by Ken Douglas
“ But you can?” Broxton said.
“ Sure. I’ve lived a good part of my life on boats, remember? I’ve sailed around the world twice, been in three hurricanes, several tropical storms and more squalls than you can count.”
“ Hurricane winds out there tonight?” Broxton asked.
“ No.”
“ Tropical storm?”
“ No.”
“ Then I’d say I’m in pretty good hands.”
“ I was twenty-five years younger.”
“ Are you trying to scare me?”
“ No, just trying to prepare you. It’ll be a fast crossing for Gypsy Dancer. We won’t reef, so we’ll be fighting the wheel the whole way, so I think it will be a good idea if we take hourly shifts throughout the night. That seem okay to you?”
“ Sure.”
Ramsingh smiled. “Keep her pointed northwest. We’ll go between the point and the prison island. Then we’ll head straight for the first Boca,” he said, before going below.
Broxton looked toward the prison island, Trinidad’s version of Alcatraz. It was less than a quarter mile from shore, but the current between the small island and the mainland was so treacherous that only one man had ever survived the swim. And he was caught as soon as he hit the road, picked up hitchhiking by a prison guard.
Forty-five minutes later Ramsingh started the engine as they approached the Bocas. “We’ll lose our wind for the next fifteen minutes, then we’ll hit confused seas, so I’ll take the wheel till we’re clear. Then I’ll show you how to ride the waves without putting the mast in the water.”
“ You’re the boss.” Broxton relinquished the wheel. He sat down in the cockpit, staring at the giant rock in the center of the channel.
“ The deeper water’s on the right side,” Ramsingh said and he maneuvered the boat dead center between the giant rock and the mainland. There’s supposed to be a flashing light on the rock, but apparently it’s out.”
When they were abreast of the rock Broxton saw the boiling sea ahead and the swells beyond. “We can sail in that?”
“ We can,” Ramsingh said, then they were past the shelter of the mountains and the wind filled the sails. Ramsingh switched the engine off and they were in it.
“ Turn to port, left, left, left!” she shouted and Earl started cranking the wheel, bringing the boat around toward their original course. “Too far, back, back,” she said, and he pulled it back a little to the right. “Good, that’s good, hold it there.” His hands shook on the wheel and although it was cold as a Texas winter sweat still dripped down his back, his hands were clammy and a river was leaking from under his arms.
The boat was heeled to port again, but not like before. Earl didn’t feel like he was about to fall off. The rails weren’t in the water, but a quarter of the torn main was hanging out of the mast, cracking like thunder, sending chills to the back of his neck. He didn’t know if he’d be able to stand it all night.
He cast a shivering look over his right shoulder and saw a wave coming toward him at eye level. He thought it was going to capsize them, but the boat rode over it. The bow broke to port, but he pulled it back on course. A few seconds later another wave rode under and he pulled it back on course again. Then another, taking the bow to the left, he corrected, then again, then again. He was going to be plenty tired by sunup.
She moved back toward him, bent low, holding on to the cockpit combing as she scooted along. She straightened and grabbed onto the binnacle and faced him. “I’m going to swing around next to you and set the autopilot,” she said, her face inches from his.
“ Fine by me,” he said.
She kept one hand on the binnacle as she moved behind the wheel. He saw numbers dance across some of the instruments as she started pushing buttons.
“ You can let go now, the autopilot has us.” Earl obeyed, amazed as the wheel turned back and forth. “It’ll take it a minute or so to figure out the wave pattern,” she said. Earl stepped away from the wheel and grabbed onto the backstay for support. The wheel turned less with each wave until the boat was making steady headway. “The autopilot is programmed into the GPS, and I’ve set in the lat and long for Grenada. Barring problems, our job is over. We’re passengers now.”
“ But it’s so rough.”
“ I screwed up. I had too much sail out. This is a strong boat, she can handle seas a heck of a lot rougher than this.”
