An Evening at the Carnival with Mister Christian

"Why? Think I'll need to?"

He chuckled at that one. "You never know. Can you?"

"A little."

"Well, as long as you're comfortable out there, but maybe it's something you'll want to consider later, at least if you feel like diving or snorkeling."

"Okay. You're not mad at me, are you?"

"For what? Not swimming?"

"Yes."

"Of course not."

"I just, you know, never had the opportunity, never even wanted to."

"Okay. It's no big deal."

"Come here," she cooed, and she pulled him close, started rubbing his head. "You need to relax a little, try to rest some."

He settled his head on her lap, tried to close his eyes but to-do lists flashed through his mind's eye, yet her fingers continued probing, pushing through his cares. Her thighs were below and he leaned forward and kissed one, he even nibbled a bit -- until she laughed at his probing.

"Don't stop there," he heard her whisper -- and he didn't...

+++++

Something chirping, a bilge alarm, perhaps...

He opened his eyes, looked at his watch...

0330...? Already?

He curses the soul who'd invented alarm clocks and fumbled about trying to shut off the racket.

"Make it stop," he heard a groan from under the sheets, a hollow voice cracking as she pulled a pillow over her head.

He laughed and climbed out from under the covers, slipped into the shower and rinsed her juices off his face and groin, got dressed and went to the breaker panel and turned off the shower sumps and pumps, then he put on coffee. He turned on the heaters, forcing hot water to run through the engine, in-effect, preheating the engine block. He went topsides and ran the water hose to the tank fill and turned on the water, then below to shut down the electric buses, then back up to disconnect the shore power cord, and Rod was up now, waiting for him.

"Would you coil this up? That and the water hose go in the aft lazarette, along with the fenders."

"I'll take care of 'em."

He went below and powered up the engine start circuit, then started the engine at the pedestal -- setting RPMs to 1200, then jumped back below to light off all the 12volt systems, putting the radar and sonar on stand-by, initializing the GPS and powering up the bow thruster. Back to the cockpit, run sheets to winches and cleats, power to the electric primaries switched to on. Spreader lights, on. Running lights, on. Throttle -- RPM to idle -- steady at 800. Check safety harnesses attached to jack-lines, check bow thruster operation on the joystick.

Deb and Liz came up then -- in shorts and t-shirts.

"You'd better get some fleece on, and a wind breaker," he told them. "Once we get moving this fog will turn to solid water on your clothes." They disappeared below.

"How close are you?" he heard Whit call from the slip beside his own.

"Slip the dock-lines and go. You?"

"'Bout there. What about VHF?"

"Keep on 16, go ship to ship on 72, and if you want me, let's try 73."

"Got it. You take the lead?"

"Okay, but keep your radar on standby until we've got a few hundred yards between us. I don't want to fry any nuts or boobs off."

"Roger that!"

"Rod? Let's cut the springs first, then the bow. I'll hold her off with the thruster, then you pull the stern in and hop on the platform."

"Got it." He caught the mid-ships spring-lines and coiled them off, then the bow line. Once that line was secure Sumner got to the wheel and slipped the transmission to forward, but held off on the power. The bow started drifting right and he countered with the thruster, and when Rod jumped aboard he moved the throttle to 900 RPM and Gemini moved forward gently, then she was free of the slip and out into the marina's causeway. Rod was securing lines and pulling fenders aboard when the girls came up again...

"We're moving!" Deb squealed.

"We are, indeed," Collins replied. "Stay in here for the time being. If you go over on this fog it might be hard to find you."

"How can you tell where you're going?" Liz asked when she got up into the cockpit.

"Take a look," Sumner said, pointing at the 'chartplotter'. "See this little red symbol? That's us."

"Looks like a map..." she said.

"That's right, a nautical chart. We move on the chart, just like a GPS in your car, only I'm overlaying radar information onto the chart so I can see all the ships around us. We're at the end of the pier here, and we'll start our turn to the right...about...now!...and there's the breakwater right ahead. The buoys show up on the chart and the radar, and we'll follow the channel through this S-turn, then out to the main channel..."

"This is so cool!" Liz said. "Think I could try sometime?"

"Come on," he said, moving out from behind the wheel.

Her eyes went wide... "I didn't mean...right now?!"

"That's okay. Take it." She stood behind the wheel and held it tentatively. "It's okay, make easy movements. Turn the wheel left and you go left...it'll just feel heavier than what you're used to in a car..."

