Stranded With The Captain. Sharon Hartley
could refuse to take them, but that would make the coming week more than miserable for all four of them, plus result in a bad review online. And Marlin did list the Bahamas as an option in his charter brochure. They were within their rights to ask for Gun Cay even if he thought it was a horrible idea.
And maybe he secretly wanted to make the sail, which would be exciting, a definite challenge to sail against the wind in Spree while pushed by the Gulf Stream. He’d been bored since the FBI placed him on medical leave and needed a distraction. Wasn’t that one reason he’d agreed to help Marlin?
“I need to file a new float plan with the marina,” Javi said. “While I’m gone, stow everything that’s out so it can’t bang around the cabin when we leave the dock.”
“Um, you mentioned the possibility of some aspirin?” Debbie said.
Smothering a grin, Javi pointed. “In the first aid kit under the nav station. Remember, put everything back in its place. You ladies also might want to grab a hot shower at the marina.”
“I already took a shower,” Debbie said. “A cold one.”
Ignoring her sarcasm, Javi said, “Then I’ll need to top off the water tanks again. When I get back, we’ll check off a few safety issues and go for a sailing lesson.”
He heard someone mutter, “Captain Bligh,” as he climbed the companionway.
Javi shook his head. If his charterers disliked him now, they’d hate him in twelve hours.
STANDING ON THE bow of Spree, Cat waited for instructions from the captain. The fiberglass beneath her feet rumbled with the vibration of Spree’s engine. The smell of diesel fuel floated on the steady north wind, which tossed her ponytail, tickling her neck.
It was almost 5:00 p.m. and they were finally beginning their journey.
Her job was to release the dock line and throw it onto the dock. Joan stood on the back of the boat ready to cast off the stern line.
Debbie, hungover and tipsy from a second bottle of champagne, sat in the cockpit. Her task was to stay out of everyone’s way. During the safety instructions, she’d complained about queasiness, so the captain sent her up on deck for fresh air. Instead, she went to her cabin and fell asleep. Joan didn’t have the heart to wake her, so they never went out for that sailing lesson.
Cat refused to let Debbie’s resentment of the entire known world spoil her excitement. She was about to embark on an adventure, something that even sounded a little daunting. Who’d have thought that she, Cattleya Sidran, the biggest coward in the known world, would actually look forward to something scary? For sure her mom and dad wouldn’t believe it.
“Release the stern line,” Javi yelled to Joan.
When Javi instructed her to release the bow line, Cat heaved the rope onto the dock. He gave Spree some fuel, motored out of their slip toward the channel that led out of the marina.
“That noisy motor isn’t helping my headache,” Deb muttered when Cat scrambled back to the cockpit and sat beside her.
Cat shrugged. She didn’t much like the motor, either, but they couldn’t raise the sails until they were out in the ocean and had room to maneuver.
His jaw set, the captain alternated his focus between the water ahead and a depth finder mounted on the cockpit. Spree had to stay dead in the center of the channel that led out of the marina. The instrument “pinged” every so often, indicating they were close to running out of water beneath the keel—running aground, Javi called it, quite obviously not a good thing.
He was fully dressed now, wearing khaki shorts, a blue T-shirt and matching visor. Polarized sunglasses covered his dark eyes, but the shirt couldn’t hide the biceps in the arms that gripped the wheel. The earring glinted in the setting sun, again reminding her of a pirate.
But he wasn’t a pirate. Just a sail bum she found mysteriously attractive.
The depth finder pinged several times. Javi cursed, then muttered, “Pardon me, ladies.”
“Have you ever run aground?” Cat asked.
He grinned. “More times than I care to remember.”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” Debbie said, one hand holding a huge straw hat in place on her head.
Joan caught Cat’s eye and shook her head. Even Joanie was running out of patience with Debbie’s negativity.
Other marinas and businesses concerned with boating interests streamed by Spree on the right—or starboard, Javi said it was called at sea. On the left, or port, was a natural area full of mangroves, their long spidery trunks covered with roosting pelicans and a nasty odor. The narrow channel widened into a harbor, and Spree passed a large group of sailboats, their bows all pointed the same direction.
“Are those boats anchored?” Joan asked.
“They’ve picked up a mooring, which is more permanent, but there’s a fee,” Javi said. “Dropping an anchor is free.”
The wind steadily increased the farther they got from the marina. The commercial area gradually turned residential and some amazing homes appeared.
Javi nodded at Deb. “We’re about to clear the shelter of land. Trust me, you’re going to lose that hat.”
Debbie removed her hat and tossed it through the opening into the cabin below.
When they got offshore, the wind plastered Cat’s T-shirt against her body. The stiff breeze also chopped up the ocean, causing Spree to wallow through the waves.
Cat glanced at Deb, but she didn’t complain about the rough ride.
“Ready for your first lesson, Cat?” Javi asked.
She jumped to her feet. “Sure.”
“Take the wheel.”
When Cat placed her hands on the smooth metal, it was warm, either from Javi’s body heat or the sun, and she felt the rumble of the engine in her fingers. He stayed behind her, his tanned arms around her and his hands also on the wheel. She took a deep breath, got a whiff of his spicy aftershave and forced herself to concentrate on the captain’s instructions.
“Turn the wheel to starboard, like you’re driving a car, and get the feel of how the helm reacts,” he said.
“Easy enough,” Cat said, and within a few minutes got the hang of how the boat maneuvered. Not hard at all.
Then Javi stepped away, leaving her to steer alone. After a brief moment of panic, she enjoyed the sensation of being in command of the sleek boat. It was like driving a car. Sort of. She swallowed and stared at the whitecaps in the ocean.
Joan gave her a thumbs-up.
“You’re doing great, Cat,” Debbie said.
“You okay?” Javi asked.
“I’m fine,” Cat said.
“So are you ladies ready to go sailing?” Javi asked.
“Definitely,” Joan said.
“Anything to stop that noise,” Debbie said.
“I’m going to raise the mainsail,” Javi said, and moved the engine lever to Neutral. “Cat, steer the boat to port and put the bow directly into the wind.”
“How do I know when I’m directly into the wind?” Cat asked.
“See these ribbons?” Javi flicked a ribbon attached to a wire supporting the mast. “These are called telltales. When they’re streaming directly to stern, you’re in the eye of the wind.”
“Got it.”
She