shipwrecked-1

3 Eylül 2022 Kapalı Yazar: analsex

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Amateur

Subject: Shipwrecked Chapter 1 Shipwrecked Warning: The following story is a work of fiction. It never happened, except in the author’s imagination. This story contains graphic sex between a teenage boy and an adult man. However, the author does not encourage or condone sex between adults and little children. If you are underage, or this is illegal where you are, you already know what you’re supposed to do. Delete this file and find something else to wank off to. If this kind of story turns you off, delete this file and find something else to read. Copyright AmateurishWriter 2019 – The author retains the copyright for this story. Reproducing and/or placing this story on a commercial web site or in print without the authors permission is a violation of that copyright. The use of any character in this story, or any facsimile thereof, is strictly forbidden and a violation of the copyright. Comments to hoo, pro and con and of a constructive nature, will be gratefully received and acknowledged, if possible. Flamers will be ignored. *********************** Please consider helping Nifty with a secure contribution. The Nifty Archive Alliance has been determined to be a 501(c)3 tax-exempt organization by the U.S. Internal Revenue Service. All contributions are tax deductible to the full extent allowed by lay – no tangible goods or services are received in exchange for your donation. *********************** Author’s Note to Readers: Sailing is one of the passions of my life. You may have seen that in some of my previous stories. If you read on, you most assuredly will see it in this story for it is the love of sailing that delivers our main character into the life of a young boy just when he is needed the most. Part one takes place almost entirely at sea and it is important to understand how a series of misadventures at sea bring man and boy together. Please read on for as I said many years ago to a young and inexperienced companion as we cuddled and kissed on a stormy night in the forward bunk of my boat; “Getting there is half the fun”. Background Information: The following is information that was gathered from various web sites purely in an effort to give the reader background information and a general idea of the magnitude of our main character’s personal, independent, and foolhardy endeavor. He did not participate in this or any similar ocean sailing race but merely tried to live the experience in his own good time. He knows now both the folly and the rewards of his actions. A few years ago, 15 or so sailors set out on a 30,000 mile journey of skill, stamina and courage. It took nine months and only nine finished. One adventurer performed self-surgery at sea, another capsized in the Southern Ocean, still another sailed to the rescue of the capsized sailor and still won the race. The idea is to race around the world … alone. You are the captain and the crew. It is the longest race on Earth for an individual in any sport and it’s through the world’s roughest and most remote oceans. The boats make the journey in four legs. This particular year, starting from Charleston, SC, USA to Cape Town, South Africa, a passage of 6,865 nautical miles. Then from Cape Town to Auckland, New Zealand, a distance of 6,884 nautical miles. From Auckland the boats have to go around the dreaded Cape Horn of South America to Punta del Este, Uruguay, roughly 6,000 nautical miles. On this leg they will be hit by fierce gales, impossible seas, and sail in the most remote spots on Earth, more than 2,000 miles from the closest possible rescue if something goes wrong. The final leg takes the boats from Punta del Este back to Charleston, SC, USA, another 5,751 nautical miles. Alone, each sailor faces fear and loneliness. When something goes wrong, no one is there to help fix it. The sailor will have to face it all alone. Introduction: It had always been a dream of mine to participate in one of the great around the world single handed sailing races but, until my inheritance, I’d never had the where-with-all to finance the dream. After my bachelor Uncle’s substantial estate was settled and I had received my share, I retired. I sold my business and my home. Everything I owned was put in storage or in my sister’s attic. And, not surprising, my boyfriend of 5 years left me. I can’t say as I blame him. You could call this a mid-life crisis if you like but whatever it was, it wasn’t conducive to a relationship. So, free as a bird, I purchased one of the yachts from the last Around Alone race and moved onboard. Disappointed that I hadn’t been able to get the requisite sponsorship for an actual race due to my lack of offshore sailboat racing experience, I nonetheless pressed forward and decide to do the course on my own and at my own speed. A slightly more conservative route was planned, mainly avoiding as much of the Southern Ocean as possible with its wild winds, seas, freezing temperatures and ice. Hopefully, when I returned home, the trip would be covered financially by a large advance from a publisher and film producer. However, neither was willing to front the money. I guess, just in case I didn’t make it. Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence guys. Digital photographic, video and audio equipment was on the equipment list along with two laptop computers to upload material for safe storage somewhere a bit dryer than “Adonis.” (Aphrodite was, I believe in Greek mythology, a God. God of love or pleasure or something like that. Adonis was a youth who Aphrodite loved very deeply. Under Adonis in the dictionary it says; A very handsome young man. I know, I know. Boats are supposed to be shes but what can I say. I never was much of a ladies man … if you catch my drift and pardon the nautical pun.) Adonis was what I renamed the boat, in spite of the old wives tales that said this was bad luck. I really wasn’t worried. The boat was state-of-the-art with all the latest equipment including radios, cell phones, weather computer with fax, multiple “GPS” units and Emergency Positioning Indicating Radio Beacon (EPIRB locator beacon). God, I think if the thing was airtight it could have gone to the Moon. There also was all the other stuff you could imagine being needed including clothes, food and medical supplies. All the preparation had proven to be well worth it as the first two legs had proceeded with great success. Great success meaning no major problems. Finally, when I had arrived in Auckland, New Zealand there was a welcoming party consisting of my sister and her husband along with a lawyer with papers to sign finally providing significant advances from both the publisher and film producer. It seems that my almost constant uploading of visual, audio and written material had whet their appetites. Hooray for Hollywood! After a couple weeks of refitting and re-provisioning it was time to head out on the next to the last leg of my journey. My ever humorous brother-in-law, and now my business agent, said that