"You can feel the water through the wheel...this is so weird!"

"That's the flow of water over the rudder." He looked at the chart, cross-checked his position against sonar and the depth sounder. "Rod? Check the lights up front, would you?"

Rod shot him a thumbs-up from the pulpit, and Collins was surprised how thick the fog was -- he could barely see him up there and he turned around, saw Whittington had tucked in just a few meters off their port quarter.

"Okay Liz, I'll take it 'til we're free of the fog, then you can steer all you want."

"Cool...thanks."

"He's pretty close, don't you think?" Rod asked when he got back to the cockpit.

"Yup. With this fog..."

"Okay. We clear of the breakwater yet?"

"Almost. You better get some coffee."

"Right. You want something?"

He nodded... "Yup, coffee and a scone."

"I'll get it," Deb said, and she and Liz slipped below.

"This stuff is thick," Rod said. "Even for here."

"Thickest I've ever seen...take it, would you? One four three degrees."

"Got it."

Collins went to the main and unfurled it about half way, then cleated it off as Deb handed him his cup. "Just in the knick of time...Wow...getting chilly, isn't it?"

Deb just shook her head. "Glad you kept the heat on. Mind if we stay down here for a while?"

"Nope." He took Rod's cup from her and passed it on. "You still got it?"

"Yup. This display is awesome!"

"Yeah, everything right there. Good situational awareness."

"Damn! I love it!"

"Yeah, slicker than eel snot..." Deb passed him a scone and he went aft -- ate the thing in about three bites. Whittington waved at him, shot him a thumbs up and he returned it, then he jumped down into the lazarette and checked that everything was secure. When he got back on deck he walked the rail, checked that all lines were secure before heading aft again.

"Okay, I got it," he said as he hopped back into the cockpit, and he sipped coffee until they passed the last channel buoy, then he steadied up on 183 magnetic and engaged the autopilot. "All over but the shouting," he said to Rod.

"You make it look pretty easy."

"Done it a few times. It might be easy, but it's never routine."

"Expect the unexpected," Rod said.

"That, yeah, and the critical widget that breaks at just the wrong time, or the bearded-hairy that roars by in his surrogate penis at forty knots. There's always another Crazy Eddy right around the next bend in the road," he said as he pulled out his logbook and began his first entry of the day...

+++++

[Log entry SailingVessel Gemini: 18 October, 0439 hrs GMT, Tuesday morning.

COG:183degreesMag <.1varE on AP;

SOG:5.9kts;

Temp: 44F;

Winds: light and variable in fog, viz 15meters;

Barometer 29.35 steady since 0330 hrs;

GPS: N50.48.23 W0.06.87.

Departing Brighton Marina Village on the slack, Isle of Wight, 41nmi/257magnetic; now approx 94 nmi to Seine estuary. Forecast: winds light and variable through midday, fog through 0930hrs, no storms in forecast. English Channel shipping lane traffic separation scheme in effect, zero traffic into/out of Southhampton/Portsmouth/Solent at this time, two radar contacts in the channel east of us, moving west.]

+++++

"You keep a log?"

"Have to; it's a legal requirement. If you're in a collision or accident of some sort and don't have one? I'd hate to think of the consequences. Besides, what if you lose all your electronics? I'll start running a plot on paper down below in just a minute."

"I saw the chart down there. You mark right on it, huh?"

"Yup. Try to update it every hour, more often when close to shore."

"It's a shame no one does celestial anymore..."

"Oh? Well, I still do. At least a noon site every now and then, just for practice, and to double check the GPS."

"You have a sextant onboard?"

"Can't do celestial without one, Rod."

"Shit...sorry. Could you teach me?"

"I've got a couple of books you should read first, but sure. It's not as hard as you think."

"You know, I just wanted to thank you for bringing us along. This is kind of a dream come true thing for me."

"My pleasure. It is for a lot of people, but I hope more people would get out here. It's a helluva way to live, to see the world, to understand people better." He turned around, made sure Whittington was still tucked in close. "Okay, you take it. Autopilot engaged, just make sure it doesn't disengage or go haywire. I'm going to start the plot."

"Got it. 183 magnetic?"

"Yup." He dashed below, found the girls in the galley making sandwiches of some sort and he penciled in the data he wanted on the chart, then went back and sat beside the wheel.

"Something on radar, popping in and out," Rod said.

