Welcome! To another of my Sample Sunday Blog Posts. Last Sunday, as a group we had a huge audience following us. Again, I have posted another chapter here from my exciting novel, The Crossing. Remember The Crossing is available in either Kindle format or paperback form  from Amazon. You can click on the link on my home page.
Thank you for your valued interest and also for taking the time to read this excerpt. Enjoy it!

                                                Chapter 3. The Atlantic!

 
The morning dawned on Ellentari, and on deck the excitement was palpable. Nobody had slept much and one by one, they had risen and dressed within ten minutes of each other. Gathered on deck, a moist November wind ruffled Connie’s hair. She looked alert and full of energy despite only about five hours sleep.

‘I couldn’t sleep, I’m too excited I suppose.’

She smiled at Toby as he came and stood next to her on deck.

‘Me too. I thought I’d make some tea and sit on deck until the sun rose. Like some?’ he asked.

 She nodded. Toby climbed down below to the galley and filled the kettle. The slight phut and smell of camping-gas rose from below decks. Galley sounds reached Connie: mugs rattling and the fridge box door being opened and closed.

Richard walked along the deck and stood at the front of the yacht. The tapering bow was gently rising and falling with the motion of the teal-coloured water. He gazed out in the direction of the harbour wall entrance and paused, to lean against the stainless steel guard rail. A salty, fishy smell wafted up to him from where the water sucked and gurgled. After a few minutes, he walked softly back to the cockpit and looked at Connie and smiled, the skin crinkling around his blue eyes. He was so excited; he could hardly catch his breath.

‘Well today’s the big day.’

She smiled back and hugging herself, shivered slightly. ‘I feel just like a child at Christmas. You know getting up early before anyone else has stirred, and knowing that today was going to be very special. Nobody else was up as early as me, except Daddy, and he and I would sit and drink tea – mine was very milky. We would sit and whisper with our toes turned to the fire that he would relight. We ate chocolate biscuits, a special treat then, and waited until the other sleepy heads woke up and started screeching ‘Merry Christmas’!’

Richard was surprised at this picture of her early childhood. She was always a very reserved private person, sometimes almost superficial. Her eyes glowed warmly in the half-light and she looked up at the lightening sky, neck outstretched long and tanned. She was quite pretty in an unusual way and her smile never failed to make him feel good even after their fourteen years together.

‘Tea’s up. Who’s for a bacon sandwich then? I’m making,’ Toby reappeared with three steaming mugs and broke into their moment.

‘Thanks,’ said Richard. ‘It’s a good idea to have breakfast now. We’ll do a few last minute safety checks and ease her out from her berth. No wind to speak of, so it should be dead easy.’

***

The engine coughed into life and gently rumbled as Richard took the wheel. Toby and Connie eased the mooring lines and stood ready to fend off if the wind caught her. Richard drove her out of her berth and Ellentari slipped from the Santa Cruz marina and ghosted out beyond the harbour walls. The familiar chug of the seventy-five horse power diesel engine had rebounded loudly in the marina confines until they were clear and able to set her sails. Coasting along in the gentle early morning breeze they swiftly brought in and stored the fenders and mooring lines in deep deck lazarettes.

‘You do realise that we won’t need those for another two to three weeks don’t you?’

‘English Harbour, Antigua, West Indies, first stop!’ they all chorused together. Tenerife to Antigua, nearly three thousand nautical miles as the seagull flies. How exciting!

Within hours the crew of Ellentari were experiencing the Atlantic at its best. A dark indigo-blue sea with the slightest of swells was gently buffeting the starboard quarter.Thereafter each day the sun rose not long after the pearly dawn. A glimmering ball of seemingly dripping gold casting its long reaches across the sea. Sea birds had followed them until they were too far from land and now they only saw the occasional wing above the little crested waves, dipping and gliding above the surface hunting for a glimpse of moving silver. The days became hot, the decks smelling that beautiful warm smell of clean wood reminiscent of a sauna room. They were happy, relaxed and settling down to shipboard routine.

They knew the voyage could take them anything up to a month depending on the wind and sea conditions.

 As far as Richard was concerned the boat was as near perfect as she was ever going to be. Everything that he could think of had been serviced, checked and replaced where necessary. Richard knew that he was quite a taskmaster and anyone who didn’t realise the importance of good planning and preparation would even consider him pedantic. However, he was not concerned with what anyone thought of his running of his yacht. Richard had taken delivery of a new life raft, plenty of emergency flares, both short and long wave radios, and a special receiver for weather forecasts. He had also invested in a satellite telephone and an EPIRB that would flash their latitude and longitude position if activated in an emergency. Heaven forbid, he thought that they would need any of this equipment but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Ellentari was a forty-five foot sloop with a deep fin-keel. Her hull was white with a double blue stripe running along under the toe-rail and the rigorous sea tests had pronounced her as a well-found yacht and extremely comfortable to sail and live onboard.

Now Tenerife was far behind and they had quickly settled down to shipboard routine. The conditions were kind; cloudless sunny days not yet too scorchingly hot, balmy soft-aired nights spent watching the amazing Milky Way with its numerous shooting stars. They had good steady breezes giving them an average of six to seven knots and seas that were for the most part perfect, no huge waves or swell. Occasionally the wind would die away and they would slow down to a ponderous two or three knot speed. Then, the boat would develop a roll in the Atlantic swell as she rode up one long wave and then slipped down into the following trough. When the boat really slowed down they would rig a safety towline behind and take it in turns to take a swim off the stern, keeping a sharp lookout onboard for any sinister fin following their wake. The swims were exhilarating and refreshed both spirit and body.

The days seemed to slip away and no one seemed to experience any boredom. There was always plenty to do. Books were read in a day or two, meals to cook, crossword puzzles; Richard took his guitar up forward and lost himself in his music.

 Connie was steadily turning a wonderfully lustrous shade of gold and loved nothing better than lazing in the cockpit book in one hand and a cold juice in the other. Work seemed such a dirty word and belonged back in cold, depressing and dreary England. Sighing in contentment Connie turned over onto her stomach.

 ‘Can you rub some suntan lotion onto my back please Toby?’ She asked sleepily.

