“I freakin’ hate him,” Gabriel said.
“For God’s sakes why?”
“Because you should. Everyone is supposed to hate their ex’s new guy. It’s required,” Gabriel said.
“I like to think I’m a bit more mature than that, Gabe. Besides, I don’t want to be with Syd. I don’t know what I want, but I definitely do not want to be married to her any longer.”
“Are we on Oprah or something? This is me you’re talking to,” Gabriel said.
“Sydney and I had something great once, but it’s over. I guess it wasn’t meant to last. We both love our kids. Life goes on.”
“You need to get laid.”
“Here we go…”
“Meaningless sex; it cures a lot of ills. Sure worked for me between door number one and Cynthia.” Gabriel had been happily married to his second wife Cynthia for almost twenty years.
“No thanks. I’m not dead in that department, but casual sex does not interest me.”
“Pull out your wallet and give it to me,” Gabriel ordered.
“Give you what?”
“Your Man Club card. You’re acting way too rational and reasonable about all this. Where is the fire, the indignation, the good old ‘she’s a crazy bitch’ banter?”
Tom laughed. He knew Gabriel was kidding around, trying to cheer him up. Gabriel Campbell was actually far more conservative in almost every way than he was.
“I think I’m being a bad father. That bothers me a lot, Gabe.”
“My nephew and niece love you. I talked with Jonas for half an hour last night,” Gabriel said.
“Mind if I ask what he said?”
“More than anything else he is worried about you. He’s afraid of you sailing to Hawaii on your own. He wants to be with you, to be there for you if something happens.”
“He told you this?”
“Yes. After he told me about his latest exploits shooting heroin and robbing banks.”
“Seriously, Gabriel.”
“Yes he told me that. Why aren’t you taking Jonas with you to Hawaii?”
“Syd thinks it’s too dangerous for him to go with me. She has a valid argument. It’s not like sailing around the bay. I won’t go against her on this one.”
“Okay, then who are you taking?”
“With me? No one, I’m going solo,” Tom said.
“Okay, you can have your Man Club card back, but for heaven’s sakes take someone with you; preferably a female half your age.”
“I really need to just be alone, Gabe. The past year has been damn hard. I’m not sure who I am anymore and I don’t like myself much right now.”
“Been to Mass lately? Confession is good for the soul,” Gabriel offered.
“I know you still go to church and good for you. Me, I need the cathedral of the ocean. I’d love to take Jonas with me, but maybe it’s best for a lot of reasons if he stays here. Did he tell you that he might come to live with me in Hawaii?”
“He did,” Gabriel said. “He thinks Sydney will get her way on that too and talk you out of it. I also think he feels like you might be happier living without him.”
“He said that?”
“No, he didn’t. It’s just an impression I got that’s all. Your son thinks you are the greatest guy in the world, other than his uncle Gabriel, of course.”
“Jessica… I don’t have a clue what’s going on with her. Everything is a tragedy. The simplest things are complicated. She is always upset about something,” Tom said.
“Jess is twelve. Hello,” Gabriel said and then slugged down the rest of his beer.
“Meaning?”
“My three daughters have all become semi-competent and largely rational adults, but when they were twelve, thirteen, in there… Mother of God! You remember; it was insanity around my house. Twelve year old girls cry over anything and everything. They are demanding, irrational and generally belligerent.”
Tom laughed. It was so good to have his brother with him again, even if it was only for a few days. Gabriel could always cheer him up, no matter what. Then it hit him, a great idea.
“Why don’t you come with me? Tell the firm you need a thirty day hiatus. Let someone else battle the EPA this summer. Let’s go sailing.”
“I thought about that. I wish I could! I have a trial starting in three weeks. It’s been postponed twice. I can’t bail, it’s not possible. Last summer would have been perfect! Why didn’t you plan this a year ago!”
“It would have been a trip to remember forever,” Tom said.
“I do have a request, Tom.”