he had told the producers not to bother asking Tom Hanks to play my part as his movie “Castaway” had covered an experience that was most definitely not on my itinerary. My sister glared at him, as did I, for that was the kind of flaunting of good luck that we both thought tempted bad luck to rear its ugly head. Little did we know. Part One: Getting there is half the fun Chapter One: A whale of a day I’d said my good-byes and been about a day out from Auckland on the third leg of my around the world alone sail when the whales came. Oh, whales had checked us out before but this visit would prove to be different. It was calm and that made for free time to write. The cabin was out of the sun so I was down below and didn’t see them when they first came near. Not that anything could have been done other than putting on the engine and motoring away from them. In hindsight, I probably wouldn’t have done that anyhow. Saving fuel was even more important than saving water. Besides, I figured that they’d have followed, being the intelligent, curious and playful beings that they are. When was the last time that you’ve heard of whales doing damage to a sailboat? It just doesn’t happen all that often. My concentration was broken by a small shudder in the hull. Now, when you’re hundreds of miles out in a calm sea and the boat shudders you scramble up on deck to see what it was. I expected to see a ship in the distance and the wake, having just passed, slapping the side of the boat. Instead, I was greeted by the whoosh of a spouting whale. It’s a wonder I hadn’t heard them before, not to mention smelling them. Whales have very bad breath. They were swimming all around the boat and under it and one must have brushed the keel. They are, most of the time, very gentle creatures and quite peaceful, so I just sat and enjoyed the show. There was no other contact with the boat and after a while, their curiosity satisfied, they meandered away. I guess they were bored with the unsociable floating being that they had encountered and with whom they had tried to make friends. Thank God they didn’t try mating! With no more aquatic show to divert my attention and the sun still being pretty hot, I returned to my writing below deck. Several hours passed and thinking that it would now be cooler up above, I stuck my head up to see what was what. Way off to the Southwest there were some clouds and that meant a breeze would be coming, perhaps by dusk. It would be refreshing to get moving again so I set about making the boat ready. The mainsail and headsail had just been hanging limp but now they both showed some signs, high up near the head of the mast, of the coming breeze. I disengaged the auto-steering gear and took the wheel and that’s when my heart leapt into my throat. The steering was jammed. “Oh shit!” I swore at no one in particular. Well, there’s only one thing to do. I’ll have to go over the side and have a look. I scanned the water all around for fins, not wanting to become a snack for the local shark. Dropping my shorts on the deck, no sense getting them wet, I tied a line around my waist and made the other end fast to a winch. After all, one breath of air could push the boat away faster than I could swim (Just like a space walk.) and then I’d really be in a pickle. Not that I didn’t suspect that I was already in one. Easing off the stern platform into the warm crystal clear South Pacific, I continued to watch for fins. All I needed was to slip below the surface and take a quick look at the rudder to see what was wrong. It was bad. One of the whales had evidently brushed the rudder as it went under the boat. That is what made the boat shudder that one time. It was only partially split but the rudder post, or shaft, was bent just enough to make it bind and not turn. Okay. There was a spare rudder but it would be a big deal swapping them out. The damaged one would have to be dropped out and I decided then and there to not try and bring it on deck. Instead, I’d let it go to the bottom. The climb back on board is easy on these boats as the cockpit is open on the back for drainage thus making a platform just a foot above the waterline. I could literally slither up on the platform like a seal, or maybe I should say a walrus. I’m a big guy. Anyhow, I again did a scan, this time for weather and saw the clouds and wind line headed my way. I hoped that I would have time as trying to do this work alone, even in a calm, was hard work and with any kind of a sea running, near impossible. First, I had to get the damaged rudder out. Then, if the breeze filled in before I could muscle the new rudder into place, at least I could devise a “sweep” type rudder from the spinnaker pole and some floor boards made for just such an emergency. Emergency? That was hard to believe with a smooth sea and bright sunshine but it actually could deteriorate into a life and death struggle very quickly. Much depended on what came along with those clouds and that wind line. I grabbed the necessary tools and squeezed into the cubby that provided access to the rudder post. The rudder post is a shaft from the rudder that enters the hull below the water line. It fits inside of a tube up to where it attaches to the steering assembly. It is held from slipping back out by a couple of washer like clamps that fit into grooves cut into the shaft. These washer like clamps ride on plastic bearings. The top of the tube is well above water level so that water wont come out of the top. But, there is a cap for it, just to be sure. The clamps came away with little difficulty and the rudder post disappeared down the tube. With a soft whoosh of air, it began its journey to the bottom of the Pacific. There was no other noise and only a small slop of water. The cap fit on tightly and was held in place by the same clamps. Then I backed my way out of my contorted position and stood up in the cockpit, stretching my now aching back. That little operation had taken me over half an hour and the weather had cut the distance to me by half. That told me that there was less than half an hour until I’d be under sail again. There was no time for the spare rudder, at least not today and daylight was fast coming to an end as well. The “sweep” is just what it sounds like. The spinnaker pole is an approximately 25 foot long hollow aluminum spar used to hold a parachute-like sail out in front of the boat when the boat is going down wind. To make the sweep, the pole is made fast at the back of the boat so that about two-thirds of it is out back and angled down so the last two or three feet are dragging in the water. Two floor boards, with steel brackets hidden on their undersides, are made to fit securely on either side of the outboard end of the pole. When attached and bolted in place they make an oar like blade that steers the boat in a sweeping motion. Hence the term “sweep”. The forward or inboard third of the pole is angled up and used as a lever. Push to the left and the boat turns to the right and vice versa. Lines can be attached from the inboard end to each side of the boat