“ Seems plenty rough to me,” Earl said, looking out at the black waves, and as if to punctuate his thoughts, a wave crashed over the side, showering them with spray.
Then she shut the motor off.
“ Why’d you do that?”
“ We don’t have enough fuel to motor all the way to Grenada.”
“ What?”
“ Relax. It’s a sailboat, remember?”
Earl looked up at the torn and flogging main.
“ It’s not our only sail. We’ll make it just fine with the jib alone.”
“ How come we didn’t gas up first?”
“ Because my father doesn’t like to buy diesel from the fuel dock, he thinks it’s dirty fuel. He has a man jerry jug diesel from a gas station whenever the tank gets low.”
“ Who does he think you’re sailing with?” Earl asked, as she grabbed the binnacle again and swung around it so that they were facing each other with the wheel between them.
“ Friends, he’s not worried. I’ve sailed up island and back without him before. He plans on flying up to St. Thomas and sailing on back with us.”
“ But you don’t have any friends on board?”
“ I have you.”
“ You know what I mean.”
“ I’ll tell him they left for Europe on another boat, it won’t be a problem.”
“ Then it’s your fault we got no gas.”
“ Has anyone ever told you that you have a one track mind?” She was staring straight into his eyes, their faces inches apart. He saw the fire there, felt the chill in her heart. This was not Maria and he sure as hell didn’t want to piss her off.
“ Sorry,” he said. “This is all new to me and I don’t think I like it too much.”
“ It’ll be all right, Earl, you’ll see. Let’s go below and get out of these wet clothes,” she said. He saw some of the fire melt. He was going to have to be careful with her.
He followed her below and walked into bedlam. It was like he was in an amusement park fun house. Because the boat was heeled, the floor was about thirty degrees out of kilter. Up wasn’t up. He wasn’t able to stand, so he slumped down onto the settee on the down side. He felt like he was being sucked in, like he was on an airplane during take off. The flogging main ricocheted through the boat, like he was inside a giant base drum. The wind whistling through the shrouds and the halyards raised the hair on the back of his neck, reminding him of every ghost story he’d ever read. The swinging hurricane lamp sent shadows and light spinning out of control. The back and forth seesawing of the boat as the waves flung it to port and the autopilot brought it back to starboard set his stomach churning, like he’d had too much to drink. The whole thing sent his pulse pumping. And he didn’t like it.
“ It looks like we’re not alone out here tonight,” she said. She was sitting at a table, staring at a dark screen with green shapes on it. Radar.
“ What do you mean?”
“ Another boat, about six miles back, just came through the Bocas.”
“ They’re about six miles ahead of us,” Ramsingh said, looking at his radar screen, “and they’re doing about six and a half knots. If our luck holds we’ll catch them by morning.”
Broxton looked toward the star-filled sky.
“ Beautiful, isn’t it?” Ramsingh said.
“ I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“ Just an average night sky for a cruiser.”
“ Cruiser?” Broxton asked.
“ That’s what we’re called, us boat people. We live on board and travel the world, going wher
e we want, when we want. No government, no boundaries, no rules, except the law of the sea, the wind and the rain.”
“ Kind of an unusual statement coming from you.”
“ Yes.”
“ Now you are the government.”
“ Ironic, isn’t it?” Ramsingh said.
“ I’d say,” Broxton said, then he ducked as spray splashed over the side.
“ It just proves that you never really know what the future holds in store for you. When I was your age I wandered the world, now I’m leading a nation. I won’t run for re-election. I just decided that.”
“ Why not?”
“ I’m not very popular, but that’s not the reason. The kids are grown, the youngest is going to the States in a few months to start college. I’m going back.”
“ Going back?”
“ Back to the sea.”
“ In this?” Broxton asked, raising his eyebrows.
“ No, this is a boat for a younger man. I’ve got some savings. Some retirement pay coming, and we’re selling the house. I think I’ll buy a forty-five footer and head toward the Pacific.”
“ Really?”
