by Liz Alden
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is. When everything is going right. When something goes wrong, that is when it is hard. But the rest of us are here to help you.”
“Thank you.”
“And do not leave the cockpit. Always wear your harness. Be safe, yes?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “What’s this thing here?” I pointed at a triangle on the screen.
“That is another boat.” Eivind showed me how to pull up information on the boat. Through this system, we could learn the name, speed, destination, all kinds of interesting things.
“Here it says that we will pass twenty miles from this boat.”
“Is that close enough to see?”
He shook his head. “Probably not. Maybe if it was a big cargo ship, but this one is a sailboat like us.”
After a few more questions, Eivind settled in to play games on his tablet, and I had my e-reader, but it remained in my lap, untouched. Instead I sat still, quietly listening and looking around the boat.
Elayna came up and said lunch was ready. I stayed up top while Eivind made me a sanger—tuna salad. He brought it up for me to eat at the helm. A few minutes later he joined me and we shared a bag of chips.
I stayed alert the rest of my shift, and when it was done, Marcella came up to take over. We had our mini debriefing, led by Eivind, and I was off duty.
Plopping down next to Eivind, I snuggled up to him. He raised his arm to let me in closer, and I watched him move the cards around on his screen. He kissed my head. “We should go try to sleep.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure. Sleep while we can. If you cannot sleep, just rest.”
We moved down to our cabin, stripped off our clothes, and climbed into bed. I fell asleep instantly.
Twenty-Seven
Eivind shook me awake. The cabin was lit with a golden light coming in from the edges of the swinging curtain.
“Dinner is ready.”
Elayna ate up in the cockpit since she was on watch, but Eivind and I joined the rest of the crew in the main salon. Marcella served a cold rice salad. We ate quietly, everyone still waking up from their naps.
“Sunset time!” Elayna called down.
Eivind had explained that it was a ritual they kept on passage: dinner was served thirty minutes before sunset and then everyone sat out on deck to see the sun go down. It was one of the rare times the crew was all up and together while out at sea.
The sun slipped below the horizon, and I surveyed the ocean around us. We could no longer see land. There was nothing but the sea and the sky, three hundred and sixty degrees around us.
We stayed out on deck, watching the clouds bloom. When the colors peaked and started to darken, we trooped back downstairs. Eivind peeled off to go to sleep—his watch started at ten, so he hoped to sleep a few hours before then. Jonas was due to go on watch soon, and he spent some time downloading the weather. Marcella and I washed the small number of dishes from dinner.
I got the bowls clean, but my mind somersaulted—or was it my eyes? I stopped and bent over, leaning my head against the counter.
“Lila?”
“I’m okay. Just a little woozy.”
Marcella patted my back. “You should go up top and look out at the horizon. That will help.”
I stumbled toward the companionway and crawled up the stairs and onto the nearest cushion. I turned to look out over the water, and the fresh breeze on my face instantly brought my mind and stomach back into alignment. There was only a bare hint of sunset left. The moon was up and mostly full, casting enough light to illuminate everything around us. I laid my head down on my arm and looked at the moon sideways.
The fiberglass around me glowed red for a moment: Elayna’s headlamp.
“Lila.” She stroked my hair tenderly. “You aren’t feeling well?”
I shrugged. Marcella came up the stairs behind me and the two women murmured together.
“Here,” Elayna said. “Drink some water and eat some of these cookies.”
I sat up a little and she handed me a cup of chilled water. I nibbled the cookies, and the ginger was sharp on my tongue.
“Tank oo,” I said around a cookie.
“It’s nothing.”
I fell asleep while she stroked my hair.
I woke up to more murmuring behind me. This time the two voices were male: Eivind and Jonas quietly doing the shift handover.
“Eivind?”
“Hey, darling. How are you feeling?”
I shoved some hair out of my face and turned over. He had his headlamp on and in his hand, the red light pointing down at the floor.
