Connie laughed so hard she almost choked. “Just please don’t actually try and cook for anyone. Our insurance won’t cover botulism or kitchen fires!”
Ally gave them both an affectionate push. “That’s it, you two. Sappho’s Sailors are about to win this race, and we might as well run the crew boat down too!” Rene gave her a high five, and together they headed for their teams and boats.
Ally stepped aboard the forty-foot racing sloop and took in the expectant faces gathered around the aft cockpit. “Hi everyone. I’m Ally and first things first—if you got stuck with me when you were more interested in getting to know my sexy and brilliant cousin Pam, no worries, I’ll make it up to you by sharing any dirty little details you like.”
That drew a few mouth-drops and a snort. Only two women piped up to say differently, and Ally just grinned. “We’re going to have a lot of fun today, so everyone can relax. I have no expectations other than winning.” That drew a few hoots and Ally challenged them, “Come on women. You can do better than that. Let’s hear it for winning and showing the other queens just how great you all are.” There was a much better response, but Ally shook her head. “Clearly, I suck as a cheerleader. So, that’s job number one. Which of you will be our cheer captain?” They cajoled and jostled one another until finally a willowy blonde blushingly accepted the job.
“All right. Next, we need to sort out our crew. Which of you are sailboaters or have powerboat experience?”
Four hands flashed up and one woman pronounced with some disdain, “I’m a US Coast Guard-qualified captain. I have years operating sail vessels much larger than this.”
“Cool.” Ally took her attitude in stride. She had flown with pilots like this. They covered their insecurities with attitude and arrogance. “That makes you co-captain. I’m pretty good with these baby boats so I’ll captain, and you can back me up and help with strategy.” She moved on to the other three before her bitchy co-captain could say anything in objection. One of the women was from Florida and lived on the intercoastal. She was an avid water skier, so Ally gave her the helm. That would free her to move to wherever she was needed. With so many women having never set foot on a boat before she didn’t doubt there would be chaos at every tack. Finally, Ally assigned one of the experienced sailors to man the sail locker and the starboard winch and the other to the mainsail and the port winch.
The five women who had never sailed looked on expectantly. “I’ll need two of you up front with the main master, and two with Gail here covering the main mast and the port sheets. And one of you can hang back here and help the co-captain and me with the running lines and the traveler, and don’t worry—we’ll go over all this stuff again in a sec. First, let’s talk safety. On the deck, there are sail harnesses. They are super light, so grab them, and everyone put one on. No exceptions,” she said. “Throw me one, please.” She showed them how to fit it correctly and how to inflate the hidden personal flotation device.
Once they covered safety, Ally gave them a flash course on sailing, repeatedly drilling in their heads, “And what do we do when the helm calls Tack?”
They laughed, and the cheer captain had them chanting, “Tack means duck, Tack means duck, Tack means duck.”
She waved them off with a grin. “Oh, I can see this is going to be fun. Okay, let’s get underway. I can see the Yellow Bellies are casting off, so let’s go!”
Again, the cheer captain had them chanting, while they took to the stations Ally thought they could handle. She cast off the stern line while her sail master took care of the bowline. The woman at the helm cut the first turn out from between the piers too close, dragging the aft quarter against the tire-covered pylon. “No worries, helm. Our fenders caught it. Remember, the rudder is so much farther back than you’re used to with your ski boat.” Still, the woman at the helm looked upset, or at least embarrassed. Ally stepped to her side, giving her a side hug and a peck on the cheek that had all the others hooting enthusiastically. Ally colored, and that drew more attention. Note to self: Kill Connie and maybe Pam too!
They spent most of the morning just having fun, learning how to do their jobs and posing for the cameras on the chase boat, a long rubber-sided rib with a center standing helm station. Connie and the camera crew were situated fore of the helm and had been setting up the boats for several staged shots to be sure she had lots of quality footage to edit instead of depending on what they could catch during the race.