Toby was very happy. He relished the idea of triumphantly arriving in Antigua and then spending the next five months on Ellentari as she weaved her way down the necklace chain of colourful Caribbean islands. He remembered a couple of eventful holidays spent in Jamaica and Barbados and looked forward to visiting Guadeloupe, St Kitts, Nevis, St Lucia, Dominica, and the tiny gems of The Grenadines.

Toby had come to terms with his banishment. He had been careful not to let Richard and Connie know the real reason for his six month leave and knew that he had actually done very well out of it ironically and he was enjoying the time spent in Richard and Connie’s company.

He rubbed lotion over Connie’s smooth skinned back. Especially Connie’s!

Connie he was particularly fond of, which he found rather perplexing. Toby enjoyed most women’s company but, he still regarded them as if not exactly inferior to men, certainly not quite equal. Connie he treated with much more care than he usually did most of the others.

His careless behaviour to his past lovers bore clear evidence to this. He enjoyed chasing women, bedding them and then ditching them when he was bored. Apart from that he didn’t have a lot of use for them per se. He just didn’t care enough for anyone more than himself.

So, it was to his surprise that he was drawn to Connie and enjoyed being in her company. Perhaps she was more immune to his very obvious charms and didn’t fall for his usual sexual innuendo. A very confident woman, she would listen to his carefully rehearsed, well practised string of patter and then with a mischievous glint to her eye skilfully manoeuvre the conversation around to her own advantage. He playfully suggested, she teased. He never missed the opportunity to openly flirt with her and Connie appeared to enjoy the thrill of being in charge and on top. It was fun and the time passed miraculously.

The sun had climbed over a light blue sky and a sea shot through with sparkles. The yacht ran sweetly in her groove just before the wind. The song of the sea was running down her side and in the soft creak of the mast and boom. They had had a few hours of doldrums, the yacht lying melancholy with limp, idle sails in a damp oppressive heat under a cloudy sky and rolling on a smooth swell with only a capricious breeze ruffling the surface of the oily-sea. Most nights the heavens were lit from rim to rim with pinpricks of stars, held by the black warm velvet. The bloody moon rose until most high and, it seemed like the heat emanated from its imperfect globe.

They had been at sea now for six days and had logged about 875 nautical miles. They had experienced good sailing with very little periods of being becalmed. The skipper was happy with the yacht’s progress. Richard knew that traditionally the Trade Winds kicked in stronger as they approached the western Atlantic, and they could then hope for an even faster passage. They were doing better than he had hoped for.

Today had been particularly eventful. The huge golden sun had swiftly risen in the early morning with a promise of yet another glorious day. Very soon the teak deck had warmed in the sun and the sweet wood smell permeated throughout the open cockpit. Half a dozen flying-fish had been discovered marooned on the forward deck and had soon disappeared into the frying pan for breakfast.

Richard settled down at the chart table, and using his Global Positioning System plotted their longitude and latitude course on the large Admiralty Atlantic chart in front of him. Their progress across the Atlantic could be seen by a series of ‘fixes’ taken at regular intervals daily and pencilled in on the sea map. The miles were being eaten up, Antigua beckoned. He thought about how sailing today compared to when his father had been at sea. Back then, small boats had nothing like the electronic and safety equipment that you could buy now. It must have been almost an entirely different experience, especially during the wartime years. He wished that he had pestered his father into telling him a bit more about his early sailing life. It was too late now of course.

Both the mainsail and the headsail were up and fully laden with a good seventeen knots of wind hard on the starboard quarter. That is, the wind was just behind their mid-ships and on the right-hand side of the boat. The sea state was moderate, and that fantastic deep inky shade of blue that is only seen miles off shore. They hadn’t had any dolphins for company for a few days, but they had recently passed through scores of turtles going the opposite way. One ship had been seen on the horizon and occasionally they would see the telltale slipstream of a jet far above in the brilliant blue sky. The temperatures were now rising; hot during the day and falling back down to a more gentle heat at sunset. It was true what the old sailors used to say, ‘sail south until the butter melts and then turn right for the Caribee.’

Toby had two fishing lines trailing behind the yacht. The boat came smoothly off a slighter larger wave and careered down the other side picking up another half knot. Connie was sitting idly watching him from the starboard teak seat at the back of the yacht. ‘It’s just like a roller coaster ride at the funfair,’ she shrieked with laughter.

‘Yep, only this is more impressive,’ Toby agreed, letting out more line as he did so. ‘Of course you can’t get off though,’ he continued.

‘What?’

‘Get off the ride my sweet.’ Toby looked over to her and flashed a smile. His dark hair and tan contrasted heavily with his expensive dental treatment. He had lost a little weight in the time they had been aboard, and the daily exercise routine he practised on board was tightening up his slightly fleshy body.

‘I don’t mind. At the moment if the conditions stayed like this I wouldn’t care if we went all the way to Brazil.’ She laughed and ran her hands through her hair. ‘Phew, it’s getting hot earlier today though.’

‘You wait until we really near the Caribbean. If the humidity is high then it’ll be stonking. Would you like me to fetch you another cold drink?’ he asked her.

‘Ooh, yes please. I feel so lazy here in the sun. I know I should be doing something creative or cleaning something but sitting here is so much better.’ She smiled up at him as he stood over her.

‘Sitting here watching you turn a darker golden-brown and trolling a fishing line is good enough for me too. And I especially enjoy watching you practise your yoga on the front deck.’ he replied as he took himself down below to fetch their drinks.

Connie smiled to herself. He really was a flirt. She hadn’t known that he watched her when she went up to the forward deck for her daily yoga exercises. Having two men fancying her was a bit of a turn on. Although she knew Richard loved her he was sometimes too quiet and far too undemonstrative. She knew that Toby had loads of women friends and couldn’t remember ever seeing him without some hot beauty attached to his arm. I wonder what he’s like in bed, she mused. He’s probably very good. Still I don’t suppose I’ll ever find out, not with Richard around anyway. She laughed to herself as her mind drifted off to consider sex in the sun, in front of the mast, or lying in the cockpit or stretched over the binnacle. It was fun to play the tart sometimes!

Suddenly, the line trailing from the port quarter went taut and the rod wheel screamed as 200 feet of nylon was whipped out behind the boat. Connie jumped, bewildered for a moment and forgot her daydreaming.