“Better.”
“Ja? You ate some ginger cookies?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want some more?”
“No, I’m okay now.”
“Do you want to stay up here or go to bed?”
I sat up further and looked around. Eik sailed along peacefully, and the moon approached the horizon. “I think I’ll stay up here with you.”
“Good. We put your headlamp over here.” He pointed to a strap dangling out of a cup holder. “And this is your water. Can I check your harness?”
I sat up and let Eivind tug the straps and check the belts.
“Looks good. Come sit in the corner here with me. You can lean back here and look forward. That will help too.”
Eivind and Jonas finished the handover, and I settled into the corner of the cockpit. I could stretch my legs out in front of me and, because the boat was slightly heeled over, I could see the horizon beyond the deck.
Jonas said good night and went down below with his stuff. Eivind came to sit next to me, where he could see the chartplotter comfortably. The smell of coffee, roasted dark, flowed over to me from his thermos.
We sat in silence for a while, our headlamps off. My eyes had adjusted to the night, and I could see surprisingly well over the boat. The moon cast sharp shadows against the deck.
I enjoyed the quiet, and Eivind did too, relaxing beside me. I let my mind wander, daydreaming a little, trying to imagine what the next few weeks would be like.
Eventually Eivind put one headphone in and music played quietly. I tilted my head back and gazed up at the stars, relaxing into the seat.
Eivind had woken me up at the end of his shift and guided me downstairs. I fell asleep quickly but had more trouble staying asleep this time. The noises of the sea and the boat kept jarring me awake.
Once, I had woken up in the pitch dark. Above me, something groaned and then stuttered, a sharp staccato noise.
“Eivind,” I whispered. I poked his side and he grunted and rolled toward me. “What’s that noise?”
He blinked a few times and listened, but all was quiet. He yawned. “I do not know. But you have to trust your crew. If there is a problem and they need us, they will wake us up.”
He slipped quickly back to sleep. I lay awake, listening to someone take steps around the cockpit and make more noises, but I must have fallen asleep again; when I rolled over next, Eivind was gone.
I tried to motivate myself to rise for breakfast. The boat rocked as we sailed along and voices came from the salon. Eivind was out there, possibly on watch again.
What finally chased me out of bed was my wicked morning breath. As lazy as I felt, I could not go another minute without remedying the situation.
Dressing quickly, I stumbled out of our room and found Jonas on his laptop and Marcella in the galley. Marcella immediately poured a thermos of coffee for me.
“Thank you.” I sipped and, finding the temperature just right, gulped in a mouthful and swished it around.
I looked up to find Jonas staring at me.
I shrugged. “Morning breath’s best cure is coffee. How are we doing?” I leaned over the table to look at his screen, where he had a chart open. I could see a little boat icon; I presumed that was where we were.
“We are doing good, sailing well so far. The wind is supposed to shift this
afternoon, maybe during your watch.”
I hummed and nodded. After putting my harness on, I climbed up the companionway. Marcella kindly handed me my thermos again.
“Hey, darling,” Eivind said. He was drinking coffee too and tilted his head up for a kiss. I leaned down and pressed my lips to his, and then settled into the corner again.
The day was bright, with a few clouds on the horizon. “How is your watch?” I asked.
“Good. I have not touched the sails. I did see a few boats, though. Still plenty of activity out here.”
I studied the chartplotter more, and Eivind named everything I pointed to. The screen was full of acronyms: sog, twd, dtw. Eivind explained all of them, and I worked hard to remember each one, but I knew I was going to have to ask again and again.
We transitioned into my watch.
“Same instructions as yesterday,” Eivind said while I ate a sanger at the helm.
“Fifteen AWS, 180 to 210 COG!”
Eivind saluted me and slumped onto the bench. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He nodded. “The second day is the worst. I am very tired because I do not sleep well the first night. It gets better after this.”
“You should go down below and sleep. I’ll join you at the end of my shift.”