to “lash” it in place when the need arises and it does, often. Unfortunately, this method of steering requires başakşehir escort much more effort than the wheel, or wheels in my case as I had one on each side. Also, the self-steering gear wont work with this arrangement. So, I will get little sleep until the rudder is properly replaced. That in itself is very dangerous and with that in mind, I toyed with the idea of heading back to Auckland. Probably the smart thing to do. It was only a day or two away. The sweep was complete and the new breeze had held off a bit so I took the extra time to go below and get my position on the “Global Positioning System” (Satellite Navigation). Then I updated my files, including a brief summary of the problem at hand, the present longitude and latitude and my decision to return to Auckland and started an upload which would run itself as I worked topsides. I also uploaded the two DVR’s. The weather proof cameras, one on deck and one below, could be turned on to record interesting action. I hadn’t used them all that much but since the whales arrived I had switched them on a couple of times. The approaching weather and steering with the sweep would provide some exciting footage. I suspected that both the publisher and producer would be thrilled with the aspect of some unplanned excitement in my story. Both of us having grown up in a sailing family, I knew that my sister would understand the potential seriousness of my situation and be concerned enough to not leave New Zealand at the end of the week as planned. She would likely give a heads-up to the rescue folks but give me a half day or so extra to return. There were plenty of ways to contact her with all the equipment onboard so I wasn’t too worried. Finally, the breeze began to settle in just as I finished squaring things away on deck. The first sign of further inconvenience was that the wind was coming right from where I now wanted to go, Auckland. If there had been no problems forcing me to turn back it would have been from the perfect direction to continue my planned course. However, sailing upwind is a much slower process as you can’t go directly where you wish but must tack. Tacking is like driving up a mountain road making hairpin turns or switchbacks rather than trying to drive straight up hill. Here, the wind is the hill. In addition to taking longer, there is more effort required of the helmsman steering the boat. After a full day awake, I now had the prospects of at least 36 more hours of hard work without the chance of even a cat nap. Part One: Getting there is half the fun Chapter Two: A Hell of a night As dusk approached we, Adonis and I, were making some progress back toward Auckland. However, the sweep was slowing us down and my steering with it was less than proficient. There was still very little sea running but I knew that would change as the wind continued to increase. My growling stomach made me decide that now would be the time to put together some meals that I could just grab later on. I could make the sweep fast for maybe 10 minutes at a time before having to adjust our course. Using that time I put together some food that would provide energy. I also made up some high energy drink with plenty of caffeine but not so much that I would get the jitters. I placed the food and drink where I could get at it quickly. Then I put on a second watch, just in case, and got my offshore gear out in case of heavier weather later. Just after dark the wind did indeed start to build and along with it, the sea. With the wind speed indicator showing 17 to 18 knots, I made fast the sweep and went forward to reduce sail. It would be much easier now rather than later when there would be more wind. The resulting loss of speed was, I felt, more than offset by the safety. It doesn’t take long for things to go to hell at sea and I wanted to be prepared if that’s what happened. By the time I had returned to the sweep I had to do it all over again. The wind was now well in excess of 25 knots and the tops of the 5 to 6 foot waves were beginning to blow off. I could smell the heavy humid smell of land even from a hundred and fifty miles up wind. That worried me as I realized this was a big storm in terms of area. By now there was an occasional wave breaking over the bow so the trip forward this time was going to be much more hazardous. Part of my off shore gear includes a safety harness and I put that on. Along each side of the boat are lifelines, sort of like a fence. I strapped the harness tight and took the six foot safety line, or tether, attached to it and snapped the end to the top lifeline. There are stanchions, or posts, every 5 feet or so and the snap has to be detached and reattached on the other side of the posts as you move along the deck. While you are unsnapped you are at risk so there is another snap a few feet up the tether which you should attach to the life line before unsnapping the end and moving it. That way, you are always attached. While this is all well and good as far as safety is concerned, it slows you down and makes working cumbersome. But, I wasn’t about to take any chances. When I reached the foredeck I had been drenched by waves several times but remained fairly dry in my gear. Working carefully, I completely removed the headsail and stuffed it down the forward hatch. Then I securely fastened the hatch against the waves that came over the bow. Having completed my work on the foredeck, I made my way back to the mast, took down the mainsail and made it fast as well. Then I pulled out of its storage compartment, a small emergency sail called a storm tri-sail. As its name suggests, it is a triangular sail made of very heavy and durable cloth. It goes up where the mainsail would go but is very small and stays down low. It’s purpose is to provide stability and some forward headway which in turn permits steering. With no sail at all the boat would rock much more wildly and without forward motion it would not be steerable. This accomplished and back in the cockpit at the sweep, I checked the wind. It was now gusting over 40 knots and the seas were building in excess of 8 to 10 feet. See what I mean? Things can go to hell very quickly at sea. “Okay John, what have you forgotten.” I thought out loud. “Let’s see. Sails, harness, foul weather gear, food, drink, hatches and ports, lights … lights? No, no lights yet. Okay. Next break I’ll go below, switch on the running lights, get a new fix on the GPS, upload it, eat and drink something. That should be doable in less than 10 minutes.” My Mother was right, God rest her soul, I talk to myself when I get very tense. “Hmmm, maybe I should put a cell phone in my pocket just in case.” I continued to make a mental list of things to do when I took my next break. It was dark now so it must be … let’s see what the watches say … good Lord, it’s already after 9 p.m. I’ve been concentrating so hard on steering that the time has flown by. Okay, the wind seems to have leveled out at about 40 to 45 knots. That’s a blessing. I probably could have kept the