Dad wouldn’t dream of taking the boat out of the water before Thanksgiving, and that was still far away. Until then, they sailed on weekends. They would leave early on Friday afternoon and often not come back before Monday morning, with dad rushing off to the office.
With the water always warmer later in the season, this was the best time not only for sailing but also for swimming. The moment they’d drop anchor in any bay, Alec would dive overboard and spend practically all his time in the water. He loved swimming, diving, or just frolicking around.
***
This was by far the best time of the day. Perhaps wouldn’t have been some years ago when, like his son, he’d rather race all comers trying to pick the best moments to execute a perfect tack, or jibe, to outwit other sailors along the length and width of Lake Champlain. And a most beautiful lake it was.
Still is, of course.
With islets and intimate coves along its length, offering hideouts to pirates and sailors alike, and mountain peaks reflected in often-flat waters at sunset when the wind died down, it was heaven on earth. Some of the hidden coves with narrow entries bore romantic names like “Smugglers’ Notch” or “Pirates’ Cove”, which his son immediately appropriated as his own domains.
Once the anchor was down and checked for dragging, the sails secured and all was shipshape, father and son would dive overboard to cool down the heat of the day. Then Alec Junior, invariably wearing his snorkeling mask, would continue frolicking, sometimes as far as checking out the nearest shore, while Alex Senior would climb back on board, up the stern ladder, dry off, and flop down in the cockpit.
“Won’t you join us just once?” he’d ask Alicia every now and then.
“If God wanted me to swim in the water he’d have given me gills,” would be the curt reply.
After all, on her first sail, Alicia had only twice allowed the tepid waters of the Caribbean to touch her body above her knees. At least so, by the act of her will. Champlain waters were strictly for men, she thought. She’d tried. Alas, the last time she did she had slipped from the ladder and swallowed and mouthful of water. She preferred water in her Scotch, she affirmed, and stayed on board henceforth.
Soon Alicia, who also preferred to keep her hair dry, would emerge from the cabin, a large Scotch on the rocks in each hand. She’d give one to her husband, usually the much larger one, and spread out on the port of starboard seat, as far away from Alex’s still partially wet body as she could.
And this is where he was now.
They chatted idly, about this and that, until Alicia would spot their son making his way back. She’d then go below and rustle something to eat for her two men. Alec Junior would soon join her, telling her of the wonderful things he’d seen above and below the water, while downing a large glass of orange juice.
It was that time of the day that Alex Senior liked the best. All engines were switched off, the sun was slowly sinking amid the tall pines, and the wind died down to a placid whimper. And don’t forget the Scotch, he mused. Never, never forget the Scotch.
Sitting alone, ice cubes jingling in his glass, his mind would wander off. Sometimes he’d visit the old days, the days of his own youth, when he could only dream about owning a boat like the O’Day.
Just wondering…
Soon the sun would dive along the trees along the western shore, then behind the mountains beyond. Soon the moon would come out…
…in those days of yore, the moon was a call to action. To go out and conquer. Now…?
Now Alicia was putting together a light meal, with Junior giving her a hand. For a few moments he was free to sit back and remember. At home, in Montreal, and on all his jobs, he lived exclusively in the present. Here he was in his private dreamland.
He wondered what it would be like he were a young bachelor here, perhaps on this very O’Day, rather than in England trying to score a damsel on his scooter, or even in Mandelieu, by cajoling her into his tent.
Of course, even then, he would have been his son’s senior by three or four years, but still, it seems that things in the olden days, were not as easy as they would seem to be today.
He would have given a lot to own an O’Day in those days. He would have scored a lot, too.
He looked down through the hatchway. There she was. As slim and beautiful as on the day they got married.
On the other hand, then, when youth measured achievements by desires, not by practicality, with Alicia at his side, he would have gladly circumnavigated the globe ten times over. And, it seemed to him, that even then he would not find another mate like her. Is it really possible to be in love for such a long time?
And then the bell rang for dinner and the chimerical images dissolved into, most probably, equally as enchanting reality. It was time to eat. Or, as Alex Senior liked to think of it, time to exchange his tumbler of a glass of wine.
***
Alec first saw her through the binoculars. She was slim, sun-tanned and had long golden hair. For just a moment he thought he was looking at the Princess. Not the little girl in the dungeons, and not exactly like the eighteen-year-old on the Home planet, but somewhere in-between. The instant he saw her, his heart missed a beat. Just one beat, and he had to drop the binoculars and pretend he was looking elsewhere. He was sure she was looking at him. Knew he’d been watching.
Later, it just so happened that she went swimming at exactly the time Alec felt the need to do the same. It was a coincidence that she was swimming towards the Alicia, while Alec just happened to be swimming towards her yacht, the Princess. It was also by chance that Alec, swimming his best backstroke, bumped into her. He apologized, of course. It doesn’t matter, she said, it didn’t hurt at all. Are you sure? Oh, yes. Perhaps I’d better look. All right. Let’s get back to my boat. It’s closer, he said.
And she followed him.