“Okay.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist on it.”
“I’m listening,” Tom said.
“Whatever you do out there, don’t get dead.”
Chapter Ten
“I promise. I will not take a satellite phone, but -.”
“Tom, it’s a gift from me. I’ll pay for the phone and three months’ worth of service. There are no strings attached, you should know that,” Sydney said.
“I do know that. A satellite phone is unnecessary. Take half that money and buy Jess a new laptop. Tell her it’s from both of us.”
“Without a satellite phone you will be out of touch for days at a time, maybe a couple of weeks. What if something happens, to the kids I mean, how would I -.”
“Sydney, you need to get used to the idea that I am not going to be around anymore. I will be living in Hawaii.”
“That’s hard for me,” Syd said, in a very sad tone.
“What about Harold? Isn’t he living with you now?”
“He’s around but… I’m not talking about Harold, I’m talking about you.”
“This is where I say something really cute and cruel like, ‘If you wanted me around why did you divorce me.’”
“I guess it hasn’t really hit home until now. Not the divorce, the fact that I can’t just call you and go to lunch or ask you to pick up the kids or rely on you to rescue me when my car dies.”
“What did you think it would be like when we split up?” Tom paused and took a deep breath. “Sydney, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be mean, not at all. I need some time to be alone. Can you appreciate that? My life has been torn apart. I’m sick to death of being a corporate goon. I don’t know who I am anymore. I can’t be a good father to the kids until I get my head together. You of all people should understand that, at least conceptually.”
“You’re not my client, you’re my husband.”
“I’m not you’re husb -.”
“Tell me I didn’t just say that. I’m glad we aren’t Skyping, because my face is totally red.”
“Syd, please.” Tom was trying his best to be empathetic, but it was just too much. “Sydney, you’ll be fine. The kids will be fine. Once I get to Hawaii, I’ll fly them both over for a couple of weeks before school starts. You know that I’m never going to stop being their father.”
“They both love you more than they love me. That’s the hard truth of it.”
Tom moved the cell phone away from his ear. He was standing in the middle of his luggage, everything he was taking to the boat. The cab had arrived. The cab driver was walking towards his open front door, ready to help load the large pile of stuff and to deliver Tom and his bags to the marina.
“The cab is here. I’ve got to go,” Tom said.
“Call me on the radio before you’re out of range. Don’t take any crazy chances. I want to say, to tell you …”
“I love you too, Syd. We aren’t together anymore, but I will never stop loving you.”
Tom only heard soft sobs before Sydney ended the call.
^^^^^^
“She’s a beauty, sir, an absolutely outstanding boat. How old is she?”
Tom was busy checking his gear, so he was distracted when the guy from Stem to Stern Boat Service asked his question.
“I’m sorry, you asked me something?”
“How old is your sloop?”
�
��She was built in 1964. Damn near my age, almost exactly,” Tom said.
“The OGs around here… oh sorry, I didn’t mean to -.”
“That’s alright. I’m an OG; more of a curmudgeon than an OG, but what the hell.”
“Thirty foot Rawsons are little tanks. People have sailed around the globe solo in these babies.”
“I would not own another boat. This beauty and I go way back. I bought her in San Diego fifteen years ago,” Tom said.
“As you asked, we inspected her. Not a crack or weak spot in the fiberglass. That’s hard to believe after fifty years of service. I see that the engine has been replaced.”
“Five years ago, yes. I also switched out all of the electronics and sails last year, but pretty much everything else other than the propane galley heater is original equipment. Can we review the stores?”
“Yes sir,” the man said as he looked at his clipboard.
Tom and the man reviewed what had been brought on board. Food, fresh water, linens, cleaning supplies, dive gear, spare main sail – everything Tom needed to be safe and comfortable for thirty days at sea.
“How many propane tanks did you bring aboard?” Tom asked.
