Chapter 5

JW

Evidently, the boat and contents passed. We ... I ... Cyn never moved from her post on the cabin top ... motored to a dock. The dog jumped off, his handler nodded in passing. I struck the Q flag and hoisted our courtesy Australian flag. The Port man stayed on board. I began my duties ... shutting down the engine, electronics and gathering the bags of trash that accumulate during a 17 day passage and generally straightened up paperwork and retrieved a mite of dosh from the safe.

A long van stopped at the pier and a passel of brightly dressed females stepped out and moseyed towards Sailbait.

The Port Officer’s daughter showed first. Considering I thought he was ... as they say... pulling the other one, Mate, I was shocked. She was a typical Aussie blonde ... absolutely beautiful. Mother came aboard. Another eye-stopper ... and then the sisters ... one ... two ... three.

I gave the port man a look, “You poor sap.”

“What?”

“Good lord, sir ... how many bodyguards have you hired to protect those?” I said, “Didn’t you have any boys?”

“These are the ones at home ... there’s two married.”

“All girls?”

“They take after their mother ... thank God.

“Agnes...” mom stepped forward, shook my hand and nodded. I don’t know if she was nodding at me or approving her husbands call.

“Alice...” the about 11 year old gave me a look ... a very appraising look. A vulture might have that look waiting for the last stagger.

“April...” she might have been 13 ... going on 20.

“Autumn...” supposedly 14 ... maybe ... if she wasn’t 18.

“I’d take him,” she said.

“And our little trouble maker ... Zoe, she sails.”

Zoe slipped her hand in my arm crook and said, “Show me your boat?”

She got the tour. The works ... including the engine compartment, the bilge and the chain locker. She was very thorough. The professional surveyor wasn’t as particular.

She was into the broken Radio ... and fixed it.

I was impressed.

When it was over we ventured back on deck.

The van was gone.

Cyn handed me a sealed envelope.

Cyn said, “Keep her ... that’s they said. We ... you ... are expected for the evening meal. Now! Where’s mine?”

“Hobart, or near Hobart, or on the way to Hobart.”

“The race?”

“Yes,” I said.

Zoe nodded. I think ... when she lets go ... I shall have a bruise ... if she doesn’t break my arm.

Zoe turned to ... the trash was in the dumpster, the port lights closed, the masthead lit, the dinghy chained and the cabin locked ... with Cyn in it.