We both nod and smile, words not needing to be spoken. What we’re doing is special. Sailing is not all fun in the sun, and everything doesn’t always work out so gracefully. It’s the perfect start for the day. Tenn makes her way back to where I am and points to a bench with some pillows.
“Have a seat, darlin’,” she says.
I take my assigned seat. It’s not far from the wheel, so making little adjustments to our heading should be easy. Tenn sits in front of me and leans in close, shuffling things around before she seems content with using my chest as a pillow. I feel a wave of heat rush through me, and it’s not from the Caribbean sun. After being alone for so long, this feels electric. Tenn is completely at ease with being close to me. Her legs tangle with mine and she runs her hands along the backs of my arms. I feel calmness in her touch, and everything in me slows to match her easy presence.
I melt into the pillows, and our arms and legs fall into little crevasses between more pillows. The sun is hot, and the wind is cool. Her neck is close to mine and I can smell a mix of sunscreen and sweat. I’m so relaxed it takes effort to raise my head periodically to check our heading and for other ships. We are slicing through the water; as long as the wind doesn’t change, we can leave the sails as they are and hold this heading.
I want to kiss her. There is something in me that’s waking up, but I calm myself down. It’s a peaceful moment and I do not want it to end. But I won’t touch her unless I am invited.
“How fast are we going?” I ask.
Tenn puts her hand over my mouth. “Dang it. You did it again,” she says playfully, slapping my arm.
“What?” I ask in defense, even though I know what she’s referring to.
Tenn shuffles out of her position and turns around, straddling me.
I look up at her and smile. “I ruined a comfortable silence, didn’t I?”
“Worse. It was the perfect position. Do you realize how rare that is?”
I don’t know how many imaginary paintings I’ve made of Tenn in the short time I’ve known her. Some memories look like photographs, some like film. Sometimes memories are just feelings. I know I’m creating special memories with Tenn, and I choose to record these like beautiful paintings. I stare up at her, the sails behind her, the wooden ship, the pillows, the compass and wheel to our side, the beautifully crafted wood railing. Everything comes together and frames her, looking down at me. Her smile is mischief. Her eyes are love.
“You are a strange man, Mr. Stark.”
I realize I must look intense staring up at her.
“Are you just realizing that now?” I ask with a smile.
Tenn raises an eyebrow. “Alright, let’s take a look.” Tenn raises her phone and makes a few quick swipes with her finger.
“We’re going six knots. Does that change anything?”
“I guess not, but that’s pretty fast for this old gal.”
“So, do you think she has what it takes?” she asks.
“What do you mean?” I shuffle up so I can see past her and make sure the coast is clear.
“Do you think this beautiful vessel has what it takes to make it to Azores?” she asks while running her hand along the smooth wooden railing.
I don’t know what to say. This ship is not even close to being outfitted for such a voyage. There may be enough fuel, food, and water, but everything is old and seems ready to break. There is a single solar panel that will do little more than keep her phone charged — her only source of navigation. The reality is, people have crossed oceans on less — people have rowed across oceans, so of course it’s possible. But I’m having a hard time understanding why she wants to go in the first place.
“Anything is possible, but why not just stay here, Tenn? We’re in paradise, there are endless tropical islands to explore, people to meet. Why take the risk? What’s the rush?” I ask.
“I have my reasons, and the rush is because of the weather.”
“Well, you handle those sails well. I’m impressed, and the old ship sails better than I thought she would. But why go it alone? It’s dangerous, exhausting, and scary being alone for such a long sail. There’s no one on watch when you sleep, no one to talk to. Crossing oceans in a sailboat is long periods of boredom and loneliness mixed with moments of sheer terror. If you must go, why not find a crew to help?”
“I have help. My friends you met will be following me in their boat for the first couple of days to make sure everything is okay.”
“Friends?”
“Look, life is nuts. A girl has to take care of herself, and I need these guys a little longer. They’re hooking up an autopilot tomorrow morning for me, loading up some more food, and then we’re heading off. It’s happening, darlin’.” Tenn takes a slow breath that’s clearly full of anxiety. “I’m going to cross the Atlantic Ocean, alone.”
I run my hand up and down her arm. I don’t know what to say; there are clearly elements to this she is leaving out. I stay silent and watch her look over the horizon. I can only imagine what’s running through her mind.
I’m able to see the compass from where we lie, and I notice we have veered slightly off course. Tenn and I are so delightfully tangled together and lost in the pillows that I don’t want to get up and make a correction. But as comfortable as I am now, if I don’t make a steering correction, we’ll be too far off course to keep with our plans.
“I hate to do this, but I think it’s time,” I say to Tenn, assuming she’s aware we are off course.
“Alright. I’ll take the ropes, you take the helm.” She slides off the bench and puts on her gloves.
“Aye aye, skipper,” I respond, taking the wheel.
Tenn is ready with ropes in hand, waiting for me.
“Coming about!” I shout, turning the wheel to starboard.
The boat begins to curve, splashing through a breaking wave. The sails flutter loudly then snap in the other direction. The vessel leans to the other side with a slight groan, then it’s quiet again.
