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Captains log sea date 15/07 point 13.

Today the weather was lovely. Couldn’t have been nicer. Staci is much better. She is much livelier than she was. The bandage came off this morning. OK, I’m probably being overprotective here, but tough. Hopefully another week will see us on dry land.

 

1st Officer’s log sea date 17/07 point 10.

If you ask me, which you haven’t, this is a pretty silly way to keep a logbook. However, Jim insists, and as I’m only first officer, I have to do what the Captain says. It doesn’t help with his name being James Tiberius Kirk, either. By the way (btw), not only is he captain, he’s also chief engineer, chief medical officer, and helm officer. (Despite the fact I’m the only one with the first aid certificate and do half the sailing round here.) Actually, the only thing he isn’t is chief cook and bottle washer. Oh, and first officer.

 

Chief Medical Officer’s log sea date 17/07 point 13.

Staci is now fit to return to active duty. She has spent the last few days reviewing the ships log and wanted to know what the point meant after the date. A valid point. The first numbers are the date, 17/07 being the seventeenth of July. The point, i.e. point 13, is the time, in this case 1300 hrs or one pm. Once we get to Jamaica, we’ll change the clocks to local time rather than GMT.

Captain’s log supplemental.

Btw, this is not a silly way to keep a logbook. It works just fine. Please note, a first officer can get into a lot of trouble talking to her captain like that.

 

First Officer’s supplemental addition.

Can she really? The captain and who’s army?

 

Captains log sea date 20/07 point 21.

The one working engine we have started cutting out today. Overheating I think. So we have slowed down a lot and hopefully it will last eight more days. Which is our revised eta for Jamaica. I hope to dock in Kingston on the twenty-eighth. Engine permitting. I shall have to study the map in a bit. I know I told Lou days ago I would but I haven’t done it yet. It’s nice having Staci doing the middle shift again. It’s surprising how tiring it is otherwise.

 

Captains log sea date 23/07 point 19.

Very calm today which is nice if slightly worrying. I managed to get the bridge to myself which was even nicer. I dread to think what those girls are planning—they spent almost the entire day in a huddle with the dog. Lou doesn’t trust my map reading abilities and doesn’t reckon I know where we are. I know exactly where we are. On a boat somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean...

We are approaching the Windward Pass and it is nice to see dry land on the horizon again. Unfortunately, the Turks and Caicos Islands are part of the UK, so I daren’t risk landing there. So the plan is the Windward Pass between Haiti and Cuba it is and then on to Jamaica. I have jury-rigged a makeshift mast, and it seems to be holding. Hopefully, where we land will have a good repair yard and speak English.

On a different note, I saw a shark this morning. Just one and it didn’t see me, so there is no point in bothering anyone else. No one else need know. Captain/logbook confidentiality and all that.

 

Captains log sea date 24/07 point 07.

Major change of plan. This engine really is on its last legs so we have changed course and are hoping to dock on Grand Turk ASAP. They are 5hrs behind GMT. We don’t need a visa, just passports. The currency is US dollars, and there is a $23 departure tax.

The next entry will be done after we dock. It will take the new time into consideration. So I guess technically it’s really 0200. Huh, could’ve stayed in bed longer. Oh, well. Land coming up. We’d better slow down. Don’t want to arrive too early do we?

 

1st Officer’s log sea date 24/07 point 17 (well 22 really.)

Arrived at Grand Turk today. That was hair-raising in itself as helmsman Jim got his knobs confused (?) and we accelerated into the marina rather than slowed. Fortunately (?) the engine then cut out, so we did stop in time—just. Anyway after customs and the passport check, he announced shore leave in his usual blunt fashion, “Everybody out.” and gave Staci and I four hours to go shopping while he and Deefer went to find a repair yard.

Mind you, it took us an hour to find the bank. I took out enough to see us through the next day or two.

Having done the boring stuff, we decided to do the exciting stuff—shopping. We found the most amazing market. So many colors and sounds and smells. Very busy, crowded alleys with stalls on each side selling fabric, fruit, veg, kitchen utensils, and rugs. In fact, you name it, and they probably sold it in six or seven different colors. Each of the stalls had its own smell but you have to be there. The whole place was, alive, I guess is the word I want.

Women in bright clothing (mainly reds, yellows, and purples), with babies strapped to their backs, bundles on their heads, haggling over prices with the stall holders. Old men crowded round a dice game, smoking pipes. Small children running between the stalls, stealing fruit when they thought they could get away with it.

Staci was fascinated by some of the hairstyles—very tight plaits with beads on the ends. When we passed a stall doing them, I couldn’t drag her away from it. Instead, I had to talk her out of having one hundred separate braids done. In the end, she settled for fifteen and refused to have any less than that. Well it’d keep her occupied for a bit so leaving her in the capable hands of the stall holder, I went off on my own, promising to come back in twenty minutes or so.

I wandered round the fruit stalls amazed at the variety on offer, my mouth watering at the smell. We’d run out of fresh fruit weeks ago. There were apples, bananas, oranges, plums, yams, and papaya to name a few. I haggled over prices, too, as it seemed the done thing and all of them spoke English. It was when I returned to the fish stall, next to where Staci was having the final plait done, that I noticed a man whom I’d seen when we’d come out of customs and again at the bank. He stood out rather in his white suit, mirror shades, and Panama hat. I mean a suit in ninety degrees with the humidity so close it was almost touching? He seemed vaguely familiar—

Staci came running up to me stopping my entry. “Lou, do you like it?” She did a twirl, her braids spinning out and hitting her face.

