Chapter 6: The Voyage Begins

"Cast off aft!" Brandon called out, then watched as Celeste untied the stern mooring line and began to coil it up for storage in one of the deck lockers.

"Cast off forward!" he yelled to Tracy, who was ready to duplicate her sister-in-law's manoeuvres.

With the Gon Waki 2 now released from the confines of the dock for the last time, that unmistakable purr of the little Yanmar auxiliary diesel became the centre of their sonic world as the three travellers set off for points unknown.

Once clear of the marina, both women headed for the helm and stood beside their Captain as he steered the sloop for the breakwater's opening to the Gulf of Mexico. After passing the manmade barrier, he brought the craft to a heading that would take them across the Gulf in a wide northward sweep before they went through the Yucatan Channel and towards Mexico. There were a few backwards glances from Celeste as she watched the Florida harbour slowly fade in the growing distance.

"Homesick already?" Brandon teased her.

"No, not really," she let him know what was on her mind. "I was just thinking that it'll be a long time before we see that sight again, won't it? Still, it's a little scary for me to be seeing a place that's been home disappearing over the horizon. I keep asking myself if I made a mistake, agreeing to go along with you two on this trip."

"We could always turn around and drop you off if you'd like," Brandon volunteered. "I wouldn't want to be the one that takes you away from somewhere you're comfortable."

"I'd be more uncomfortable staying behind if you two weren't there. No, I'll be fine once I get used to being away from land. I mean, it's not like I haven't lived in a small space before, and this boat's big enough for all three of us. Or have you forgotten our first little trip?"

"Fat chance I'd forget that, Angel. Now, how about you take the helm while Tracy and I hoist canvas?"

It wasn't long before the multi-coloured spinnaker was up and filled, and the boom extended the mainsail almost at right-angles to the hull off the port side. Glancing at the pitometre, Brandon watched as it slowly rose to a reading of seven-point-three knots in reaction to the fifteen knot east wind.

Now with the diesel auxiliary silenced, the true beauty of wind power showed itself off, propelling the yacht in relative peace and quiet. As he made his way back to the aft quarterdeck, Brandon chuckled softly to himself at the sight of Celeste looking over the stern at their wake, as though she wasn't convinced that they were really moving.

Once below at the navigation desk again, the Captain unrolled a chart of the Gulf, then plotted a course that would take them west for two hundred miles before they headed south towards the Yucatan Channel. At their current speed, he estimated that first leg to the pass would take a little over two days.

"Angel, bring us to a course of two-nine-five degrees, and watch yourself when that boom comes across. Let Tracy haul it in first before you change course. She can let it back out after you've come about. I'll be up in a few minutes to set the wind navigator," Brandon called his orders up to the helmsman.

Tracy did as he'd suggested, and when Celeste spun the helm's wheel to swing them left, both women instinctively ducked as the boom swung over their heads. In spite of there being several feet of clearance, the boom's movement was something that instinctively produced a protective reaction. But once it was across the cockpit, Tracy let the mainsail out again, then secured its sheet in a spring cleat.

Going through the GPS readings he had, Brandon set up the electronic indicators that would let him know when to change course again for a leg that would put them at the narrows of the Yucatan Channel, then headed back topside to join the two women.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" he congratulated Celeste.

"Well, my head's still on my shoulders, no thanks to that thing," as she indicated the boom. "But standing here at the wheel for hours at a time could be boring."

"That's why we have the navigator," he informed her. "See that white fin behind you? That keeps us on course by adjusting the rudder as needed. Flip this switch," as he showed her the toggle on the helm's instrument stand, "and you can sit back and relax."

Brandon made a few more trips below to check various instruments, as well as the GPS readings that would let them know if they were on course or not. It was after one of those readings that he returned to the relaxation afforded on deck.

"That's the twelve-mile mark, Pip-squeak," he let Tracy know. "We're officially in International waters."

"Does that mean we can go below and celebrate?" she asked in breathless anticipation.

"What it means is that we don't have to worry about the State of Florida throwing us in jail for the rest of our lives," he corrected her initial impression of the reason behind the announcement.

