Arrow's Rest Joel Scott (best authors to read .txt) 📖

A bright blue sky, thin cirrus clouds lightly screening the sun, and far below, Arrow, hull down and pounding westward under full sail, Jared steering and Danny searching the horizon with the Steiners.

“She can’t be all that far ahead,” Danny said. “They only left two hours ago, and Clarke said he wasn’t going to run the engines over fourteen hundred RPM on the way across.”

Legalese had left the Queens Own Yacht Club at ten a.m. with Clarke at the wheel perspiring heavily and trying to appear nonchalant with Merlynn dazzling in whites standing alongside him and attempting to look unconcerned. Danny and Jared had stood alongside in the Avon for the departure, ready to offer it up as a buffer should the need arise. Clarke surprised everyone by exiting the slip without incident and navigating the tight corner into the channel on his first attempt. He’d previously confided to Danny that he’d spent a few days out on the harbour police launch with an old friend and had been given some lessons on boat handling. Clarke had also taken the boating licence exam online, which showed a certain level of commitment even if it was probably more about Merlynn than boating.

“There she is,” Danny said, “tight off the starboard bow, maybe five miles ahead of us. Just jogging along, we should catch up before we get into the harbour if they keep that pace.”

“Or you chickenshits could fly the spinnaker, and we’d catch them for sure,” Sally said, unrecognizable under thick white sunscreen, a Fly Emirates cap, and a black NZ racing jacket. She’d been on their case since they left the harbour and began the long downhill run across the Strait. Jared turned and glared at her and received a wink from Rob, who, as always, was never far from his charge.

“You might as well give up,” he said. “She’s not going to stop.”

Danny shrugged and looked at Jared. “Why not?”

Jared knew he didn’t have a reason not to fly the big sail other than the fact that he was the captain, and the decision to do so should have been his. But that battle was already lost. He realized he was in danger of becoming churlish.

“Let her fly,” he said.

Danny went below and passed the spinnaker up through the forward hatch where Sally grabbed it and clipped on the sheets and halyard as Rob raised the pole and set it. In under a minute the big red sail was hoisted up and billowing out and they’d picked up a knot and a half.

“I’ll trim,” Sally said. “Another ten degrees to port and we should be good.”

Jared hardened up and Arrow picked up another half knot. In spite of himself, he was impressed. He had never gone in for racing much as the local weather conditions were generally too light for Arrow to show well, and the go-fast boat crews’ condescension in the yacht clubs afterwards rankled him.

“Told you I was good,” Sally said, giving him a sharp elbow to the ribs along with a huge grin. Jared was lost.

“I surrender to your superior skills,” he said, smiling down upon the urchin.

“Pay fucking attention,” she said. “You just fell off five degrees.”

They caught up to Legalese three miles out of Nanaimo Harbour and reduced sail to follow her in. Once inside Clarke dropped anchor and backed down hard and when the old Monk McQueen had sprung back and rested comfortably on her rode, Jared brought Arrow alongside her and tied on.

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” Danny said as Clarke appeared from the wheelhouse. Clarke flushed and mumbled something which contained the word asshole, but he might not have been entirely displeased.

“I can see how you could get used to this kind of thing,” Clarke said later as they sat under the shade of the stern deck bridge with their drinks, the bustling harbour spread out before them like a postcard from a dream vacation. “The problem is, I likely spent a good day’s wages on fuel just getting Legalese across the Strait.”

“Short cruises and long lay-ups,” Merlynn said. “That was always Ralph’s motto.”

“What time does the club close?” Sally asked. “Skippers meeting will be at ten tomorrow morning, and we’ll have to go in and confirm our registration this evening if we’re going to attend.”

Jared was starting to regret the whole thing. When Clarke had talked about taking Legalese on a “shakedown cruise” — amazing how quickly people picked up on the nautical crap — Jared had casually mentioned there was a regatta upcoming in Nanaimo. Sally had been within earshot and had the race details from her phone in less than five minutes. Danny and Merlynn had piled on and it was settled. Cat was supposed to join them for the trip across but had cancelled at the last minute due to a job interview. She would come over on the ferry Sunday night after the race and stay over for the return sail on Monday.

“What say we all head into the club this evening when I sign Arrow up,” Sally said. “They’re having a barbecue for the race crews that should be fun. I’m buying.”

“I’ll drop the tender in the water,” Clarke said nautically. He glared at Jared. “What?”

“Nothing, Cap’n. We’ll take the Avon, meet you there in an hour.”

The club was rocking. A lot of brawny, fit-looking young men milled about, most of them in sweaters or blazers with a boat name stitched elegantly on the front. Jared’s spirits sank as he realized that this was not going to be one of those casual good-natured yacht races that he’d crewed in back in the day. Had he known, he would never have come. He wondered if it was too late to cancel out. Or chicken out as Sally was sure to consider it. They pushed through the crowd to the bar and put in their order. “Martinis?” the harassed barman said. “You’re bloody joking, right?” He passed them their jugs of beer, and