Uncharted Waters

by Scott MacKenzie

  This is the first time I’m setting the tone. Up until now, Tenn’s wonderful energy has reeled me in, calmed me down, and made me right. Our guests have affected her, she’s having trouble shaking it off, and it’s my turn to bring things down to earth. Any captain knows that when morale is down, it’s time to get busy.

  “We have a ton of work to do in a very short time, my friend,” I say as I put down some cash on the table.

  Tenn reaches into her pocket. “Come on, darlin’. Let’s split the bill.”

  “There’s a much bigger bill we can split. We’re going grocery shopping.”

  It’s a short walk to a decent-sized supermarket where we both take large shopping carts and fill them until they’re overflowing with non-perishables. Tenn takes all the rum on the shelf and puts the bottles in her cart. I give her a look of protest, but she laughs me off. It’s nice to see that.

  We can barely maneuver our overfilled carts to the checkout. It feels like it takes a lifetime for the slow-moving lady to go through everything. Our bill comes to $982.75.

  “You can pay me back,” I say as I swipe my credit card.

  The next few hours pass quickly but take their toll on our energy. We bring Crazy Lady up to a temporary dock and start loading all those groceries onto the deck and then down below into storage. This is exactly what we needed. The fear in Tenn’s eyes is beginning to be replaced by exhaustion.

  The afternoon sun is still hot, and the wind is still strong. Tenn asks me to untie the lines just before she fires up the motor. She speaks like a captain. I do as she asks and Tenn powers us out of the marina, past the break, and into the open sea.

  The wind hasn’t changed direction and is strong at our backs. Tenn takes the helm, so I take it upon myself to go below and start organizing things. It’s a mess on top of a mess. Tenn seems to be something of a hoarder — all her knickknacks are buried below all our canned goods, rum, and everything else. I have a hard time imagining all this stuff finding its place in whatever storage is available. There’s a pile of “learning how to sail” books on the chart table that seem to have been getting some attention.

  “What are ya doing down there?” Tenn shouts from above, sounding nervous.

  I walk to the companionway and look up at her. “I’m going to start sorting out this mess, Captain,” I respond.

  “I’ll take care of that, darlin’. Let’s get the sail up.”

  As I climb up the ladder to join Tenn on deck, I’m greeted by her handing me a crank. “You take the ropes this time,” she orders.

  I welcome her leadership and take the crank. The old motor is loud and shakes a lot. When I turn it off, the vessel seems to sigh in relief. I can hear the wind rushing by my ears and the hull slapping through the white-capped waves.

  “Alright, Skipper, let’s get the main sail up,” Tenn shouts.

  I’m unsure how to respond. I don’t think it’s a good idea to hoist the main sailing downwind. I look at her pensively and wait for her to change her mind.

  “Well, maybe we are good with just the headsail,” she adds.

  For a moment, I imagine Tenn alone in the middle of the ocean. I’m happy I’ll be joining my new friend for this adventure.

  “Rum.” She shouts the single word order.

  “Aye aye, Captain.” I go below to fetch a bottle. I consider glasses, but quickly decide finding them in this mess isn’t worth the effort. When I return to join Tenn she is arranging pillows for us. I open the bottle and offer it to her.

  “I hope it’s good rum. We have a lot of it,” I say, watching her take a pull from the bottle.

  “It’s good,” she assures me, passing the bottle back.

  I take a drink, and thankfully, it is indeed as good as rum can be.

  “Well darlin’, are you having any regrets?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  “It’ll be just the two of us on this ol’ gal for a long time. Are you sure you’ll be able to put up with me?”

  “The rum will help,” I say jokingly, holding up the bottle and following it with another drink.

  Tenn takes it from me and sits in the pile of pillows. I make an adjustment on the wheel and lock it down. We can’t get too off course if we want to make it home before the sun sets.

  I join Tenn on the bench, and Tenn puts her feet in my lap. I think she feels more at ease when we have some kind of physical contact. She cradles the bottle like a pillow and looks past me thoughtfully.