"What it means," Celeste declared, "is that your brother is now fair game. Should we toss a coin to see who's going to ravish him first?"

"That sounds suspiciously like a threat of mutiny," he informed her, his tone trying to sound authoritative, "which is punishable by the administration of thirty lashes."

"Yes, Sir," Celeste agreed. "I do believe you're right, Sir. Shall I prepare for my punishment, Sir? Now, Sir?"

Brandon broke into gales of laughter at her enthusiasm for his brand of shipboard discipline, but decided to leave it until later that evening. When she found out that her execution would be delayed, Celeste mockingly pouted with disappointment.

"I wonder how many times he can give us those lashes before he tires?" Tracy murmured conspiratorially to her sister-in-law. There was a sly sneer on her face that induced a similar response from Celeste as the two plotted ways to take advantage of their Captain.

With nothing better to do, the three sprawled across the aft deck's gunwale bench seats, enjoying the tranquillity, and the warmth of the sun. Tracy was the first to remove her top, with Celeste following her idea moments later. Their perky breasts provided the Captain with a visual treat that stirred memories of a certain fateful night, months earlier in Turtle Bay. Not to be considered an "old fuddy duddy", he removed not only his shirt, but also his shorts, leaving him in just boxers.

"Show off," his sister proclaimed. "You're just trying to get us to strip naked, aren't you?"

"That wasn't what I was thinking, but it's a delicious idea," he challenged his crew members.

Celeste took up the gauntlet and was naked within moments. Not to be outdone by her sister-in-law, Tracy wiggled out of her shorts, too, then returned to her lounging position as she thrilled at the freedom of being unclothed.

"Come on, Lover," Celeste teased Brandon. "If we can do it, so can you. Or are you afraid of what we might see?"

That was all it took to make the new uniform their dress code while in International waters, and all three found open nudity to be a comfortable alternative to what they'd been used to before that day.

Brandon's stomach rumbled in protest to not being fed, eliciting a sympathetic giggle from Celeste.

"I think we'd better do something about that," she suggested. "Think you can hang in there until I make us something to eat?"

"Under any other circumstances, I'd say no," he moaned in mock discomfort. "But if what you have in mind is anything like that meal you made last night, I'll suffer through."

"Make it something quick, would you, Sis?" Tracy pleaded. "All that racket is ruining my peace and quiet!"

"I'll show you 'ruined' in a minute!" Brandon warned his sister.

"You did that back in Turtle Bay," she snickered, accompanied by a happy smile at the memory. "Mind you, I could use being ruined again."

"Maybe after lunch," he deferred to her suggestive idea. "With the amount that Celeste feeds me, I'll need the exercise."

"Just for that," their chief cook snickered, "you get double portions. That should be a good reason to exercise twice as much! Don't get any ideas that Tracy's the only one you get to work out with. I'm not spending all that time in the galley for the sake of good will, you know!"

"I told you we'd work out something that was of mutual satisfaction, didn't I?" he referred to another conversation on that same voyage. "Did you really think that I'd forget you, Angel? You seem to have found a soft spot in my heart over the last few months."

"More like in your head," Tracy joined her sister-in-law in attacking her brother. "We already know you're hard-hearted. How many times have you given us thirty lashes each? Hmm?"

"Who's counting," Celeste giggled as she made her way below to the galley.

It wasn't long before she returned with hearty sandwiches and the rest of a bottle of wine that they'd opened the previous evening. Tracy was going to go below for glasses, but Celeste insisted that they could all share from the bottle.

"If either one of you has anything infectious, it's too late to worry about it now. And if any of your germs think they can survive in that wine, they're more than welcome to try," she declared. Sit and eat ... before we all go deaf from the noises in Brandon's belly!"

Brandon took a big bite out of one sandwich, then let out a happy hum as the flavour caressed his palette. Tracy followed suit, and echoed her brother's moan of satisfaction of celeste's offering. Their cook react4ed by raising one eyebrow at both of them, then sampled her own cooking.

