“What’d you do, set the course over the bay current?” one of the men inquired with amusement.
The rest of the crowd laughed as the tall man grinned sheepishly. “You’ll know when you get out there. If there aren’t any more questions, then the skipper’s meeting is adjourned.”
Back on the beach, Sandra helped Luke push the catamaran through the sugary fine sand to the surf’s edge. As she stared out at the green foam rising from the breakers, her throat tightened.
“It’s going to be a little rough getting through the breakers this morning,” Luke stated in seeming acknowledgment of her unspoken thoughts. Not waiting for a response, he guided the hulls into the water and pulled himself onboard. “Jump on,” he commanded.
Before she realized what she had done, she had grasped his hand. Sitting on the trampoline next to him, she watched as the boat sluggishly bounced through the crystalline waves.
“Pull hard on the downhaul,” he yelled as he adjusted the rudders.
Sandra lunged into the middle of the boat and grasped the small blue and black line without question or thought.
“A little more,” his voice boomed. That’s great. Come over here now and push down the dagger board.”
Sandra moved back, shoved the long white fin down and sat riveted awaiting his next command. Several seconds passed. She looked back to see him studying her. An endearing smile graced his lips with what seemed pure enjoyment.
“What now?” she asked with a sense of pride. The white hulls were now gliding through the waves with ease.
Luke patted her leg and then gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Pull that jib line in a bit and hang on. We’ve got fifteen minutes before the race begins. We’ll all be jockeying for the starting line soon. Can you give me a count down?”
“Sure,” she stated surprised at the confidence in her own voice as she realized her fears had given way to pure excitement.
“There’s the committee boat.” Luke pointed towards a large pontoon boat with nautical flags waving in the wind. She saw Bernice aboard sitting underneath a canvas canopy with the tall thin man who led the skipper’s meeting. Strange, she thought, Eustice wasn’t helping out on the race committee after all.
Get ready to jibe across the wind.”
Sandra bent down low and prepared to cross over onto the other side of the boat.
“Coming about,” Luke yelled as she felt the boat turn. Sandra crossed over on her knees below the boom. Once on the other side of the boat, she began pulling in the jib. The sail caught the breeze with a pop. Lunging forward, the cat’s slender hulls sliced through the waves with a burst.
“Good job. We’ll have to keep making those tacks and jibes crisp if we’re going to stay in the pack.”
“Ten minutes until start,” Sandra announced checking her watch. Several different catamarans skimmed through the water ahead of them. She recognized Frank and Jenny’s boat by its rainbow colored sails. Her natural competitive spirit nudged her. She’d love to beat those two. The superior attitude Jenny had taken with her the day before at registration still rubbed her against the grain.
“What’s the time?”
“Five minutes, thirty seconds,” she called into the wind as it fanned her face.
“Tell me when we’ve five minutes to go.”
Studying her watch as it counted down the seconds, her mind played back Luke’s words. He’d used the term we. They were a team now. To be a part of something felt so good, so precious and so rare, even if it was only for a moment.
“Five minutes,” she yelled.
“Okay. All sailing rules are into effect. Be ready to hike out over the hull if we get a gust. Let me know if you see anyone coming up behind us.” As Luke spoke, she heard the click of the main line pulling the sail tight. Then, she felt the now familiar lurch in her stomach which always preceded a burst of speed from the boat. The windward hull began to rise up, up, out of the water. Sandra looked at the harness she wore and wondered if she dared to hike out over the water.
“We’re heading for the line.” Luke pulled the main sheet in. “Hook up. Now.”
As she fastened the metal ring onto her harness, she reviewed each step in the process which Luke had taught her. Keeping the jib line in her hand, she grasped the black handle above the harness hook which looked like a dog bone. Her other hand sought out the chicken line on the side of the boat. Then she inched out and before she realized what she’d done, she found herself hanging out over the water with her feet on the side of the boat.
“Pull in the jib and bend your knees,” Luke commanded.