  “Thank you, Vince,” she says.

  “For what?” I ask.

  “Coming with me.”

  “Thanks for having me. I think we’re going to make a good team.”

  “I think so, too.”

  Tenn isn’t looking past me anymore — she is looking at me, deep in thought. Her smile assures me her thoughts are good. “You’re a good man, Mr. Stark,” she says.

  Tenn is the warmest person I’ve ever met, and I bow my head bashfully. The window for a clever response passes, so I just smile politely and look over the sail.

  “You’re too far away,” she says.

  Tenn looks beautiful, the way she is draped over the pillows. I want to be closer to her. Gently, I lift her feet off my lap and get up. I take the opportunity to make yet another adjustment to our heading before sliding next to Tenn.

  The moment I join her, she wraps herself around me like I’m one of her many pillows. She wiggles and shifts until she’s content. It feels good having her so close. The boat cuts through the sea, the white sail rounded perfectly. I know there’s something about all this that I’m yet to discover, but I don’t care. I just want to spend a month here with Tenn. I want her to hold me like this every day until we get to Azores.

  As time passes, the wind slows. Neither Tenn nor I want to be the one to make the inevitable decision to fire up the motor. I’m tempted to ask how fast we are going, but there is no need. We’re not going fast enough, and the motor is needed if we are going to make it home before dark.

  “Are you scared, Vince?”

  “Scared?”

  Tenn looks up at me. “Are you scared to head out to sea?”

  “No.”

  It’s true. I’m not afraid. The things that scare me are on land. The safest place I can be is on a sailboat, alone in the middle of the vast ocean — although this time I won’t be alone.

  “I haven’t been this excited in a long time. We’re going to have fun. Are you scared?”

  “No,” she says. I can’t tell if she’s telling the truth or not, but I suspect what worries her is on land as well.

  “Alright, Captain, what do you say?” I ask, looking at the lifeless sail dangling from the forestay.

  Tenn groans and gets up. Before turning on the motor, she closes her eyes and takes a moment to enjoy the peace and quiet. Then she turns the key and the motor starts vibrating the floor of the deck. Tenn lowers the sail while I steer us home.

  I almost wish we were leaving tomorrow. I’ve been in Solitude Bay for long enough, and it’s time for me to push on. I can’t help but wonder how long I would’ve stayed anchored in Solitude Bay if Tenn hadn’t shown up. I suppose I would have found another quiet bay to anchor in eventually. I’m not sure I would have ever left the Caribbean without Tenn. I’ve dreamed of sailing to Europe and exploring the Mediterranean, but they were only dreams.

  Tenn wraps the sail up and wrestles it into a bag, and by the time my chivalrous intuition tells me to help, she’s done. I feel like Tenn is performing for me. Her face is stern and serious when she handles the sails. I think she’s trying to show me that she is not weak, and although she appreciates my help, she is still the captain of this ship.

  We enter the mouth of Solitude Bay as the sun sits low on the horizon on our starboard side. The rays of sunlight cast beams of golden light across the serene water. Tenn stands on the pulpit of the bow with her hands on her hips. She turns to me and smiles in reaction to the stunning conditions, walking along the deck toward me with
the grace of a dancer.

  “Let’s anchor closer to shore this time,” she orders.

  I nod and steer the boat wide. We drop anchor and turn off the ugly-sounding motor.

  “We did it!” Tenn raises her hand for a high five.

  I slap her hand awkwardly.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m pooped,” I say honestly.

  Something about fresh air and sunshine beckons a nap. I look at my boat, anchored not so far away, and can almost feel my comfortable bed.

  “You’re old,” she taunts.

  I laugh and decide not to bring up my napping idea for the moment.

  “Let’s start sorting all this food. Hopefully you still have some storage left.”

  We both climb down and stand in front of the mess, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Neither of us take action or break the silence, and I get more tired just looking at it.

  “How about a nap?” Tenn suggests.

  “Yes!” I shout.

  “I can’t deal with this now. As the captain of this vessel, I order you to take a nap,” she says, pointing down the narrow passage that leads to the aft cabin.

