“No,” Chris said. “We’ve been too busy trying to get the boat into port.”
“Are yez hungry then?” Jack asked.
“I’m starving.” Meagan perked up.
“Come wi’ me. I’m in the Nessie over there.” He pointed to an old salmon troller. “I’ve made a fine pot o’ oyster stew and was gettin’ ready to sit down when y’ lot came sailin’ in.”
‘I don’t know. We don’t want to eat your dinner,” Chris said.
“I’ve plenty for all of yez. I made a big pot.”
“OK.” Meagan was not going to let the opportunity to not cook dinner slip by. “We’ll be right over.”
Chapter 19
Friday Harbor, Washington
“M’ name is Jack MacDonald,” the old man said as Ted and his companions entered the cabin.
Ted drank in the smell of bacon and onions cooking, blended with the sweet tobacco smell from the old Scotsman’s pipe. A pot simmered on the diesel stove and the fragrance of baking bread wafted from the oven. Somewhere in the background, the aroma of diesel oil and fish blood completed the scene.
Man, everything on this boat is neat, Ted thought. There were no implements or cooking clutter on the counters. Everything was in its place. I wish our boat could be this neat.
“This is Robby, short for Robert the Bruce.” The Scotty’s ears perked up at the mention of his name.
Meagan stooped down and rubbed the old dog’s ears. His eyes rolled back up into his head in ecstasy.
“And who might y’ be then.”
Chris and Ted introduced themselves.
“I’m Meagan O’Donnell.” Meagan held out her hand.
“O’Donnell? You’re Irish then.” Jack shook her hand gently.
“Somewhere way back, I guess. I’m just All-American.”
“Well, I’m from Scotland, as yez can plainly see.”
Ted was surprised at how deftly Jack moved in his galley for a crippled up old man. Jack laid four large ceramic bowls, soup spoons, a butter dish and knife on the table.
“Would y’ like a wee bit o’ wet before yer dinner?” Jack reached into a locker and produced an amber-colored bottle.
“Sure.” Ted reached for the water glass that Jack filled with two fingers of Scotch.
“D’ yez have anyone who can help y’ with yer engine problems?” Jack sniffed his glass. “’Tis a taste of heaven, it is.” He carefully sipped and savored the Scotch.
“No, I guess we’ll have to see if there’s a diesel mechanic in town.” Chris tasted his Scotch.
“Aye, there’s a couple as calls themselves that, but I think they’re more pirate than mechanic.” Jack sipped at his Scotch again. “I’ll just pop over in the mornin’ and have a look at it.” He opened the oven and removed a steaming loaf of French bread.
“You’re a mechanic?” Meagan asked.
“Aye, lassie, I’ve done a bit o’ everything in m’ time.” Jack painfully lowered himself to the bench behind the mess table. “Y’ have to be a mechanic to keep an ol’ bitch like Nessie goin’
“Why do you call her Nessie?” Meagan eased herself into the seat next to the old man and swirled the Scotch in her glass.
“Isn’t it obvious, Lass? She’s a bit of a monster. I swear I fight more with her than I did with m’ dear departed wife.”
“So what’s your story?” Meagan asked as she patted Jack’s hand.
Meagan’s fondness for the old man moved Ted. It reminded him of how his family revered old people.
“I was born in Scotland. I served in the Royal Navy during the war, mostly on destroyers in the Far East. After I retired, I moved to Canada”
“Which war?” A puzzled look crossed Meagan’s face.
“The big one, Lass.”
“That’s World War II,” Chris interjected.
Meagan wasn’t too good with history.
“Are you Canadian, then?” Meagan asked.
“Aye. I live on Nessie here, mostly around Port McNeil, but I go where I please. I’m on m’ way home from visiting m’ sister. She married an American GI after the war and ended up in Olympia.”
“After the service, what did you do for a living?” Chris tore off a piece of the warm bread.
“I’ve been just about everything. I was a merchant seaman, a fisherman, a shipwright, a cook, and aye, I’ve even been a pirate in m’ time.” Jack ladled the oyster stew into the bowls and passed them around.
