Zi Ongola, answered his Mayday. By then they had managed to get a lot of the shipwrecked to the sandy beach. The dolphin teams were still searching the wreckage, but he needed assistance as soon as possible. He gazed with eyes that dared not focus too long on the human jetsam and the wreckage flung up on the long narrow strand that was the nearest landfall. His Southern Cross, five of the larger yawls and ketches, and two small sloops had ridden out the storm. "I was warned about the way squalls brew up in this area, so I was on guard. Not that it did me any good. It hit out of nowhere. A change of the wave color and pattern and then—bang! We'd no time to do anything except hope we'd survive. Some never had enough time to lower sail and steer into the wind. If it hadn't been for the dolphins, we'd've lost people, too."

"Casualties?"

"Yeah, too many," Jim said, absently smoothing the gelicast that bound the broken arm he had no recollection of breaking. Only one of his cuts had needed stapling, and Theo had done that, as well as apply the gelicast. Then he'd applied sealant to the scratches on Theo's bare legs and arms, earned while she tried to squeeze into wrecked cabins to aid survivors. They'd separated, first-aid kits in hand, to attend the needs of others to the best of their abilities…

The medic who had accompanied this section diagnosed twelve with internal injuries and multiple fractures that the limited medical supplies she had couldn't handle. She had two coronary patients on the only life-support units that could be found in the Cross's cargo.

"Can you send a sled for the worst injuries?"

"Of course. One's already being loaded with medics and supplies and will fly out to you in the next sixty seconds. Give me your approximate location again."

"Somewhat east of Boca but west of Sadrid," Jim said wearily. "You can't miss us. The sea's filled with flotsam and overturned hulls. Has Kaarvan made port?"

"Yesterday."

"The Venturer would be mighty useful to carry salvaged cargo back to Fort, as well as the extra folk who no longer have a ship to sail."

"What's Ezra's condition?"

"I haven't tried reaching him yet. He's a few days ahead of us and probably missed the storm, or you'd've heard from him by now. There's really no point in sending him back: every one of his ships was loaded to the plimsoll line. His group'll do better finishing their journey."

Someone stopped beside him and handed him a mug of hot klah and a twig-pierced fried fish.

"And the Cross, Jim?" Ongola asked in genuine concern

"Battered but afloat," Jim said. The mast would have to be replaced, and the mainstays, but he still had all his canvas. Andi had already vowed that his new mast would be the first she'd make: she'd be making many, if they were to sail any ships out of here. "Which reminds me: We got some lightning-burn cases, too. Three of the barges sunk completely, but the dolphins are busy resurrecting cargo. Right now, the injured are my first priority."

"As they should be. Ah, yes—" Ongola broke off for a moment. "Joel urgently needs to know if you can estimate how much and what cargo is irretrievable?" Jim caught an indefinable note of regret in Ongola's voice that indicated he felt such a question was importunate. It was, however totally in character for Lilienkamp, and Jim was too weary to summon much rancor.

"Hell, Zi, I haven't completed a head count! Desi Arthied's got broken ribs, had to be resuscitated, and Corrie says he probably had a coronary. But do reassure Joel that Desi's manifest recorder was tucked inside his life vest next to his heart. That ought to cheer him up." Jim couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "I gotta go."

"Help is on its way, Jim. My sympathies. I'll report immediately to Paul. Is there someone you can keep on the com?"

Bleary-eyed, Jim looked about him. The able-bodied were tending the injured, but he spotted Eba Dar propped up against a fallen tree, his splinted leg sticking out in front of him. He was chewing the last of a fish from its twig.

"Eba? You well enough to keep the line open to Fort?" Jim asked, peering into the man's lacerated face and eyes for signs of concussion. Eba's naturally sallow skin did not show pallor, and the cuts on his shoulders and chest were already sealed.

"Sure. Nothing wrong with my mouth and my wits," Eba said with a droll grin and, tossing the empty twig, reached for the unit. "Who's on the other end?"

"At the moment, Zi Ongola. They're sending a big sled for the serious casualties, and Kaarvan'll sail the Venturer down to pick up whatever cargo we can save."

Eb looked out at a sea once again calm; oddments could be seen bobbing to the surface or floating in on the tide. Soon enough, Jim knew, the shallow beach would be littered, and he would have to find enough people to haul the jetsam safely above the high-water mark. Shielding his eyes with his good hand, he peered seaward where dolphin fins cut from one upturned hull to another, their human partners hanging on to the dorsals, still searching for survivors.

"Damn her," he said under his breath as he recognized Dart's smaller, distinctively marked body and Theo towed alongside. The sealant on those scrapes of hers was probably stinging like hell. Was she mad, driving herself in that condition?

"Dolphins're doing great, aren't they?" Eba remarked. "Wonder if we'd've all been safer in the water with them.

"The dolphins were okay, but not all their partners," Jim replied. "Besides, you farmer types couldn't hold your breath long enough, the way dolphins can." He gave Eba's shoulder a squeeze and limped off to see if, this time, he could come up with a more accurate body count. Five people were still unaccounted for, three of them kids. He told himself that everyone had been wearing life vests: there was some hope to be found in that.

Eba had not been far from wrong about being safer with the dolphins. Equipped with breathers and able to dive with their aquatic partners beneath the towering waves to escape the pummeling, the dolphineers had been lucky—at least during the squall. Now they risked themselves time and again to rescue unconscious or injured folk. Even before the storm ended, teams had followed sinking ships down to save those trapped on board. Many people owed their lives to the quick action of the dolphin swimmers who had, in some instances, torn off their breathers to give the drowning life-saving oxygen.