Sharon Hartley - Stranded With The Captain

“Oh, please don’t mention food,” Debbie said with a groan. “Cat tried to make me puke with her bacon and eggs at the crack of dawn.”

“Are you sick?” Javi asked.

“Nothing that a little hair of the dog won’t cure.” Debbie downed the rest of the pale yellow liquid in her glass, and poured more champagne from the bottle.

“We’ve got aspirin on board if you need it,” Javi offered.

“I’m fine,” Debbie said, settling back against the seat with her flute.

“Would you like some champagne?” Joan asked.

“No thanks,” Javi said.

“There’s plenty of food left if you’d like something to eat,” Irish said, indicating a covered skillet on the stove.

“Thanks,” Javi said. “That would be great.”

He scooped scrambled eggs, a couple of slices of bacon and a piece of cold toast onto a plastic plate, then leaned against the counter to eat, watching the women, who fell silent with furtive glances at each other.

Something was definitely going on with the three of them. They’d been in a heated discussion, but immediately clammed up when he’d entered the galley. Maybe the other two were concerned about the blonde’s drinking and didn’t want him to know. The glasses in front of Joan and Cat were still half-full.

Not his problem.

When finished with breakfast, Javi cleaned his plate and put it back in the cupboard. The contract stipulated the charterers keep the galley clean. Should he say something or wait and see what happened? He’d wait. These were grown women, and he wasn’t their father.

“Are you ladies ready to go sailing?” he asked.

“Yes,” Irish and Joan said simultaneously.

Debbie shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Javi nodded. “Good. I want to get started while the tide is still high. Let me go over a few safety procedures first.”

“We have a request,” Debbie said.

Something in the blonde’s tone lit up Javi’s radar. Sensing trouble, he said, “We aim to please. What’s up?”

“We want to go to Bimini.”

“Bimini?” Javi repeated, emphasizing each syllable.

Gazing expectantly at him, all three women nodded in agreement.

Of all the things he’d feared, he never expected a request for a trip to the Bahamas. Doable, of course, but not on a charter with two novices.

“Bad idea,” Javi said. “Bimini is a fifteen-hour sail.”

“We heard about a great anchorage called Gun Cay,” Irish said. “Do you know it?”

“Yes,” Javi said. “Where did you hear about Gun Cay?”

“Some guys we met last night,” Joan said. “They raved about how beautiful and serene it is.”

“Is it as wonderful as they said?” Cat asked.

Javi nodded. “Definitely a primo anchorage, but you’ll use up a lot of your time on the boat getting there and back instead of relaxing. Is that what you want?”

“Sounds perfect,” Debbie said. “Cat wants to learn to sail. She and Joan can help you while I lay out on deck and drink.”

Javi smiled at Debbie. You just think that’s what will happen. “It will be an uncomfortable passage. The wind is out of the north, the leading edge of a front, so it’ll kick up the Gulf Stream and we’ll have to beat the whole trip.” He looked to Joan for confirmation.

“Beat?” Cat asked.

“Sail into the wind,” Javi answered. “Because of that, we’ll be heeled over, and it’ll get rough in the ’Stream.”

“Heeled over?” Joan asked.

Javi stared at her. “I thought you were the sailor.”

“Hobie Cats,” Joan said. “Sailing a Hobie is such a rush.”

“No question,” Javi agreed.

So Joan sailed a small, two-hulled catamaran built for speed, fun and short day sails with no cabin. She knew the basics of sailing, but had no clue about life on a monohulled charter boat.

Great. Make that three novices.

“You know how Hobies sail up on one pontoon?” Javi asked.

Joan nodded. “That’s when it’s really exciting. It’s like you’re flying.”

“Same idea. Imagine we’re under sail and this cabin is tipped over at a thirty-degree angle.” Javi demonstrated by holding his hand level, then slanting it one side. “The heeling is because of the action of the wind on the sails.”

“But we won’t flip over?” Irish asked.

“No. There’s a several ton keel below the hull that acts as a counterbalance, but it’s hard to move around without falling, much less use the head—the bathroom. Plus, Bimini is in a foreign country, so we need to clear customs. That means we have to wait to leave so we arrive during daylight. You’ll lose today.”

“Fine by me,” Debbie said. “I can go back to bed. Joan and Cat can go shopping.”

Irish nibbled on her bottom lip, looking doubtful.

“Or we could go out for a sail this afternoon,” Joan said. “You know, like a shakedown cruise.”

“Do you have your passports?” Javi asked.

“We brought them just in case,” Debbie said.

Of course you did. Javi scowled. He’d hoped a lack of passports would end the discussion. “There’s also an arrival fee that you’ll have to cover.”

“The guys mentioned that last night,” Joan said. “We’ll pay it.”

“And remember we’ll be sailing for fifteen hours, most of the time in the dark.”

Debbie lifted her chin. “Sounds like fun.”

Javi knew that tone of voice. Stubborn. She wanted to go, and no amount of common sense persuasion would talk her out of it.

“The sail over might not be such fun,” he said, nodding at Irish, who seemed the most cautious of the three.

She glanced at Debbie, and then back to him. “Is it safe? I mean, we wouldn’t be in any danger of getting lost at sea, would we?”

“I can’t make any guarantees,” Javi said, needing to talk these three sirens out of this idea. “Something could always go wrong—equipment failure, unexpected weather. That’s in the contract that you signed. And there’s always the possibility of getting sick in rough seas.” Or make that the likelihood.

“I never get seasick,” Joan proclaimed. “And something could break even if we stay in the Keys.”

“Repairs are easy when we’re close to land.”

“Is there something wrong with the boat?” Debbie demanded.

“Not at all,” Javi said. “Spree is totally sound.”

“Aren’t the Bahamas an option on the website?” Joan asked.

“Yes,” Javi admitted.

“Have you made the sail before?” Irish asked.

“I think our hero is afraid of making the trip,” Debbie said before he could answer.

Javi sighed. “What I’m afraid of is it won’t be an enjoyable vacation. I’ve crossed the ’Stream against a norther many times, and can handle the sail.” Single-handed if necessary, which it practically will be.

“Experienced cruisers usually wait for the wind to shift to make the crossing. You don’t have that kind of time.”

“I still say it sounds like fun,” Debbie said. “And I need some fun.”

“Are you sure?” Irish asked.

“Come on, guys,” Debbie said. “You bullied me into this holiday to cheer me up, to do something different.” She raised her flute into the air. “So let’s do something different.”

“What do you say, Joan?” Irish asked.

Joan shrugged. “If it’s as thrilling as flying a Hobie, I say we definitely go for it.”

“I can’t talk you out of it?” Javi asked.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Irish said.

Javi nodded, knowing he’d lost the battle, that he hadn’t painted an ugly enough picture of what they’d be up against.

He could refuse to take them, but that would make the coming week more than miserable for all four of them, plus result in a bad review online. And Marlin did list the Bahamas as an option in his charter brochure. They were within their rights to ask for Gun Cay even if he thought it was a horrible idea.