‘Fish!’ she yelled. ‘Toby we’ve got a fish!’ She leapt up from her seat. ‘Slow the boat down.’

Toby rushed up into the cockpit and met Connie coming the other way; they collided with each other and Connie would have fallen if Toby hadn’t put a protective arm round her.

‘Easy my sweet,’ he murmured.

Connie released the port genoa sheet and the sail bagged and flapped with the decreased pressure. Toby was releasing the load on the mainsheet and soon both sails were flogging and the boat’s speed was reduced to a bare three knots.

Richard appeared in the cockpit, a questioning look of concern on his face. He had been forward in the side cabin immersed in the spares locker. What was happening? He hadn’t given any order to slow the boat down. He noticed both Connie and Toby on the back deck, so both crew members were present and unhurt. That was a relief anyway. He then noticed a red-faced Toby at the stern; he was holding the rod in both hands and feverishly trying to reel in at the same time. The strain showed in his bulging arm and neck muscles. Connie watched with interest.

‘It’s a huge one! I saw it jump a minute ago. Look, there!’ he puffed. The iridescent Mahi Mahi leapt four feet into the air way behind the boat. It was desperate to dislodge the treacherous hook from its jaw. ‘Give us a hand will you, it’s bloody heavy,’ he continued, sweat running profusely down his face and soaking his chest.

Connie squealed in excitement as she saw the fish, while Richard hurried onto the aft deck. Together they heaved and reeled the fish closer to the yacht until it was near enough to gaff and haul on board. The fish lay there gasping from the struggle and fight it had put up. Its body was beautiful, glowing with all shades of blue, green and yellow.

Connie held the squeezy bottle of cheap spirits reserved for fishing and carefully poured a little into its gills. The sudden spirit seeping into the fish’s gills caused it to die a quicker death instead of the twenty minutes or so of painful bloody thrashing around on deck. It flapped wetly a few times and then lay still, its eyes glazing over and the beautiful turquoise colours of its skin already fading to a darker murkier blue-grey.

‘Must weigh a good six to seven kilos,’ Toby said looking triumphant, ‘have you room in the freezer?’

‘We’ll have some tonight and I’ll make ceviche for tomorrow’s lunch. I’m sure I have enough space now as we’re eating well into the meat rations.’ Connie replied. ‘Well done! Well done both of you for hauling it in. It looked like hard work.’

Toby grinned and nodded his agreement. ‘I’ll clean the fish for you and cut it up into fillets, OK?’

He swilled the remaining blood from the rear deck after gutting the fish. A lone shark swam stealthily behind Ellentari, it’s grey fin showing clearly in the boat’s wake. It paused, unseen and swiftly snapped at the dumped entrails before continuing on it’s journey.

Richard was reading a weather fax he had downloaded onto his laptop computer. Everything looked fine for their area. There seemed to be a blow some way to the south of them. The winds were strong and were going from a southeast to a westerly direction, but it was predicted to pass in front of them. Storms were not unheard of in November, but usually the weather was benign.

He decided to keep a close watch on it, just in case it crept nearer to their sailing area. It always paid to be prudent. If it did come closer then they could always slow down and let it pass on ahead. He made a few notes and then closed down the computer and stowed it safely away. A mention of the weather report was made in the log and then he decided to join the others on deck. He climbed halfway up the companionway ladder, the hot, bright sun hitting him squarely in the face forcing him to squint. Silently, he took in a scene of Toby quietly massaging suntan lotion onto Connie’s back. Still thinking of the weather report he was slightly mesmerised and didn’t immediately react to Toby’s hand lightly trailing across her browning skin. It was only when Toby slowly slipped his fingers under her bikini top that he realised what he was watching. Startled, he climbed the remaining two steps up into the cockpit. What was Toby playing at?

Toby looked round at the sound behind him and swiftly removed his offending hand. He covered his movement by reaching for the suntan lotion. He didn’t look discomforted in any way; instead he held the bottle out to Richard and drawled, ‘Your job I think old boy.’

***

The wind had persisted around a steady fifteen to seventeen knots all day, and coming from the northeast. During Toby’s watch from midnight to 0300 hours, the wind freshened and the boat heeled over at a steeper angle. Their boat speed increased and soon they were charging along at a good nine knots. The full main and genoa sails were still up and Toby wondered fleetingly if they had more sail out than was needed. Half an hour later and the wind had gone up a notch. Maybe it’s a good time to reef down, he thought. There’s no need to wake the others. I know what to do. He carefully released the tension in the genoa sheet, slowly letting it slip on the winch. When the sail started to flog he immediately started to wind in the genoa deck line and the sail began to shorten. When it was about two thirds of its original size he tensioned up the sheet. The large mainsail was still causing them to heel over and the yacht’s automatic pilot was finding it difficult to maintain her course. A reduction in this sail could only help calm everything down. Connie hated being heeled over; reducing sail would earn him brownie points.

The night was beautiful, a clear sky with no light pollution. The profusion of stars in the Milky Way was stretched out above his head and, with a gigantic golden moon hanging over the horizon he could see almost as clearly as if it were day.

The boat raced on with the water cascading down the portside deck, gurgling out of the scuppers and over the stern transom. The boom creaked in protest and somewhere a metal shackle started up a rhythmic tempo against it. Wearing his safety harness and lifejacket, Toby moved behind the large cockpit steering wheel and began to prepare the reefing line and mainsheet. The electric winch ground noisily and reverberated through the deck. A figure suddenly loomed at his side. Richard had awoken to the different motion of his yacht and with a quick glance took in the situation.

‘We’re going to have to bring her more head to wind to reduce the power in the sail to reef. It’s impossible at this point of sail. When I say so, take her off auto and bring her around starboard about one hundred degrees, and hold her there until I tell you to turn back onto our right course. OK?’ He shouted to make himself heard above the increased wind.

‘OK.’

Richard took over the reefing line. Toby stood behind the wheel and steered by hand, turning the wheel when Richard gave the order. The boat responded quickly and the motion immediately changed; large waves smacked at the bow and more water rushed down both decks. The boat shuddered and bucked with the force of the water as she came to a near stop. The lightened mainsail whacked and cracked as it hit the wind head on. Richard took in a third of the sail and gradually retightened the line securely.