He cracked an eye open. “You will be okay, yes?”
I gave him a thumbs-up, and the corners of his mouth lifted. He hauled himself to his feet, kissed my head, and shuffled down the stairs.
I was entirely alone. Everyone on the boat was downstairs sleeping, trusting me with their lives. My heart raced, the weight of responsibility on me, and I wondered briefly if they were all idiots for leaving me in charge.
But I remembered that Jonas did this all the time, leaving his boat, his home, in someone else’s hands. The sky was clear and the weather fair. We’d coasted along for an entire day already without much fanfare.
Relaxing back into my seat, I kept an eye on the horizon and on my numbers as the waves flew by.
All too quickly, Marcella’s head came into view from the salon.
“Buongiorno!”
“Hello!” I called back. “How was your nap?”
Marcella slumped down next to me. “Wonderful. How are things up here?” Before I could respond, she leaned forward, eyes roaming over the chartplotter. “Yes, this is good.” She poked her head out the side of the cockpit and looked up at the sails. “Everything looks good, yes?”
“I think so.”
“Good job. I am proud of you.” She hugged my shoulders. “No other boats or anything?”
I shook my head.
“Then I will take over from here. Have a good nap.”
Saluting sloppily, I left the cockpit and carefully climbed down the stairs. Disentangling myself from my harness, I brushed my teeth before I slipped into bed next to Eivind, who didn’t wake but curled his arms around me.
Twenty-Eight
I woke up to movement under my face. I blinked my eyes open and tried to process what was going on. Eivind’s chest was under my cheek, his T-shirt rubbing against my skin while he fidgeted.
I moved a little bit and then felt it: Eivind’s T-shirt was wet. I brought my hand up and tilted my head to look at his shirt. I sat bolt upright.
“What the hell?”
“Umm . . .” Eivind was at a loss for words.
“Eivind,” I said. “Did I drool on you? Oh my God, I did. Eivind, that’s a puddle of drool on your shirt! I am so sorry—I have never done that before. I swear, that doesn’t normally happen.”
Eivind started laughing, and I punched him mildly hard in his ribs. He let out an oof, but didn’t stop giggling. I punched him again.
“Okay, okay! It is okay, Lila. It happens.” He wiped tears from his eyes and sat up. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he pulled it away from his skin to look at the huge splotch of dampness.
“Oh my God.” I covered my head in my hands. How gross. How mortifying.
“Lila,” he said. “This happens to people who are a little seasick. Your body produces more”—he gestured to his mouth—“what did you call it? Drool?”
“Seriously? That happens? Why on earth does my mouth think it’s okay to drool when I’m seasick? What fucking purpose does that serve?”
Eivind shrugged and reached back to tug his shirt over his head. He inspected his chest before wiping it off with his shirt.
I died of mortification and face-planted back onto the bed.
The mattress around me dipped and Eivind waited above me. He trailed kisses up my spine, pressing his lips to the fabric of my tank top, and I shuddered when they passed over the edge and onto my bare skin. He nipped my shoulder, teased my neck, and gently stroked his lips over the shell of my ear. Despite my humiliation, I arched my back, pressing up into his body.
He inhaled and gently whispered, “Watch out for soggy pillows.”
I chased him out of the room with my—dry—pillow.
I went into the galley, wiping sleep from my eyes and yawning. Marcella and Elayna worked in the kitchen, frying bread and dicing fruit. The boat always smelled like the big boule loaves that Marcella baked at least once a day to feed the five of us. Onshore, it was faster and easier to buy a loaf from the store, but bread bought on land would take up too much space and wouldn’t last long.
“Toast, Lila?” Elayna asked.
“Yes, please.” I sat on the couch next to Eivind and stole his mug of coffee.
“Woman!” he protested. I smirked and offered him my lips as a condolence prize and he swept a kiss into my mouth.
