gilt, and wrote: "September 3, 1934. The trip so far
has made me immeasurably happy. It was as if Aeolus himself had
smiled on this venture: he held back his breath until we got away
from the dock, then blew fair down the Connecticut shore, then held
off until we were tied up again, safe and sound at a dock in New
London. That funny little Mr. Angelina was waiting for us, looking
pinker than ever. The lumber is here, and the fixtures, and much
else besides; but there is no hint of impropriety or funny
business.
"Tomorrow we load and then it's off on our
grand adventure. A cold front is coming through—there were
torrential thunderstorms this evening and we all stayed below.
Billy and Mr. Durant played checkers, and Neil was wild with
jealousy though he pretended not to care. I made muffins. We ate
all of them, and half a jar of raspberry preserves to boot. Neil
ate most of all.
"Before we parted company for the night, Mr.
Durant confided that Sam had had him on the hot seat till he felt
like a briquette, grilling him about his sailing experience. There
were a lot of vocabulary questions, and a true-or-false section,
and a 'what if' part about emergencies. Sam finished by demanding
(I can see him now) a list of half a dozen god-fearing sailors who
could vouch for Mr. Durant's character. Just like Sam! And I afraid
to ask the man how old he is. But I think he cannot be more than
thirty-five, and I believe if he were ever married he would have
spoken more cynically of the institution. As it was, when the
subject came up (Neil asked), he merely smiled that enigmatic smile
and said, 'A good woman is hard to find.' I wanted to use him for a
dart-board."
****
First light had not yet appeared when Laura
was awakened by loud knocking on the side of the Virginia's hull, just outside her cabin. Through a porthole she heard a voice,
loud, clear and unmistakably a woman's, hailing.
"Ahoy, Virginia !"
Groggy, Laura popped her head through the
open hatch to see a bright-eyed woman of middle age, slight and
trim in khaki slacks and a pink tennis shirt, standing on the dock
of the New London boatyard, hands on her hips and a grin on her
face. "Good morning. You're the skipper of this vessel, I
hear."
"Yes. Laura Powers. Good morning."
"I'm Amanda Seton, yard manager. Glad to
know you. Not many women pass through here who can claim to captain
a ship like yours. It's a privilege to meet you."
Flattered, Laura smiled and said, "But I'll
bet that's not why you're here
At 4:45 a.m."
"You're right. We're going to have to move
your boat from this dock just for a while; we need to haul a boat
that's leaking badly. Some drunken fool rammed it after midnight,
and the pumps can't keep up. It's easier to move the Virginia than to reposition the crane. I'm sorry about
this." She was clearly embarrassed, but clearly in a hurry.
Laura said, "Sure. Let me wake my crew—"
"Oh, no need. My husband's here, and my son,
who has his last day on the job before heading back to school
tomorrow. We'll just slide your boat out of the way, using our
launch if we need to, to make room. It's dead calm and shouldn't be
hard."
"Your whole family works here? And at this
hour?"
Amanda's laugh was easy and good-natured.
"Geoff and I own the yard," she explained, "and our son James has a
summer job here. The reason we're all here now is that the sinking
boat happens to belong to my father, Jim Fain, who built this
shipyard in the first place. We're a family business, just like
you."
Before Laura could respond to that, Durant
appeared on deck, fully dressed and ready to move. He pointed to
the crew's quarters below him, then touched a forefinger to his
lips. Clearly the others were still asleep, their last night of
being tethered to land. Durant was right, she thought. Let them
sleep.
Motioning that she'd be right out, Laura
dressed quickly and joined the others on the dock. The Virginia's hawsers were undone and the business of moving
her begun. Geoff Seton,
Amy Cross
Marla Therron
Graham Masterton
Marjorie Eccles
Gwyneth Bolton
Rebecca Chalker
Brad Taylor
Morgan Howell
Norvell Page
SF Mazhar