Uncharted Waters

by Scott MacKenzie

  My barbeque is smoking and out of control, so I turn it down. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tenn on the deck of her boat. With great effort, I pretend not to notice her. She stands at the stern of her boat, facing me. I look in her direction. She is far enough away that I can’t see her expression, but I can tell she is looking right at me. I want to wave, but her cold words still ring in my ears, so I turn my attention back to the barbeque. It takes a considerable amount of effort not to look back. Of course, I eventually do, and when I do, she’s gone.

  Tenn appears again in her skiff; she seems to be rowing toward me. I turn off the barbeque and start piling the feast onto a plate. My eyes dance from her to the plate balanced in my hand.

  Her little skiff bumps into my hull, and she grabs onto the edge of my boat to keep steady.

  “Permission to come aboard?” she asks formally.

  “Permission granted,” I answer flatly, keeping my attention on the barbeque.

  Tenn ties her boat to mine and climbs up the ladder.

  “Smells good. I could smell it all the way over on my boat,” she says. She looks exhausted.

  “Hungry?” I ask.

  “I am now.”

  “Take a seat. I’ll grab you a plate.”

  When I’m below, I turn the music down a touch and make her a coffee.

  “Don’t turn it down for me,” Tenn shouts down the stairs.

  I leave the volume where it is and hand the plate and coffee up to Tenn.

  We sit down and begin to eat. I say nothing, and neither does she. Even with the strange mood reverberating from last night, I’m still happy she’s here. Something tells me if I ask her point-blank what the hell is going on, she’ll curl up in defense, and I’ll probably lose any chance to get to know her better. I remind myself that I’ve only just met Tenn. She’s eccentric and probably has this type of intimacy with people all the time. I calm my heart and try not to get carried away by her charms.

  “How’s your coffee?” I ask.

  Tenn looks up at me and takes a deep, slow breath. “I’m sorry for how I spoke to you last night, but you shouldn’t have come,” she says, ignoring my question.

  “Alright, fair enough. Your pals — they seem like bad news and I was worried about you. I know we just met, you don’t owe me anything, and you deserve privacy. I won’t ask about your business again.” I look over the horizon as I speak, saying what I think is the right thing. I know my tone is passive-aggressive, but I can’t control it.

  It takes great effort not to ask her what is going on, but I manage to contain my curiosity.

  “Do you still like me, Vince?”

  “I don’t know, Tenn. You’re an odd duck.”

  “If I’m an odd duck, what does that make you?” she asks playfully.

  “Me? I’m a … strange … a strange cat,” I answer, trying to keep theme, but I lack the charm Tenn has.

  “So, Mr. Stark, what does an odd duck like me and a strange cat like you do to pass the time?”

  Tenn’s tone is flirtatious, and a part of me is suspicious of why she wants to spend time with me.

  “What about your creepy friends?” I ask.

  “I’m only here for a little longer. It won’t be long before it’s time for me to push on, and my creepy friends won’t be back for a couple of days. So, if you can forgive me for being mean to you last night, and want to be my friend again, I would like to hang out with you for my last few days here in Solitude Bay.”

  I pretend to think about my answer, but I know I want to spend as much time with Tenn as possible. I’m infatuated by her and intrigued by what she’s up to. When Tenn sails away, I’ll get to work on my book.

  “Alright then, we’re friends again,” I say, holding up my mug like I’m giving a toast.

  “Friends.” She holds her mug up and gives me a funny look.

  I take her plate and head below to clean up. She follows me down to the cabin and pushes me to the side. “The cook never cleans,” she says as she starts running the water.

  “How’s your water holding up?” I ask.

  “I have a water maker now. My creepy friends installed it for me,” she answers. She gives me a sly look when she uses the nickname I gave them.

  “That was nice of them. If you need to fill your water tanks, the closest place is Pender Island. You can get most of what you need there. I assume that’s where your creepy friends are hanging out, so you probably already know that.”

  Tenn ignores me and finishes up the last of the dishes. “There, done. Alright, Mr. Stark, what activities do you have planned for today?”