"You've done it again, Angel," Brandon complimented her after they'd finished eating. "Keep this up and I'll look like a whale before this voyage is over."

"Not after I'm finished exercising you, you won't!" she warned him. "About the best you can hope for is to get out of doing dishes – until just before supper! You're going to be busy until then, me Bucko!"

She was as good as her word, too. Her attack on Brandon's body was assisted by Tracy, who made sure that both her brother and sister-in-law came hard for her. They retaliated by ravishing her until she screamed in delirious ecstasy from orgasm after orgasm.

Between the post-sexual afterglow, his full and satiated stomach, and the gentle rocking and pitching of the Gon Waki 2, Brandon surrendered to the demands of his body for a nap. By the time he woke two hours later, Tracy had relinquished her position on his chest and was standing beside the helm with a pair of binoculars to her eyes, gazing astern as she surveyed the now flat horizon.

"Anything interesting back there, Sis?" he enquired of the studious stance she'd adopted.

"It looks like we've got company. There's a sail about five or six miles behind us that's catching up. Not quickly, but they've probably been back there for a while. I spotted it about an hour ago."

She passed the binoculars to her brother, then waited for his assessment.

"They're smaller than us," he gave his opinion, "and by the looks of it, they'll overtake us in about four or five hours."

Glancing at the pitometre, he saw that the Gon Waki 2 was still making seven and a half knots, which implied that the other boat was probably making somewhere between eight and nine.

Celeste stirred at the sounds of conversation and raised her head to see what was going on.

"Did someone say we have company?" she asked. "Damn, I was going to work on an all-over tan, too. Guess this means I've got to put my 'glad-rags' back on, doesn't it?" her undisguised tone of inconvenience drifted over the aft deck.

"Why?" Brandon wondered. "If they have a problem with our uniforms, let them worry about it. Personally, I kind of like the way yours fits. Let's give them a show, if that's what they want. Besides, who's going to call the 'Morality Police' in International waters and get a response?"

"Aye, aye, Captain," she happily followed his orders, then laid her head down again and went back to her job of soaking up some more of the warm sun.

The afternoon passed lazily, and with each mile put behind them, the three became more and more comfortable in their new surroundings and environment. It was just as Celeste finally stirred to head below to the galley that the marine radio came to life.

"This is the Rendezvous, calling the Gon Waki 2 on marine channel zero niner. Do you read, Gon Waki 2? Over."

"This is the Gon Waki 2," Brandon spoke into the mic in response. "We read you, Rendezvous. Over."

"Roger that, Gon Waki 2. Go to channel zero seven. Over."

Brandon changed channels, then called the Rendezvous to see if they, too were on the alternate frequency.

"There was a boat that looked identical to yours called the Wavelength, out of Naples Florida. Your sistership?" the caller asked.

"Same boat, different name," Brandon informed their caller. "Did you know the Wavelength at all? We have a limited history of her, but if you know anything that will help us get to know her better, we'd appreciate whatever you'll share," he invited a further discussion.

"We chased that yacht all over the Gulf for a few years, when John and Allison Kershaw had it. He loved that boat, too, but when Allison passed away, he lost all interest. You might not have the fastest ship in the Gulf, but I think she'll stand up to anything that Mother Nature will ever throw at you. Where are you heading with her? Over."

"For now, we're heading for the Yucatan, then Grand Cayman, and probably down to Aruba. My crew wants to spend Christmas down there, for some reason. But after that? Who knows. Grenada, maybe, then down the South American coast, around the Horn, and into the Pacific perhaps? We haven't quite decided yet. Over."

"Really?! Are you thinking of circling the globe or something? Over."

"Something like that," Brandon admitted. "I'm making up for all the vacations I've missed over the last fifteen years, and the idea of seeing some of the sights around the globe sounded really appealing. How about you? Where are you off to? Over."

"Compared to you, we're out for a Sunday drive, it sounds like. My wife and I thought we'd take the grand-kids to Cancun for a week, then head back home to Tampa. But if you're going that far, you've got the right boat to do it with. Gawd, I think I envy you. Sure you don't need another couple of crew members? Over."

