Flotsam

“I have a visual,” he said over the noise of the chopper. “Looks to be 50-foot sloop badly listing to starboard. Over.”

“Roger. Anyone aboard?”

“Negative. Going in for a closer look. Over.”

Jenks examined the sailboat through his binoculars. “There’s a big hole in the port hull,” he said into the intercom. “Looks like a collision. Maybe another vessel, L.T.?”

“Nothing reported. My guess is a shipping container.” He brought the helicopter closer, the blades whipping the water to white foam. “If there’s anyone aboard, they’re unable to come on deck.”

Jenks buckled on the harness. “Lower me down.”

 

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