SS Pacifica

by Coleinger, Ronnie

  Chapter 11 - Day Ten on the Pacifica

  After ten days running into the wind, we had averaged just over ninety miles per day for a total of about 920 miles. Becky giggled and said, “Father would be appalled over our meager progress, but I see no reason for us to rush this voyage. We have planned to spend up to a year at sea, and I hope we still love each other at the end of that time. If we press so hard that we don’t enjoy ourselves, and get so tired we are constantly arguing over stupid stuff, then my dream is nothing but a joke.” She stepped up to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. She kissed me hard on the lips and said, “The weather today is warm and the waves are gentle. How about if we take the sails down for a couple hours and have a swim. Then we can set the sails again and continue on our way. I have not had a good swim in three days.” I put my fingers into the back pockets of her shorts and said, “We could swim, then make love on the deck, and then swim again before we set the sails and fix lunch.” Becky giggled and said, “I will have to work hard to correct the effects of the cold water before we can make love.” I assured her that her naked body snuggled against me would solve the problem quickly. We lowered the sails, stripped down, attached two lifelines to the rings welded into the hull and jumped into the water. The Pacifica was drifting in the ocean currents, but we only had to swim slowly to keep up with her. When the cool water began to chill our bodies, we climbed back onto the deck and cuddled in the warm sunshine on a towel. I was glad we were out on the open sea where no one could hear Becky voice her pleasure as we made love.

  When we set the sails and set a portside tack, we realized that the Pacifica was running fast over the gentle ocean waves. I had blown more water out of the ballast tanks and allowed the vessel to ride higher in the water. This would give us added speed for now, and we could run this way as long as the waves remained under two feet high. I brought the solar panels up on deck and began charging the batteries while Becky cooked two fish we had caught before we set the sails. I also pulled the large trash bags, and the support frames from the storage cupboard, and sat out the three empty fresh water containers so we could refill them in the next rainstorm. Both the Coast Guard weather channel and Becky said it was going to rain by morning, but I could not see even one cloud within a hundred miles of us. I doubted that either one of them knew what the hell they were talking about.

  Becky woke me around six o’clock and told me to get the rainwater collection system operational. When I stuck my head out the hatch to see if it was really raining, I realized that the rain was beginning to gently fall. Becky had lowered the foresail and secured it in case we needed to dive, and handed the wet sails to me to stow in the cabin. I asked her if I should add some seawater to the ballast tanks and she agreed. As I added water to both ballasts, I heard Becky tell me to stop right there for now. Then I realized that the main sail was forcing the rainwater that hit it straight down into the bow hatch. The first five-gallon potable water jug was almost full by the time I realized how much water was coming in. When the first jug was full, I quickly began filling the second one. I put on my dry suit, waterproof footwear, and hat and went up to relieve Becky so she could get dry and put on her dry suit. When I stepped up on the deck, she quickly shook the water off her and headed down the ladder into the cabin. As I closed the stern hatch after her, I mentioned that the second water jug would be full in five or six minutes.

  The wind was beginning to pick up, but not so strong as to bother the Pacifica. I saw the hatch door open again and Becky passed me a steaming hot cup of coffee. As I sipped it, I saw the first sign of lightning in the sky a few miles ahead of us. As I watched, Becky returned to the deck with her dry suit on and realized that the storm had intensified. I told her that the lightning was getting very close. Just then, we saw a bright flash of light and the thunder about knocked us down. I quickly began securing the main sail and quickly handed it down into the cabin. Becky and I lowered and secured the telescoping mast and headed down into the safety of the cabin. The second water jug was full and we closed up the bow hatch door. We could hear the thunder booming and the Pacifica began riding the waves like a tiny skiff in a hurricane. I suggested we dive and ride out the storm under water. Becky agreed that we were not safe from the lightning where we were and that the sailing and dive/steering planes would take a beating up here on the surface.