mainsail up with a double reef and carried my 4 storm jib up forward but, well, better safe than sorry. In the morning maybe I’ll try some more sail. Now, I’m not hungry or thirsty, don’t need a piss. Maybe I’ll keep at it a while longer. The time moved quickly as I worked at keeping a fairly steady course. It took all my concentration and I slipped back into a kind of trance. The wind stayed steady but the sea continued to build. That usually means a big storm system, covering a large area. We had 10 to 15 foot waves on top of the long rolling Pacific swells. Occasionally the two types of waves would synchronize and put together a huge one. I had to watch for those and try to steer around the worst of them. Sometimes I was successful and sometimes we’d get one across the deck and the cockpit would take a few minutes to drain. All in all though, we seemed to be handling things pretty well. If the weather didn’t get any worse I’d be one tired puppy when it was done but we’d be fine. “Okay Buster.” I called myself Buster sometimes when I felt the need to be tough with myself. “Okay Buster, it’s now 11:44 p.m.. You’ve been steering straight for nearly 5 hours. You need to take a serious piss. Your mouth is dry. Your stomach is growling and you really should get a GPS fix and upload it” I suddenly realized that I was shouting to myself above the wind. Mom would be laughing her ass off at me. Back to just thinking, it saves energy or at least that’s what I told myself. “Okay, I’ll wait for the next big sea and then lash the sweep after it passes. That way the odds should be in my favor on getting back to the sweep before the next big one. I think I can get everything done pretty quick. First things first; switch on the GPS, take a piss, grab a sandwich and a bottle of something to drink, put the GPS fix and a short update in e-mail and set the upload to go on its own. Then, get back to the sweep.” My timing was perfect but not for the reasons you think. I got below and, thank God, secured the hatch. I got as far as two bites of the sandwich and then I fell on the overhead. Yup, that’s right. I fell on the ceiling of the cabin. Then I fell back on the cabin sole. The place looked like a tornado had hit and then the lights went out. I lay there and tried to reason out what had just happened. I was tired and sore but, thank God, no broken bones. Now Adonis was just rocking and tossing like a piece of junk adrift in an angry sea. There was no rhythm like before when we were making way. I crawled towards the aft hatch with the idea of poking my head up for a quick look. There wasn’t any water coming in, or none that I could see anyway. That was a blessing. Then, when I unsecured the hatch and slid it forward, I did get a face full of water. But I think it was mostly rain which had been falling since about 10 p.m. or so. I stuck my head up and realized what had happened right away and was very glad that I had been below decks. Adonis had rolled clear over. A full 360 degree roll sideways. Almost everything was stripped clean, the mast, main boom, most of the lifelines. The sweep, somehow, was still there but twisted and tangled. “Oh shit!” The life raft was gone as well. I was totally at the mercy of the storm now. I slid down the steps in shock and sat. Slowly the rain got my attention, reminding me that the hatch was still open. I forced myself up, slid it closed and secured it. There’s always a flashlight stored right by the hatch and grabbing it, I switched it on. My luck, if you could call it that, still held. There was no more water than what had come in while the hatch was open. At least we didn’t seem to be in immediate danger of sinking. I carefully braced myself as I moved towards the circuit breaker panel to see if the breakers had tripped but they were all set properly. “Why did the power quit?” I wondered as I scratched my head. The boat was rolling pretty badly and it was a job to crawl to the other end of the cabin but I had to try the GPS and computer. Maybe it was just the lights but no. Everything, GPS, computer, radios, they all required power. At least I knew that without up dates, my sister wouldn’t wait that extra half day or even until I was due. She’d be pushing for a search by dawn. “Wait you idiot!” I chided myself out loud. Try one of the cell phones!” I switched one on. “Damn. No service. Well, what the fuck did you expect … jerk! You should have added satellite phones when you got the computer satellite hookup.” My self-deprecating thoughts were cut short by another crashing wave. “Shit!” We took another major roll but, thank God, didn’t go all the way. I began to think; “Okay Buster. Calm down now.” I moved over to the hatch again and slid down to the cabin sole wedging myself in between the ladder and the bulkhead. “What are my options? None? I don’t accept that.” There was no sense in going topsides. There was nothing I could do up there except get swept overboard, especially in the dark. I will have to try to rest and wait for dawn. Then I can investigate. Perhaps the worst of the storm will have swept past me and it will be calmer. Maybe I can do something with the remains of the sweep. I couldn’t tell if the spare spinnaker pole was still latched in it’s chocks up forward but if it was I certainly could make some sort of rig. My mind raced on without me as my body began to assert its need for rest and I drifted off into a fitful sleep full of nightmares of floating in a glassy sea. Naked and treading water with nothing, NOTHING, on the horizon anywhere. Part One: Getting there is half the fun Chapter Three: The Gray Light of Dawn My own loud groan woke me up with a start. My body had taken a couple of hard slams when we rolled and I ached all over. Sleepy eyes slowly focused and cleared. There was more light and I could tell that the seas had slackened off some. I surveyed the cabin. It was still pretty dry but everything was thrown all about. The meals that I had made up were scattered about me on the cabin sole. I picked up the nearest one, a Tupperware container, and opened it. Cut up pieces of swiss cheese and summer sausage. I ate ravenously. There was a plastic bottle of high energy drink and I guzzled it down. Eating too fast gives me gas and the sound of my first long satisfied belch gave me the feeling of normalcy, however fanciful. The effort to move rewarded me with a shot of pain in my lower back. I stood and bracing myself against the rolling, stretching in an effort to loosen up. I looked out the port and could see that the sea was indeed down but still heavy and the rain seemed to have stopped. I mounted the steps and slid back the hatch. The air was far fresher than below. With the rig and the instrument sensors gone, there was no way to tell the wind speed but my guess was maybe 25 knots. Quite frankly, I was amazed that we were still afloat and I was still alive. The designer and builder of Adonis would get my deepest appreciation for a boat that kept it’s water tight integrity despite what it had been halkalı escort through. The deck was