  “Well, I was thinking we could hike to a waterfall.”

  “That sounds amazing. I’ll bring a picnic. My boat is almost packed for the crossing, so I have a ton of food.”

  “The crossing?”

  “I told you, I’m sailing across the Atlantic, to Azores. I would’ve already gone, but I’m waiting for a weather window. Give me a few minutes to pack up, and I’ll meet you on the beach.”

  Tenn climbs out of the cabin, leaving me sitting in my chair, completely baffled. She’s serious about this — I was certain she was just a sailor dreaming how sailors dream. It seems she’s being helped by her thug companions. I don’t care if she’s loaded with food and has a water maker, Tenn is not even close to being experienced enough to cross oceans. She can’t even set an anchor.

  We have a rather difficult hike ahead of us, but it’ll pay off at the end because the waterfall is stunning. I’ll have all day to talk to Tenn about her plans to cross the Atlantic. Or, rather, talk her out of it.

  While packing my daypack for the hike, I try not to look at my laptop on the table. It seems to be taunting me — it has become a source of anxiety and stress. I remember when it was a beautiful escape. Now I’m doing everything I can to escape it. I consider throwing it in the ocean and forgetting the whole silly idea of writing another novel.

  I inch toward the black computer like it’s an animal that could attack me if I move too quickly. I push the screen slowly until it’s completely shut. The closed laptop on the table looks dead, as if I’d just strangled it to death. I notice I’m sweating and breathing heavy. Don’t lose it, man, I say to myself.

  I back away and drink a glass of water. I become more self-aware and realize I just had a little episode which makes me question my decision of throwing my medication overboard. I notice that I’m changing. I’m able to feel again. I’m not sure I want to feel anything. Isn’t that the whole reason I’ve been medicated for the last decade?

  “Stan calling Tuuli, Stan calling Tuuli. Over.” Stans voice crackles over the VHF radio.

  I hold the receiver to my mouth and press the button. “Hey, Stan.”

  “Hey, Vince. How are you, my friend? What are your plans today? Over.”

  “I’m going on a hike with Tenn. We’re going to check out the waterfall.”

  “I’m worried about you, my friend. How about we go fishing today? Over.”

  “We’re just about to leave. Maybe you and I can go fishing tomorrow?”

  “Okay, Vince. Be careful, my friend. Over and out.”

  I’m confused why Stan is worried about me and why he doesn’t want me to go on a hike with Tenn. Maybe Stan changed his mind about her? Things have certainly changed since those unusual men arrived on their powerboat.

  I’m packed and ready. I give one last dirty look at my laptop before I leave the cabin.

  It’s a clear, blue sky, and the sun is strong. We’re leaving a little later than we should and won’t be able to spend much time at the waterfall if we’re going to make it back before dark. Tenn’s already on shore sitting in the shade of a palm tree. Even from this distance she is attractive. She’s wearing her yellow athletic shorts and a tight-fitting t-shirt. Her skin’s tanned brown and has a glow from her sunscreen.

  I row to shore.

  “What took you so long, darlin’?” she asks.

  I smile and reach out
my hand to help her to her feet. Tenn smiles, her teeth shining white against her tanned skin. Her wavy blonde hair is tied up, and her wood-framed sunglasses hide her eyes.

  “I’m glad we had a big breakfast. This isn’t exactly an easy hike,” I say, a challenge in my tone.

  “Maybe for you, old man,” she taunts.

  We walk along the sandy shore to the trailhead. It doesn’t look like much. You wouldn’t know it was a trail at all if it wasn’t pointed out to you. We make our way through tall grass and brush, and soon the faint sign of a path becomes visible. The climb is gradual but consistent, switchbacks taking us high up, and it doesn’t take long before we are both sweating and breathing heavily.

  After several hours of rough trails that take all our focus, I turn to Tenn. “Almost there,” I tell her. I have to shout to be heard over the rushing water beside us. The mist in the air is cool on my skin and leaves my clothes damp.