  Within a couple of minutes, we had submerged to a depth of thirty feet and the Pacifica settled herself in the calmer water. I turned on the GPS and realized we were drifting towards the northeast, so I started the propulsion motors and let them run just fast enough to keep us on steady course. The depth gauge showed that we were in water over 600 feet deep. I spoke to Becky and told her the water depth. She looked at me and said, “Just as you would prefer not to hear about shark attacks, I would prefer not to hear about the depth of the water below me.” I nodded my understanding and told her I would refrain from frightening her. She asked what I would like for breakfast this morning. I said, “I will have corn flakes with powdered milk, pineapple slices, and some raisins.” She smiled and said, “Good healthy choice. I will have the same.” I offered to prepare the pineapple and she agreed.

  We hung up our wet clothing and rolled up the two wet sails. The sails would be just fine now that we had rolled them up tightly. We had built a wood floor structure that ran the entire length of the cabin with some of the new lightweight decking material made from recycled plastic products. The material would never rot or soak up water, and allowed any water that did collect to remain under the decking, so we did not have to walk in it. With the rain blowing in the hatch doors, and during the rainwater collection process, we now had water almost over the decking. I decided now would be a good time to try out the new bilge pump under real life conditions. I opened the valves and turned the switch to the on position. I heard the pump motor load down and then realized the water level was beginning to lower. Within five minutes, I had pumped all the water out into the port ballast tank. Becky said, “I see one flaw in your bilge pump system, husband.” I laughed and stepped over to the large compass I had installed and realized that the Pacifica was now leaning towards the port side. I laughed out loud and opened the ballast tank to the sea and allowed some air from the storage tank to blow out a little of the water. The Pacifica leveled out in the water.

  As we moved along, we both realized that the vessel was running very steady. I commented that the storm might have passed. Becky said, “Let’s surface and check things out.” I blew some air from both ballast tanks and the Pacifica began to rise. When I was certain the hatch was above water, I opened the test valve I had installed and only a cup of water flowed down into the cabin, and then the water stopped flowing. I knew then that we were above the surface of the water. Becky carefully unlocked the hatch and gently pushed on it. The hatch door opened and I could smell the fresh ocean air. Becky stepped to the top of the ladder and said the storm was past, but it was still raining. I asked if we could fill another water jug and she told me it was raining hard enough to do that. I set up the bow hatch with the trash bag and frame, and sat an empty water jug under it. Becky remembered that there were two more two-gallon jugs under the stern ladder and she brought them to me to fill. Staying ahead of gathering fresh water was priority for both of us. We could collect some drinking water by evaporating seawater on deck on sunny days, but the quantity and quality of the water produced was very low. The rain would fill our jugs very quickly, and tasted great.

  As we ate our breakfast in the cabin, I mentioned that we should catch a fish or two for our supper before setting the sails. She commented that there probably were no fish in this deep of water. I moved over to the fish finder and chuckled. She came to the stern of the boat with me and said, “Holly crap Tonto, there are fish everywhere. I think they are following the Pacifica.” I laughed and told her they probably thought we were the mother ship, come to take them to our planet. She said, “I will put two of them into my fry pan if they nibble on my
bait.” Becky headed out to the deck to catch some fish while I finished filling the last of the water jugs before the rain stopped. The sky was beginning to lighten up in the west and I figured we would have nice weather again in a couple of hours.

  As I was climbing the ladder to join Becky, I heard the drag running on her fishing reel. When she saw me, she was so excited I thought she might jump into the water to retrieve her fish. The fish was circling the boat and diving fifty feet deep at times. I asked Becky if she had hooked Jonah’s whale. She laughed and said, “I hope not, Father would be pissed if I caught a whale and could not eat all of the meat before it spoiled.” I began to laugh at her words, but quickly quit laughing when I saw the size of the fish she had caught. When the fish was up to the edge of the deck, I asked her if she wanted to keep such a large fish. She told me that it looked tough and scaly to her. I asked if she wanted me to release it so she could try again. She swam the fish up close to me and said, “Yes, can you get the hook out of it?” I took out my Leatherman tool and easily twisted the small hook out of the fish. As it swam off, I asked if she knew what kind of fish she had caught. She shrugged her shoulders and said we would have to look it up in the fishing book later. Within a couple of minutes, she had caught a small Cod. The fish was big enough for both of us to eat, so we put the fish into a tub of seawater on the deck.