amazingly clear of debris, rigging cables and lines. Most must have gone with the mast. What few there were hung taught over the side … “My God, the rig is hanging under the boat!” That meant that we could have been stove in at any time if whatever was hanging down there moved the wrong way. Just inside the hatch was an emergency pair of cable cutters. They were there mainly in the event of a tangled line under tension but also for this type of emergency. I grabbed them and cut all the lines that were hanging tightly over the side and that I could get to safely. There were more to be cut up forward but they would have to wait until I could get there safely. Each time the boat moved there was a bump underneath us. I hoped nothing worse would happen before I could finish cutting the rig free. It was easy and safe to make my way to the stern and the instruments. The compass would still be working and confirmed my observations. We were being blown away from New Zealand to the Northeast. I turned back to look over the stern at the sweep. The pole was slightly bent but it was still lashed to the back stay fitting which served as its turning point. The inboard end had been made fast to cleats on either side of the boat but they had torn away. That was a blessing as the sweep was then able to move freely and avoid being severely bent or worse, broken. It would be serviceable if I could find a way to put on some sail. Turning my inspection to the rest of the boat the first thing I noticed was that the lifelines were mostly gone. That would make moving about very dangerous. There was some line that was attached to the track for the main boom. It was trailing slack over the side so I started to pull it in. When I had it all onboard there was more than enough to string it forward to the bow and make it fast there. Then I could hook my harness tether to it and move back and forth with relative safety. The trick was getting to the bow the first time. The line was coiled, like spaghetti, at my feet. If I crawled forward, down the middle of the boat over the cabin top, it would pay out easily and cleanly. I searched my planned route for places to attach my harness and found a few. I tied the end of the line directly to my harness. That way if I was swept overboard I’d still be attached to Adonis and could, hopefully, pull myself in and back onboard. Then I made my way forward watching the seas. When it looked like a bad one was coming I hooked onto something and waited. I was very careful and very lucky. On the way, I cut two more taught pieces of rigging cable that went over the side to the rig below. I silently prayed that cutting one wouldn’t release it to swing on another taught line and break a hole in the hull. Soon I was at the mast and looking up at the 5 foot stub of its remains. I saw why it wasn’t leaking water in badly. It was crimped off where it broke. “Man, what fucking luck!” I sputtered out loud. The chain plates where the shrouds had come down to the hull to hold the mast were all snapped off in similar states of neatness except one. I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing as far as a recommendation for the manufacturer was concerned. But, I did know that it had been good for me in this instance. The one remaining would have to be cut. The cable cutters were big enough and I could make myself secure. Again, I was just afraid of something snapping back and hitting me or the hull. The cable was under a lot of tension. When I cut it the last few strands parted with loud pops just before the cutter would have done the job. The boat rolled in the opposite direction and I could tell by her movement that it had been the last one. I breathed a great sigh of relief. Then I moved around the mast and stopped dead. There was nothing between me and the angry Pacific except one fitting about 10 feet away and then another 10 feet to the bow with its various fittings for sails and docking lines. The fore deck, being out at the front end of the boat, was rolling and pitching wildly. I would, not once but twice, have to negotiate 10 feet without any secure attachment. I thought to myself. “Wait. … And wait some more.” I tried to judge the timing. Was there any lull in the movement of the deck under me? Was I crazy? What other choice was there? I tried to time it once again and then slid forward, reached out and “SNAP”! I made it! A wave washed over me just as I thought that. The wave tried to suck me into the sea. The hook held. Dare I try it again? “Let me rest.” I thought. I lowered my head to the deck and tried to calm down. As I lay there my eyes focused on the bail I had hooked my tether to. “Oh man!” I cried out loud. “It’s a car on a track! Of course!” The bail, or loop of stainless steel, was on a stainless steel slide, or car, that was in turn on a track that ran all the way to the bow. My luck holds! I lifted the locking pin and pushed the car forward. It moved a few inches until it found another hole and locked itself securely in place again. It was slow progress but I repeated the process until I was finally at the bow. Once there, I rested again. The motion of Adonis was wildest here at the end of the see saw, so to speak, and I was beginning to feel it in my stomach with all that cheese and sausage in there. I belched loudly and, in spite of the circumstances or because of them, I had a laugh. However, staying here long would be dangerous for more reasons than just a touch of seasickness. The line tied to my harness was tightly knotted and it took me a few minutes to remove it and, not losing it in the occasional waves washing over me, get it made fast through one of the bow cleats with a good bowline (For you landlubbers, that’s the best and strongest knot on a boat.). Then I moved my harness clip to this new lifeline. Now, to muster the strength to move back aft. I turned around to start back and what should I spy staring me in the face? It was the most beautiful thing. The spare spinnaker pole and in good shape too. I thought about the possibilities while slowly and carefully making my way back to the cockpit. If it could somehow be brought upright and lashed to the stump of the old mast, maybe then one of the spare sails below could be used to get the boat under way and in some sort of control. I had to think and out here was not the place. I was getting a serious chill. Back in the cabin, if still lucky, would be some dry clothes. Maybe then I could devise a plan. The cockpit was a welcome momentary resting place. The sweep looked like it was still okay but the compass showed me that we were still drifting away from New Zealand towards the remoter areas of the South Pacific with its many small atolls and islands. God forbid we should drift that far and be torn to pieces on some reef hundreds of miles from rescue. “Stop thinking such thoughts!” I brought myself up short. “Go below and try to get a GPS reading. One of the handhelds has to be working. If you can get an accurate series of positions, then you can figure the rate of drift and direction.” This talking out