Tenn handles everything well. Once she ties down the last rope, she looks back at me with the smile of a child looking for validation.
“Well done!” I shout.
Tenn disappears below and returns with a couple glasses of iced tea.
“No margaritas this time?” I ask.
“Nah, I wasn’t feeling great after those last ones, to tell you the truth.”
I return to our bench and try to readjust the pillows for the new tilt the boat has. I end up sitting up so I can enjoy the sweet tea Tenn gives me.
She sits in front of me, cross-legged, staring at me intently with the devil in her smile.
“What?” I ask.
“Come with me,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
“Come with me tomorrow. Sail with me to Azores. Come with me, Vince,” she says excitedly.
Tenn seems to have just come up with this idea and has given it no real thought. She’s the most impulsive person I have ever met.
“Are you serious?” I ask.
“Look, I think we make a good crew. I’ll tell you what, darlin’. I’ll pay for your flight back here the moment we get to Portugal. It’ll cost you nothing. Do ya have something better to do?”
I stretch back and laugh lightly at her idea. I have a book to write. In fact, that’s what I should be doing right now. Tenn hasn’t taken her eyes off me.
I shake my head and laugh. I don’t know why, but I can feel my face going red. I’m overwhelmed and not thinking rationally. I’m focused on one thing and one thing only; I’m wanted. It feels good to be wanted, maybe even needed.
“Come on, darlin’. What are you worried about?”
I stand and put my hands on the wooden wheel. I speak in a kind tone because I don’t want to break her spirit. “The rigging looks like it’s ready to fail, the ropes are ready to break, there’s only enough food and water for one person, there’s no way to get weather forecasts, no communication, and no safety equipment. For cryin
g out loud, you’re planning on navigating across the ocean with nothing more than a smartphone app.”
Tenn looks deflated. Her joy is infectious, but apparently so is her sadness.
“Help me,” she says.
It’ll take nearly a month. It’s a long time to be on the open sea, and my book will be due by the time we make landfall in Azores. Maybe being stuck on a sailboat for a month is the only way I’ll be able to write this novel. I turn to look at Tenn, who hasn’t taken her eyes off me.
“I’ll come with you.”
“Woohoo!” Tenn cuts me off before I can elaborate.
“But — we need time to prepare. This boat isn’t even close to ready. We’ll need at least two weeks to get what we need.”
“How about two days?” Tenn asks.
“What’s your rush?” I ask suspiciously.
Tenn takes her time before answering. “I don’t want to be too close to hurricane season.”
“Okay, maybe we don’t need the full two weeks. How about ten days?”
“Three.”
“Eight,” I demand.
“Four,” she says, her smile returning.
“Five.”
“Deal,” she says, and jumps to her feet with excitement.
Tenn hugs me tight. I can’t believe this is happening. I know there’s something about Tenn and her plans being kept from me, but at this moment I don’t care. I’m overwhelmed with joy, excitement, purpose, and feeling wanted.
Pender is close, and it’s time to take the sails down and fire up the motor. We decide to save a few bucks and drop anchor instead of going into the marina. We talk about how we might get supplies and equipment in such a short time while I row us to the dock.
“We’ll have to borrow a few things from my boat. That’s the only way I can see this working. Food and water will be easy enough. Have you thought about what route you want to take?”
“I was thinking the rhumb line to Azores,” she answers.
“What about Bermuda? Why not stop there and break up the trip? The wind is north, and the rhumb line could mean motoring for days,” I say.
“I have a schedule to keep.”
I don’t push the issue, but it seems silly to not break up a trip when possible. I try to process what I have just agreed to. I feel outside myself as we stroll along the boardwalk in search of a place to have lunch. Pender is a hub, and is known to have trouble with crime, but that’s not the case around the marina. I’ve never needed to travel into the rough city inland where crime and poverty are an issue.
Busy restaurants line the boardwalk, and there’s a nice inviting table overlooking the marina, so we take a seat.
We are sitting close, our legs touching underneath the table. We just committed to spending nearly a month on a small sailboat together. Our dynamic is a little different now; we’re closer.
There’s plenty of action at the marina to keep us entertained while we eat. Large boats lumber into their slips, families have barbeques on the decks of their boats, and fishermen sort out their catches. It truly is a beautiful day. Then I hear the rumble of a familiar boat, and the air changes.
It’s a menacing looking boat. Tenn stiffens, watching them tie up to the dock. They are not her friends. The pock-faced, red-haired one notices us and nudges his companion, pointing up at us.
The dark-haired man seems to be the more dominant of the two. He looks up at us and gives a stone-faced wave, and after a moment we wave back.
“Look, let me talk to them alone, Vince. They’ve helped me out quite a bit. I mean, they’re even going to be chaperoning us the first day to make sure there is no trouble with pirates.”
There are no pirates around here to worry about, but I don’t want to get into that conversation right now because they’re heading our way. Tenn drinks the rest of her nearly full cocktail.
When they get to us, they just stand next to our table, looking down. For the first time, the red-haired thug speaks, his voice higher and a little less controlled than his friend.
“Mind if we join you?”