  Tenn is looking down at her footing as she makes her way over a knee-high stump and gives me a thumbs-up as her reply.

  The river is now wide and calm, the trail flat and easy. The sound of distant rushing water seems to be coming from all directions. The mist in the air can only be seen where the sun’s rays make their way through the thick canopy above.

  “We should go day sailing tomorrow on Crazy Lady. You know, just to be sure everything is working right before you head out to sea,” I say in a mild tone.

  We walk briskly. I can’t remember exactly how far along the river the waterfall is, but the trail is wide for the moment and Tenn walks beside me.

  “I was waiting for you to try to talk me out of leaving.”

  “Would I be able to talk you out of leaving?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “Exactly, so I might as well help.”

  Tenn smiles sweetly and takes her eyes off her footing, looking my way. She’s about to say something, but as we round the bend the waterfall is finally revealed, the sound a low rumble. So much water falls from so high that it creates a strong, cool, misty wind. I mostly watch Tenn’s reaction. Her joy is uninhibited and unrestrained, her energy infectious. We both walk as fast as we can to get to the edge of the pool. I have been here before, but it’s never looked so beautiful. Beauty is meant to be shared, and I can’t think of anyone better to share it with.

  “This is amazing, Vince. Thank you for bringing me here.”

  We are sweaty and sticky from the long hike, so we both strip down without discussion. Tenn’s in her retro yellow bikini, and I get down to my briefs. We giggle like children, and we run, both trying to be the first to jump into the water. Tenn wins the race and bravely jumps feet-first into the pool. The water is cold, and she yelps when she comes back up to the surface.

  I make my way up to a rock that is high above the pool, and dive in, splashing into the water next to her. I come up for air and see her wide smile. I swim close as she playfully splashes me. I feel as though, for the moment, she’s completely free of her worries. Tenn floats on her back and I stop treading water to do the same.

  The bright blue sky is revealed where the thick canopy opens above the pool and the sun shines through, highlighting the mist from the powerful waterfall. We are suspended in paradise. I, too, forget about my worries, just happy to be here with her. Tomorrow we will share another adventure, maybe our last.

  Seven

  I have concerns. The wind is strong — it’s rare for it to be so strong this early in the day. It’ll be considerably stronger out of the protection of Solitude Bay. My boat is gently rocking back and forth, the water rippled by the wind. I notice Tenn’s large wooden boat seems to be rocking side to side more than mine; I’m sure she had a rough night. It’s impossible to sleep when the boat is in motion like that.

  The clouds above look like long, white horse tails high in the pale blue sky. The leaves of the palms are curved and flapping in the northerly wind. I have the VHF radio playing the weather report, and there’s no sign of the conditions calming down. It will not be an easy sail today, but I have a hard time imagining Tenn’s big old boat moving at all without a strong blow.

  I’m nervous. Not about the weather, or the seaworthiness of Crazy Lady — I’m nervous because I feel like I’m getting ready for a date. I change from one tired, sun-faded t-shirt to another and look in the mirror to see which I like the best. I style my hair and brush my teeth twice. I practice smiling in the mirror for a moment.

  “Hey darlin’!” I hear Tenn’s voice shout from outside.

  I step out onto the deck, and my hair blows back in the wind. Tenn’s in her little rowboat looking up at me. She opens her arms and presents herself like a magician who just returned from a disappearing act.

  “Morning sunshine,” I say to her with a nod.

  “Are we going to do this thing or what?” she asks.

  “Yup, we’re not waiting for me,” I answer, and climb down into her boat.

  Tenn starts rowing back toward her sailboat. I consider offering to row, but it would be hard to switch places on this tiny thing without falling into the water. We face each other while she gracefully rows us along.

  “So, how long will it take to sail to Pender?” she asks.

  “Today? Maybe three hours. It usually takes longer, but it’s windy. We’ll make even better time sailing downwind on the way home.”