“A pirate?” Ted took a spoonful of the rich stew.
“That’s a story for another time, lad. Right now, y’ folks have a problem. We need to figure out what to do about yer engine.”
Ted stuffed another spoonful of stew into his mouth. “This oyster stew is delicious.”
****
“Wake up down there.” A loud rapping on the companionway hatch shattered the morning stillness. “The day’s a wastin’. Yez going to sleep all day?”
“What the Hell?” Ted rolled over and reached for his wrist watch. Six am. “Dios mio, who’s there?”
“It’s me, old Jackie, come to help y’ with yer engine problem.” His brogue was no less pronounced at this ungodly hour.
Ted crawled out of his bunk, pulled on some jeans and popped open the hatch.
“Come on down.” Ted ran his hand through his unruly hair. “It’s awfully early isn’t it?”
Jack stepped over the bridge deck onto the steep companionway stairs. Slowly, he lowered himself one step at a time, pausing to catch his breath on each step.
“When y’ get as old as I am, y’ find y’ have little need fer sleep. There’s going to be an eternity of it soon enough.” Finally reaching the cabin floor, Jack examined the engine cover. “Let’s take a look at yer engine.”
Ted struggled into a T-shirt and sneakers, then unhooked the companionway stairs and pulled them free to reveal the engine compartment.
“What’s all the racket out here?” Chris appeared at the forward cabin door, pulling a T-shirt over his head. “Jesus, Jack, it’s awfully early.”
“As yer Benjie Franklin said, ‘Early to bed and early to rise . . .”
It’s way too early in the morning for homilies, Ted thought.
“Good morning, Jack. Would you like coffee?” Meagan, fully dressed, emerged from the forward cabin.
“Aye, a spot of coffee’d be nice.”
While Meagan heated water and ground the beans, Chris joined Ted and Jack at the engine.
“Let’s fire her up and see how long she runs,” Jack suggested.
Chris climbed over the engine and up to the cockpit to push the starter button. The engine fired right up. Ted watched over Jack’s shoulder.
“Would you like a bite of breakfast, Jack?” Meagan asked.
Chris and Ted stared at each other, wide-eyed. A thought flashed between the two.
Now she offers to cook?
“That’d be nice, Lassie.”
The engine ran while Meagan provided scrambled eggs, bacon and cantaloupe to go with the hot coffee. Ted had a hard time enjoying breakfast with the engine rumbling loudly at the other end of the cabin.
Meagan and Chris climbed up to the cockpit leaving Ted to sullenly wash the dishes.
“It looks like it’s not going to give us trouble today,” Chris shouted down the companionway.
You want trouble, buddy? Just keep old Teddy on KP.
“I wouldna bet on that, Laddie.” Jack hollered up. “How long did it run the first time before it died?”
“About two hours. Then it died every ten minutes or so.”
“Well, maybe it needs t’ run two hours before y’ can find the problem.”
“We can’t sit here with that racket for two hours,” Meagan shouted.
“Shut her down, Lad. We’ll do a little trouble shooting.”
Chris shut down the engine. Jack carefully worked through the fuel system on the hot engine. Ted crowded over his shoulder, watching Jack’s every move.
“Aye, Ladd
ie, I think your wee pump has bought it,” Jack said as he dismantled the fuel pump. “Y’d best replace it.”
Ted memorized the connections. He heard his uncle Ernesto in his head: Mechanics is ninety-percent observation.
“Can we get a new fuel pump here?” Ted asked.
“I doubt it, lad, y’ll probably have to have it flown up from Seattle.”
****
Jack and the Nessie departed that morning to handshakes and farewells.
“Too bad Jack had to go. I kinda liked the old guy.” Ted turned his attention to the bustling town above him. “Hey, dude, it’s good to be back on solid ground,”
“You’ve only been on the boat one day, dufus.” Meagan shoved his shoulder.
Even after only one day on the water, Ted was happy to feel grass under his feet at the small park above the marina. To Ted’s left, the ferry dock brought swarms of mainland tourists.