Eight
There is worry in her eyes, and her mouth is in a flat smile. Her movements are measured and her voice shakes.
“Have a seat. Vince and I were just discussing the best route to take to Azores,” Tenn says, motioning to the empty seats across from us.
The smaller, wiry, red-haired man nods and takes a seat. He hides behind dark sunglasses, saying nothing. The older, stone-faced, dark-haired man takes his time, creating some tension, before sitting across from me. He seems to be more concerned with me than he is with Tenn. He doesn’t blink — his emotionless eyes are fixated on me.
“Tenn, you didn’t have to come to Pender today. You know we would have gotten you whatever you needed.” His voice is soft and melodic. His mouth smiles with an evil charm.
Tenn shifts in her chair. The server comes to our table and is quickly dismissed by the stone-faced man. Tenn makes a chirp and rattles her empty glass.
“I just wanted to have one more test sail before the big day,” Tenn says.
“Of course, you can’t be too cautious,” he answers.
The four of us sit in silence. Stoneface still has an eye on me — he’s clearly trying to rattle my cage. He is not successful. Even with all my social anxieties, I can be surprisingly calm in intense situations. I can have a breakdown ordering a coffee, but my heart won’t skip a beat when most people would cower in fear. I sailed across the Pacific and got caught in a storm that would have broken most men, but I don’t remember a trace of fear. I think I felt peace.
“The weather looks favorable for your departure tomorrow morning. You must be excited,” he says.
“I am excited.”
The server puts Tenn’s cocktail in front of her.
“I have some news,” she says, looking at her drink.
“News?” he questions.
Tenn’s eyes look up to meet his. “Vince will be joining me for the crossing.”
My stand-off with Stoneface doesn’t waver, but I see a little twitch in the corner of his eye in reaction. The red-haired man shifts and tries to get the attention of his unibrowed friend but is quickly waved off.
“Well that is … unexpected,” he says.
Tenn takes a drink and they seem to have a conversation with their eyes.
“Vince here is an experienced sailor. He’s made many crossings. I’m lucky to have met him and I’m lucky he’s helping me out. This is unexpected for me, too, since I thought I would do the crossing alone. But if I have an experienced captain to help keep me safe, I would be a fool not to bring him.”
The red-headed scoundrel is tapping the table with the long nail of his index finger, each tap of his finger pissing me off more than the last. I hate everything about this man — the way he moves, the way he talks. I hate how they both seem to have some kind of dominance over Tenn. Now that I’m going to be on this voyage, these men have an effect on my life and my plans. I don’t know what’s going on with them, but they will no longer have any control over this voyage.
“We’re not leaving tomorrow,” I say to the stone-faced man.
“Why is that?” Mr. Unibrow asks.
I don’t rush to answer. I can see Tenn is uncomfortable, perhaps even frightened. I take my eyes off Stoneface for the first time to look at the redhead.
“The boat isn’t ready. Tenn and I will take the next five days to get it ready,” I inform him.
I want to tell them it’s time for them to leave and Tenn won’t be needing their help any longer, but there is just too much I don’t know and don’t feel it’s wise to lay down an iron fist just yet.
“Good,” Unibrow says, slapping the table hard. “You can’t be too safe.”
“Exactly. We’ll get to Azores safe and sound,” Tenn adds.
“We actually have some equipment for you. A wind vane and a few other things. We’ll drop it off tomorrow. I’m sure your friend here will know how to install i
t. Best of luck with your preparations.”
“I don’t believe I caught your names,” I mention as they both stand.
The older stone-faced man looks down at me with no expression. “My name is Sylvester, and this is Jesse.”
With that, they both leave. We watch them walk all the way down to their boat. Tenn and I say nothing, but her eyes are apologetic. Perhaps she is apologizing for getting me involved in whatever mess this is.
The server returns, and it’s a refreshing distraction. We order some food.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Hang tight, Vince. I’ll be right back,” she says.
Tenn leaves me at the table and rushes to catch up with them. It’s hard for me to see what’s going on, but I can tell Tenn is talking fast. Sylvester wags his head dismissively and walks away, leaving Tenn on the path. She walks back and returns to her seat.
“I thought I should say goodbye,” she says.
“Sure.” I smile.
The familiar rumble of the powerboat pulling out of the marina draws our attention. They both look up at us. Tenn waves, but neither of them wave back. They power away, and a weight is lifted off us.
“Nice guys,” I say sarcastically.
“I’m sorry, Vince.”
“When are you going to tell me what’s going on, Tenn?”
“There isn’t much to tell.”
I figure with us alone for a month on Crazy Lady, all this will come out. I’m curious and want to press her for more information, but I resist and let her keep her secrets for now.
A gust of wind blows our tablecloth off the table just as our food is being put down.
“We’re going to have a fun sail home,” I say in acknowledgment of the strong wind.
Conversation is sparse as we enjoy our fish tacos. I keep telling myself to be patient. The only thing that matters now is staying positive. There’s no such thing as a secret when you are on a sailboat for nearly a month. I’ll soon know what’s really going on. What matters now is getting this passage off on the right foot. I won’t let these guys rattle me, or my crew.
Uncharted Waters Page 10