Chapter 11

The skipper and crew of Serendipity were cheerful at breakfast. I don't know, and didn't ask, but I suspected that Bridget and Eric, not yet married, had to be more discreet in their relationship than if they lived in, say, London. Certainly they both were very happy. Me? Sure, I was very happy too. Grace? She was glowing. She looked at Bridget and when their eyes met, they giggled and blushed. I looked at Eric; he shrugged, but smiled too. I was already smiling and if I'd smiled any wider I'd be in need of a cosmetic surgeon. We weren't especially early, but then, there was no great rush.

Their church meeting was not the same as the previous week. Bridget had explained that they didn't usually plan their meetings and took turns in co-ordinating them, but on that occasion there were two visitors (other than Grace and myself) who had been invited to lead. The singing and praying were again in Gaelic; quite as powerful as before, for all we could not understand the words ... but the couple, Maeve and Patrick (Irish, what else?) spoke in English.

"I had intended to speak of the End Times," Patrick began, "but this morning we both felt God has a different message for us today – to two here, in especial. Maeve?"

Maeve began to read from the Bible – Paul's first letter to the Corinthians, Chapter thirteen. You'd recognise the words because they're usually read at weddings. You know, 'Love is patient, love is kind... ' and the rest. At the end of the passage, she said a few words of prayer – in Irish Gaelic, so I'm told – and paused, as if listening. "The way of love can be costly and hard," she said, eventually. "It can mean loving someone who is unlovable; it can mean freeing someone we wish to keep close..."

She paused and Patrick picked up without hesitation, "Or holding someone close we wish to set free. But God is not cruel and He will put in our hearts the love that we need in order to obey His command..."

They carried on like that for perhaps ten minutes, until Maeve said, "As I said earlier, this is a message for all of us, but especially for two here today. You are fighting the love that God has put in your hearts. If you wish to be happy, you must soon surrender your fears, know that your love is ordained, and recognise one another as your complement in this life and the next."

At the end, we gratefully returned Maisie's key to Fergus and the four of us made our way back to Serendipity. Bridget went below – eschewing our help – to boil the kettle and make sandwiches. Grace, Eric and I were thus able to make Serendipity ready to get underway, cast off and head out to sea, with Grace at the wheel. Clear of the harbour, we turned into the wind to hoist the sails. At least, Eric hoisted the mainsail and Bridget the mizzen. Grace released the furling line on the staysail. I was permitted to watch as Grace bore away and trimmed the sails in the quartering south-westerly moderate breeze. Thus we headed north for half an hour or so (as Bridget and Eric ate their lunch) before turning east-south-east into 'The String' between Shapinsay and Car Ness; that needed a gybe to put us on starboard tack. Grace could not have done better, giving the commands 'as to the manner born' while Grace and Bridget trimmed the sheets. Serendipity had never moved better. Bridget relieved Grace at the wheel so she and I could eat our sandwiches together. When we'd finished, Grace sat with my arm round her shoulders and we looked out at the sea, watching Arctic Terns, Guillemots, Razorbills and Puffins.

We were on that course for just over an hour, then turned north-by-north-east for Stronsay, which required another gybe. Grace took over at the wheel again, but insisted I sit next to her. Bridget and Eric disappeared below. I'm fairly sure I heard some odd noises emanating from the skylight over their cabin. In the middle of Stronsay Firth, we saw several Gannets doing their arrow-dives into the sea, those beautiful, amazing birds.

With the wind just a little off dead astern, we were only making a little less than four knots, so it was more than two hours into the Bay of Holland, on Stronsay, where we had planned to anchor for the night. We made it a short leg to avoid a night passage and to permit us a good night's sleep. As we were all settled and safe by five in the afternoon, it meant we could have a good, hot, supper and an early night, which met with approval from all of us.

Stronsay is a lovely island, but Grace was more interested in Sanday, which offered more in the way of archaeological interest. So we made an early start on Monday for an eight hour passage; south to clear the bay, then east through Auskerry sound, then north-north-east for Start Point on Sanday. We actually had to beat in to our sheltered anchorage in Otterswick. I was a spare part...

We ate supper in the cockpit once more, watching the seals – grey and common – that frequent the bay as well as other shores around the islands, and wading birds on the margins of the water. Sadly I can never pick out the subtle differences between the species, so all I can say is that there were a lot of them and the air was filled with the raucous cries of the gulls and the assorted pipings of the waders.

I felt there was no need for an anchor-watch and Eric agreed, "Though," he said, "if you're like me the slightest sound out of the ordinary and you'll be up to see what it is. The weather is settled and this bay is sheltered."

Of course, we both had a powerful incentive to head for bed.

Eric put us ashore in the morning; we each took a bag with a couple of changes of clothes. Eric said he was happy to stay with Bridget to look after Serendipity, "Though", he smiled, "We might land for an hour or so for a walk."

We walked a mile or so to Broughtown, and found a pleasant-looking bed-and-breakfast. I gave our names as Mister and Missus Quinton; Mrs Guthrie, the proprietress glanced at Grace's left hand, but made no comment, though she raised an eyebrow when Grace asked about vegetarian food.

"I'm happy with fish and dairy food," Grace added, and Mrs. Guthrie nodded.

"I can do that fine," she said.

It was a short walk to 'Ness of Brough', the site of a couple of barrows – burial mounds – where we sat to eat our picnic and look out over the sea. I thought the word was pronounced 'bruff' as it is in England, but apparently it rhymes with 'loch' and is derived from 'Broch' which is the word for some odd, ancient, circular stone buildings found all over Scotland. Anyway, the mounds were supposedly Viking, but one of them was excavated by 'Time Team' for Channel 4, and was found to be pre-historic.

Back at Mrs. Guthrie's, after supper, Grace insisted on showering with me. In fact, I overheard her telling Mrs. Guthrie that 'her husband' (me!) had not long before had an operation and needed supervision in the shower. Well, I suppose it was an excuse. The shower was a little cramped, obviously not intended to be occupied by more than one person, but neither of us was large. It was a first for me; well, there's no shower in Serendipity, of course, and communal showers tend to be segregated. Showering with a sexy woman is fun.

And our love-making – or my part in it – progressed too. Grace had me spooned behind her, entering her from behind. I quite liked it, as it gave my hands plenty of scope to wander and Grace could help her orgasm along with her fingers. It was good to be able to move a bit myself instead of letting her do all the work. Not that I was complaining about the way she'd looked after me.

Over the next couple of days, courtesy of Mrs. Guthrie's husband, who loaned us an ancient Morris van, we explored the history of Sanday; Tofts Ness – prehistoric burial mounds, five hundred of them – up in the north of the island, would have liked to visit Tresness, but it was a long walk; in short, we travelled around and soaked up the ambience during the day, and in the evening ate enormous, delicious suppers, showered and made love ... quietly.

On Friday, we left Mrs. Guthrie and walked back towards Otterswick, to be picked up by Eric in the tender and returned to Serendipity. The sky was a curious colour and I felt uncomfortable. I said as much to Eric, who looked at me curiously.

"Got a feeling, Skipper?"

I looked back at him and frowned. "Yes."

"Well, so had I," he paused, "and looked at the barometer. It's been dropping like a stone. There's no gale warning, but I laid out the kedge first thing this morning."

(The kedge anchor is a sort of 'spare' anchor, usually lighter than the bower or main anchor, used sometimes laid from a small boat, to pull a boat off that is aground which, logically enough, is called 'kedging off'. But it is also used to augment the main anchor when there is a danger of high winds, laid at an angle to the other.)