“Where’s Jason?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, get a move on and find him,” Larry ordered. “We have a lot of work to do before our guests arrive.”
David staggered out of his bunk, grabbed his toilet kit, and felt Byron’s hand on his shoulder.
“Just to let you know, that is my bunk. I’d like you to clean everything off it before you go. And clean your gear from the drawers.” He dropped his bag on the deck.
David was about to tell him to fuck off, but it was too early in the morning to argue. Byron gave David a little shake to reaffirm the order and then went topside. David put his things on the port bunk, the one that had the hammock over it filled with greased eggs and packaged food.
When David came back from the showers, Byron was sitting in the cockpit, under the awning, drinking coffee. He winked at him.
Larry had gone to his car and came back with a heavy duffel bag over his shoulder. With one look it was apparent that Larry was a sailor, not a yachtsman. He was wearing what he always wore at the harbor—shorts, topsiders with no socks, a long-sleeve Tahitian-print shirt, and his trademark white safari helmet. It wasn’t that he tried to be eccentric; it was just that he was fanatically practical. A pith helmet won out over a canvas hat because pith helmets don’t wear out, they shade the sun better, they protect the head from falling objects, and they float. He went into the salon and dumped his load on the settee table. It was a sack full of weapons.
“I need your passports and plane tickets,” he told the others.
Byron got up and followed his brother into the cabin and sat at the table. David went forward and found his passport and ticket. “Yours too, Byron.”
One of the conditions for sailing to Tahiti was all the crew had to have valid plane tickets from Papeete to wherever they’d come from. Otherwise they had to post a thousand-dollar bond with the authorities when they arrived. The government of French Polynesia wasn’t about to let castaways live on the beach.
“Where’s Jason?” Larry asked David. “I thought I told you to find him.”
David was ready to make an excuse when Jason showed up with a bag of Big Macs and Cokes for everyone.
“Jason. Where’s your passport?” Larry shouted.
Jason got his passport and sat at the table with the others. This was the first time that Larry and his crew were together. Larry collected the passports and all the tickets except Jason’s.
“I’ll keep these in the safe in my cabin. Jason, I have your ticket.” He looked at each of his crew individually, and David saw, as did the others, that Larry was now completely in command. He picked up one of the rifles, a Winchester 70 bolt action 30-06. He opened the bolt and checked the bore. “Who knows anything about firearms?” Larry looked at Jason and David.
“I’m clueless,” Jason said.
“I fired a pistol in the Coast Guard,” David replied.
“I guess you’ll be in charge of the weapons,” Larry said to Byron. “They all need to be cleaned, wrapped in oilcloth, and stowed in these plastic cases. There are a couple of pistols in the bag and a couple of thousand rounds of ammunition.” Larry paused and then looked at the boys to see their reaction. “We’re going to be on our own for months. There will be no police or government to help us out if we get into trouble, so we need to be self-reliant and prepared for any danger.”
“In Tahiti?” Jason said.
Larry just gave him a look that meant “Shut up.” He continued, “Okay, then, we’ll shove off at one. Jason, take off the awnings and sail covers and stow them in the dinghy. Change out the shore vents for the sea vents, and make sure everything is lashed and secure. Dave, make sure everything in the engine compartment is secure. I want the boat ready to leave when I get back.”
Larry got up, picked up the corded, 1960s phone that always sat on the settee and took it ashore. This is the real thing, Jason thought. That phone was like Larry’s umbilical cord. Jason watched Larry coil up the cord, unplug it from the shore jack and lock it in his locker.
David squeezed into the engine compartment under the cockpit. It was cramped with little more than a crawl space around the Volvo diesel. To work on the engine meant making love to it. David checked the through hull fitting for the power shaft. Mata‘i had a folding bronze prop to diminish drag under sail, and a white stripe down the shaft marked where it should be set while sailing. Directly below the helmsman seat, a brake was fitted to the shaft to keep it from moving while under weigh. A three-foot extension rod was attached to the brake handle so the brake could be set or released from the cockpit.