On board, he looked at the arm that he had struck with the back of his hand. It took a while to find the exact spot, but he was in no hurry. He never thought that examining a girl’s arm could be quite so exciting. The other side of his brain was grateful that mom and dad had gone for a spin in the dinghy.
“My name is Alec,” he said at last, releasing her slender arm.
“I’m Su. Suzy. Or Susanna, if you like opera.”
“Opera?”
“In The Marriage of Figaro.”
Mozart, Alec knew, but he didn’t know the opera. Not yet.
“You sing?” he asked.
She laughed, her eyes sparkling, her long tresses already swaying as they dried in the gentle breeze... “I couldn’t sing a note if you paid me,” she said. “No, my father is an opera buff. That’s why he called me Susanna, because he’s mad about Mozart.”
Alec wasn’t sure what exactly was so funny. He would have been, had he heard her sing. No matter. They were talking, and Alec hadn’t blushed even once. In fact, they seemed to be talking as though they were old friends. Well, almost.
“Do you sail a lot?” he asked.
“Not as much as I would like to, but I miss my friends.”
She had friends. Alec had Pete, for tennis twice a week, and she had friends. Probably hundreds of them. All tall and slim, like herself.
“I’d better swim back,” she said. “Mom and dad might be worried about me.”
“I’ll take you.” Escort you, he had in mind, but it sounded too formal. “I’ll swim with you, only not on my back,” he assured her.
This made her smile. Girls sure look different when they smile.
Alec dived, she took the ladder. They swam without talking. Alec had to be very careful to make sure he wasn’t left behind, but also not to show off and get ahead. Perhaps a stroke or two, but no more. Any more would be showing off. As they approached, a tall, heavy man stood towering over the stern pulpit. Alec wasn’t taking any chances. He shouted a bubbly “so long” and beat a hasty retreat. He was glad that he was a strong swimmer. Suzy’s father, for it must have been her father, was much too big for his liking.
My name is Alec, not David, he thought, regardless of her father’s size. He broke all speed records retreating towards his own yacht.
Goliath, Suzy’s father, looked about twelve feet tall. On the other hand, Alec presumed that he swam faster than David.
By the time he got back, mother was already on the ladder, and dad was tying the dinghy to the pulpit. Alec got ahead of dad and managed to keep him relatively dry. Normally, boys are not very good at getting out of the water and not giving everyone within shouting distance a shower.
After lunch on board Alec asked if, by any chance, dad knew the Princess. Before dad could make some funny remark, Alec pointed to the boat some eighty or ninety yards on their port side.
“It’s a Hunter, son. The older ones are OK, but the later models have too much draft for this lake. A good six feet. This one looks late seventies or early eighties. Should be all right.”
Alec was still thinking of his hasty retreat. “I go, but I shall come back!” he muttered.
“What’s that, son?”
“That’s not quite what I meant, Dad. Never mind.”
That was that. No contact. No follow-up. It was up to him. As usual.
He picked up the binoculars. For a while he looked everywhere except in the direction of the Princess. This was not like facing a herd of charging elephants. This required quite a different kind of courage.
She was waving!
Alec looked behind him. There were no boats anchored on his starboard. He looked at the Princess again. She was waving to him!
He waved back and quickly went below. He had to act quickly. There was the Goliath and there was Susan. You can only die once, he decided and climbed back up to the cockpit.
“Can I borrow the dinghy, Dad?” He tried to sound as indifferent as he could.
“Of course, son.”
Since their return from Malletts Bay, he had been treated like an adult. Dad even asked his advice on some things, like which approach looked best. That was nice. Right now, he was grateful dad had not asked him to post a float plan. He wanted to just... He had no idea what he wanted, but he was going to do it, anyway.
“So there!”
“What’s that, son?”
“Nothing, Dad.” And he went off in the opposite direction from where the Princess was anchored. He needed time. What would he say? How would he approach the other yacht? How close?
Then he made the decision. He switched off the engine and put out the oars. Very gently, with an easy, relaxed stroke, he started circling towards the Princess, so that he would have to go by her to get back to the Alicia.
And then a strange thought came to him. He wondered if Sandra would approve of Suzy. He’d never thought of asking Sandra’s approval for anything. Nothing he did or even felt. Sandra was... she was part of him. He felt that he could never do anything Sandra would disapprove of, but in a different way. It was—and this thought came to him for the second time—it was as though he and Sandra did everything together. Really as one. Funny that...
“How’s your arm?” he asked after what must have been an eternity.
“Hi, Alec! Would you like to come aboard?”
What about the Goli-...
“Come on, lad. Susanna tells me you saved her life.”
The Goliath wasn’t nearly as big when he was sitting down. His voice was a lot deeper than Alec’s father’s, but it seemed to have overtones of humor. Alec was growing less apprehensive by the minute.
“Don’t want to be any trouble,” he wanted to add, “I’ve done enough harm already,” but thought better of it. He much preferred the saving bit Suzy had made up.
“Nonsense. We’re just having some juice. I’ll get you a glass.”
Suzy sat silently on the stern pulpit, an elfin smile playing about her lips. If Alec dared to look at her and if he were a poet, he would have said “full, ripe” lips. But Alec’s attention was riveted on her father.