loud was beginning to worry me. A sea broke over the cockpit filling it half way and then it drained out the back. Something had to be done soon to get us some forward motion and steerage, even if it was in the wrong direction. The boat could only take so much if this abuse. I pushed the hatch back, unhooked my harness from the new lifeline and went down below. With the hatch closed tightly, I wedged myself in the navigation station and pulled one of the hand held GPS units out of the cubby. It worked just fine and shortly I had a fix. There was a permanent felt tip pen in the drawer and I wrote the coordinates on the table top, followed by the time and date. I would check again after I spent some time inventorying lines, blocks and sails. There had to be a way to get that pole up, raise some sail and get Adonis moving. The storm jib looked to be only a bit longer in the hoist than the pole would be tall. That is, if I could get the damn thing up. There was all the line that would ever be needed and plenty of blocks and other gear. Tools were no problem either. Then I remembered something that I had thrown in at the last minute, something my neighbor had given me. “Now let’s see. Where in hell did I put those things?” At least I was thinking out loud and not just talking to myself. There is a difference you know. “Ah, here they are buried in the bottom of the tool locker.” They were two pairs of … hmmm, what to call them? Belt clamps? Picture a two inch wide heavy duty web belt with a ratchet like clamping device on one end. It kind of works like a ‘come-a-long’. Wrap the belt around something, or a few somethings, put the end through the ratchet, pull it tight and pump the ratchet a few times and there you go. Tight as a virgin’s … well, we wont go there. The trick was, how to pick up a 25 foot pole weighing maybe 50 pounds, stand it up next to the mast, wrap these clamps around it and tighten them. All with just two hands and on a rocking boat. Part One: Getting there is half the fun Chapter Four: The erection (Pun intended. We could use a good chuckle about now.) It was time I ate and drank some more to keep my strength and energy up. So I sat down, wedged in the same spot as before, and munched on a ham and cheese sandwich from earlier. I tried to picture the base of the mast. There was a large bail at the base of the mast used to attach the ends of lines and halyards to keep them secure and organized when not in use. If the latch at the end of the pole would hook onto that bail it could serve as a hinge. “Yes, that will work, I think.” I spoke aloud again. “Back to just thinking Buster!” If I place two blocks on either side of the fore deck and run lines through them to what will be the top of the pole, when it is up, and run a third line aft to a block in the cockpit and then to a forward winch where I can crank it, I could use the aft line to pull the pole up and control it with the two forward lines. “Gee asshole! It just might work … if you had three pairs of hands.” This was very depressing. I was exhausted from everything beyond anything I had ever experienced and gladly let myself fall asleep. It must have been a couple of hours of sleep and well worth it for when I awoke the wind and sea were down further. The idea for a mast still percolated in my brain and I decided to go on a planning mission. I winced in pain as I started to get up. “Man,” I thought to myself. “It doesn’t take long to stiffen up, I must be covered with bruises.” It felt like I had not moved in a couple days instead of a couple hours. After some stretching to limber up, I poked around some more looking for helpful gear. Finally, I grabbed the spinnaker sheets, which were more than long enough, and three blocks from the equipment locker. I put them, along with the belt clamps and some other odds and ends, in a canvas tote bag. The moment I opened the hatch I knew I was getting another lucky break. The weather had vastly improved, at least for now. Using the new lifeline, I went forward lugging the tote bag, with its own lifeline, and checked out the bail at the based of the mast. “Perfect!” I took my time and, without trying to move the pole yet, carefully put all the blocks and lines in place. I even attached a double block at what would be the top and put a couple lines in it so I could haul up a sail or two … if my luck held. Then I sat and rested a moment while I went over the first big move in my mind again. I had to unlatch the pole from its hold downs at each end, lay it on the foredeck, sticking out over the bow and then attach the mast end to the bail at the base of the mast. On the bow was a stainless steel pulpit, kind of like a fence about two feet high and it curved around the bow. It was part of the lifelines and still there though bent down a bit. The pole could rest in the place where it was bent down and, if I worked fast enough, maybe it would stay there until I hooked it to the bail and started to winch it up. It worked and soon I had all the lines tight and secured with the pole sticking out forward about two inches above the pulpit. With all three lines taught it wouldn’t go anywhere. “Now Buster, you have to find two more guys to help you haul it up.” Securely attached to the same bail at the base of the mast, I sat there and contemplated the situation. I watched as the pole slowly began to move with the motion of Adonis in the waves. It increased its movement over a few moments and it suddenly dawned on me why. The lines have a certain amount of stretch. Perhaps I could use that to my advantage? I tried cranking in the line to the block in the cockpit and it made the pole tight again. Hmmm, it would be a slow process … but. I let out some slack in the two forward lines. The pole wobbled about but not too wildly. Then cranking in more on the back line, I took up about a foot of slack and the pole rose up a bit. I tried more slack, more than last time, and the pole whipped around a bit too wildly but I cranked quickly and it was stable again. With a happy medium found the erection of a new mast was happily completed in about 90 minutes. I couldn’t believe it! With the pole upright along the forward side of what was left of the mast it still moved around, even with all three lines tight. I took out one of the belt clamps and wrapping it around both the mast and the pole just below where the mast broke, I used the ratchet and made it fast. The pole stopped 95 percent of it’s movement. The second belt clamp was made fast about two-thirds of the way down. The bail held it fast at the bottom. The pole was now as stable as I could make it. I wrapped the left over lengths of web belts around and tied them off, mainly to get them out of the way. Then I checked the extra line to the top of the new mast to make sure it would run free and I could haul up a sail. It worked! “Fan-fucking-tastic!” Adrenaline coursed şirinevler escort through me. I was so excited. There was light at the end of the tunnel. And it wasn’t even noon yet. Plenty of time to set the small jib and get some way on. It