Chapter 35

The laughter infuriated her. Although she had, without a single twist of her arm, with absolutely zero coercion, totally her own impulse, put herself in the position of hangover city ... this had to be someone else's fault. Grasping at straws her mind fell upon that simple request of Davids ... she recalled it imperfectly ... but it was there.

Geoff said, cryptically. "Drink?" and David said, "Glenmorangie, straight. Andrea?" She had replied, "Must I?"

Andrea? ... there it was ... that question that put her in this condition. She would have been completely satisfied with water. She deliberately left out that part of the conversation; I suppose I must. She had said that.

"Where are we, David?"

"Almost to Sarnia, why?"

"Can we stop?"

"I suppose."

"This infernal racket is driving me insane," she said.

"Racket?"

She pointed at the rigging ... every few minutes or so, one of the lines contacted the mast ... there was an infinitesimal 'ting'. She pointed at the water ... it was slapping against the bow ... the wake gurgled. A gull flew over head ... it screeched ... she winced... "Racket." Andrea then looked at the crew. They were going about the general day to day cleaning ... a polish soaked rag squeaked as it was wiped against a bit of brass. "You've got them wearing hobnailed boots." The crew was in deck-shoes. "Please, David. If you love me ... stop. I'm dying here." She moved an arm and her survival suit flapped ... she threw her hands to her ears...

David looked at Andy..."Hungover?"

"Oh God!"

The boat rose on a freighter wake and tilted forward as it passed ... another wake ... and another. Andrea, she who braved the seas under the Bridge ... the one who had no problems with motion all her life ... dashed for the side and made a purple offering to the gods of the sea.

Purple?

Cranberry juice and stomach acid ... purple.

It is almost impossible to write the sounds of the violently ill ... she produced every single one of them.

Just then, as she was in the mortal fear of leaving her 'intestinal fortitude' in the wake, the engine room vents SLAM open and the blowers WHINE.

Two minutes later the diesels THUNDER as the starters GRIND ... one at a time ... to deliberately prolong her agony.

After that the sails automatic winders retract them with various cannon SHOTS and canvas SLAPS.

The rigging BANGS against the hollow mast ... Andrea is thoroughly unhappy.

The wake of the freighter was passed again and the staggering climb up the tall waves caused her to stumble and grasped the lifelines. David HOLLERED at the Twins and motioned at the wheel. They threw caution to the winds and came STOMPING back from the bow. An aluminum boat makes much more noise than a 'glass' boat ... aluminum echoes.

The Twins take over the wheel ... there was a certain amount of necessary SHOUTING as the course and general instructions were passed. David crossed to Andrea and picked her up, cradling her in his arms and headed below.

The coup d'état and its final bullet came when a Lake Boat objected violently to the Kings Knight crossing her bow ... missing by as much as a hundred feet ... the freighter blew her horn. Aluminum hulls echo.