The trio explored Friday Harbor waiting for the new pump to arrive. They wandered through the myriad of shops, killing time. Meagan insisted that they visit every art gallery on Main Street and she didn’t miss many boutiques.
“Hey, honcho, how do you like this one?” Meagan plopped a Greek fisherman’s cap on Ted’s head. “This is a lot better than that silly yachtie hat.”
“Loves it.” Ted looked at himself if the mirror. There was sooo much to admire.
Chris dragged Ted to the Whale Museum. Meagan insisted that they eat fish and chips for lunch. Ted found a spot on the deck overlooking the bay. The warm summer breeze kept the direct sunlight bearable.
Fortunately, Ted realized, Friday Harbor is still part of the civilized world. As they moved north, they wouldn’t be able to have parts delivered as easily.
Ted lay in his bunk that night, unable to sleep because of the noise coming from the forward cabin. He heard Meagan and Chris tumbling around on the V-berth, then Meagan’s loud moaning. After a few “Oh Gods” and “I’m comings” there was blessed silence. Then a few minutes later it started up again.
After the third round, Ted was disgusted. He pulled on his jeans and a sweat shirt and went for a walk on the deserted docks. Returning to the Defiant at well past two am, the couple in the forward cabin were finally played out. Ted climbed back into his berth. Jesus Christ, why did Chris have to bring her along? I’m like a third wheel around here.
The pump arrived promptly the next morning at the Harbor Master’s office and Ted spent most of the day installing it. After bleeding the fuel lines again, they were ready to go.
“In the morning we’ll cross the border to Canada.” Chris said.
Chapter 20
Friday Harbor, Washington
The navigation station was inches from Ted’s head. Chris rustled around with charts and tide tables, occasionally mumbling to himself. How’s any self-respecting ‘mano supposed to sleep through this?
“Can’t you work a little more quietly, dude?”
“Good morning, sunshine. I’ve got to burn the image of the Haro Straits into my mind.”
Ted vaguely remembered Chris going over the charts with him before they left. They might as well have been written in another language. The charts were light green where there was land and white over the water. The land part was covered in little lines and the water part covered in numbers. How was anyone expected to know what all of that meant?
“The Straits separate the United States from Canada. This is the real start of our adventure. Today we boldly go where no Hardwick has gone before.”
“Oh God. I suppose you want me to queue up the Star Trek theme?” Ted rolled over and pulled a pillow over his head.
“C’mon guys, get up,” Chris shouted a few minutes later while he made coffee. “I want to catch the flood tide. My goal for the morning is to reach South Pender Island and clear Canadian Customs.
“I’m going back to bed,” Meagan complained as soon as they were under way. “This is too damned early for me.” She deserted Chris and Ted and crawled back down the companionway stairs.
“Women,” Ted said in disgust as he handed a mug of coffee to Chris at the helm.
“Her loss, bro. She’s missing the best part of the day. I love the quiet of the morning, the stillness of the air and the water.”
Ted had to admit that Chris had a point. Mount Baker glowed like a rose-colored snow-cone in the morning light.
Chris sipped his coffee “It’d be a lot better though if we had a little wind so that we could shut down the engine and sail.”
Instead, Ted listened to the incessant rattle of the diesel as first the rays of dawn slid above the Cascade Range to the east, then the sun poked above the mountains cheering the day. “I’m not sayin’ that gettin’ up this early is OK, but, dude, this is spectacular.”
Chris pointed out the landmarks as he steered the Defiant north through the San Juan Channel and around the tip of the island into the Haro Straits. The sun crept higher in the blue sky, reflecting off the water like a million tiny mirrors.
Then the engine sputtered and died.
“Jesus Christ,” Chris cursed. They sat on the water in ghostly stillness.
“What d’ya think, ‘mano? I thought that the new fuel pump was going to fix that.”
“Maybe we just didn’t bleed all the air out of the lines.”
Ted bled the fuel lines again and re-started the engine. It ran for about ten minutes.
“Damn,” Chris said “We might as well fix some breakfast if we can’t sail.”
“Teddy’s got it.” Ted took his coffee cup and descended the companionway stairs to the galley.