  “I guess I have no choice. After you,” I respond, motioning for her to lead the way.

  It’s a little awkward walking down the narrow hall because the floor is steeply angled. At the end, through a narrow oval doorway, is the aft cabin. The door is heavy, and she struggles with it before it cracks open, revealing the beautiful room.

  It’s massive. Much larger than mine. The square-paneled windows in the back fill the wooden cabin with light. Light tapestries are on the walls, the bed is very big and looks like it has been prepared for a photoshoot with an array of pillows and blankets. Tenn begins what looks like a ritual of taking off pillows and placing them around the room.

  “Alright, darlin’. This is where we’ll be sleeping for a month,” Tenn says.

  I didn’t consider sleeping arrangements. For the most part, we’ll be sleeping at different times so there is always someone on watch. But still, this arrangement of sharing a bed has gotten my attention.

  “This is unreal, Tenn.” I’m in awe at the beauty of the room.

  “Crazy Lady is a special boat,” she says while taking off her sundress.

  I try not to notice. I’m unsure what is happening.

  “Shorts off. Shirt off,” she orders, pointing to me.

  I obey and join her. It’s the most comfortable bed I could imagine. It swallows me and forces me to rest. It’s an interesting feeling, being in a woman’s bed. I feel like a stray animal that has been let into a kind lady’s house.

  “Okay, naptime,” she says.

  Tenn wraps around me, not unlike she did when we were on deck, but this time we are in our underwear. Her soft skin against mine awakens a part of me I forgot existed. A young feral man inside me wants to touch her, but I have control and I know the time isn’t right.

  “Come here,” she says. Her mouth is relaxed, and her eyes are almost closed.

  She kisses me. Her lips are warm and soft, and I barely move while she takes my bottom lip in hers. I feel the wetness of her mouth and open mine in reaction. She presses her mouth harder against me, and I feel the heat of her breath. My body reacts, and I turn to face her, instinctively trying to make as much contact with her soft skin as I can. Our feet, legs, chest, and arms press together. Her hands run up and down my back, our legs tangling into a knot. It’s a slow and tender moment, so I force myself to stay restrained. I let Tenn lead, and faster than it started, the moment is over, Tenn pulling away.

  “I wondered what that would be like. I like kissing you. Okay, naptime. We’ll get to work in twenty minutes,” Tenn says while setting an alarm on her phone.

  Tenn is still cuddling my arm. Her eyes are closed, and her mouth is in a soft smile. I still feel her lips on mine like a memory burned in my mind. I think I’m smiling, too, and it takes some time to calm myself down. After some effort, the young feral man that is still a part of me dissolves away.

  I feel her breath slow as she drifts off into a dream. I’m not afraid to sail across an ocean with her. In fact, thinking about it calms me. I drift away into a peaceful sleep and dream about she and I sailing peacefully on the open ocean without a care in the world.

  Nine

  I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep, but that nap was not twenty minutes. The cabin is dark and I have no sense of time. Looking out the windows, I see stars in the night sky. Tenn is no longer cuddling my arm. She is curled up hugging a pillow, her head half covered by the blanket, and she is breathing slow and deep.

  I make considerable effort to slide out and not wake her. Successfully accomplishing that, I make my way down the narrow passage, up the ladder, and climb into the cool night on deck. There is a fingernail moon that casts just enough light to see most of the bay. It’s strange to see my boat with my skiff tied to it. It looks like it would if I were there sleeping. I imagine what it would be like if I never ran into Tenn. I would be sleeping on my boat, alone, and I’d wake up to the same purposeless day as the last.

  I do have a predicament, though. I have no way of getting off Crazy Lady. It wouldn’t feel right, rowing away on Tenn’s skiff, leaving her stranded, and mine is tied to my boat on the other side of the bay. My nap disoriented me, and I really have no sense of what time it is. I rifle though the bag I brought onboard and find my pocket watch.

  12:13 a.m.