“Four. That should be more than enough. Assuming you passed through the coldest weather ever recorded in the Pacific in July and you took six weeks to get there, you’d still have a tank or more to spare.”
“And are they secure?” Tom asked.
“All of them are strapped down in the propane locker aft of the cockpit. Wanna take a look?” the man asked.
“Nah, I’ll just check them off my list. What about the new lines? You switched them all out?”
“Every line on the boat is now brand new, just as you specified.”
Tom took a minute to review his list one last time. If anything was missing, he would have to do without it. There were no marinas between here and Hawaii, only open water.
“Good enough then,” Tom said. He signed the paperwork.
“Leaving today?” the man asked as he was climbing out of the cabin.
“No, at first light,” Tom said. “I want to sail through the Golden Gate at dawn.”
“Sounds like a plan. If you need anything else, just give me a call on the cell. We’re around until eight p.m. or so.”
“Will do. Thanks,” Tom said.
Two weeks ago Tom moved his boat from Richmond, just up the river in the northwest part of the bay, to its present location near Fisherman’s Wharf. It was expensive to park the boat here even for a short time, but Tom wanted everything to be perfect.
For the past year he had done his best to prepare for his adventure. He had taken three extended sailing trips of several days each – two going south, the other one to Oregon and back. While he had never sailed solo for 2000 plus miles, a journey he would be starting in the morning, he was confident in his skills.
He could not make the trip in a better boat. For decades Ron Rawson built some of the world’s finest sailboats. He built them for cruising and he built them to last with good, old fashioned craftsmanship. Because Rawson built his sailboats primarily for use in the cold and rough waters of the Pacific Northwest, they were ideal for tropical cruising as well.
The boat was the perfect size for a solo sail – not too big and not too small. Its thirty foot hull could cut through all but the roughest of seas with ease. If the wind died, the sloop could motor along for days at a slow but steady pace. The berth was six feet six inches tall with plenty of elbow room. In fact, Tom preferred the boat’s bed over the expensive mattress he had at home. The small head was more than adequate with a toilet, sink, shower and plenty of storage. The galley was very nice; the refrigerator was a bit larger than the norm.
For the first time in a long time Tom felt comfortable. He shut off his cell phone. It would remain off for the next month barring an emergency. From this point on, Tom vowed, no more distractions, no more world. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts and the occasional symphony he would pipe through the boat’s sound system.
As he sat at his galley table, he looked across at the pictures hanging on the wall. He hadn’t changed them in years; Syd standing on the bow the day he bought her, the kids at various ages – Jonas was born two months before he bought the boat. The photos were a recording of his family history.
Both Jonas and Jessica loved to sail with their father, but Jonas more so. Tom’s passion for sailing had been passed down to his son. When Jonas came to Hawaii to live with him, Tom planned on buying him a Hobie Cat and teaching him to sail on his own.
Not only had Tom not taken Sydney’s pictures down from the wall, he also had no intention of renaming the boat.
Her name was Sydney and it always would be.
Chapter Eleven
Tom got up at five a.m. and dressed in jeans, deck shoes, a collared shirt and a windbreaker. He made himself coffee and ate a bowl of cereal. He switched on the radio and tuned it to the classical music station. Soon he would be out of reach of any FM radio signal. He spent an hour or so preparing Sydney for departure.
With Vanhal’s symphony in G minor gently flowing through the speakers, Tom untied his lines and slowly motored out of the marina. The sea was calm and the air still, but once he reached the Farallon Islands the forecast was for a steady fifteen knot breeze. The sun was just peeking over the Oakland hills on the eastern horizon. Alcatraz was to his starboard - the early morning sunlight was dancing off the old prison walls. Tiburon, a city he often visited in his boat to eat lunch or just to perch for an afternoon by the bay, was to his north.
Tom moved into the channel, maneuvering around a cargo vessel that was putting into port. Once he reached the Golden Gate the air was salty and fresh. He filled his lungs with the sea breeze.