  While Becky put the fishing gear away, I set the mainsail and adjusted it to a starboard tack. When I adjusted the rudder, the sail fully filled and the Pacifica began moving. Then I set the foresail and carefully adjusted it. While I was checking our direction on my compass, Becky climbed back up with me and brought the two deck chairs with her. As we got comfortable, I realized she was yawning. I asked if she needed to go below and take a nap for a few hours. She smiled and said, “The Ocean is calm, the wind is steady, and I think we both can go below and sleep for a few hours. If we leave the hatches open, we can hear the sound of the waves. After our nap, we can reset the tack to port and fix our supper.” I liked her idea, and we soon were dreaming of picking coconuts on some remote tropical island.

  I woke in a couple of hours and decided to go set on the deck and watch the sails. I stood peeing over the side of the Pacifica when Becky’s voice startled me. She had brought the chairs with her up to the deck. When she sat down beside me, she asked what we should have to eat with our fish. I mentioned that we had purchased some boxed cornbread mixes with us, which cooked in the foil pans that came with them. Becky liked that idea and said we had individually packages of butter we could spread on them. We had one pineapple left that we should eat in the next few days, but instead decided upon sliced apples. Becky said we had a bag of paper and plastic items that we should burn later tonight after supper. She giggled and said, “If we had marshmallows, we could have charred a few over the fire.” I commented that I would add them to the shopping list the next time I was in the cabin.

  It was only two-thirty in the afternoon, and the sun was warm. I pulled my hat down over my face and fell asleep in the deck chair. I woke with a start and heard Becky say, “Damn bird. I will get the rifle and shoot your ass if you don’t leave right now.” I realized she was waving her arms and trying to shoo a large pigeon away from the Pacifica’s mast. I asked if the bird was a problem and she showed me her shirtsleeve with white bird poop on it. I laughed once, but closed my mouth when I saw the pissed look on her face. I told her that the bird would not leave easily, since it probably needed to rest. She yelled at the bird and told it to go rest while floating on the water. I laughed at that response and reminded her that even a bird was smart enough to realize floating on the water was risky business. She giggled and said, “That settles it, I am going to get the .22 rifle and we will have fish and pigeon for supper.” I doubted that she could actually kill the pigeon, but wanted to see her try. As she loaded the gun and took aim at the bird, I reminded her not to shoot holes in the sails. She spoke words to me that I did not realize she even knew, and that again made me laugh at her.

  As the bird lay on the deck, she carefully reloaded the rifle and returned it to the cabin. When she returned, she cleaned the bird and laid the meat on the deck. She passed the camp stove up to me and then the fry pan and the cornbread mix. I cleaned the fish for her and then she cooked supper. When the food was ready to eat, she stepped up to me and said, “Sorry, if I called you a bad name earlier. I was just pissed at the bird for pooping on the Pacifica’s Captain.” I laughed and asked if it would have been all right if the bird had pooped on the hired help, instead of on the captain. She started to laugh so hard, she finally sat down in her deck chair until she could breathe again. She looked at me and said, “Very funny, Stanley.” I filled our plates with food and passed one to her along with a fork. Then I went down into the cabin and got us something to drink. When I returned, I had two cups of water, and two cans of warm beer. She giggled and asked if I was planning to get her drunk before the seduction. I sat quietly in my chair and finally asked when she wanted to begin this seduction. She sat chewing her food and finally said, “How about right after the sun sets. We have all night with nothing else to do but sail, sleep and make love.”