Doing as he said, she noticed what an unusual view one had of the world from such a position. The sail, the sky, these were her primary focus. Nothing else existed for her until she sat up. Then there was another world of boats and water.
“Get ready, we’re jibbing for the line. Okay, come in now.”
As the boat completed its turn, its momentum slowed. Unhooking her trapeze harness, she slid under the boom and crossed the deck to the opposite hull. Pulling in the jib line, she waited for the lurch of speed to hike out over the water again.
“Starboard,” Luke yelled out at a craft trying to cut in front of them.
“Hold your course,” the other man yelled back.
Sandra watched in horror as the other cat sped towards them on a collision course.
“Starboard,” Luke yelled still louder to claim his right away.
Sandra reached back for the chicken line and planted her feet firmly into the nonskid on the side of the boat. “Are we going to hit him?”
“Not if he backs off. If he doesn’t, he’ll be the one sinking to the bottom. The tip of the hulls on this boat are strong.” He turned and examined Sandra’s expression thoughtfully for a second. “Don’t worry, I know Ted. He’ll turn her around at the last minute.”
Clinging to the jib line for reassurance, Sandra watched the other vessel inch closer and closer. Her muscles drew up. They were going to hit the other boat, she thought as Luke just kept sailing harder and faster towards the starting line. She looked to Luke. He was gazing straight ahead as though nothing out of the ordinary were taking place.
Just as she’d given up all hope of avoiding the other boat, she heard the captain swear and order his crew to jibe. She looked back at Luke with a smile laced with relief. She watched as the rainbow colored sailboat moved up from behind them.
“Luke. It’s Frank and Jenny. They’re coming towards us.”
He looked over his shoulder at the approaching catamaran as though he were gauging the distance between the two boats. Steering the catamaran deep into the wind and then dropping off, he carved a fishtail wake in the choppy waters with the boat’s rudders. The other catamaran dropped back a bit, but continued to press.
“We better cut them off while we have the chance,” Luke told her.
Sandra concentrated on keeping the jib trimmed as Luke steered in and out of the wind in the same zigzag dance.
“They’re getting closer. Stay alert.”
“I’m with you,” she replied. Looking back, she could see the opposing cat sailing up closer. Their hulls almost touched the rudders in the back where Luke sat.
“Coming up,” Luke yelled as he sailed in front of Frank and Jenny. A shotgun blast rang out from the committee boat as their boat lunged across the starting line. Sandra spotted the first orange triangular mark. They’d left all the other catamarans behind. They were the lead boat.
Sandra watched with delight as the pack of colorful boats followed them around the first buoy. Then they passed a second buoy. Coming to yet another orange inflatable triangle they rounded it to their left, thus completing the I-shaped course. She listened for the sound of the other boats coming up behind them, but all she could hear was the pleasant roar of the wind in her ears and the slap of the waves against the hull. Were they still in the lead? Barely daring to take her eyes off the jib, she gazed back behind the boat. The rudders were cutti
ng two lines through the water that led directly to a straight line of boats following them. Their colors reflected off the gently cresting waters creating a tapestry of flowing reds, blues and yellows. A rush of awe flooded Sandra’s chest. She saw the committee boat and the imaginary finish line which lay in front of them.
“We did it,” Luke announced.
“Indeed, we did.”
“What do you think, Sandy? Are we a winning team or what?” he asked. As they crossed the finish line, he slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a generous hug.
“I think you’re right,” she agreed in a hushed voice. She couldn’t believe what was happening. Not only had she survived the race and won first place, she had actually joined forces with her chief competitor and loved it.
* * *
Going onto shore between races for lunch, Sandra couldn’t remember ever enjoying an egg salad sandwich more. Luke had even thought to bring dill pickles and cold ice tea. As she finished her sandwich, a number of sailors wandered over to congratulate her and Luke on winning the race. They wanted to know how he knew to tack immediately at the windward mark? Did he catch a wind shift? Had his barber hauler worked downwind? The questions were as numerous as the envious well-wishers.