When David finished checking out the engine room, he stopped in the cockpit, lifted the helm-seat and made sure the brake on the shaft was slack. He then continued on deck to help Jason with the sail covers. They stowed them and then changed out the vents. The Mata‘i was ready for sea.
Byron had made himself a rum and coke, not in the McDonald’s cup, but in a crystal tumbler. He watched the boys, taking mental notes. When they finished, Byron invited them to sit with him in the cockpit. No one said anything as they waited for Larry to return with the ladies. This send-off was a big deal for Larry.
Byron laughed, breaking the silence and took a sip of his drink. “Let me be clear, my rum is off limits. It’s for medicinal purposes only. I have a bad back and this tends to relax it. So here are my rules. If you boys follow them, we will get along great. I don’t do any heavy work; no hoisting of sails or taking in sails in any sort of weather, no pulling on the anchor chain or making do in cramped compartments.”
“Do you steer the boat?” Jason said.
“I steer the boat. I don’t stand night watches. I don’t cook. I will make cocktails and I’ll share my rum on special occasions. Most important, I know a lot more about blue water cruising than Larry, though he won’t admit it. I’ve been through hurricanes in the Caribbean and have a good idea what this boat can take. If there’s ever a question of what we should do in heavy weather, you guys will side with me. Our trip down is a test. If you fuck up, I’ll be leaving in Papeete and you’ll have Larry all to yourselves.”
The crew had changed from t-shirts into more formal aloha shirts when Larry came back with Elizabeth, Lillian and his current wife, Hellen Graff at precisely 12:40. Helen had a canvas bag containing snacks, champagne, and orange juice. Elizabeth brought books, a Norton Anthology of English Literature for her son and the complete works of Herman Melville for David. Lillian had an armful of flower leis. Larry passed the gifts down to the crew’s waiting arms and helped the women on board. For a moment the women stood in the cockpit looking at the boat and the men. Lillian broke the awkwardness by giving out her leis. Helen Graff, who had disappeared below, came back up with champagne flutes of mimosas and a tray of caviar and blinis.
Larry began. “I’m honored to have my teacher and mentor here to bless this voyage and send us on our way in the knowledge that we are divinely protected. Please enjoy the refreshments while we get the boat ready to set sail. Dave, unplug the shore power and single up the lines.”
As David went about his task, he saw Jason and Lillian sitting on the forward cabin roof, leaning against the salon portholes. Lillian was crying and Jason was comforting her. David wanted to be there too, but he left them alone.
Byron poured more champagne and Helen cornered Elizabeth, telling her how she hated entertaining on the boat. Every Sunday she had to make gourmet hors d’oeuvres for the après-sail cocktail hour. She made it clear that Larry’s long absence on this trip would not be a hardship. It would be her celebration of freedom.
David finished getting the boat ready and let Larry know. The skipper waved him off. It wasn’t quite time to leave. Lillian was no longer crying, and David went forward and joined Jason and her.
“Thanks for the lei.” David sat down next to Lillian. “What do you think? Are we going to survive this trip?”
Jason glared at his buddy, and Lillian welled up with tears again.
“I was just trying to lighten things up.”
“Neither one of you should go,” Lillian said. “Until now it was all speculation. You could still change your minds.” She began crying. “I’m going to miss you both …” She wiped her eyes and regained her composure.
“… And I’m not going to think about either one of you.”
Larry stepped on deck and shouted, “Let’s get underway!” He looked rather disgusted at the little ménage à trois and returned to the cockpit where he fired up the diesel. Jason, Lillian, and David wrapped their arms around each other in a group hug, and Lillian hurried back to the cockpit to join the ladies.
Larry stood at the helm, took one last look around his boat. There were no more preparations to be made and they were ready for sea.
“Dave.” Larry waved him over. “Help Helen ashore. She’ll take the car over to the gas dock.”
David followed Larry’s order.
“Byron on the boathook,” Larry commanded. “Jason, take the bow, and Dave the stern. Stern lines come off first—we’re taking them with us. Jason, undo port side first and then walk us out. And bring the lines.”