  ***

  The weather was perfect, and the sky was the most incredible shade of blue. The air was very warm, the waves were calm and the wind remained constant. Becky checked our position with the sextant around nine o’clock and we made a port tack to move us a little more southwest. We moved our deck chairs close together and cuddled under a couple of wool blankets to keep the occasional mist thrown up by the bow of the Pacifica from chilling us. We often napped, sometimes talked, sometimes made a tack change, but we enjoyed the night together on the Pacifica. As the sun rose, we realized we had an entourage. I had just opened my eyes from a short nap, when Becky said, “There are some large fish just off the port side. I think the dolphins have discovered us.” As I watched, I realized that the fish were swimming alongside the Pacifica. I pointed to them and Becky began giggling. We stood on the edge of the deck where we could look down into the water and realized the fish were everywhere around us. Becky went down into the cabin and returned with the fish book. She read aloud some of the information about the fish and then said, “If a pod of dolphins follow your sailing vessel at dawn, it is an indication that a female human is pregnant.” Then she continued to read about what the dolphins ate. I carefully ignored her earlier words.

  I returned the book to the cabin, passed the camp stove up to her, fixed the coffee percolator and brought it up onto the deck to perk. While the coffee perked, I wrapped my arm around her waist as she stood looking out to sea, hoping that the dolphins would return. Becky rested her head on my shoulder and said, “You realize I was just kidding you about being pregnant, don’t you?” I laughed and said, “Unless the birth control pills did not work, or God intervened, you are not pregnant. I know you would not intentionally become pregnant without telling me of your plans in advance. I hope you are not pregnant right now, because I don’t want you miserable on this voyage, but later on, if you should decide you would like to raise a child, I would honor your decision.” Becky giggled and said, “I am forty-two years old, and would not want to bring a child into this world at my age. By the time the child graduated from high school, I would be sixty years old.” I laughed and said, “Good, I agree with your point of view, let’s have some coffee and fix breakfast, I am starving. You wore me out last night with all the lovemaking.”

  By noon that day, the sun was hot and Becky was getting sun burned on her face and shoulders. I got the suntan lotion from the cabin and applied a generous portion on her face and shoulders. As I tried to put some on her ears, she kept giggling and moving away from me. I asked if she was ticklish and she said, “Have you missed the fact that you’re kissing and sucking on my earlobes can trigger an orgasm?” I laughed and said, “I realized that it lit your fire, but I did not realize that kissing your ear was what provided the final stimulus that triggered your orgasms.” She kissed
me hard on the lips and said, “It works every time, if done at the right moment.” I stored that tidbit of information in the front of my male memory bank. It could prove useful from time to time.

  I discussed with Becky that we should use one of the spare sails and some rope and create a sunscreen on the deck. I explained that we could tie a spare sail to the mast and then run a rope out to the toe-kick railing to spread it out and create a shaded area for us to sit under. She said, “The foresail needs to have one of the eyelets repaired. We could take that sail down and replace it with a fresh one from storage. I could repair the eyelet after we hang it up for some shade.”

  I went down into the bow storage compartment and returned with a fresh sail. Once we replaced it, we strung the old sail up with some nylon rope. While Becky worked on sewing the eyelet, I inspected every inch of the sail to insure there were no tiny damaged spots that would later become a large tear in high winds. As we sat down in our deck chairs to enjoy the day, I saw Becky close her eyes and lean back in the chair. As we sat, I heard the foresail slap in the wind and realized it was no longer tight. I stepped up to the sail and adjusted the boom so there was no longer wind tension on it, and the sail slapped in the wind again. I lowered the boom a little to put more tension on the cloth, and then reset the tack until the sail properly filled with air. When I returned to my seat, Becky said, “Well done, Stanley. The new sails will often stretch after a few minutes in the wind. We may have to adjust it again later.”