Enjoying the compliments and the proud gleam in Luke’s blue eyes, Sandra found her face a constant shade of crimson.
Readying for the second and third race, Luke checked the boat over. Just as he’d declared the new cat sound, the committee boat shot off its warning gun.
“They’re heading out for the course,” Luke stated, throwing her a life jacket. “Let’s go.”
Once out on the water, the start of the second race was none the less exciting than the first. However, this time Sandra had prepared herself for the restless sparring for the favored end of the starting line. Unlike the first race, she now felt relatively comfortable seated on the cat’s sleek hull as the boat plowed through waves.
Again, Frank and Jenny stayed up with them competing for the better end of the start line. This time, however, the rainbow cat squeezed by Luke’s swerving tactics. The rest of the race, they found themselves playing a game of tag with Frank and Jenny. As they rounded the final mark and headed up wind to the finish line, Luke and Sandra still hadn’t been able to overtake them. Crossing the finish, they came in second behind Frank and Jenny to Sandra’s disappointment.
“Okay, let’s go for another win,” Luke announced as the committee boat shot off the warning gun for the third race. He pulled in the mainsheet and sent the boat speeding through the water. Spray streamed off the hulls like a fountain in a park. “The winds picking up and so are the waves. It may get rough out here.” He arched his eyebrow in an obvious question.
“I’ll be fine. After all, I’m sailing with the best skipper in town, aren’t I? Sandra thought she saw his face tinge pink as he beamed a boyish grin.
“We’ll see how you feel about that at the end of the race.”
“I’m a grown woman. I wouldn’t have volunteered to crew for you if I didn’t think I could handle it.”
Luke fell silent and gazed over his shoulder. “Let’s tack,” he commanded as the five minute flag went up.
Sandra ducked her head and moved towards the other side of the catamaran. Midway across, she realized her foot was caught in a jumble of line. Feeling the weight of the boat shift, she laid back against the cat just in time for her head to miss the boom. However, she still couldn’t loosen her foot from the lines. Scrunching down over her knees, she worked at freeing her foot from the disarray.
The boat slid to a halt and began bouncing upon the waves. “Damn it. We’re caught in irons. Sandra?” His voice was harsh and course. The anger pent up in his tone reminded her of the night they’d met. Her stomach tensed as she continued frantically to work herself free. Once loose, she flicked the cleats open on the jib line and righted the sail.
“That’s it. Let her out. We’ve have to get going.” As the front sail filled, Sandra watched the nose of the boat turn. The mainsail popped, catching the breeze and the cat trudged forward through the chop.
“We’re going straight for the start. Stay alert. We’ve the right of way, but there’s a lot of dirty air between us and the line.”
Sandra gulped down the large knot in her throat. You messed up. It’s okay, she told herself as she pushed back her hair with her left hand. He’s not mad at you, just focused. The race is still young. Get on the stick. Show him you’ve got gumption enough to see this thing through.
“Do you want me out on the wire?” she asked, forcing her voice to sound calm and decisive.
“No, wait until we get clear of the pack and the hull starts rising. You’re fine right now. Luke’s voice dropped off as he pronounced the last word.
“How’s the trim on the jib?” she prompted.
“Pull it in a hair. Yeah, that’s it. Look’s good.” His gaze dropped from the front sail to Sandra’s face. His eyes were soft, though his face wore a scowl. “It’s okay, really. We’ll come back.”
She wondered if his words of encouragement were for her benefit or his own. “What if . . .” She took a deep breath and held it tight. Then exhaling in a gust, she continued. “What if we don’t make up the distance?”
“If we don’t, then we don’t.” He shrugged his shoulders to emphasize his statement. “It won’t be the first race I’ve lost and it won’t be the last.”