“ Yes, sir, really,” Ramsingh said, stepping back as more spray came over the side.
“ I can’t believe I’m having a conversation in these conditions.”
“ What conditions?” Ramsingh said, laughing.
“ This.” Broxton waved an arm, gesturing toward the sea.
“ It’s a little rough,” Ramsingh said, “but not dangerous.”
“ I’ll take your word for it,” Broxton said. He checked his watch, thirty minutes till his shift. “If you get tired, you’ll let me know, right?”
“ I will,” Ramsingh said, but he didn’t. Both men spent the night without sleep. Every hour, as soon as he’d finished his turn at the wheel, Ramsingh checked and charted their position and made note of the closing distance between themselves and Sea King.
“ I see a light up ahead,” Broxton said, an hour before dawn.
“ That’ll be them,” Ramsingh said, from behind the wheel. “In an hour we should be within shouting distance.”
“ Then what are we going to do?” Broxton asked.
“ You’re the policeman.”
“ I’ve never arrested anybody. Besides, we’re in international waters. How do we arrest them here?”
“ We can’t,” Ramsingh said. “And we can’t call the coast guard, not without ruining the ambassador’s career. I guess the only thing we can do is follow them into an anchorage and see if we can overpower them tonight. Then maybe we can find out who’s behind it all. Maybe Dani will tell us when she finds out we’re not interested in arresting her.”
“ Somehow I don’t think she’ll tell us anything,” Broxton said.
“ She’ll talk,” Ramsingh said. “She’s just a girl.”
“ She’s Scorpion,” Broxton said.
“ Shit,” Ramsingh said. It was the first time Broxton had heard him swear.
“ You know about the Scorpion?”
“ Aaron Gamaliel was a friend of mine. I know.” Broxton saw Ramsingh tighten up on the wheel and looked into his steel gray eyes.
“ It’s not going to be easy,” Broxton said.
“ But we have to see it through,” Ramsingh said, “now more than ever.”
“ You still don’t want to call the coast guard?”
“ No.”
“ That boat back there’s a lot closer,” Dani said, looking up from the radar. She was naked and Earl was grinning as he took in her slender form.
“ Come over here, babe,” he said, still hard, still excited. He was lying on the settee in the big salon, and like Dani, he was naked
She looked back at the screen. “It could be anybody,” she said. “Probably nothing to worry about.”
“ But I’m worried,” Earl said.
“ Yeah, about what?”
“ About this thing sticking up between my legs. You gotta do something about it or I’m gonna be condemned to go through life with it sticking out in front of me like a flagpole.”
“ Don’t you ever get enough?” she said, laughing and coming toward him.
“ Not of you, babe. I’ll never get enough of you.”
“ Lie back and close your eyes,” she said.
He obeyed. This wild night had been the night of his dreams, any man’s dreams. The boat had been rolling and swaying from side to side throughout the night. The wind had been howling. The torn main had been flapping. It was like a night in a stormy cemetery. And all night long they’d been making love. She was a demon in bed, a mad loving demon. Her perfect white body glistened in the moonlight that filtered in through the overhead hatch. Her firm breasts stood erect with hard nipples that begged to be kissed. Her silky thighs quivered when he touched them.
“ I love it,” he said, when she took him in her mouth. And now it was his thighs that were quivering as she used lips, teeth and tongue to bring him to a climax. He fought to hold back and when he couldn’t fight it any longer he let it go. “Fucking wonderful,” he said as she swallowed. Then the autopilot failed and the boat slammed into a wave. “Shit,” he screamed when she bit into him, just before she went flying from the settee.
“ God dammit!” He doubled over, grabbing himself. You could have bit it off.” He looked down, “Shit, I’m bleeding.”
“ Here, let me look.” She bit her lower lip to keep from laughing.
“ It’s not funny,” Earl said.
“ I know, I know, I’m sorry,” she said, prying his hand away. “It’s only a scratch.”