Collins went to the chartplotter and flipped into radar mode and moved the onscreen cursor to the target. "Okay, just under a mile, closing on an intercept course at nineteen knots." He picked up the radio, confirmed he was on 16 then transmitted in the blind: "Sailing vessel Gemini departing Brighton marina heading 1-8-3, calling vessel approaching on heading 2-8-5..."

"Gemini, Gemini, Her Majesty's Coast Guard, we'll be alongside in a moment, hold present course and speed."

"Gemini received, holding 1-8-3, speed 6 knots." He switched to 73. "Gemini to Aphrodite, did you copy Coast Guard intentions?"

"Roger, Gemini. What do you want me to do?"

"Maintain visual contact, let the coasties see us together when they come alongside."

"Roger that, switching to 16. Out."

"Gemini, out."

"What's this about, I wonder," Rod said. "Kind of dangerous, don't you think?"

"Not really. With all the migrant smuggling going on, I'd imagine their patrols try to take account that smugglers like to work in the fog. Not to mention anti-terrorism patrols. I was boarded approaching Cork, rough seas too. Okay, they're about here..."

He looked into the fog at about their ten o'clock and saw a little shift in the fog, and a large, rigid-hulled inflatable appeared when only about 10 meters off. The craft maneuvered into position and two men jumped aboard, one carrying a machine gun of some sort.

"Skipper?" The lead man said.

"Here," Collins said.

"Sorry about this, but we've recent reports several small craft are coming from Calais, carrying refuges and such. We're conducting routine safety inspections."

"Understood, sir. Two women below, in the galley. Just the skipper on Aphrodite," he said, pointing at Whittington's boat. "Need coffee?"

"No thank you, Captain. Destination today?"

"France, Honfleur."

"Papers?"

"Let's go below." He led the coastie below while the other stood at the rail, his gun at the ready. At the chart table he pulled out a binder with all ships papers at the ready, along with the boarding report the Irish Coast Guard had given him.

The coastie looked it over, flipping through the pages quickly, professionally. "Passport, Captain?"

"Yup, here you go."

"Thanks, skipper. Mind if I have a look around?"

"Feel free. Sure you don't want some coffee?"

He grinned. "Maybe just a small cup?"

Deb got it going, handed the cup to the seaman.

"Thanks," he said. "Nasty out this morning."

"Think your mate needs a cup?"

"Duncan? Coffee?" The machine gunner came to the companionway.

"Please! It's foul out, right cold now."

"Is a lot of smuggling going on?" Deb asked.

"Yes m'am...nonstop the last few months. Guns too, troublingly."

His radio came to life. "Green two, sitrep."

"Two here, clear in about a minute, Gold-one."

"Gold-one received."

"That means you're clean," he said, smiling. "We'll, thanks for the warm-up. Back to it."

Collins followed them out to the rail, and when their inflatable came close again they jumped across.

"Be safe, skipper!" the coastie called out. "Good day!"

"You too!" Collins saluted and they were off, disappearing within the mist in seconds.

"What did he look at below?" Rod asked.

"Well, the log, for starters," Collins smiled, "then ship's papers and such." He looked at the coasties' boat as it zipped across the radar screen, then cut back to chart/radar overlay mode. Whittington was still at the wheel, and he called him on 16, asked him to switch to 73.

"Aphrodite, go ahead."

"How you doing? Need to take a break?"

"I do, but how do you want to go about this?"

"Pull alongside, I'll hop over. Need coffee?"

"Yes, I'm freezing."

"Okay."

Collins rolled back the throttle and Whittington pulled alongside; he grabbed a portable VHF then went to the rail and hopped over, went to Whittington. His teeth were chattering and he looked grim. "Can you make the jump over to Gemini? Got the heat on below and coffee in the pot."

"Jesus, I hope so," he stuttered. "It's 41 degrees out now, seems to be getting fucking colder by the minute!"

"Hop over, take your time."

"Thanks, mate."

Collins got close abeam and Whit made the jump with no trouble, both glad the seas were mirror smooth. He concentrated keeping just off Gemini's quarter, found it more challenging than he'd imagined, and time passed slowly. A half hour later Whittington waved and Collins came back alongside, this second transfer equally uneventful.

"We're clear of shore," Collins said. "You want to break apart a bit?"

"No, I'd as soon stay in close, in case Deb's scones come out as good as they smell!"

"She baking again?"

"It's heaven down there, Sumner. God, she makes me rethink the whole marriage thing. You're a lucky bloke, I hope you know!"