By noon everyone was tired, hungry, and a few needed the attention of Abby the nurse. Many had assumed that because they lived in the southern states, the sun this far north wouldn’t be an issue and had gone without sunscreen. Allyson had noticed and asked them to put some on. Later when she realized they hadn’t, she was forced to give them a choice: “Put on the sunscreen or get below.” One of the refusals came from her co-captain, the woman who believed she knew more than a resident like Ally could. It wasn’t their first disagreement since they cast off, but it was the last one, Ally decided, that she would stand for.
They dropped anchor in Frenchmen’s Bay to join the other teams for a catered lunch, and with the boats lashed together, women began to move among the different crews and the caterers tied alongside adding to the excitement and chaos.
Ally climbed down into the chase boat and made her way to Connie’s side. “Got a sec?”
Connie patted the heavy rubber inflated side of the rib. “Sit and tell me how it’s going. I’m afraid I stuck you with most of the troublemakers.”
“They’re all doing great. Well, all but Colleen.” She tipped her head toward her boat and her co-captain, currently standing impatiently while Abby applied a thick cooling coat of aloe to protect her already burned nose. “She’s the tall blonde with the sunburn,” Ally said quietly.
Connie spotted the woman in question and groaned. Under her breath, she explained her reaction. “That’s gold digger number one. What’s her problem, other than she’s pissed she’s not going to get a shot with Virginia, the billionaire heiress?”
“Okay, maybe it’s some new thing I’m not up on, but since when does sporty spice go for the ultra femme?”
“Precisely!” Connie grabbed a waterproof case and pulled out a printout, sharing it without hesitation. “She voted for Virginia first and Rene. She dumped you and Pam like hotcakes. And when I posted the boat assignments today she just about freaked. What’s she like to sail with?”
“She’s a know-it-all. She says she’s a USCG-certified captain, but she messes up port and starboard all the time, and she keeps pissing on my teammates if they don’t jump to every little correction she calls out and believe me that’s all she does.”
“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’m going to give Ms. Know-it-all gold digger exactly what she wants. I’ll tell her Rene’s boat is short on experienced sailors and move her over there. I’ll have to move a woman from her boat. Any preference?”
Ally snorted. “Ah, did anyone vote for me?”
Connie checked the voting record sheet. “As a matter of fact, there are two on that boat. Which would you like, Sally or Robin?”
“Why don’t you just ask for a volunteer?”
“You sure?” Connie asked.
“Always ask. You know that.”
“Okay. You’re the boss. Why don’t you join your crew for lunch? They’re all eyeballing us.”
Lunch, for a catered cold buffet, was quite enjoyable. The women relaxed and socialized, moving from the catering boat and back and forth between the three sailboats. As they recovered from their morning workout, sharing stories of their experiences and making predictions on how the afternoon would shape up, they gossiped and joked as they rehydrated and ate to fuel up.
Once lunch was done, and the caterers had cleaned up and cast off, Connie grabbed her bullhorn. “Attention women. You have practiced, and played, eaten and rehydrated. And for a few of you doubters of the power of our northern sun, you received first aid. Now it’s time to head back out on the la
ke and run this race.” She pointed to the mouth of the bay. “Tommy is in the second chase boat and waiting to cover the start of the race. The official start line is the port entry marker at the far end of Frenchmen’s Bay inlet. And, yes, Tommy has the official timers with him. And they will time you crossing out of the bay and when you reach the finish marker just west of the Port of Whitby. So, here are the rules. Safety comes first. Any crew member spotted without her PFD harness will have her team disqualified. Listen to your captains and watch your heads on that hard tack nearing the end of the course. And if someone on your boat falls overboard, drop your mainsail immediately, and the closest chase boat will pick her up. And if you fall overboard, don’t panic. The water isn’t cold. Your PFDs will auto inflate, and we have lots of other boats gathering near us to watch the race. So, between the two chase boats, our team boats, plus all the others, no one’s going to be in any trouble. Plus, the water temperature is a nice balmy sixty-two, so if you want to swim, we can get to that after we shoot the race. Okay, everyone ready?”