  We stand on the creaky wooden deck of Crazy Lady. I size things up and begin to feel like it might be dangerous to sail her. She looks more like a floating cottage than a sailboat. Or rather, a pirate ship that has been built for a museum and not for the sea. I stand at the helm feeling like an explorer of yore; the old wooden wheel in my hands is heavy and doesn’t turn easily. My concerns deepen — losing steering at sea is a problem. There are several large yellow jerricans strapped to the deck; I assume these are filled with diesel for her long trip across the Atlantic.

  “Do you have a radio?” I ask.

  “Just my phone,” she answers, waving her smartphone in the air.

  “What have you been using for navigation?” I ask.

  Tenn raises up her phone again and smiles. “I use this for everything.”

  I scratch the back of my neck and consider heading out to the rough sea with only Tenn’s phone for communication. It doesn’t feel right. Anything can happen on the water, and we need to be able to call for help.

  “I’m going to grab a few things from my boat. I’ll be right back. Why don’t you fire up the motor while I’m gone?” I say as I return to her little skiff and row back to my sailboat.

  I grab my handheld VHF radio and my safety kit which has a flare gun. I want to be sure the radio works. With a twist of the knob it beeps and a little red light glows. I press the button on the side.

  “Vince, calling Stan for a radio test. Over,” I say into the little radio.

  I wait for a moment and hear nothing. Of course, Stan isn’t always next to his radio.

  “Vince, calling Stan for a radio test. Over,” I say once more into the little radio in my hand.

  “Hello, Vince, how are you my friend? Over.” Stan’s voice crackles through the tiny speaker.

  “I’m well. We’re going to sail Crazy Lady to Pender today, and we’ll be back before dark. Over.”

  “I don’t understand Vince, can you repeat? Over.” Stan’s voice comes through clearly.

  “Tenn and I are going for a sail today on her boat. Over,” I speak loudly into the microphone.

  “You’re coming in loud and clear my friend, but I don’t understand what you mean. Listen, you take care, I’m going to come check on you later. Over and out.”

  I look at the radio, confused, but at least I know it’s working.

  I row back to Crazy Lady. The old ship’s motor is rumbling and smoking, but unfortunately, we’ll have to use the motor for a while to get out of the bay and away from the island. I climb aboard.

  “Let’s go sailing!” I say to Tenn enthusiastically.

  “Yes!” she
shouts.

  We pull up the anchor and head north, out of Solitude Bay, the motor chugging us along. Tenn is at the bow while I steer our pirate ship out to sea. Tenn is a beautiful sight, again looking like a painting standing at the wheel with her sundress blowing in the wind.

  As we leave the protection of the bay and get into the open sea, the conditions change considerably, and it takes a little getting used to. We motor north; it won’t be long before we see the faint mountains of Pender Island on the horizon. Tenn is beside me making adjustments to the GPS on her phone.

  “We’ll be there in three hours, nineteen minutes,” she shouts over the loud motor, pointing to the chart plotter app on her phone.

  Right in front of the helm is a large compass, beautifully encased in brass and wood.

  The motor clunks to a stop as Tenn turns it off. She walks along the deck with command and starts hoisting the main sail, wearing gloves to protect her hands from the rough rope. I steer into the wind to help her. She looks confident, strong, and athletic as she wraps the rope around the winch and begins to crank it tight.

  The entire ship groans as the sail fills with the strong breeze, the heavy ship leaning over and beginning to propel forward. I steer off the wind and we heel over even more. The ship groans again from the stress, ropes and cables vibrating with tension. It’s immediately satisfying; turning off the loud motor and beginning to sail is a magical transition.

  Tenn looks back at me. This is the first time I’ve seen anything resembling seamanship from her, and she wears it well. She looks confident, like she is the captain of this ship. She aggressively starts hoisting up the head sail and then starts adjusting both sails until Crazy Lady is slicing through the water with grace. I’m amazed. The old wooden ship cuts through the choppy blue sea with ease. I lock down the steering and we begin sailing with no effort. The sails, the wind, and the sea seem to be in perfect balance.