The Wager
Mooring: a place or line that holds a vessel in place
William woke up in Fathom’s cockpit. He pulled the tender over, clambered in, and had rowed almost to shore when he realized he wasn’t wearing his safety harness. He was too focused on persuading Daniel to race Fathom.
Daniel, his coffee cup in hand, stepped onto the veranda just as William ran up the hill towards him.
“Good morning, William. You’re up and about early. Your dad was an early bird too.”
William panted, trying to catch his breath. He stood beside his grandfather and pointed to Fathom tugging at her anchor chain. William said, “She’s ready to go and you should be too. The Real McCoy didn’t murder Cavendish.”
Daniel choked on his coffee. “What do you mean he didn’t murder Cavendish?”
He showed him the photo of Cavendish’s face. “That mark was made by a smaller, shorter man than McCoy.”
“So … you’re saying McCoy had a shorter, smaller partner in this crime? Doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved,” reasoned Daniel. He shook spilled coffee from his wrist.
William played his ace. “I know what the note said. The note McCoy left you.”
Daniel shot him an incredulous look. “You couldn’t possibly know …”
“If I’m right, you have to promise to race Saturday.”
“You’re awfully …”
“Hard-headed?”
“Pig-headed!”
“Runs in the family. Gimme your word on it?”
“You’re wasting your time.”
“Then you’ve got nothing to lose, Granddad.”
Daniel weighed his options before heading in and back out before the screen door shut. He pried a yellowed note from behind a photograph of himself as a young man. He looked up, daring William to guess what only he and the dead man knew.
“Keelhaul!” said William.
Daniel turned the yellowed note to show William its inscription: Keelhaul. Your father, William McCoy, 1947.
“How did you know?”
“When you race on Saturday, you’ll find out. And it wasn’t meant to be a nasty note, you know.”
“What else could it mean?”
“Race and you’ll find out.”
-
Harley and Emmett could hardly believe it when Daniel told them that he’d race. They pulled out charts, sat down, and pored over the race course.
Mary had called. She hadn’t been able to secure a private mortgage. She was coming home today and then they would rethink what was to be done next.
A sports car rumbling to a stop outside drew Harley’s attention.
“That’s Trenton.”
A moment later Trenton marched in. “Morning, everyone.”
“Morning,” answered Emmett as the others nodded a greeting in reply. Trenton’s tie had a green sailboat on it that went with his green silk suit but not his cowboy boots.
Trenton looked to Daniel. “I saw that lovely schooner, Fathom, moored out in front of your place. Lot of work to get her in that shape. Were you planning on racing her?”
William, Harley, and Emmett turned to Daniel, who said, “Appears so.”
Trenton made little knowing sounds. “I gather you’re having trouble getting a mortgage … what with property values shrinking and you not working much in the sail loft these days.” He slid two documents from his satchel onto the counter.
“My company is willing to buy your property at substantially above market value.”
“Why would you want to buy my property?”
William jumped in. “So he can dig it up and find McCoy’s gold for his father.”
Daniel cleared his throat. “The property’s not for sale, Mr. Trenton.”
“Then consider a ten-year mortgage at generous terms. Time enough to get back on your feet.” Trenton inched his mortgage certificate towards Daniel.
Daniel eyed it like a poisonous apple. “What’s the catch?”
“We’d need to be sure you weren’t taking any undue risks with your health.”
Nobody seemed to know where he was heading with this line of thought. He continued. “For example, sailing in a race … could be dangerous. Too great a risk for my company to provide you with a mortgage.”
Harley boiled over. “You’ll provide a mortgage if Uncle Daniel doesn’t race?”
“Call it protecting my company’s investment.”
“You’re afraid to race against him,” blurted Harley.
Trenton turned his palms upward in a gesture of mock resignation. “Think of it, Daniel. The bank calls your loan at the end of the month and you sell your house at a loss.” He pushed the mortgage with the tip of his index finger. “Or you take my offer and you and your wife get to stay in the family house for at least another ten years.”
Daniel reached out and pulled the document over to have a look at it.
“I bet Granddad can beat you,” William boasted.
“That’s very touching, but what would you bet?”
“The mortgage.”
Trenton looked mystified.
“If Granddad wins, you give him the same deal that’s on the table now.”
Trenton hooted a dismissive laugh as he headed for the door.
William spoke up. “Didn’t you want to prove to your father that you can beat a McCoy? Isn’t that why your painting shows your boat beating the Mary?”
Trenton’s eyes narrowed and he lurched towards William. Emmett stood by William.
“And if I win?” growled Trenton, stopping in his tracks.
William knew there was only one other thing Trenton wanted for his father. “You get the Mary.”
Harley gasped.
Trenton took stock. “She’s a pretty boat, but not worth the value of the mortgage.”
“She is to your father. Do we have a bet?” asked William, standing his ground.
“You in a position to make that bet?” queried Trenton, glancing at Daniel and Emmett.
William looked up to Emmett, who, as owner, was the only one who could take the bet. Emmett placed a hand on William’s shoulder to show that he backed the wager.
Daniel protested. “Emmett! You can’t.”
Emmett locked eyes with Trenton. “Just did. Deal?”
Trenton asked, “Daniel races Fathom, and if I win, I get the Mary? If Daniel wins, he gets the mortgage?”
Emmett nodded. Trenton spat, “Deal.”
Emmett clarified the terms. “And Dingle acts as broker, so everything’s fair.”
Trenton kept his best shot for the end: “Tell me, Daniel, where are you going to get a suit of sails for Fathom? I mean, you aren’t seriously going to race with those heavy, worn, cotton sails on her now, are you? Those rags’ll tear at the first gust of wind.”
Daniel frowned, so Emmett spoke up. “Well, ah, Daniel was asking to borrow mine.”
Trenton pulled the rule book from his back pocket and held it like a preacher holding up a bible. “And you, as race chairman, were about to tell him the rules prohibit you from being personally involved with any of the contestants, right? Of course, Daniel could buy them — at market value. But you can’t lend him the money.” The room went deathly quiet.
“Let me know what you want to do, Daniel. You take my mortgage offer and don’t race, or you find some sails and race for your mortgage.” Trenton strutted for the door.
The sound of his sports car ebbing in the distance let the tension out of the room.
Emmett patted William’s shoulder. “You’ve got the nerve of a highliner, there, lad.”
William saw Daniel weighed down by the stakes. “He has more money than us but he doesn’t have your sailing skills, Granddad.” That was a hard one for Daniel to argue. William added, “Yesterday we didn’t have a captain. Today all we don’t have is a set of sails. And we have four days till the race.”
Harley warmed to the idea. “Riiight! I could call and email some of the other sailing clubs and ask about sails. Wicked idea, William.” She skipped to the computer.
Emmett managed a faint grin at the two cousins. “Genius is also born of enthusiasm.”
William had just filled and plugged in the kettle when Harley called out by the computer. “Hey, guess what? Charlie Kaulbach at the Chester Yacht Club already wrote back and says he has a set of sails that would fit and they only want fifteen hundred dollars for them. Wicked, huh?”
“Fifteen hundred dollars? Might as well be a million. And the house, Mary’s home …,” muttered Daniel. They all grew quiet and left Daniel to weigh his choices.