The women offered a variety of cheers, then they cast off, hauling up their anchors and motoring from the bay. They trailed one another single file, navigating the inlet channel back out toward the lake. As they neared open water, Tommy was easy to spot. His camera crew had tied up to the last marker with several curious boaters floating around just clear of the shot. An Auxiliary Canada Coast Guard vessel was aiding a too-large-to-be-out-of-the-channel sailboat from the thick wild reeds along the banks. They had an audience, and it raised the level of excitement as they neared the starting point.
* * *
The first thing that surprised Erin was Ally’s apology for needing to move her from Rene’s boat to hers. “Connie tells me you used to sail as a kid. I would expect nothing less from Manitowoc woman.”
“You remembered?” It seemed strange that Ally would remember her from a two-minute interview when she’d also spoken with twenty-nine other competitors.
“I was honest when I said I like Wisconsin.”
The attention and candor caught Erin off guard. She mumbled before asking what she could do.
“How about you stay aft and handle the running lines and traveler. You can cover port and keep watch on our course when you’re on the low side. I’ll stay to starboard and do the same.”
“You trust me?”
Ally gave her the stink eye, but couldn’t keep it up, offering a silly grin instead. “You’re not a plant here to sabotage our win, are you?”
Blushing, she didn’t know what to say, finally admitting, “For Rene? Are you asking…no, of course not… Wait! You’re just kidding me, aren’t you?”
“Guilty as charged. Forgive me?”
Forgive me? What was with this woman? She shared so many mannerisms and even catch phrases with her cousin, but as far as personalities were concerned, it was as if they were bookends, opposites in the same subject matter. Erin could hear Pam, on the boat farthest from theirs, bossing women around, ordering them to eat, drink, get ready. Allyson was content to encourage and inspire. Erin tripped over her words as she said, “Oh no. I mean yes… I mean there’s no need to apologize. I’m having fun.”
“That’s all I can ask, and that you don’t run us into anyone.” She was still smiling and looked to be examining Erin closely. She almost balked at the scrutiny, but steadied herself as Ally explained, “Your sunscreen is keeping you from burning, but you might want to grab one of the higher SPFs. I know some women get upset when their freckles start to shine.”
“Oh my God. Freckles do not shine, they take over!”
“I like them,” Ally said simply, and her smile was as unassuming and sincere as her words.
Turning to a group of women still cleaning up from lunch, Ally asked, “Where’s our cheer master? I think it’s time to launch Sappho’s Sailors and our snazzy boat. Is everyone back aboard and ready to pull up anchor?”
There were a few just making their way back from returning leftovers to the catering boat and collecting flats of half frozen water bottles for their team. Once everyone was accounted for, Ally ordered the engine started and the helm manned, as the sail master used the deck-mounted power switch to winch up the anchor. Once the chain began clacking onto the deck and the crew wrestled the remaining rode into the well and strapped down the anchor in its mount, Ally had them moving and led the other boats down the wide green channel and toward the starting point at the last marker. “We have to wait for the flag before we can haul up the sails. Be ready on the main sheet. Sail master, ready with the Genoa?”
“Ready, Cap, but I think we should rig the spinnaker too. It looks like we’ll be downwind for the last leg.”
Allyson considered her suggestion. It would take time for an inexperienced crew to swap their Genny for the clumsy rig, but if they could get it done without too much chaos, it could make a difference. “Okay. Rig it but be sure it’s not going to get in the way for the first leg. I don’t want anyone falling down or overboard because we have too much gear on deck.”
“We can rig it and stash it at the ready,” she promised.
Ally agreed. “Good work. All right cheer master!” She chided herself for not remembering the woman’s name. “We’re nearing the first camera placement and the starting point. It’s time to let ’em know who we are!”