  I can’t believe I slept that long. I fear that I’ll be awake for the rest of the night now. We are anchored very close to shore, and I can see the flicker of a lighter. I know Stan is lighting one of his cigars. I rifle through my bag and take out the handheld VHF radio.

  “Vince calling Stan, over.”

  “Vince, how are you my friend? Over.”

  “I’m good, I was wondering if you wanted some company? Over.”

  “Of course. Come over and smoke a cigar with me. Over.”

  “Sounds good, Stan. Over and out,” I say as I size up a large stand-up paddleboard Tenn has strapped to the foredeck of the boat.

  I have never tried one of these but always wanted to. I drop the large board into the water with a splash, and I feel awkward and old as I try to balance on it. I use the long paddle like a tightrope walker uses his long pole to keep balance.

  It doesn’t take long before I begin to feel more natural. It’s a short paddle to shore. If I had a little longer, I’m pretty sure I would have gotten the hang of it better, but I’m so close to shore that I hit the sand of the beach very quickly and hop off. I pull the board onto the beach and lay down the long paddle.

  “What is that? Where’s your skiff?” Stan speaks loudly and startles me.

  “It’s Tenn’s. I like it, I think I want one,” I tell him.

  Stan is shirtless even though the night is cool. The only time he wears one is when he’s working in the restaurant. In fact, he may only own one shirt. Stan takes a puff of his cigar. He seems to be trying to figure something out.

  “Come on, my friend.” Stan waves his hand for me to follow and walks to where the chairs are sitting in the sand in front of the restaurant.

  I’ll miss hanging out with him like this when I’m gone, but I’m excited to tell him I’ll be joining Tenn on her passage.

  “Cigar?” Stan asks, holding out a large stogie.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” I graciously accept. The truth is, I’d never liked cigars and only smoked them to appease Stan, but over time I have grown to like them. But I’ve heard you have to be careful with liking them too much.

  “Rum?” he asks, passing me a glass.

  I take the glass, and he fills it to the brim.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Lots of action here lately,” Stan says, passing me a lighter.

  “It has been interesting,” I answer as I light the large cigar.

  I don’t spend every night on these lounge chairs with Stan, but often I find myself here. It is unusually lat
e for me, but I know Stan is something of a night owl. I often wonder what he thinks about when he’s sitting here alone in the dark.

  “I’m going to sail with her to the Azores,” I say casually as I puff away at my freshly lit cigar.

  Stan leans up, sitting on the edge of his chair. The quick maneuver causes him to spill some rum on the sand. “When? Why? What?” Stan talks with his hands and spills more rum.

  I can’t help but laugh at his animated reaction. I don’t know why, but I have been excited to tell him the news. I guess I thought he would be proud of me.

  “I was hoping you could take care of Tuuli while I’m gone for the month.”

  “Of course I can. Vince, I’m happy to hear that you’ve hit it off with the young lady, and I know you’re capable of making the passage. But I don’t know, man. Phew, I don’t know.”

  “What?”

  “Well, that boat for instance.” Stan points to the Crazy Lady. “I’m surprised that thing can even float.”

  “It sails pretty good, actually.”

  “When do you plan on leaving?”

  “In five days.”

  “Five days!? I don’t know, my friend.”

  Stan stands and paces in the sand. He is mumbling something to himself that I can’t make out.

  “Why not take your boat instead?” he suggests.

  This is Tenn’s dream. I’m crewing on her boat. It doesn’t seem right to take mine. Besides, I want to live here in the Caribbean on my boat, not in Portugal. I would have to knock around Europe until the season would allow me to return.

  “Her boat is in better shape than you’d think, and I was hoping you could help me get some equipment before we go.”

  “It will be tough to get anything here that soon, but I’ll try.” Stan seems discouraged.

  “I thought you would be happy to hear the news.”

  “I am. You’re going to have the experience of a lifetime, and I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks, Stan.”

  I can tell he is indeed proud of me. And the truth is, I’m proud of myself. This warm and wonderful woman wants to be with me. I am needed. I am wanted. I feel full of purpose.