‘OK. Now start to bring her back slowly, I’ll –.’

 Bang! The boom shot across to the other side – the wrong side. Toby had turned the wheel the wrong way and had inadvertently gibed the mainsail.

‘No take her back, take her back! Otherwise the headsail will back and we’ll be in trouble,’ Richard yelled.

Toby stood stock-still, confused. The boat continued to turn. Richard reacted by grabbing the wheel and turning hard to port; the boat responded sluggishly.

‘Pull in the mainsheet or we’ll gibe the boom again. MOVE!’ Richard shouted frantically.

Toby woke up from the moment’s panic and flung himself across the cockpit, somehow entangling his legs in his harness safety line in his movement and grabbed the mainsheet with his left arm. Bang! The boom swung across to its correct position, the mainsheet stretching out tautly from its outer end. There was a sudden crack and a scream from Toby as the rope tightened round his wrist and snapped it. He fell down into the well of the cockpit, bellowing in pain, his arm trapped. Richard swiftly put the yacht back on its autopilot course, and bent down to help Toby. The boats’ motion had calmed down enough for him to gently release the tight rope and secure it in the jammer. Toby continued to moan and clutch at his wrist while Richard carefully sat him up on the bench seat. Toby whimpered in protest, completely shocked and dazed.

‘Connie,’ Richard roared. ‘Connie, we need you up here!’

Amazingly she had slept through the drama, her dreams probably only registering less heel to the boat and a gentle slowing motion.

 Toby’s face appeared deathly pale in the bright moonlight; an abrasion stood out clearly on his right temple. He opened his mouth to say something and promptly vomited on the cockpit floor. Connie appeared, clutching a thin sarong around her body. Richard filled her in with the last few minutes’ events and she quickly got the message. Toby needed a plaster of Paris splint and an injection of 10mg Nalbuphine hydrochloride analgesic to help the pain.

 A grim-faced Richard was left to clear up the vomit.

***

Richard was livid. It showed in his face and in the firm set of his jaw.

‘Why the hell didn’t you call me?’ he thundered. ‘You know it’s always difficult to reef a boat this size on your own, and especially risky at night!’

Toby looked slightly abashed. He raised his head and the bruised temple stood out vividly. He had a moustache of sweat on his top lip and beaded perspiration on his brow.

‘I thought I could handle it. We’ve done it dozens of time before,’ he argued.

‘You could have caused a lot of damage and endangered us all, apart from the injury to yourself.’

‘Well I didn’t and as you rightly say the only damage is to me. Now if you don’t mind Captain B I’m officially off-watch and I’m going to bed.’ Whereupon he clumsily heaved himself up with his good right arm and walked unsteadily forward to his cabin. He slammed the door crossly behind him.

Richard was shocked. Apart from the injury to himself, he could have seriously wrecked the boom or mast. Where would that have left them? A thousand miles from the nearest hospitable land, that’s where. He knew the rules about calling for help at night. Richard had made it plain. Nothing was to be done without his say so. There could only be one captain on a boat and his word went.

‘Arrogant bugger,’ he exclaimed.

‘Don’t start. Stop being grumpy,’ said Connie packing away the medication into the well-stocked first aid box. ‘He feels bad enough about this I’m sure. It’s just shock and the pain he’s in. I’ll go and speak to him.’

‘Leave him for now. Bloody jerk. Let him sleep off his petulance. He’s really annoyed me the last few days.’

‘Oh why’s that?’ She looked startled as she looked over at Richard.

‘Well apart from tonight’s little fiasco let me list the things.’ He held up his fingers to count.

‘He left the fridge wide open whilst he was fishing, spilt coffee all over the new Atlantic chart, left the forward heads shower dripping, broke the toggle on the radio, scratched my latest Stones CD, blocked his heads once – no twice now, and scoffed the last of the Bounty bars! He’s just bloody careless and thinks of no one but himself. OK? Isn’t that enough to make anyone grumpy? And now he’s got you running around like the proverbial. No leave him to stew alone.’

‘Oh for goodness sake anyone could have had bad luck. He’s just a little accident-prone. Don’t keep acting like Captain Bligh. You make us both feel uncomfortable sometimes. Even I have to keep making sure I don’t break any of your rules.’

‘I’ve explained there has to be rules,’ he sounded exasperated. ‘Safety is paramount on a small ship and there is only one skipper. It is my responsibility to ensure that my crew and yacht are safe at all times.’

‘I know all that, it’s just that sometimes you –,’ she stopped and shrugged. ‘Oh I don’t know, you’re just a little too intense sometimes. Anyway, I’m still going to look in on Toby, I just want to make sure he’s OK. I’ve just given him a strong analgesic for the pain and to help him sleep. He is my responsibility as my patient. Have a good watch.’

With that she turned round and walked forward to Toby’s cabin. She tapped quietly on the door, and then softly called out to Toby. On hearing a muffled response she went in and shut the door behind her.

Richard stood for a moment and glowered at the closed door. No sound came from within. His blue-grey eyes looked bleak and then gained a steely glint. With a sickening feeling of exclusion and misunderstanding he once more donned his lifejacket and climbed up into the cockpit.

***

Morning dawned. The sky gradually lightened in the east with streaks of pearly mauve and grey. The rising sun caught the tiny white cumulus high above and fringed the edges with gold. The sun suddenly burst over the horizon and soon the inky black deep was charged with golden bands.

Richard had stood a double watch this night, Connie hadn’t relieved him and his pride forbade him to go below and request her presence on deck. He had moodily sat in the quiet of the cockpit, trying to read or listen to music. He was now a little cold and extremely tired. He needed a hot shower, breakfast and some rest. He presumed Connie had kept her vigil on Toby throughout the night. Apart from his broken arm, she said she wanted to ensure that the bump on his head was nothing.

At that moment she appeared in the galley. She too, looked tired and dishevelled.

‘I’m going to make Toby some breakfast. Would you like some?’ she asked.

‘No thank you. What I really want is some sleep. So if you don’t mind I am going to bed. Do you think you could stand watch for a few hours at least?’ He watched her carefully.

‘Sarcasm doesn’t become you Richard, of course I can. Go to bed. I’ll call you if I need you.’

 She turned away and started the makings of breakfast. The bacon smelt delicious as Richard closed his cabin door.