****
“Whatcha making?” Meagan asked, stumbling sleepily into the main cabin wearing her night-time uniform of one of Chris’ T-shirts and panties.
“Huevos rancheros.” Ted stirred a pot of refried beans on the stove. “And can’t you cover yourself up?”
“What’s a matter, don’t you like what you’re seeing?” Meagan arched an eyebrow and placed a hand on each hip, striking a pin-up pose.
Ted ignored her.
“Can’t we just have good old-fashioned bacon and eggs or even oatmeal and fruit?”
“Sure, princess, whenever you feel like cookin’ it.” Ted spread a layer of refried beans on three tortillas on a sheet pan, then laid eggs, sunny side up, on top of each them. “If I cooks, I cook what I likes.” He smothered the eggs with ranchera sauce from a Tupperware container and sprinkled cheese on top, then popped the pan in the oven to melt the cheese.
“I’ll just have coffee and toast.”
“Feel free to make it.”
****
By the time Ted finished washing the breakfast dishes, Chris had hoisted the sails and the Defiant ghosted along. She was still barely moving at walking speed. A steady procession of big motor yachts steamed north past the Defiant.
“Look at those power boats,” Meagan whined “Why can’t we just ask them for a tow?”
“Because we’re a sail boat.” Chris explained the obvious fact like he was talking to a five-year old. “We sail.”
“Well, we’re not doing very much of it. I’m getting bored.” Meagan folded her arms, turned and headed forward to the bow.
****
By noon the wind veered to the south and freshened.
“Jibe-ho!” Chris called out, a grin on his face, as he put the Defiant across the wind again. The boom came roaring over from starboard to port with the power of a freight train and the boat surged ahead.
“How come we have to keep zig-zagging?” Ted asked, sheeting in the jib. “Why can’t we just go straight down wind?”
“Because the main blankets the jib and it doesn’t draw.” Chris looked up at the billowing sails. “I guess we could run wing and wing.”
“Wingy-whaty?”
“That’s when the main sail’s on one side of the mast and the jib’s on the other. It’s tricky though, to keep the boat headed directly downwind so both sails can draw at the same time.”
“That wingy-dinghy thingy sounds good to me, let’s give it a try.”
“Okay, bro.” Chris eased the wheel over slightly until the jib lost all of its wind.
“Cast off the port jib sheet and haul in the starboard.”
Port? Starboard. Why can’t he just say “left” or “right?” The wheels in Ted’s head spun for a moment, then he sprang into action.
The jib gradually filled on the starboard side of the mast. The Defiant ran directly down wind, her speed picked up and a white wave formed at her bow, but the sensation of motion almost completely disappeared.
With the boat moving at the same speed as the wind, the apparent wind in the cockpit dropped to zero. The warm July sun beat down on them. Chris and Ted removed their shirts. Meagan dashed below to change into her bikini.
Ted couldn’t help himself. He kept an eye down the companionway hatch, hoping to catch a glimpse of the forbidden fruit.
“If we’re not careful and cross the wind, the boom can come crashing over with enough force to cause some damage.”
Chris’ voice brought his attention back to the cockpit.
“If it hits you, it could really hurt.” Chris paused to think a while, then added, “My dad used to rig a preventer gear”
A preventer what? “What in the hell are you talking about, dude?” Ted asked.
“It’s a line we tie to the boom to keep it from flying over on an accidental jibe. Meg, if you’ll take the wheel, I’ll show Ted how to do it.”
“Let Ted take the wheel. I want to catch some rays.” Meagan leaned against the cabin, applying sunscreen.
“No, I need to teach Ted how to do this.” Chris’ voice took on a firm tone. “We’re going to be out here a couple of months and we might get into heavy weather. I might need him to rig a preventer while I’m at the wheel someday.”
“I might as well be sailing with my father.” Meagan cast him an icy glance as she took over behind the wheel.
C’mon lady, get with the program, Ted thought as Chris led him to the cabin top. While Chris worked on the side deck, Ted stood on the coach roof, listening to his instructions.
The Inside Passage (Ted Higuera Series Book 1) Page 10
