Chapter 27

Hurriedly dressing in my bright, almost neon red, immersion suit, I directed crew and owners to unbox the rafts and get ready for the worst.

“Don’t inflate them yet, they’re hell to put back in the box if we don’t need them,” I said.

Turning into the wind ... sideways could be dire ... I started turning our sails into tiny storm canvas ... thank the gods for buttons and power winches. I fired up the engines. I’d never seen what waterspouts could do to a boat but I was fairly certain I wouldn’t like it. I’d estimated 5 miles and maybe 10 minutes before the black ... okay ... extremely dark gray storm wall hit us.

Mostly, I forgot about storms and what they do to the wind. Okay ... so I was worried about other things ... the closer the storm got ... Yikes! The wind went from dead ahead to dead astern ... I was no longer steering into the wind... Flint was pushed into the storm wall. The waterspouts (tornados) were lashing back and forth like a passel of rattlers in a snake-ball and two of the three were directly in front of us. Water twisters slinging hips like belly-dancers and one slung right, the other slung left and we sailed between and it was raining like nobody’s business.

I believe I’d mentioned that I lost my diction in times of stress. Who boy Howdy! I didn’t even understand me.

The wind was howling, waves at 20 or so feet, black as night, raindrops the size of baseballs and not even one little bit of fun.

And it stopped. Ahead was calm clear light blue water maybe 30 feet deep. Behind was the hounds of hell. This side was sun, light tropical breezes and an island with coconut palms...

I KNOW that’s not on our charts. I don’t think that’s on ANYBODY’s charts.

At the equator the days and nights are 12 hours each. Sunset is at the snap of a finger. This place had a magnificent sunset. We all stood, drinks in hand, Seven raised her glass and said, “May the winds of fortune sail with you, May you sail a gentle sea. May it always be the other guy who says, “this drink’s on me.””

Four took a sip and shocked us all when he said, “May you ... Work like you don’t need the money, Love like you’ve never been hurt, Dance like no-one is watching, Screw like it’s being filmed, And drink like a true Irishman.”

And everyone said, “Hear! Hear” and tossed it back.

Two raised her glass and said, “Here’s to birthdays. Birthdays only come once a year. Aren’t we glad we’re not birthdays!” Two has a head of an amazing shade of red hair.

I raised my empty glass, looked forlornly at the bottom and said, “Everybody should believe in something ... I believe I need another drink.”

Seven filled my glass.

“Thank you, Seven,” I sipped and said, “How are the gods this fine evening?”

“Doing well, Surprise. Doing well.”

In the morning ... after what could be called a very ‘wet’ night well past remembrance and recall ... I staggered into the galley and was handed a cup of life. The clink of spoon against ceramic was too loud.

“Seven?” I whispered. “When ... where ... what the fuck?” “OW!”

“Too loud?” Seven said conversationally ... normal volume and decent diction.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Until we make up our mind ... you are dead ... the lot,” she said. “Drowned in the worst Black Sea storm in 1000 years. The Flint will take a week to be found.”