Chapter 20: Rescue at Sea

Vivienne left my stateroom while it was still dark. I just turned over and went back to sleep. A little while later, as the sky was getting lighter, a very clean smelling Vivienne climbed back in bed with me. It was obvious that she had showered and brushed her teeth and fixed her hair.

“Not fair!” I cried when she tried to kiss me. “You’ve brushed your teeth!”

“I very happy this morning. I sleep so good last night. Best night in long, long time,” she cried happily.

I got up and used the bathroom and brushed my teeth. She was waiting on the bed for me on her knees when I came out. She clapped her hands together gleefully as she knee-walked to the edge of the bed. She was a tall girl and, in this position, with me standing and her on her knees on the bed, we were almost the same height. I stepped close and kissed her lightly on the lips. She responded immediately and kissed me back even harder. Soon, our tongues were dueling as we ran our hands over each other’s bodies.

“Wow!” She exclaimed as she broke the kiss.

“Come on,” I said before things got out of control. “Let’s go find Carina.”

The three of us were seated in the shade of one of the conversation pits on the bow, as the catamaran knifed through the blue waters. I noted automatically that we were heading generally southwest. Vivienne was telling Carina her story. I don’t know if it was because it was in French or because Vivienne was giving Carina much more detail. But her story was taking much longer. Then Carina begin asking Vivienne questions, and the answers were not short either.

Finally, Carina looked at me, “Daniel, why don’t you run along to the bridge or wherever. Vivienne and I need to discuss this some more in private.”

“In private? I can’t understand a word as it is,” I thought to myself. But I kept my thoughts to myself as I wandered up to the fly bridge.

“There’s our newest sailor,” Captain Alfred said as I came up the stairs. “And how are you this fine morning? Did you sleep well?”

I was to learn that Captain Alfred was happiest when he was on the bridge of a ship at sea.

“Very well, thank you,” I told him. “Do you have time for some questions?”

“Of course, my boy. What’s on your mind?”

“I was wondering why your ship had no ship’s wheel?”

I guess I should explain my question. On a large catamaran, the Flying Bridge only used the front-starboard (or right) area for the actual bridge area. The rest of the open bridge was given over to relaxing and entertaining by the passengers and crew. The actual bridge area was separated only by a Captain’s chair mounted on a pedestal to elevate it for better line of sight.

In front of the captain’s chair was a padded rail that the Captain or officer of the watch generally stood (and leaned back against) to actually steer the ship using a joystick similar to a video game. In front of him was the bridge console, about eight feet wide and loaded with six LED screens with various readouts of all the instruments, sensors, cameras, and gauges displayed. It also held all the controls for the main engines, the twin, front-mounted thrusters (for docking and other tight maneuvers), the automatic pilot, and a myriad of other switches and controls.

I was to find that as ships transitioned to the (much easier to use) joystick, the large wheel that they used to use to steer the ship became superfluous. And often in the way. So, on this yacht, it had simply been removed by the previous owner. Captain Alfred said that it was stored in the hold in case it was ever needed, or for when he sold it.

After that, the time seemed to fly by as he patiently and thoroughly answered all my questions. Finally, he stopped me with a raised hand.

“I think that is enough questions for now. It seems we have talked all the way through lunch and dinner time is approaching. Are you comfortable staying on the bridge while I go down and grab some chow? Then you can eat and grab some sleep because we’re sailing through the night and your watch will come sooner than you’d like.”

“Aye-aye, Captain!” I said as I gave him a not-so-proper salute.

“Then carry on, mate!” he said with a chuckle as he headed down the stairs.

I was on watch early Sunday morning as we approached our next waypoint. This was the theoretical point on the map where we would need to change from a southwest heading to a more westerly direction as we made our way towards the Strait of Gibraltar. We had left Cala d’Hort yesterday morning at dawn and been traveling non-stop for over twenty hours. Unfortunately, the winds had backed down some so we were only averaging twelve-and-a-half knots. I had hopes that the winds would pick up some when we made the change and moved into the Alboran Sea. That’s the body of water between Spain and Morocco, where the seas narrow to less than one hundred miles wide as we prepared to slip through the Strait of Gibraltar.