Sandra stared down at the black trampoline and slid her feet under the straps. Did he know how disappointed she was? she wondered, not knowing why winning the race had become so important to her. Being on the winning catamaran would be good publicity for the Sea Breeze. There was more to it than business, though. An entire month’s worth of free advertising wouldn’t have been enough to get her onto a catamaran with someone besides Luke. She didn’t like to admit it to herself, but somewhere down the line, she’d started caring what Luke thought and she wanted to earn his respect.
Looking up, she broke off her thoughts and watched Luke pump the main sail in and out as the wind demanded. The muscles in his tanned arms flexed with each movement. She could see his chest rise and fall under the thin regatta T-shirt. Good grief, she thought, he sure was pleasant to look at.
They passed the starting line and tacked off into a different direction from the fleet. In no time, the cat had found clean air and was scooting towards the first mark.
“We’ll be tacking again, soon. There’s the first mark over there,” he told her, pointing down the boat’s back beam with his free hand. “Get ready.” He hesitated as he eyed the orange buoy. “Let’s tack.”
Turning the boat around forty-five degrees, they were headed straight into the fleet. Sandra adjusted her sitting position and glanced up at the jib’s telltales. The middle telltale drooped sluggishly. She clicked open the jib cleat and released the line a hair’s length until the ribbons streamed back like a tiny flags.
“Will we have enough room to get in there?” she asked, staring at a good ten boats sailing in a solid pack toward the mark.
“They have to allow us room. We have the right of way.”
Sandra took another deep breath, hoping the other boat saw it the same way. Racing catamarans reminded her of playing chicken in bumper cars at the amusement park, only a bumper car wouldn’t sink.
“Here they come, Sandra.” His voice held an edge to it she’d never heard before. “Yell, starboard.”
“Me? You’re the skipper.”
“Sandra. You better hurry. They’re coming in and I don’t know if they see us. Yell.”
“Sta . . . Starboard,” she hollered at the red hulled cat. To her delight, the man steering the boat waved and the tacked away.
Soon after that near miss, they cleared the first mark and moved into the middle of the fleet. She couldn’t believe they’d made up so much lost distance. Only two more legs of the race left to catch up.
After rounding the third buoy, they’d passed the entire fleet
except for Jenny and Frank who held the lead. Approaching the last mark, Sandra heard a voice yell out at them, “Starboard.”
“Hold your course,” Luke yelled back at the boat converging upon them. Then across his shoulder, he shot Sandra a devilish grin. “They’ll make it. Don’t fret.”
“Are you afraid I’ll abandon ship before it starts to sink? she asked in jest.
“No. You do look a bit nervous with your knuckles wrapped tightly around the chicken line, though.”
Seconds later Frank and Jenny’s rainbow colored cat had passed in front of them and jibed. As the bow of the other boat came around, it pulled right up behind Luke and Sandra.
“Mast to beam,” Frank cried out to Luke as their boat began to pick up speed.
“In your dreams,” Luke jeered. “Coming up.”
Sandra watched as Jenny and Frank worked frantically squeezing every ounce of speed from the boat. In turn, Sandra checked her sail. Come on, Luke, she thought. Let’s show them how it’s done. The other cat jibed away.
“Is that the finish line there?” she asked and pointed across the left hull of the boat.
“Looks like it to me.”
“Why’d they jibe away?”
“They’re looking for clean air and the boat speed to beat us.” The corners of his lips turned into a grin. His expression told her they wouldn’t succeed.
“Oh no.”
“What is it?” she asked following Luke’s gaze.
“That’s an Emenacker trawler out there. Frank’s going to run straight into his fishing nets.”
Sandra momentarily forgot about watching the jib and sat staring at the rainbow colored cat. It had come to a complete stop. “What’s Frank doing out on the hull?”
“He’s probably cutting the nets loose from the boat.” The corners of Luke’s mouth tensed into a frown as he let the boat slow.
“Will Eustice be upset?”
“Livid, I imagine. As will be every fisherman between here and Panama City.”
Sea Star Legacy Page 25
