They were bound to run smack into a wave, if not on first impact then soon after. It would be like hitting a brick wall, only harder, because the plane would give way beneath the force of the blow. There’d be plenty of things flying around, so keep your head down, he reminded himself.

Alec turned to his horse again. The worst part of it all was that there was nothing he or anyone else would be able to do during those first terrible seconds. It was a matter of prayer and luck. All one could do was to wait to find out if he was still alive when the plane stopped.

Suddenly an engine sputtered and backfired. Then another. The ship quivered, the first warning of a stall. The nose went down and the plane shook from side to side as it mushed into the lower air, its engines sputtering and backfiring violently, demanding fuel from near-drained tanks.

The NO SMOKING sign was on. The navigator called, “Brace for ditching. Hold your position until the aircraft comes to a complete stop. Be patient and orderly leaving the plane.” One would have thought he was in flight-training school all over again.

Alec tensed his muscles and waited.…

The plane was under full control when it approached the water with just enough fuel left in the tanks to give the engines power. Slower and slower it flew, almost in a power stall … lower and lower like a huge bird approaching its watery nest, which was now being lit by bright flares. If they were lucky, the plane would make a half-decent landing and there would be little breaking up. If they were unlucky, a wing tip would hook the top of the first wave and the plane would dive straight down into the next. Now the plane swooped roughly, smoothed out again and almost stalled.

Alec’s life vest was warm, comforting. He kept his head down, the collar high. He would have liked to talk to Henry or the Black during the last few seconds. His hands gripped his legs more tightly while he closed his eyes in prayer. Too bad it wasn’t daylight; they would have had a better chance. There was nothing to guide them below but floating flares. Better than nothing, he told himself. Better than nothing.

An engine choked to a stop, then another, and the wind ceased whistling over the wings. The sea reached with white, foamy fingers to grasp the plane.…

At first it was not so different from coming down on a concrete runway, and fleetingly Alec reminded himself that he had experienced many rougher landings. But then he recalled the navigator’s warning of the second jolt to come and he tightened his grip about his legs.

Then it came, and with it the frightening sounds of twisting, crumpling metal, followed quickly by the even more terrifying rush of water into the cabin. Alec felt the spray of the sea on his head! Now! Now! he thought, for the plane’s forward movement had ceased. Cautiously he raised his head. The cabin was pitch-dark.

“Henry! Henry!” he shouted.

There was utter silence at first. Then the horses began neighing shrilly.

“Henry!” Alec called again.

This time an answer came from the darkness. “I’m okay, Alec.