Jason jumped ashore and waited for David to undo the stern lines. He got them on board cleanly.
“Do you want to raise the main? Just in case?” Byron called back to the cockpit.
“No, I do not.” Larry waited for the bow lines to be cast off.
Jason untied the port mooring line, which was cleated twenty feet from the head of the pier on the far side of the storage lockers. He tossed the line to the boat, but his throw was weak, and the rope fell into the water.
“Keep the lines dry, Jason!” Larry yelled.
Jason ran to the other cleat, untied the starboard line, and pulled the bow of the boat toward him so that he could grab the pulpit and walk the boat back.
“We’re free!” he shouted.
Larry put his boat in reverse and started backing away from the dock. Jason was supposed to keep the boat straight, and at the last minute, shove the bow away from the dock and jump on board. But Larry gave the motor too much throttle and Jason had to run down the pier just to keep up. He barely had hold of the pulpit, and when he reached the end of the pier, it was all he could do to jump onboard. The other line dropped in the water, and Jason held onto the pulpit. He got a leg over the bowsprit and muscled his way up to the deck.
“Damn it, Jason!” Larry spun the helm to get the boat turning.
Jason gathered in both of the mooring lines that had fallen in the water, quickly faked them on deck. He headed aft where Byron stopped him at the main. “Undo all but two gaskets and stand by the halyard, just in case.”
“Byron, get your boathook back here. Dave, get some fenders aft.”
The Mata‘i wasn’t turning. Instead, she was backing straight toward the yachts berthed across the channel. In a single screw vessel like this one, the spin of the prop tends to swing the stern to port. Since the flow of water wasn’t over the rudder, the helm wasn’t very efficient. Larry put the helm over to the point where it offset the natural swing of the boat. He didn’t want to go in that direction, and without Jason’s extra push he couldn’t get the bow to turn towards the harbor exit.
“We should raise the main and sail out,” Byron shouted.
“Belay that!” Larry called back. “Just stay calm.” Larry throttled back, shifted into forward, and swung his helm to the opposite direction. Everyone felt the clank of the shifting gear. Larry accelerated and the motor coughed and quit. He frantically tried to restart it, but it flooded.
“We need that main up,” Byron said.
“All I need from you is to shut up and fend us off!” Larry shouted cranking the motor, but it wouldn’t turn over. The ladies gathered in one corner of the cockpit. People from the threatened yachts rushed on deck to protect their boats.
“What the hell are you doing, Graff?” a neighbor yelled.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Come on you fucking bitch,” Larry kept saying under his breath. Finally, the motor kicked over. Larry got it in gear and Mata‘i moved forward, moments before it would have crashed into a neighbor’s boat.
The ladies let out a collective sigh. Lillian approached Elizabeth; she was in tears again. “I have a terrible feeling that this fiasco is but the beginning. Can’t you do something?”
“Don’t be hypnotized, sweet heart. You’re letting this event reinforce your preconceived idea about this voyage. Let go of that concept. Where is the truth in it?” Elizabeth gave Lillian a loving hug and a kiss. “Stop your crying and join me in the Spirit.” Elizabeth then turned to Larry who was at the helm a couple of steps away.
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” he said. “I hate to lose control and I hope you won’t hold that outburst against me.”
“There’s your biggest lesson, Larry. You’ve got to let go if you want the Spirit to function in you.”
“I just want everything to be perfect and harmonious. There’s no reason why this trip can’t be that. Is that too much to ask?”
“Have you meditated with Jason yet?”
“There just hasn’t been time.”
Elizabeth went over to Helen and Lillian, having had enough of Larry’s alibis. Larry brushed off Elizabeth’s snub and chatted up Byron as he motored over to the gas dock. No one said anything about the near miss, but questions about Larry’s competence could almost be grabbed from the sky.
Jason and David stood on the foredeck. Larry had jokingly referred to the run to the gas dock as first leg of the journey. David hoped the Jason he’d known as a kid, the one who sat at the feet of the master, was still there. Larry’s performance getting underway made him nervous.