Rather than being stressed or concerned about one issue or another, all Tom was thinking about was when he could start sailing. The wind picked up as soon as he cleared the harbor. He opened his sail and turned off his engine. Within a minute or so he was nicely making way at a steady five knot pace.
He wanted to spend his first day, maybe two, sailing around the Farallons. This time of year a variety of whale species visited the islands. Tom had never seen any sperm whales there, but he had seen plenty of orcas, greys and humpbacks. With a sailboat it was sometimes possible to get close to the whales because there was no engine noise to frighten them away.
Whenever he visited the Farallons Tom thought about Henry. He knew that by now, if he had survived, Henry would be a mature sperm whale, fifty to sixty feet long and would weigh in excess of forty tons. He would be eating almost a ton of food every day. Very likely Henry would be roaming around the Pacific – maybe north towards Alaska in the summer and then back to California in the wintertime.
While nothing could match the joy Tom felt watching his children being born, his day spent with Henry on the beach was a life changing event. It was such a unique experience that Tom felt it could not be compared or categorized with anything else. Even though it had been twenty years, when Tom closed his eyes he could see Henry lying in the sand looking both impressive and helpless at the same time.
As he neared the Farallons the wind picked up. Tom was now moving at a seven knot clip and the seas were frothy. Sydney cut through the foot and half chop almost effortlessly. For a moment he thought about Jonas. Yes, it would have been wonderful to be with him out here, they had sailed to the Farallons a few times before, but he had to admit that solitude was incredible.
He saw the orcas first. There was a pod of them, at least seven whales that he could count. They were swimming together, no doubt searching for food in the form of a stray seal or sea lion. They swam around and under Tom’s boat as he reached the northernmost island.
There were sea birds here by the thousands – gulls, puffins, Cassin’s auklets and many other species. The entire area was a National Marine Sanctuary. Oddly enough, the islands themselves were still officially part of the city of San Francisco. When the city boomed i
n the nineteenth century, the islands were a seemingly endless source of food for the residents. In the 1850s and 60s San Franciscans took as many as half a million sea bird eggs a month to feed themselves, along with a large number of seals and sea lions. But since the beginning of the twentieth century, starting with the Executive Order issued by Theodore Roosevelt in 1909, the islands and their wildlife have been protected by the United States government.
Tom saw the humpbacks next, two of them, a mother and her calf. They were about half mile away when he first spotted them, but he was able to angle Sydney in for a closer look.
They were massive creatures, yet they moved through the water with such grace. Tom thought this is what Henry and his mother must have looked like back in ’95 before the cow’s collision with the cruiser. For almost two hours Tom stayed with the pair as they slowly made their way around the islands. Then, just before sunset, they dipped below the waves and they were gone.
Tom set his anchor on the leeward side of Southeast Farallon Island. It is the only inhabited island in the chain. As if on cue, as soon as the sun set the wind died down. It was warm, by Northern California standards, almost sixty degrees. Tom lit the stove and cooked himself an omelet. He had to eat all of his perishable food first and since he had more than two dozen eggs omelets, toast and coffee made a perfect meal.
Off in the distance he could hear the sound of humpback whales singing. Unlike Henry’s clicks, the humpbacks produced haunting melodies almost in the form of notes, much like a whale symphony. Tom had heard them singing once before on a previous trip here, but he knew that it was special to be blessed with the opportunity to listen to them again. They called to each other for an hour as Tom sat on his deck listening.
Around ten Tom retired. He switched on the small light in his berth. He brought along a book to read on his trip, Melville’s classic Moby Dick. He’d read the novel before, but it had been over twenty five years since he’d done so.
The story was like an old friend. He imagined himself being a whaler a hundred and fifty years ago in New England. He could definitely relate to Captain Ahab in at least in one respect – he was also fascinated by a particular sperm whale.
Henry and Tom: Ocean Adventure Series Book 1: Rescue (Ocean Adventures Series) Page 5