"Sorry, but I've got all the crew I can handle," Brandon chuckled, not about to divulge the nuances of his statement to anyone. "By the look of it, you'll be sitting on the beaches long before we get to the Yucatan, though. What kind of speed can you make, out of curiosity?"

"We're running just over eight knots, and that's all I'll ever get out of this tub, believe me. I'm surprised that we caught up with you this easily. Have you got the centreboard up? Over."

"No, it's down. I didn't think it would make much difference on a run like this. Why? Over."

"Try pulling it up. John used to get about eight-and-a-half out of that hull with the board up. Most of the time, he found that the double keel was all he needed, unless the current was running real strong. Over."

"We'll do that, and see what happens. While I have your attention, are you going to overtake us soon? You're the first boat we've run with since we left port, and I'm not too sure how this works. Over."

"Unless you pull that board up, we'll pass you on your starboard side within the hour. But in this wind with your board up, we'll never catch you. Maybe we should just run together until we're through the Channel anyway. You can never tell when the Mexicans might have off-shore patrols out. We've never heard of anyone having a problem with them, but there's always safety in numbers, they tell me. Over."

"Patrols? In International waters? Isn't that considered piracy? Over."

"Technically, yes, but they spend their time and efforts chasing smugglers and a few pirates, so no one stops them. If you're clean, they'll either ignore you or give the ship a once-over, then leave. But between drug lords and the slavers, there's enough traffic to keep them busy as hell. Anyway, we'll probably pick up a few more boats between here and the Channel, so if you're interested in joining an armada, you're more than welcome. If we find one, we'll sail with them, too. Over."

"Thank you, Rendezvous. This being our first trip, I think we'll take you up on your offer. But will we slow down everyone else? Over."

"There's two more boats ahead of us about seven or eight miles, that I know about. If it's who I think it is, the best they can make is around six or seven knots. You'll be fine, if you don't mind going a little slow yourself. Over."

"We're in no hurry, but maybe we'll try that little centreboard trick before we get to them. You've got me curious now. I'll call you back when it's up, and we'll see how much of a difference it makes. Gon Waki 2 over and out."

"Roger that, Gon Waki 2. Rendezvous out, and on the side on marine VHF channel zero seven."

Brandon put the mic back in its clip, then turned to see that his crew were looking down the hatchway towards him, their faces full of wonder and intrigue.

"Are the Mexicans allowed to board us in International waters like that?" Celeste enquired.

"Technically, no, but we have nothing to hide, so I'll let them if they ask. Besides, if there's three or four of us running together, what are they going to do? Sink us all? I don't think so. Why? Are you running from something that we should know about?" he ended his answer in a teasing tone.

"Not that I know of," she told him, "but the idea of displaying these new uniforms to a bunch of military guys doesn't do much for me. How long before we have to worry about being boarded?"

"Relax, Angel," he tried to calm her. "We're still almost a day from the Yucatan Channel, and by then, maybe we'll have enough support from other boats that we won't have to worry about it. In the meantime, I'm going to try that centreboard trick they mentioned. Let's see if we can get the Old Girl to fly."

With that, Brandon went to the helm's control console and located the switch that raised and lowered their centreboard. Pulling the extra board up, he kept an eye on the pitometre, and was rewarded by the sight of their speed increasing as the meter showed them now moving at just over eight knots, and still climbing.

"Geez, that really works!" he exclaimed, as Tracy peered over his shoulder and looked as impressed as he felt.

"How much of a difference will that make, though?" she wanted to know.

"It has the potential to add about twenty-five miles of distance to what we can cover in a day, which means that instead of taking a full eight days to go seventeen hundred miles, we might be able to get that down to a little over seven. But that's only when the board's up. The closer to the wind we sail, the more centreboard we might need dropped. It'll depend on what the currents are like, I guess," he did some quick math in his head.

"We're up to almost nine knots," his sister enthusiastically observed, "and it looks like we're leaving that other boat behind! Look at the radar scope. See? They're no longer overtaking us. Wow, I'm impressed!"