wouldn’t be pretty but we would get some control of our destiny here. Back below I found some Ibuprofen and downed two while I took a moment to eat and drink something. Then I grabbed the jib and a line to use as a sheet to trim it. This jib is a tall skinny triangle. The longest edge will go from the top of the pole down to the bow. The corner with the narrowest angle goes at the top. The corner opposite the longest edge gets a line attached and that leads back to a block and then a winch in the cockpit. When you pull in the line in the cockpit and point the boat correctly relative to the wind, the boat will ‘sail’ forward. Simple, huh? Believe it or not, it is simple but it took me the better part of an hour to get it balanced right. Then we were sailing again … well, conversationally speaking. Adonis didn’t like the arrangement but we did get forward speed and the motion of the boat smoothed out. On the down side, we were still sailing away from where we wanted to go. It was still too windy to do much in the way of experimentation to see if I could improve our course direction. The main thing now was that we weren’t as susceptible to being swamped by a big wave. As the afternoon wore on I was able to improve boat speed through adjusting the hoist of the sail and the trim. I estimated that we were doing about 5 knots. Not bad considering that in prime condition and the right winds, Adonis was capable of sustained speeds of twice that and bursts of speeds surfing a wave of as much as 20 knots. However, we were headed for a remote area of the South Pacific. We were already out of the shipping lanes and soon would be out of most air traffic routes. Worse yet, there would eventually be reefs to worry about. I had small scale charts covering large areas and so, could only find general locations. To the Northeast about 1400 miles was Tonga (UK territory) and the Cook Islands (New Zealand). To the north northeast about 600 miles were the Kermadec Islands (also New Zealand). North but again about 1400 miles was the South Fiji Basin with Fiji (UK) beyond. The Kermadec Islands were the best bet. If I could sail that high up wind that is. And, it would be between 3 and a half to 5 days. Food and water were not a problem. Sleep would be the problem. I would have to sleep if I was to survive. The sweep would have to be able to hold a course for longer than 10 minutes. The wind was cooperating. Well, as far as speed was concerned and the sea moderated. I felt that the threat of extra large waves had diminished enough to permit an experiment with balance between the sail and the sweep. This was to see if I could find a happy medium between the settings of these two so that the course would remain steady enough for me to sleep. It took some doing but we seemed to have achieved a happy medium and so, I went below, secured the hatch and tried to sleep. I must have slept soundly. Only when the sail backwinded because the sweep had loosened and we had changed course, did I awaken. I climbed back on deck to readjust things and discovered that the sun was out. Once we were in balance again I ate some food and tried to clean up for the first time since the rollover. It felt very good. I put on a clean pair of running shorts and a t-shirt. Then I put a cell phone (still no service of course) in my foul weather jacket pocket. When I picked up the phone I noticed a very romantic picture of my old boyfriend and I. We were clearly in love with each other at that moment and another gay friend had snapped the picture and gave us each a copy for Christmas. It was sweet and made me feel good so I slipped it into a zip lock sandwich bag, along with the phone, and put them back in the pocket. I went to check the GPS and found it dead. My first piece of bad luck. I couldn’t believe that I had left it on. It must have been the lack of sleep. Well, what’s done is done. I looked around the cabin. I was as prepared as I could be so, I went to sleep again. I figured to sleep as much as I could during the day as I would have to be up most of the night. Just in case. Things settled into a routine and before I knew it 3 and a half days had passed. My luck had held. We had one scare when a line of squalls came through early yesterday morning but they passed quickly. It was now the morning of day 4. Actually, early afternoon was the real start of the fifth day since I reset sail. Anyhow, I was beginning to worry about reefs now. What should I do at night? I decided that this topic would be my obsession for the day. There were two options; keep sailing or heave-to and wait for dawn. I didn’t like the latter idea but mother nature had her own plans. The weather had remained fair but now a thin cloud cover had crept in and the humidity had risen. Even though a mist hung in the air, the wind had risen as well. Not uncommon down here. I estimated that we were now doing close to 7 knots and must be getting very near to the Kermadec Islands area. By mid afternoon I was very anxious. At this speed and proximity to the islands I’d have to heave-to for the night. I was getting damp now as the mist was beginning to change into a soft rain so I went below to put on my foul weather gear. It was a bit too warm but in a few hours it would be dark and get chilly. So I would be prepared. While below I rechecked the DVRs and turned on both the cameras. It was silly but since they were battery driven and working I thought, what the heck. The sailing was pretty interesting now that we were hitting near 7 knots and maybe even a bit more at times. Just as I started up on deck I saw the binoculars and thought, “What the heck. I’ll see what I can see.” The sweep and sail were perfectly balanced and we were running nice and smooth. So, using my harness, I moved up to the mast along the new lifeline. Once there I unhooked to move in front of the sail so it wouldn’t block my view. Just as I got there and braced myself, I looked up and thought I saw something up in the air about 45 degrees above the now heavily cloud shrouded horizon. A bird maybe? Distracted, I forgot to hook on and that probably saved my life. I lifted the binoculars to look up where I thought I saw something. Just then, the mist or a cloud, whatever, cleared enough and I realized with a shock that what I’d seen was the top of a mountain. Before I could bring the binoculars down to look ahead or even say the words rushing up my throat; “HOLY SHIT!” WHAM! Adonis smashed full tilt into a coral reef and I went flying through the air and into the sea. The keel on Adonis went down over 7 feet so I wasn’t surprised that I didn’t hit the reef when I splashed into the water. But, the breakers were wild and rolled me over and over. My luck didn’t hold and the first time I hit the coral I bashed my left elbow and the pain made me try to yell. Water went down my throat and then everything went black. Part One: Getting there is half the fun Chapter Five: You’re not Friday … are you? The vale of unconsciousness slowly slipped away and as it did I gradually become aware of noise. “There’s a roaring in