Until Elayna whacked me with a kitchen towel.
“We might have to ban PDA from the salon.” She handed Eivind a new mug of coffee and set a plate down in front of me.
On the table was a collection of spreads and a platter of cheese and meats sitting on a foam pad. I picked through the jars, looking at my choices: marmalade, butter, honey . . .
“Oh, I bought something for breakfast! I’ll be right back.” I went into our cabin and dug around until I found my Aussie treat—Vegemite.
“What is that?” Eivind asked when I returned to the table.
“Vegemite. Have you ever had it before?”
“I have heard of it.” Eivind made to open the lid. “Can I?”
I nodded and he twisted the lid off and took a whiff. He immediately jerked his head away in disgust.
“What the hell is this?”
“Rude. Give it back, you heathen.”
“You are going to eat that?”
“Yes! It’s delicious.”
Marcella and Elayna came to the table with their plates and sat down. Marcella snickered when Elayna lifted the jar to her nose and cautiously sniffed.
I ignored them and grabbed the butter, slathering it on my toast while the bread was still warm. Eivind watched with fascination while I spread a thin layer of Vegemite over the butter.
“That is so little Vegemite.” He pinched his thumb and forefinger together. “What is the point?”
“It’s strong—you have to have the right bread-to-butter-to-Vegemite ratio,” I explained. I took a satisfying bite out of my slice and rolled my eyes back. “Ugh, it’s so good.”
Eivind’s eyes locked onto my mouth and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. I moaned again and his eyes flared.
Jonas didn’t even look up from his laptop. “I will hose you off if I have to.”
Eivind grinned.
“Wanna try it?”
He tentatively took a bite and chewed. He looked thoughtful, a sommelier tasting the hottest new vintage. Swallowing, he brought his coffee up and took a few large gulps.
“Disgusting,” he confirmed.
“You eat pickled herring.”
He shrugged. “I like lutefisk better.”
“What’s that?”
He grinned at me. “Dried fish with salt . . . pickled in . . .”
�
�Lye,” Marcella supplied.
He nodded. “Lye.”
I grimaced and offered the Vegemite around the table, but no one else wanted a bite.
“I’ve had it before,” Marcella said. “No, thank you.”
Fine, this jar of Vegemite was all mine.
Twenty-Nine
While napping, I awoke to a knock on our door. Eivind and I were both in bed, clothed and sleeping, so he lifted his head and said to come in.
The door opened enough for Elayna’s head to fit through. “It is almost time to do the equator crossing!”
“Okay, we will be up in a few minutes.”
For hundreds of years, sailors have held ceremonies as they crossed the equator, and it was our turn. We were “pollywogs,” the uninitiated bottom-of-the-barrel crew, hoping to cross the equator with a blessing from King Neptune and earn our new title of “shellback.”
The crew had warned me about it before we left Panama, and I’d researched the tradition, my eyes growing with the crazy stories of sailors being dunked in rotten kitchen scraps or forced to drink beer until they puked, but Eivind had assured me that our equator crossing was strictly fun—a talent show and playtime.
Eivind and I dressed in our bathers and came outside, where we helped Elayna and Marcella bring the sails in. First, they furled in the genoa sail in the front, then brought the boat into the wind and dropped the mainsail. Eivind pulled out a little bit of the genoa sail again, “to keep us on course,” he said.
We inched our way toward the equator. The chartplotter, in the upper right-hand corner of the screen, had our exact coordinates, and we estimated we had about twenty minutes to go.
A laugh burst out of me when Jonas came up the stairs in full King Neptune attire: a bedsheet toga was slung over one shoulder, an aluminum foil crown was on his head, and a great big bushy fake beard was strapped to his chin. In one hand he held a makeshift trident, made from a boat hook and some cardboard; in his other hand he’d created a scroll out of two paper towel rolls. I couldn’t stop grinning at the normally serious Jonas going through all this effort to make today special for us.