‘Men,’ she thought. ‘Why are they so childish sometimes? Talk about melodramas and amateur dramatics!’

***

For the rest of the day everyone suddenly developed either very good manners or sat with extremely long silences. Connie stood her watches and devoted a lot of her time to Toby. She was forever fetching him cold drinks, snacks, medication and meals. He had ventured out into the salon but Richard’s all too apparent forced good nature soon had him scuttling back to the confines of his cabin. Richard had decided to bite his tongue and say no more about the matter sang-froid. Toby took the easy way out.

At present, Connie was closeted in Toby’s cabin, as Richard knew she would be. Injection time again it appeared. There was a little laughter from behind the closed door and then silence.

Richard gritted his teeth and chewed the end off his pencil in anger. He had just finished taking a fix and he now wrote the yacht’s position in the ship’s log. He had written a full report on the accident and was still very tired and needed a cat nap. He wished she would come out and he could go and have a sleep. Surely he wasn’t going to have to go and get her? I bet there wasn’t any lack of discipline during Dad’s time on board he thought to himself sourly.

The cabin door opened, and Connie slipped out smiling at Toby over her shoulder. He heard Toby say something and she let out a slight gasp and then a low laugh.

 Christ! She actually giggled like a schoolgirl Richard thought.

Connie walked through to the salon, the spent syringe in her hand.

‘What are you playing at?’

Connie coolly studied her husband. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about but, I think I can guess. Stop looking at me like that. He’s hurt and feeling sorry for himself. Can’t you understand?’

‘Hhmp! I understand that I need to sleep. It’s your turn now.’ Richard got up from the chart table and stomped off down into their cabin.

***

By day nine, Toby considered that he’d probably wrung every last bit of sympathy out of the situation and calmly announced that he could resume his watches. He sat in the cockpit under the sun awning, sure of himself now and acting slightly cocky. Richard remained annoyed from his overall behaviour, but knew that they still had a long way to go and peace had to reign on his boat. An argument, annoyances, niggles and character traits all became way over the top if you let them in a closely confined boat. It was much better to let things settle down. Let everything blow over and try to get back to something like a status quo. After all, Antigua was what, a week away? As soon as they arrived Toby could see a doctor and then he was off the boat as far as Richard was concerned. He could do what he liked, but he was sure he’d have to fly home. Richard’s responsibility towards him would then end and he could start enjoying being alone with Connie again. He was sure they could get back to the normal loving relationship they had had before Toby had arrived and upset things.

Richard was surprised how much the past few days had annoyed and unsettled him. He’d always felt Connie and he had a good, trusting and happy relationship. He didn’t understand Toby’s aggressiveness and Connie’s seeming indifference to her husband’s feelings. Richard spent more time on his own, playing his guitar or reading. The boat claimed a lot of his time too as he maintained the yacht’s equipment and keep a beady eye on the weather. The weatherfax had now changed the status of the ‘blow’ that was forecast into a late season storm. Thankfully, it was not one of the huge catastrophic hurricanes that regularly beat down on the Caribbean islands and Florida during the summer season. According to the data Richard interpreted from his laptop computer it still looked like it would pass them by and they would remain unscathed. He’d get another weatherfax a bit later on that day, and if necessary change the boat’s course if they were in any danger of running into bad weather.

What with Toby’s injury and his wife’s surprising behaviour and now this nearby storm, life wasn’t quite as good as when they had first left Tenerife.

Welcome! Sunday again and I'm delighted that you've taken the time and trouble to check out the next instalment from The CrossingChapter 2

Richard William Barker was hoisted a dizzy fifty-nine feet up in the air. A climbing harness cruelly encircled his loins, threatening to severely limit any last minute plans for fatherhood, whereas his chest felt decidedly crushed by the extra security rope looped tightly under his armpits.

‘Up a bit more, more, more, that’s it. Hold it!’ He shouted down to Toby on the deck below. Toby was manning the electric winches. He took an extra turn of the rope round the winch and made it fast in the jammer. Then taking up the slack on the second security line he secured it snugly onto a substantial looking cleat.

Richard could now change the tricolour bulb at the top of the mast and check the radio antenna at the same time. Toby gazed up at Richard and couldn’t repress a slight prickle of fear remembering the one and only time he had gone up the mast himself when they were anchored off the Isle of Wight. It had been a beautiful, hot sunny summer’s day in the Solent for once, with little breeze and subsequently very little movement on the water in the anchorage. That was, until the inequitable jet-ski roared past only thirty feet from the yacht, its wash creating a roll to the boat from side to side. The offending jet-ski owner laughed and jeered at his puerile jest, as in panic Toby clung to the mast, his eyes tightly closed. Toby wasn’t a coward but he vowed never to willingly volunteer to go up the mast again. Not if he could help it.

Right now he was perfectly happy to sit in the cockpit, take Richard’s shouted down orders and maintain a watch on the safety lines. Soon as this job is done it will be too late to start anything else with a bit of luck, he mused. It would be time to stop for a nice cold beer and decide where to go for dinner.

He stretched out lazily along the teak seating in the cockpit and looked around the Santa Cruz marina in Tenerife, the other sleek boats tied up alongside the pontoons. It was a large harbour and motorboats and other yachts surrounded Ellentari. They were   bobbing on the slight swell. Although it had been a perfect day for a sail around the Canary Islands the majority of boats were snugly secured in their berths. The light breeze of about 8 knots ruffled the oily marina water and set the gaily coloured flags a flutter. Loose halyards tinkled against metal masts and gulls swooped noisily down to inspect debris floating in the water.

If you added up the value of all the moored boats it would run into many millions. Toby’s accountant brain thought, what a waste.  At least Richard was utilising his boat to the full. Ellentari was a beautiful yacht and clearly a sound investment. Toby knew good well-built solid boats kept their value and this 45-footer was no exception. He leant back and looked up at Richard, still aloft. With a bit of luck it was only a bulb that required replacing now and the radio antenna just needed to be more securely screwed in place. Better to check it here now in the relative calm of the marina than being tossed around 60 feet up aloft when at sea.

 ‘OK. Can you turn on the tricolour now please?’ called down Richard. Toby’s reverie was broken as he climbed down from the cockpit into the boats saloon. The instrument panel was on the starboard side bulkhead and he reached over and pushed the appropriate labelled switch. A glowing red light indicated it was on.