Collins smiled. "We'll send you over some fresh ones."

"Bless you!"

Collins made the leap and went below. "Dear God! What are you cooking now?!"

"Just a quiche. Want some?"

"Just a quiche?! You're destroying my routine...tuna salad on crackers for breakfast!"

"Ugh!"

"Whit says you're making him rethink marriage."

"Did he now?"

"I can see why, darlin'. You're amazing!" She came over and kissed him...

"Another radar contact, Sumner!"

"Playing my tune. Sorry." He went up to the wheel, flipped screens and ran out the EBL. "Okay, two miles, course 0-5-0, speed 12. Huge return, looks like a tanker or freighter." He bracketed the target and flipped on ARPA, got their CPA, or closet point of approach and saw they'd pass astern of the vessel -- but only by a few hundred yards -- so he altered course to starboard 15 degrees. "Why don't you go below, warm up a bit."

"Gladly!"

Collins checked the time...0600 now...he flipped back to chart overlay mode and did a quick calculation of their ETA in France...well after dark, so they'd have to tie up to the outer mole, wait to lock into the inner harbor tomorrow morning.

There was a channel marker coming up and he altered course more to the west to pass close enough for a visual confirmation, then started looking for it...and that's when he saw her...

He went to the companionway and whispered down to Deb. "She's back," he said. "Come up quietly."

Everyone tip-toed into the cockpit and looked off the starboard rail.

The markings under her eye, the easy, calm motion.

He went to the rail and sat looking at her, their communion absolute now. He wanted to dive in, swim with her and hold her, to welcome her the only way he knew how, but maybe this was the way she knew, maybe he just had to be content to enjoy her from afar. Still, he found himself wanting to know her better, somehow...he just didn't know how to bridge the gap. No one did, he guessed.

She came closer for a moment, swimming on her side at bit, extending her left pectoral, and he leaned down, reached for her hand...

'Are you reading my mind?' he thought. Or did she know what he was feeling? Is it in our eyes? Do our souls connect there?

She broke contact and dove deep, out of sight -- and suddenly he felt bereft again...knew she was gone, that she had been saying goodbye. He got up on his knees, looked for her...but no...there was little point now and he knew it. Climbing into the cockpit hit checked the plot of that target on the screen, but he moved with sullen stillness gripping his heart.

"Take it, would you?" he asked Rod, and everyone moved out of his way as he went below; he found Charley curled-up in her little nest and sighed. He didn't want to disturb her but gently cupped her in his hand and carried her up to his face. He looked into her eyes, lost in the mystery he thought he understood, not in the least aware of how close to the truth he really was, and she licked his chin while she looked at him.

"Do you understand me yet," he asked her. "Will you ever."

He felt Deborah at his side and turned to her, keeping Charley close all the while.

"That felt strangely like a goodbye," she said.

"It was."

She put her head on his chest, her face next to Charley's, and she was suddenly aware how intently the pup was staring at Sumner, and for a moment she thought she understood. It was like there was an opening in the clouds and in that sudden, blinding moment she could see the future.

There were dark clouds ahead, storms she could scarcely imagine, but he was there too.

And the quiet piping of a calliope, playing the music of an evening's walk through the carnival. She listened to the music, and wondered where it was taking them.

+++++

[Log entry SailingVessel Gemini: 18 October, 1700 hrs GMT, Tuesday afternoon.

COG:182degreesMag <.1varE, on AP;

SOG: 4.2 kts;

Temp: 59F;

Winds: light and variable, viz unlimited +15nmi;

Barometer 29.92 steady since 1300 hrs;

GPS: N49.58.06 W0.15.55.

Approaching Seine Estuary, seas still glassy calm. Aphrodite/Whittington now trailing 2nmi, engine trouble continues, he can make 1500 RPM without overheating, and his autopilot ram failed. Helped Paul change impeller but I think the heat exchanger is internally corroded - 15 year old engine. Volvo and SimRad parts in Le Havre so will dock there, check on pulling the mast. Still barely enough wind to fill the main. Can see smog over the city of Le Havre but little else, still 36 miles off the entrance channel. Liz steering last two hours.]

+++++

Collins looked aft, at Aphrodite struggling to keep up, thinking it about time to set up their approach to Le Havre. At four knots they were still nine hours out; dropping down to three knots would put their arrival closer to sunrise, around 0500, an all-around much safer course of action with a balky motor. He got on the VHF, asked Whittington to go to 73.