“ What if it gets infected?” he said, as another wave crashed into the side of the boat.
“ I’m going to have to go up and see what happened,” she said.
“ What about me?”
“ You’ll be fine, Earl, really. Trust me.” Then she pushed herself from the settee and went topside. He followed her up.
“ What’s wrong?” he asked, holding onto his throbbing penis with one hand and the binnacle with the other.
“ No more fun and games. The autopilot’s not working. We have to steer it manually.”
“ I had no idea,” Earl said, looking out over the ocean. “It didn’t seem so bad down there.” Six foot breaking seas were slapping into the side of the boat and the wind sent shivering goosebumps crawling over his skin.
“ It’s not bad, Earl. Just a little choppy.” She swung the wheel to starboard as a wave approached, then back to port as the boat rode over it.
“ It’s scary is what it is,” Earl said. “I’m in the middle of a stormy sea, it’s dark, and I’m naked.”
“ It’s not stormy, just choppy,” she said, turning the wheel to starboard and back to port as she took another wave.
He watched her handle the boat for a few minutes and started to feel more secure. The early morning cold prickled his skin and made him shiver, but the pain in his penis was subsiding. He took in a deep breath and turned toward the east and the rising sun. “Fucking beautiful,” he said.
“ It is,” she said.
He took in another deep breath and swept the horizon with eyes. “Boat behind us,” he said.
She turned. “I forgot about them,” she said, staring at the small boat. “They’re sailing with everything out. They must be in a hurry.”
“ Maybe after us,” Earl said.
“ I doubt that.” She picked up the binoculars from their stand on the binnacle. “Hold the wheel a second while I have a look.”
“ You got it, babe,” he said, sliding behind the wheel.
“ It’s Ramsingh, and my childhood sweetheart is with him. And he’s watching me as I’m watching him.” She held her hand up and waved.
“ She waved,” Broxton said, putting down the binoculars. “And they’re naked.”
“ It seems they had a better night than we did,” Ramsingh said.
“ It seems so.”
“ You’re sure about her?”
Ramsingh asked. “You’re positive you’re not making a mistake.”
“ I’m sure,” Broxton said. “The guy with her is the man I saw on the beach when we were swimming for it in Margarita. The man with the Texas accent.”
“ And about this Scorpion thing? You’re sure she’s the Scorpion?”
“ Yes,” Broxton said.
“ She’s heading right for the Porpoises. If she doesn’t watch it she’ll be in trouble.”
“ I don’t understand,” Broxton said.
“ A group of rocks. In calm seas you can see them sticking two or three feet above the water, but they’re invisible in this.”
“ We should get on the radio and warn her,”
“ Let’s wait and see what happens,” Ramsingh said.
Chapter Nineteen
“ It looks like she’s cleared the rocks,” Ramsingh said. Broxton hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours and he was cold, but he was as alert as he’d ever been. He felt like he could go on forever. Tension, anticipation, excitement all rippled along his skin, competing with the cool, wet wind.
“ I don’t see them.” He looked over the sea, then back at Ramsingh. The prime minister’s badger gray eyes sparkled. He was grinning, showing his top teeth. His long, silver hair, usually in place, was flying about, like he had been charged with a cartoon electro-shock machine. The adrenaline was flowing through him too.
“ Just off her starboard side.”
“ What?” Broxton shouted. They were approaching the south coast of Grenada and the early morning wind was whipping along the coastline, in and out of its many bays, stirring up the seas, making it hard to hear.
“ They’re there,” Ramsingh said, voice raised, but not shouting as he pointed ahead and to the right. Then he said, “Take the wheel.”
“ Sure,” Broxton said, slipping by to take control of the boat. “What are you going to do?”
“ Tighten sail.” He slapped a winch handle into a winch and started grinding in the jib sheet. The boat heeled over more as the rails slid into the water. “Turn a little to port.” Broxton stared at him, but didn’t respond. “Your left, just a little, off the wind.”