‘Great! That appears to be fine now. Turn if off and then you can slowly lower me down.’

Toby climbed the companionway ladder back into the cockpit. He adjusted the two lines holding Richard’s life in his hands and slowly paid out the rope.

Richard landed safely on the deck, deftly untied the safety line bowline and eased himself out of the climbing harness, wincing as he did so.

‘Thank God I’ve got that off, it’s not exactly pleasant being trussed up like a chicken! Anyway that’s a job well done and for a change relatively simple. Thanks for your help,’ Richard said laughing, coiling and stowing the ropes away.

 His thin angular face was creased in good humour. Straightening up he was a good six-foot three inches, slim build with a tanned muscular body. His straight hair was from a sun-washed blonde to light brown, flecked through with grey and cut fairly short. The tan looked good on him giving him a more youthful appearance than his forty-nine years. Women from sixteen to seventy often gave him a second glance.

Good-looking bastard, Toby thought, although he was himself attractive in his own smaller and darker way. Richard’s got the money, the time, the boat and a kitten of a wife whom he doesn’t appear to appreciate as much as he should. Aside from that though, he and Richard had been friends for 15 years now and he really didn’t begrudge him his current good fortune.

‘I think a beer or two onboard and then off to the Plaza to find a restaurant, don’t you?’ said Richard.

‘My thoughts entirely old boy, the sun must be well over by now. I expect Connie would like one too,’ he agreed raising his voice.

As expected, a tousled head appeared in the aft cabin hatch. ‘I most certainly would. Just let me finish changing and I’ll be right with you.’ She ducked down and both men grinned at each other.

‘Never misses out does she?’

‘Only when there’s dirty work to be done,’ replied Richard dryly.

‘You relax a bit. I’ll go below and get the drinks.’ Toby clattered down the companionway into the shady saloon. He was really looking forward to the sailing trip. Like the others this was his first Atlantic crossing. He was relishing the thought of blue waters, starry nights and glorious sunsets. Of course once across and established in the Caribbean he was sure that rum punches, bikini-clad beauties and reggae ‘jump ups’ would take precedence. No tedious commuting to town from his house in Esher and a break from the machinations of daily office parlance.

Richard had always had a lifelong dream of skippering his own yacht across one of the great oceans of the world and meeting all the personal challenges that would be thrown at him. He didn’t know where this deep-seated yearning came from, but for most of his life he had felt an almost overwhelming pull to go out, buy a boat and explore. Now the dream was just beginning, coming to fruition, as Richard and Connie finalised their preparations for their planned sail across the Atlantic. The huge golden orb of the sun was sinking fast, casting long deep-mauve shadows on the surrounding hills. It had been ‘another perfect day in paradise’ using the yachties’ much hackneyed but true cliché. The temperatures had been in the high seventies, with a cooling breeze and a cloudless cerulean blue sky.

Toby reappeared in the cockpit with their drinks accompanied by Connie. Richard studied Connie with a familiar deep affection. Small, dark-haired and neat, described her outward appearance. She stood about five-foot four inches in her bare feet with a slim build. Her legs were nicely shaped, rising to a firm little bottom, nipped in waist and medium-sized breasts. Handful sized Richard would say, anything bigger would be a waste. She had recently had her hair cut short, as she knew long hair would be too hot and a pain in a tropical climate, besides, water on a yacht had to be managed. Her newly shorn hair was slightly curly from the salty air and not unattractive as it framed her violet-blue eyes. Connie enjoyed a refreshing Campari and orange juice; the ice cubes tinkling against her glass when she lifted it for a sip, relishing the slight bitterness of the fortified spirit against the sweetness of the fruit. Richard preferred a long cool local beer. He sat quietly contemplating the condensation as it slowly ran down the outside of his glass forming a small wet ring onto the coaster. He wiped it away with his hand. He was both excited and yet a little bothered at the same time. His excitement was caused by their almost imminent departure from Tenerife. In a day or so – all being well – they would have completed their tasks and boat preparations they had set themselves in getting ready for a long extended cruise. They planned to leave the comparative safety of the Canary Island waters and sail across ‘The Pond.’ In other words, they had two thousand, eight hundred miles to sail across the Atlantic in a small boat. It was well known to be a vast, lonely and sometimes inhospitable sea, but it was an adventure that many an amateur sailor had undertaken without mishap, thoroughly enjoying the challenge and eventual achievement.

      *

Richard’s long-term plans had come together nicely. They had all the necessary ingredients: time, money and a partnership that complimented each other for the majority of their time spent together. After a heady, passionate early marriage they had settled down with only the occasional stormy row to punctuate their steady relationship. He loved Connie; there was no doubt about his feelings towards her, but as Richard was fairly undemonstrative he usually kept his inner feelings much to himself.

His business he had placed in the trustworthy hands of his manager besides which, with today’s technology he could stay in daily contact if he wanted by satellite telephone and email.

Now, with almost everything in place Richard was eager to be off. There was no great hurry as the weather window stretched from now in early November to early February. The only urgency was Richard’s own excited impatience to get going, set sail and make the Caribbean in time for Christmas. He sighed and took a swallow of beer. He still had this small niggle though.

He knew Connie was not as passionate as he was about sailing, and much preferred to be within sight of land. However, she had jumped at the chance of leaving her position as a surgical ward-sister and was enjoying the newfound luxury of being her own boss. She said she actually had time for herself. Having enrolled in a dive class before they had left England she was now looking forward to exploring the coral reefs around the BritishVirgin Islands as they were supposed to be fabulous. She had also rediscovered her old schooldays’ talent for painting and looked forward to catching the colourful Caribbean on canvas. Their comfortable furnished aft cabin with its scandalously large double bunk had a whole locker dedicated to the paraphernalia that went along with her artistic inclinations. She obviously meant to enjoy herself; the sailing would mainly be Richard’s interest with her doing her bit. Richard thought back to a day or so ago when he and Connie had been alone on their boat. They had been relaxing at the end of a busy day. Connie was immersed in yet another doorstep of a book and Richard had been fidgeting on his seat before finally addressing Connie.