Larry pulled up to the fueling station and Jason and David jumped off to handle the mooring lines. Byron helped the ladies ashore, and Larry opened the fuel ports on the boat. The dock attendant hauled over a long hose and topped up the fuel tanks. David brought a water hose over to do the same for the water tanks, but Larry told him to hold off. He didn’t like the possibility of getting water mixed in with the fuel. After the fueling was complete and the caps secure, Larry allowed the water tanks to be topped off.
With those chores completed, the men joined the send-off party gathered on the dock. They all stared at the yacht glistening in the afternoon sun. Jason took a deep breath. He was ready, proud of the work he’d done to prepare Mata‘i to cross an ocean. After leaving the Hawaiian Islands there would be nothing but twenty-six hundred miles of ocean before they reached Tahiti.
Elizabeth gathered everyone in a circle and had them hold hands. She was quiet for a few moments and they all fell into a meditation. Even Byron graciously participated. After the silence, all Elizabeth said was, “Go with God.” She kissed each one of the crew. When she came to David, she whispered, “Pay attention.”
David gave Lillian a long hug and asked her to write. He had to know how she felt about him. In the few days he had known her, she had changed his life. He would never betray Jason, but he had to know.
Jason and Lillian went off to have a moment of privacy.
“I love you, J.J.,” Lillian kissed him. It wasn’t passionate but it was filled with agape. This wasn’t the moment for passion. “I know you’ll be changed when you return. I’ll write to you and let you know what I’m thinking. I hope the change will bring greater illumination. The world needs what you have. Never forget that.”
Jason hugged her back. “You’re my strength. I know that whatever I do spiritually you’ll be there. I have no doubt. I love you, too. I’m sorry this trip upsets you so much, Lillian, but I think it’s about a greater purpose. I don’t know what it is yet, but as soon as I know, you will too.” With that he gave her another long kiss and walked over to his mother.
They embraced and she said one word to him, “Listen.” Then she kissed him and stepped back. The detachment that David had observed before descended upon them. Their bodies went through the motions of saying goodbye, but the Div
ine indifference that allowed the Spirit to work was already there in each of them, and David began to understand it for the first time.
The Mata‘i motored out the Ala Wai channel and Larry raised her sails beyond the reef. The people on the dock waited until the sails were up before they left. Elizabeth nudged Lillian to leave, making her turn away from the yacht to live in the present.
After five hours of sailing, passing Waikiki and Diamond Head and entering the Molokai channel, the Mata‘i approached the island of Molokai. Larry tacked north to gain some maneuvering room for his plan to sail down the windward coasts of the islands. He wanted to be at least ten miles offshore. The change in course was only for a few hours, but all the weight that had been so carefully stowed on the windward side of the boat was now on the leeward side, and Mata‘i buried her rail in the stiff wind and heavy sea. Blue water poured down the deck and often into the cockpit. Larry assured his crew it was necessary and better to take the beating now, when they were fresh, than wait until they were off Tahiti. He went back to adjust the Aires self-steering gear and came back to the cockpit to join the others trying to stay dry.
The four men huddled up against the cabin bulkhead—two on each side of the companionway, and still they got wet. The cabin had been secured—the hatch was closed, the companionway doors shut, all the windows and ports sealed, and the air vents turned away from the weather. Below decks it was hot and stuffy. In the cockpit it was hot and wet.
The Aires couldn’t keep the yacht on course. Larry had ordered Jason and David to shorten sail three times, and had them try different combinations of jib, forestaysail, main, and mizzen in the hopes of balancing the boat so that the steering gear would work. At that moment he had a shortened jib, a double-reefed main, and no mizzen. The staysail, which was not roller furling, was still attached to the stay but stuffed into its bag. Larry got up again to readjust the Aires to see if he could get it to hold a course, and like every other time he made an adjustment, he cursed the designer and swore that he’d get his money back as soon as he reached port.
The Atua Man Page 15
