stops. The big boat surged forward, reaching its top speed of forty-five knots in just a few seconds. She slowly turned the wheel to the right, then back to the left.
“How fast is this?” She asked.
I pointed to the digital knot meter on the GPS and said, “Multiply by one point one five. About fifty-two miles per hour. You’re really enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”
“Yes, absolutely,” she said. “And you do this for a living?”
Pulling back on the throttles, I dropped our speed to about twenty-eight knots, just slightly above the best cruising speed and said, “Not often, lately. Truth is, this week was the first time the Revenge’s been out in four months. We can’t run wide open like that for long. Even at this speed, we’re burning about seventy-five gallons an hour.”
“Wow! That’s a lot of gas. You don’t work much?”
“We live on an island. No bills at all, except my cell phone and I've thought about throwing it overboard quite a few times. My dog and I eat fish and lobster, mostly. Crab, on occasion. We have enough canned vegetables to last a year. I work when I need to and then retire for a little while.”
“You have a dog? And he likes fish?”
“He’s a better fisherman than me,” I said. “His name’s Pescador. Right now, he’s entertaining friends at our house for the week.”
“Pescador? Is that Spanish?”
“It means fisherman,” I said. “We better switch seats, the approach to Fort Jefferson is coming up.”
We switched seats and as she wriggled between me and the helm, she brushed against me and I could smell her hair. It didn’t smell like perfume, just that kind of clean girl smell I like. The close proximity caused a stirring in me. Fort Jefferson was just coming into view and I said, “It’s the biggest brick structure in the western hemisphere, or so I’ve been told.”
As we approached the ancient structure, I slowed, the stern lifted and the Revenge came down off plane. She stood up for a better view, placing one hand on my right shoulder and the other on the corner of the helm for balance, as we were now wallowing in the small rollers, gently rocking side to side as they went by under the keel.
“It’s huge,” she said. “What was it built for, way out here in the ocean?”
“I don’t know all the history,” I said. “But I heard that it was a place for the Navy to station one or two ships of the line, to protect the shipping lanes. If bad weather came up, the inner harbor could provide a safe haven for four or five ships. Later, the Union used it to keep Confederate prisoners. Many never left.”
“It’s not used for anything today?”
“No, it’s a National Park now. Sometimes a wayward sailor will hole up here, to get away from a tropical storm.”
We slowly idled around the east side of Bush Key, then circled the north side of the Fort and around to the west side, following the same channel that seventeenth century mariners had used into the little harbor. The docks were all empty, not a soul in sight. Looked like we had the island to ourselves, at least for now.
As I pulled up to one of the docks, I said, “This is going to be a little tricky. Think you can handle the helm if we drift away from the dock before I can get a line on one of the davits?”
“I can try,” she said. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Sit here,” I said. “You won’t need to steer. If anything, I’ll call up for you to shift either the right or left engine into forward or reverse.”
“Sounds easy enough,” she said. I checked again and we hadn’t drifted, so I quickly climbed down the ladder and grabbed a fish gaff from the port side of the cockpit. I was able to hook one of the davits and pulling the stern in close, I got a line on it. Hustling to the bow, the boat had started to drift a little too far for me to reach the pier with the gaff, so I called up to Tina, “Put the right engine in forward and the left one in reverse.”
She
“How fast is this?” She asked.
I pointed to the digital knot meter on the GPS and said, “Multiply by one point one five. About fifty-two miles per hour. You’re really enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”
“Yes, absolutely,” she said. “And you do this for a living?”
Pulling back on the throttles, I dropped our speed to about twenty-eight knots, just slightly above the best cruising speed and said, “Not often, lately. Truth is, this week was the first time the Revenge’s been out in four months. We can’t run wide open like that for long. Even at this speed, we’re burning about seventy-five gallons an hour.”
“Wow! That’s a lot of gas. You don’t work much?”
“We live on an island. No bills at all, except my cell phone and I've thought about throwing it overboard quite a few times. My dog and I eat fish and lobster, mostly. Crab, on occasion. We have enough canned vegetables to last a year. I work when I need to and then retire for a little while.”
“You have a dog? And he likes fish?”
“He’s a better fisherman than me,” I said. “His name’s Pescador. Right now, he’s entertaining friends at our house for the week.”
“Pescador? Is that Spanish?”
“It means fisherman,” I said. “We better switch seats, the approach to Fort Jefferson is coming up.”
We switched seats and as she wriggled between me and the helm, she brushed against me and I could smell her hair. It didn’t smell like perfume, just that kind of clean girl smell I like. The close proximity caused a stirring in me. Fort Jefferson was just coming into view and I said, “It’s the biggest brick structure in the western hemisphere, or so I’ve been told.”
As we approached the ancient structure, I slowed, the stern lifted and the Revenge came down off plane. She stood up for a better view, placing one hand on my right shoulder and the other on the corner of the helm for balance, as we were now wallowing in the small rollers, gently rocking side to side as they went by under the keel.
“It’s huge,” she said. “What was it built for, way out here in the ocean?”
“I don’t know all the history,” I said. “But I heard that it was a place for the Navy to station one or two ships of the line, to protect the shipping lanes. If bad weather came up, the inner harbor could provide a safe haven for four or five ships. Later, the Union used it to keep Confederate prisoners. Many never left.”
“It’s not used for anything today?”
“No, it’s a National Park now. Sometimes a wayward sailor will hole up here, to get away from a tropical storm.”
We slowly idled around the east side of Bush Key, then circled the north side of the Fort and around to the west side, following the same channel that seventeenth century mariners had used into the little harbor. The docks were all empty, not a soul in sight. Looked like we had the island to ourselves, at least for now.
As I pulled up to one of the docks, I said, “This is going to be a little tricky. Think you can handle the helm if we drift away from the dock before I can get a line on one of the davits?”
“I can try,” she said. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Sit here,” I said. “You won’t need to steer. If anything, I’ll call up for you to shift either the right or left engine into forward or reverse.”
“Sounds easy enough,” she said. I checked again and we hadn’t drifted, so I quickly climbed down the ladder and grabbed a fish gaff from the port side of the cockpit. I was able to hook one of the davits and pulling the stern in close, I got a line on it. Hustling to the bow, the boat had started to drift a little too far for me to reach the pier with the gaff, so I called up to Tina, “Put the right engine in forward and the left one in reverse.”
She
Similar Books