 ‘You’ve clearly got something on your mind. I know you have. OK, what is it?’ She placed her bookmark inside the book and then laid it down closed on the cockpit table barely suppressing an irritated sigh at being interrupted.

He reached over for her left hand and imprisoned it within his.

‘I do. I had a call from Toby earlier today with a request.’

‘Uh oh. Why do I have this feeling of trouble I wonder?’ She suddenly laughed, ‘You know what he’s like! Come on then. What does he want now?’

Richard took another swallow of his beer enjoying the sharp bitter taste and then proceeded to relate to Connie his telephone conversation earlier today with an excited and persuasive Toby.

In the early cool of that morning Connie had taken herself off the boat to buy some last minute provisions in the fruit and vegetable market. She particularly enjoyed the freshness of the local produce, knowing that it hadn’t yet been irradiated for sale and storage in refrigerators abroad. She had probably overbought but they would certainly eat well in the next few weeks. Toby must have rung whilst she was out. She turned her attention back to what Richard had to tell her.

He had answered the call on his mobile telephone and inwardly sighed when he recognised Toby’s clipped tones and cultured accent on the line. Toby didn’t beat about the bush. It soon transpired that he had suddenly found himself with six months leave; nothing planned and wouldn’t it be an excellent idea if he came along and gave them both a hand?

Richard had to think fast. As friends, they had spent various weekends sailing together in the Solent and occasional trips across to France, with a couple of longer voyages in the summer weeks. Although Toby was only what you would call a ‘weekend’ sailor his sailing knowledge was good; he had done a few training courses and best of all he didn’t usually suffer from the dreaded, ‘mal de mer.’ He was certainly being very persuasive and obviously knew with instinctive certainty that he had to convince Richard of his usefulness, indeed his highly significant inclusion to the party, was of paramount importance. He suggested Connie was not perhaps as strong as a man and might not relish any heavy hardships encountered on the way. Richard couldn’t of course retell this bit to Connie, as he knew she would be incensed. Instead he listened to Toby’s suggestion that he would be a valuable asset and she could also enjoy (as they both would) shorter watch hours.

‘I know she would. Three crew means that you and I, and her of course, could share the watches and we would benefit from shorter watch hours and a longer stretch of sleep. Much more civilised than with just the two of you. Don’t you think?’ Tony enthused.

 ‘Well I’m not sure. It’s a bit short notice and we’ll have to think about it. How about I let you know tomorrow after I’ve discussed it properly with Connie later.’

They had finished their telephone conversation leaving Richard to mull over this new idea. He was not one hundred per cent certain, but he knew that Connie would be keener than he was.

So, they now had to come to some agreement over this new proposal. They both liked Toby; it wasn’t that. They had each in their own way relished the idea of taking this challenge with just the two of them and without any other person’s influence. This was an entirely different matter. As skipper, Richard had the final say. But he did realise the added bonus of another pair of hands. What if one of them was ill or injured? It was hellishly more difficult to sail solo than with someone else helping at your side. Maybe he wasn’t being entirely fair to Connie either.

The discussion of the pros and cons continued over their dinner in the square in Santa Cruz. Connie was generally in favour and said so as they sampled the local tapas and a dozen oysters, followed by a delicious sea bream grilled simply with olive oil and herbs washed down with a crisp white Marques de Caceres; one of their favourites. They forego the coffee, preferring to stroll, hand in hand back across the cobbled square to their yacht, taking in the balmy cooling night breeze. They reached their pontoon and in the silvery moonlight Ellentari shone, her tall mast and spreaders thrusting loftily up into the blue-black sky.

They had decided. Toby could come for the crossing and, depending on how they all got along during this period, maybe, just maybe extend his stay for a short spell in the Caribbean.

***

Meanwhile, back in England Toby Ellis had already got out his sailing gear and was methodically sorting out which was appropriate for tropical climates and what was not. Definitely not the sea-stained heavy-duty waterproofs, better known in sailing circles as oilies. The expensive leather sailing boots could stay home too. He’d take his own lifejacket and harness as they fitted him well and he felt comfortable in them. Deck shoes only for when they cast off, then barefoot would be the order of the day. He picked out lots of short-sleeved shirts and swimming shorts. Passport. In his bathroom cupboard he found a suntan cream, factor thirty and a lighter one once he was more used to the sun. He’d need plenty of credit cards of course and some dollars for cash. Those he could pick up at the airport. Easy!

He knew that Richard would agree after talking to Connie. She had a soft spot for him and he found her pretty cute himself. But then he usually found most women pretty cute. They were one of his weaknesses. This thought led him to recall what had happened earlier that day at work and how he was now in this position, much to his satisfaction.

That grey, grim London morning before, Toby was reeling from the acid lash of the senior partner’s tongue.

‘For Christ’s sake, what the hell do you think you were doing?’ he’d stormed. ‘Michael’s got enough trouble being married to a younger woman and trying to keep her satisfied without you rubbing his nose in it,’ he jabbed a finger angrily at Toby.

 ‘What’s more she means everything to him and absolutely nothing to you. You only pursued her because you could and, frankly I find your behaviour disgusting!’ he thundered.

He leaned back heavily in his leather swivel office chair and regarded Toby with open contempt. This time Toby had gone too far. As senior partner in Holmes and Benton, Chartered Accountants, Tom had to ensure that Toby grasped the significance of his misconduct. He couldn’t actually force him to stop his affair with the unlucky Michael’s young wife, but he could remove Toby from the day-to-day exposure to Michael.

‘Michael’s only got six months before he retires and I want him to enjoy his last six months with us. Furthermore, I want him to enjoy his well-earned retirement. It’s not been easy for him losing his first wife to a brain tumour and I think he deserves better than this. You, as far as I know have never suffered a serious heartache in your life. You go through women at a distasteful rate and never consider the consequences. Call me old-fashioned if you like but, I have built this company up from nothing and my long-standing partner deserves more respect than this. I place Michael in high esteem.’ He paused and breathed heavily, he was clearly very irate.