The cheerful blonde didn’t hesitate, and within seconds everyone in the bay, the channel, and probably south of the 401, knew they were there. They cheered and chanted “Sappho’s Sailors.” When they realized the boat trailing them in the channel was making more noise, they upped their game, shouting out a chant they had created during lunch and matched it to a standard protest song melody.
Erin noticed Ally was quiet, her attention on the channel markers and the boat ahead. She was bobbing up and down, but she never once added her voice. Maybe she wanted there to be no mistake when they finally heard her give them commands. Nearing the final marker, Erin, like Ally in front of her, could see Tommy in the chase boat, with timer in hand and the camera focused on him for their approach. It looked to be a great opening shot. She knew Connie would have other fixed cameras mounted in the area, but kept her focus on her captain and the approaching marker. She watched as Ally explained something to Mary, the contestant manning the big nautical steering wheel. Ally’s lips were moving and almost touching Mary’s ear. Erin wanted to turn away from the intimate gesture, but steadied herself, believing she should listen to any and all direction from her captain.
Moving in close, she could hear what Ally was saying to her: “The wind looks to be more from the forward quarter this close to shore. We can use it to confuse the others. Once we pass the marker, put hard to starboard then steer for southeast.”
“How long? I mean if the off shore winds are from the west?”
“Until the second you feel the southern tip easing off. Don’t worry. I won’t be far.” Turning to Erin, Ally smiled at her. “Oh, good you heard my strategy for making use of the inshore winds.”
Erin balanced herself with a foot in the cockpit well and her knee on the port side bench. She was ready for anything.
Ally gave her a thumbs-up then turned forward again, making sure to catch the eye of the woman she’d put in charge of the right side of the boat and named sail master. The women with her were excited and chanted their song. She gave her the signal confirming they were seconds out and received a thumbs-up in return. On the left side, the women charged with keeping the winch humming and manning the mainsail were chanting too. It took a painful few seconds to get their leader’s attention, but when Ally did, she was happy to see she understood her signal and had her mates at the ready.
A bowrider was tied to the last marker and was filled with volunteers from the local sailing club. They looked more like a boatload of senior day sailors than timekeepers, but that was their job. Ally watched the gent in the bow seat raise his flag. As soon as he let it fall, she would know their bow was over the start line. This wasn’
t how most regattas were run, but it was necessary to make sure the cameras and the host could capture each of the teams as they began the race. A gray-headed beauty in the stern of the timer’s boat was flashing a flag at her, warning her to stop her engine. They wanted her to cross the line without any motorized assistance.
Reaching around the woman at the helm, Ally switched off the engine and gave the woman a thumbs-up. Seconds later, the commodore raised the start flag along with the alpha or A signal, then brought them down at once. Ally and her team were free to raise the sails and take to the course.
“Haul! Haul! Haul!” This was the signal they had all agreed on. Without hesitation, the team on the mainsail were working together as the sail began its journey up the mast. Up front, the sail master had the Genoa hung and run. As the helm pulled tight to the southeast, a few of the women did turn to look at the helm and Ally. Erin watched as she gave them the same salute she had bestowed on the sailing club commodore, before she added that quirky grin she was coming to understand was Ally’s way of saying don’t ask, just have fun. It was interesting to see just how much that meant to her. Ally liked to take care of all the details. And she looked to be prepared. Pam was like that too. Always be prepared—except in her world, Erin was the one handling all the details to make sure Pam was in top form. Ally, it seemed, was happy to do the grunt work. Maybe she had an assistant somewhere too, busily picking up the slack?
“Secure those lines!” Ally called to the starboard team.
Looking forward on the high line or her side, Erin could see the starboard party had the Genny up and tight but had left the sheets for the half-rigged spinnaker on the deck along with the mooring lines. When they didn’t seem to understand Ally’s order, Erin offered, “Let me get them squared away.”
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