my ears. What’s that roar?” I thought to myself. “And there’s something in my eye.” I moved my left arm to use a finger to rub my eye. “Ugh oohh aaieee!” I groaned out loud. My body ached from head to toe and as I bent my arm, my elbow screamed in pain. Still, I brushed at my eye. “Sand! My eye has sand in it. I was on the beach! I was alive!” Being careful not to open the sandy eye, I opened my right one and was looking down at smooth wet sand. I rolled from lying on my right front to up on my right side and sharply sucked in a breath as my body screamed again in pain. I waited for the pain to recede and then slowly and carefully began to brush the sand from my left eye. As if on cue, a gentle wave slid up my legs. I was able to rinse off my hand and then clean my eye. When I opened it I saw that I was lying next to the thick trunk of a fallen palm tree. Gritting my teeth with the pain, I slowly rolled onto my back. Then I looked to my left. There was about 4 feet more of beach and then coral rock coming out of the water and out of my view. I craned my head back and saw, among the stars of sharp pain, that the coral rock blended into a low cliff maybe 8 feet high. Lying there on my back I took stock of the various sources of my discomfort. My left palm was sore but not bleeding, my left elbow hurt worse and I thought I felt it bleeding. I didn’t try to look because of the pain in my neck. My right hand and elbow had similar injuries to the left but not as bad. The burning of my knees reminded me of the time I tripped as a kid while running and skidding to a stop on my knees. I dared not look there either as my lower back ached the worst of all. That pain and I were old friends. I rolled back onto my right side to take the pressure off my back and ease that pain. I wasn’t ready to try anything else yet so I had no idea what lay on the other side of the downed palm tree. I drifted off to sleep again while wondering where I was and what had become of Adonis. ********** Author’s Note to Readers: If this was going to be a great novel, or even just a decent novella, I’d research a Polynesian language and use it here for authenticity. But, it’s not. It’s just a short story. So all the natives that you are about to meet, speak English to some degree or another. Ever since World War Two, when this string of atolls and islands in the remote South Pacific was liberated from the Japanese by the Australians and New Zealanders, the natives have picked up English. On this particular island they know more than enough to get by when the rare stray boat or trader stops, whether intentionally or unintentionally, like our friend the lone sailor in this story. ********** ********** Three young children, two boys and a girl, came out of the bush and headed for the water’s edge. They were typical of this area. The boys, small but husky in stature. The little girl, very slim and delicate in that preadolescent Polynesian way. They all had glistening black hair, the boys’ cut not unlike Beatle haircuts of the 60’s and the girl’s, hung down below her shoulder blades. All three had deep, dark ever smiling and twinkling eyes. Their skin was golden, clean, smooth and blemish free. The two boys, Kel (Pronounced Kell) and Kamiki (Cam ee kye), though their height and facial features made them look no more than 10, were nearing their 14th year. They could have been twins and had been the best of friends forever. Lani (La Knee) was Kamiki’s 11 year old little sister. She was always tagging along when the two boys were trying to run off on some mysterious adventure. In constant motion, the three naked children poked into everything along the calm water’s edge. There were many bits and pieces of some sort of boat. Kel and Kamiki chattered back and forth with fanciful imaginings about what kind of boat the debris had come from and what misadventures had brought its pieces into the lagoon. Kamiki pointed out to the reef from which this island got its name. Malaki Ni (Mal ah key Knee), White Reef. “Is there a boat out there?” He was excited. “Look! On the reef!” “Yes, I can see something.” Kel agreed but as the more level headed of the two, he also observed, “It will be too dangerous to take a canoe out there. Look at those waves. If it is a boat, it will break up soon and the pieces will wash into the lagoon. Maybe by tomorrow. Then we can go to look at it.” Lani was less interested in that sort of adventure. Being ever practical, she picked up a brightly colored beach towel and a small seat cushion from Adonis’ navigation station. “Oh Lani!” Kamiki scolded. “What are you going to do with that? Why don’t you go home to Mama? There’s woman’s work to be done. This is work for men.” “I see no men.” She bravely challenged. “Stupid girl!” Even though he loved her, Kamiki sometimes had no patience for his little sister. “Mama says you have to take care of me.” Lani whined. “I want you to take me home now. This is not fun anymore.” Kamiki looked at Kel and rolled his eyes. “Kel, you and Old Kel are so lucky to not have women in your house.” “Kamiki.” Lani demanded. “I will tell Mama unless you come right now!” Kel shook his head and laughed at Kamiki’s dilemma. “Go on Kamiki. I will not look at everything until we can come back tomorrow. By then there will be much more.” Resigned to his fate as older brother, Kamiki agreed. “Okay Kel. Come with us?” “No. I promised Great Uncle some coconuts and I see some by that fallen palm at the end of the beach.” With that, Kel trotted off down the beach calling over his shoulder. “I will see you tomorrow Kamiki!” ********** I don’t know how long I had been asleep when I first heard the children. They were far enough away that I couldn’t hear the words much less understand the musical language. The pain was about the same but when I tried to move I found that I had stiffened up and was quite weak. I wanted to look over the fallen palm tree but I couldn’t raise myself up enough to even put my hand on top of the log. I gently rolled onto my back again and slowly raised my knees to ease the pain in my lower back. The twinge of pain was too much and I cried out weakly. As the pain subsided, I opened my eyes again and found myself staring into the deepest, darkest, friendliest pair of eyes that I have ever seen. I strained very hard but was only able to mumble. “You … you’re not Friday … are you?” Then I passed out. Next, Part Two: A very good judge of people Characters: Malaki Ni (Mal ah key Knee) – Village and Island name meaning White Reef Kel or Little Kel – the boy Old Kel – the boy’s Great Uncle, widower Kali (Cal ee) – an old widow woman, Old Kel’s friend Leni (Leh Nye) – a villager, Kam’s pregnant wife and Kamiki’s mother Kam (Cam) – a villager, Leni’s husband Kamiki (Cam ee kye) – Kam’s son and Kel’s friend Lani (La knee) – Leni’s daughter Kamani (Ka mon knee) – Village Leader Maki (Mac eye) – Healer and Spiritual Leader Maliki (Mal ee kye) and Miki (My key) – Male couple Alani (Ah la knee) and Kiliki (Key lee key) – Female couple

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32