“That would be very nice, Sir.”
He threw the line to Suzy, who tied it with the expertise of a seasoned sailor. She grew in Alec’s eyes.
That evening, as he lay on his back in the fo’c’sle watching the clouds cut across the dark sky, he tried to make heads and tails of today’s experience. He had met Suzy by accident. But her boat was named Princess. Her dad wasn’t a Goliath at all and seemed to be, just about, in love with his own daughter. Whatever Suzy might ask, Mr. Norman, Mr. John Norman, would be sure to try and do. Suzy had asked him to meet Alec’s parents and maybe sail in tandem, sometime. Like next weekend, for instance. A moment later Mr. Norman was on the radio, trying to signal the Alicia. Finding no success—dad never left the radio on—Mr. Norman borrowed Alec’s dinghy, motored to the Alicia, and invited his parents for drinks that evening. Sailors are loners, by choice, but they can be really good company when they find out that you’re human. I mean, really human.
All this was almost too much, and certainly too quick. Alec always expected the best from life; but hoping to meet someone, and to do so that very same day, was just plain silly.
And awfully nice.
And then the hair on Alec’s neck stood on end. Sandra had said, “All boys will discover, sooner or later, their... other halves. And the girls, too. Only they will find their Princes.”
Suzy had either just discovered her Prince or she hadn’t. And there was nothing he could do about it.
Sandra never lied.
And not for the first time, nor the last in his young life, Alec felt completely lost.
23
The School Again
School can be fun at any time, but when you know that you are approaching your final year, it fills your heart with pride. You know that the next step is paramount to becoming an adult. By the time you turn sixteen, you will be getting your first driver’s license; a while later you will be able to vote. For Alec, it didn’t quite work out that way.
After his experience with his father’s accident during the Malletts-Valcour crossing, Alec was determined to obtain a license to skipper a boat. After all, he’d already done so, and it was time the fact was officially recognized. He went about meeting his goal with the skill and guile worthy of a pirate of the seven seas.
He learned that he could not take part in any courses offered by the Royal St. Lawrence Sailing Club, in Dorval, just north of Montreal, for the simple reason that they were given exclusively to adults. Mature as he was for his age, no one would mistake him for one of voting age. Nor, for that matter, would he be allowed to make any purchase at Quebec Liquor stores for the very same reason. Yet, such trifles would not stand in the way of Alec’s unbridled imagination.
He discovered that the Internet offers a number of coastal navigation courses, which award, upon successful completion, a skipper’s license.
With his usual vigor and commitment, he dove headlong into the digital instruction. Within a week he could answer all the questions they could throw at him, as fast as he could read them. This was the prerequisite for passing the course. During the actual test, there was no time for cheating. The questions changed all the time, and if you failed to answer them quickly, you did not pass the test. After all, on board you often had but seconds to make the right decision. This was a practical, honest test of one’s navigational skills.
RRR, Red-right-returning…
RRR, Red-right-returning…
RRR, Red-right-returning…
When returning from the sea, or going up an estuary or just entering a harbor, you leave the red buoys on your starboard side.
There were many such phrases that helped him to memorize the basic navigational skills. He also had to know on which side to pass oncoming ships, the regulations dealing with priority, right of way, and dozens of other practical bits of knowledge indispensable to safe sailing. Reading charts, compasses, calculating true north, setting course by the stars and suchlike were but a small part of the overall course.
GPS was just icing on the cake.
Within
three weeks he received his diploma, his name displayed in elaborate scrawl on the document. His father’s reaction was typical. Alex Senior stood to attention and saluted his son.
“I shall be proud to serve under you, Sir!” he said. He was only half joking.
Alec would not be able to drive a car for a little while, but he could skipper a boat. But what was even more important, Alec learned to accept responsibility not only for himself but for other people. Sandra will be pleased, he mused, his eye scanning the distant horizon. Half his mind was already circumnavigating the globe.
Alec had mixed feelings about being the youngest. It gave him an edge in some areas, but most of his classmates either resented his apparent precociousness or simply didn’t want to have much to do with anyone his age. A fifteen-year-old is ages ahead of a thirteen-year-old, as it were. They shared the same textbooks but rarely the same interests.
This year there would be new teachers, and Alec was hoping that he would turn over a new page. If not, there was always Sandra. And… it was too early to talk about Suzy, but he had his hopes. Not too early to think about her... a lot, but not yet talk.
He’d seen her twice more on the Lake. They did sail the Alicia and the Princess in tandem, dropped anchor in the same bay, went ashore together, but... the water was already a little too cool for swimming. The sort of frolics one can indulge in when splashing and diving in cold water weren’t quite what Alec had in mind.
Suzy’s parents rented an apartment on the periphery of downtown, in Notre Dame de Grace, while Alec lived in Downtown proper. It was a longish bus ride, and Alec didn’t really like NDG. There were no lakes, no canals and no real parks. From his house, Alec could walk up to the Park of Mount Royal or down to Lachine Canal all in twenty minutes or less.
ALEC: An Action & Adventure Fantasy Novel (Alexander Trilogy) Page 18