"You're also dragging that nipple of yours across my back," he murmured to her lustily, "and it's driving me crazy. I'd send you below for some discipline, but I think we should monitor this for a while. Wouldn't want to have to abandon ship because we were busy with something else, would we?"

"Keep threatening me like that and I'll let the wind spill out of our sails to make it worth my while ... then let Celeste have a crack at you," she lovingly threatened, just before leaning in to flick her tongue around the edge of his ear. "Think she's the only one that might have to take thirty lashes, Captain? Hmm?" she teased him.

"If you two are going to be like that, I think I'll go below and get us something to eat," Celeste admonished the two. "Any preferences?'

"Tell me she's on the menu," Brandon snickered to his sister.

"If she doesn't watch it, she might be dessert!" Tracy joined her brother's lascivious train of thought.

"Perverts!" Celeste labelled them both. "You two couldn't handle me all at once and you know it!"

"Maybe not," Brandon conceded, "but we could sure have fun trying ... couldn't we, Pip-squeak?"

Celeste threw her hands in the air and gave them a look of false indignation, then walked over to where they stood and kissed each one deeply before turning on her heels and heading for the cabin's hatchway.

"I think you got to her," Tracy whispered in his ear. "Even with this much wind, I could smell her arousal ... and by the looks of it, so could you," she referred to Brandon's slowly rising erection.

"This could be more fun than I thought," Brandon snickered in collusion. "I wonder if she likes it in the back door?"

"Sometimes, but not as much as I do. Just keep it up, Goof, and I'll sit on it for you," her lusty comment came back, and was rewarded when she saw his shaft twitch in anticipation. "I said, 'keep it up', not, 'get it up'. You're taking all the challenge out of this, you know," Tracy giggled.

"Oh?" he sounded quizzical. "You mean it's the challenge that causes this?" as he referred to the display of his manhood's current state.

"Brandon, if you don't settle down, I will get Celeste up here to help me ravish your body! Is that what you want?" she threatened hopefully.

"That's exactly what I want, Sis – just not right now. How about after supper? Like, for dessert maybe?" he chuckled suggestively, and got his bare ass smacked for the trouble.

"Is that all men ever think about? Sex?" her imitation tone of irritability came out.

"Yeah, pretty much, when they're with two gorgeous women on a slow boat to China, and on vacation. Why?"

Tracy didn't say anything out loud, but that kiss she gave him let Brandon know that as soon as the sun went down, it could very easily be a night he'd never forget.

Celeste called up that supper was ready, and the siblings headed below to join her. What they were expecting was something simple. What they got looked like a small banquet. Brandon started to give her a light kiss for her troubles and attention, but Celeste had other ideas, and pulling him to her, she smothered him in a passionate kiss that threatened to curl his toes. Only when she finally released him did he get an explanation.

"I heard you two plotting up there," she scolded both of them. "Our first night out and I have all intentions of letting both of you know who's boss in this galley – including who's for dessert. What's the big idea of having a mini-orgy up there and not waiting for me to join in? Oh, the things I have in mind to punish you guys! Something tells me that thirty lashes isn't going to be enough by the time I get done," she lovingly chastised her shipmates.

"Maybe we should have left supper until later," Brandon wondered aloud. "It sounds like we're in deep doo-doo, Sis. You think she'd go so far as to..."

That was as far as he got before the radio came to life again, and Brandon felt a tinge of resentment over the interruption.

"Rendezvous calling the Gon Waki 2. Over," came from the speaker.

"Good timing," Brandon muttered as he escaped Celeste's grip and went to the communications desk to answer.

"Gon Waki 2 here. Go ahead, Rendezvous. Over."

"Listen, if you don't drop that centreboard about twenty-five percent, we'll never catch you. We've been in contact with the Sundancer, about eight miles ahead of us, and they'd like to join our little flotilla. If we don't slow down, we'll overtake them before the sun comes up in the morning, which defeats the purpose of banding together. Can you do that? Over."