Toby tried to remonstrate with Tom but the senior partner held up a heavy hand to stop his voice. ‘No, I don’t want to hear any of your protests. Michael is entirely blameless in this and has been caused enough pain already. This is what I am proposing and you have one of two choices. You either accept, or you decline and leave this company’s payroll. Your work is good but as Associate partner you are expendable. However, I hope you do accept, as normally we have a good working relationship and you have talent and work well under pressure. Also unlike Michael you have a good few years before you retire. So, my suggestion is that while Michael works out his six months you take an extended leave during this time. A sabbatical if you like. Once everything has cooled down and Michael has retired you can return and resume your career. Well? What do you say?’ he put his elbows onto his mahogany desk and continued to glare at him.

Toby was at first momentarily shocked at this proposal and wanted to argue his case but something in Tom’s steely look stopped him. He was an old windbag, and what a fuss over some little bint. He considered himself not entirely to blame; she was no delicate young virgin and although someone else’s wife had given him plenty of encouragement. But, he did like working for the firm and knew that Tom had a full partnership in mind for him later on. So, he held his tongue in check, managed to look contrite and nodded an acceptance.

Besides, he much preferred the chase and she had given in far too quickly. A piece of cake really. He fleetingly thought of how many other bored young wives there were, wealthy, spoilt and sitting alone at home. All in all he considered that he had got off lightly. What’s more he had six fantastic months all to himself! Excellent. What a bonus, what fun could be had. He already had a plan formulating in his quick devious mind.

 His friend Richard was at present in Tenerife, busily preparing his yacht for his forthcoming transatlantic voyage. He had spent and enjoyed many a weekend sailing with Richard and his sexy, beautiful wife Connie. What if he could inveigle Richard into letting him come along as the third crew member? Winter in the Caribbean would be tremendous!

***

Richard had enjoyed the sail down to the Canaries. He and Connie had left the Hamble River in September, rather late for a Biscay crossing but they had been lucky. The Gods had looked down on them and they had had a good trip down. For once the dreaded and notorious Bay of Biscay was calm with hardly any wind and they had motored half of the way across it. The slow swell coming from the southwest had gently buffeted Ellentari as she rose on each small wave and then slipped down into the green trough on the other side. The sea chuckled down her starboard side and left behind a long sparkling foamy wake. Early each morning they had breakfasted on deck and together they had gasped with delight at the huge pods of dolphins and Minke whale that tore across the molten sea towards them. Forty, a hundred, two hundred silver and steely blue, glistening bodies turning, diving, spinning and splashing, their toothy grins leering up at them, and then lazily flipping over onto their sides and gliding down beneath the meniscus of the deep.

They had put into a few ports down the west coasts of Spain and Portugal. They had enjoyed the heady, gaudy fiesta in Bayonna, eaten delicious seafood in Cascais and loved Oporto with its gleaming terracotta roofs. Lisbon was hot and listless and they had detested the foul smelling river full of effluent that poured out from the city’s sewage system. Fewer dolphins escorted them now, nervously staying clear of the fishermens’ nets that crisscrossed the waters down to Cape St Vincent. Rounding that corner paying off the main, Ellentari had seemingly picked up her skirts and screamed along at nine knots. Richard had roared with delight while Connie had snuggled down safely in the lee of the cockpit.

Lagos on the Algarve was great fun. It had been wall to wall with other yachts preparing for the ‘ARC.’ Every year, about two hundred and fifty yachts of all sizes from about thirty to seventy feet took part in an organised voyage across the Atlantic from Gran Canaria to the Caribbean to arrive in St Lucia in time for Christmas.

Richard preferred the more muted departure from Tenerife sharing relevant information and informal drinks parties with their immediate neighbours. There was less frenzy and commercialism than in Gran Canaria.

He was calm and capable, a good dependable sailor. He considered that with careful planning there was no reason that their voyage should not be straightforward and easily accomplished. He was in short a firm believer of the old adage that a good ship would always take care of its crew. This explained why he’d spent many years studying yacht manufacturers’ brochures and specifications, visiting numerous yacht builders’ premises, checking performance versus comfort and safety, and occupied countless hours crawling in the deep recesses of potential purchases.

In his younger years, he had first learnt to sail dinghies on the Isle of Wight and then, by badgering friends and friends of friends he’d inveigled his way onto various different yachts as crew. He remembered hours spent wet and cold and sometimes seasick. But, he maintained if you could sail in the Solent and cope with everything thrown at you from lousy weather conditions, ferries, tanker ships, idiot motorboat racers, sudden wind changes, huge tidal differences and the sheer large numbers of craft afloat then you could sail anywhere. Richard had always worked hard in ventures in which he was most passionate and this presently was sailing. He had set to hone his skills diligently and with perseverance. Years ago, his father had been a sailor in the Royal Navy, but most of his experience had been gained during World War Two and he had been largely reticent about talking about his own exploits. His only advice to Richard had been ‘don’t enlist yourself boy!’ Even so maybe this was where Richard had got his first yearnings to sail at sea.

 The senior William Barker – recently deceased – had been a quiet man, often lost in his own deep thoughts. He and Richard hadn’t shared a particularly close relationship to which now Richard expressed some regret. His mother had died in the seventies at a comparative young age, leaving behind Richard in his twenties and a much older sister. William had doted on both wife and daughter caring for them with a fierce love and loyalty. When Richard was born it had been a shock to the little tight knit family of three. Although he was of course loved and cared for, he occasionally found himself on the outside; looking in as it were. Perhaps this was why he had found it hard to settle down to steady employment and forge a career for himself. He had drifted from job to job with only a handful of ‘O’ levels as qualifications. Eventually, after many false starts he had ended up working for a large removal company and became involved in the machinations of a staff buy-out. He had a good hunch about this and invested every spare pound he could lay his hands on into buying shares. His hunch paid off. With a new stock-market flotation, overnight he  made a small fortune. He quickly sold his shares and reinvested most of the capital in something less risky. He was now at a loose end. He didn’t particularly want to work for anyone else in some dead end job so he decided to renovate his tatty Georgian flat. He found the work satisfying and soon found himself buying another and then another rundown property to completely work over and sell for a tidy sum. He bought dozens of books on period property and taught himself how to renovate properly. And so, he suddenly found himself sitting with the title of ‘period property renovator’ around his neck. Now, some years later with some considerable funds in the bank, a row of discrete houses rented out to discerning tenants, he was able to buy his first large yacht and fulfil a long awaited dream. To cross an ocean, the mighty Atlantic!