“Looks like more than fifteen, Stace.”

“OK, it’s not. It’s more like, well almost twenty-ish.”

“Twenty-ish. How many exactly?”

“Thirty?”

“Staci, the truth. I can always go and ask.”

“Forty-two.”

“Forty-two?”

“Yeah, the ultimate number. Anyway it’s my favorite number so it’s exactly forty-two.”

I laughed. “Rather you than me. So long as you can sleep at night.”

“Nightmares permitting. What have you been up to? Isn’t this place fantastic? Good job Jim’s got the dog. Deefer’d have a field day with all this....” She broke off. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking. What fish do you fancy for tea?”

“Depends whose cooking.”

“You are,” I said, glancing across the market. The man had moved away and was by the fabric stall.

Staci chose the fish and we wandered back across the market, buying bits we thought we might need. Staci wanted a drink, but I wanted to get back, so laden with bags we set off back to the boat. I thought we were being followed but put it down to being paranoid. As we left the market and moved into the quieter streets that led to the marina, we could hear footsteps behind us, the tap-tap-tap of metal tipped shoes on the cobbles.

I stopped suddenly and spun round, hoping to find Jim messing about, but it was the man in the white suit. As he put his hand into his inside jacket pocket, I caught sight of a glint of metal and I freaked. I mean totally freaked out. I grabbed Staci’s hand and started to pull her away.

He called after us. “Hey, Lou, wait up.” His voice was familiar and he knew my name.

I stopped and turned slightly. There was definitely something familiar about him now I looked at him properly.

He removed his shades and I recognized him as the American who had helped me in Cornwall. “Hi,” he said, hooking his shades over his jacket pocket. “I thought it was you. What are you doing all the way over here?”

I put the bags down and forced myself to smile. “Hi. Nice to see you again. This is my friend, Staci Kirk. Staci, this is Mr. Fitzgerald.”

“Jack, please,” he said, shaking Staci’s hand. “So, Lou. What are you doing here?”

“We’re on holiday,” I said quickly. “Six-week school holiday, so we’re making the most of it.”

“Not on your own, I hope?” There could have been a touch of concern in his voice, but grown-ups are good at putting it on at times.

“No,” Staci told him. “We have a grown-up around somewhere. You know grown-ups. Never around when you need them.”

Jack laughed. “Sounds like most grown-ups I know. One in particular. Do you have to carry these bags far?”

“Too far in this heat.” Staci complained. “I’m dying of thirst and Lou won’t let us stop for a drink.”

“We can have one when we get back,” I told her.

“We don’t need to be back for another hour,” Staci said.

“I don’t want to interfere in a family argument,” Jack said, “But how about I buy you both a drink and we can catch up?”

Before I could argue, Staci accepted for both of us.

Jack picked up some of the bags and led the way to a cafe. He told us to sit down and he went inside to order the drinks. Half of me wanted to run away, but I was pretty tired and thirsty. He came back with a tray of sodas and three cakes. He handed us one each and sat down.

We thanked him, although I was uncomfortable with the fact that he insisted on paying. Staci struck up a conversation with him and discovered that he was widowed, had a son who had died suddenly three years ago and didn’t have a current girlfriend.

“You ask too many questions Staci,” I told her.

“It’s OK. I don’t mind answering them,” Jack replied. “How long are you staying here Lou?”

“Not sure,” I answered. “It depends. Probably a week.”

Jack became aware that Staci was watching him. “Are you OK?” he asked.

“You remind me of my dad,” Staci said quietly.

“Is he here with you?” Jack asked

“No, he’s missing. So’s my mum.”

“I’m sorry. Was it fairly recently?”

“End of May,” Staci said. “There was an earthquake and a tsunami and people just stopped looking for them.” She began to cry.

I resisted the urge to kick her for saying too much. “Sorry.”

“That’s OK,” he said. “It’s part of the healing process. Grief is the price you pay for love.” He handed Staci a tissue.

“We really should be getting back,” I said. “Thank you for the coke and cake.”

“That’s OK. Do you have to carry those bags far?”

“Not far,” I replied. “We have a boat, so we only have to go as far as the marina.”

“Another boat?” Jack said, grabbing four of the bags as we stood up. “You certainly like them.”

Staci fell in beside him and talked to him about her parents. She kept him occupied on the way back to the boat. I hoped desperately that he wouldn’t recognize Avon, but I could tell by the expression on his face that he did.

Before he could say anything, Jim and Deefer saw us and came over.

Deefer was so pleased to see me that he almost bowled me over. “Get down, you daft dog,” I told him.

Jack put the bags down and petted Deefer who barked affectionately. “Hello again, boy. Remember me, do you?”

Jim didn’t look happy but whether it was bad news about the boat or because we had company, I wasn’t sure.

“This is Jim,” Staci said. “The grown-up I was telling you about.”

Jack held out his hand. “Jack Fitzgerald,” he said. “I met Lou in Cornwall a while back.”

“Jim Kirk,” Jim replied, shaking Jack’s hand. “Thanks for helping the girls with the bags.”

“Anytime. I got to dash, but maybe we can meet up again before you leave.”

“Maybe. Thanks again.”

 

Captain’s log supplemental point 19.

We watched as Jack walked off down the quay. I looked at Lou. “Cornwall?” I asked.

“The guy with the car—he helped me with the bags then. He followed us round the market today. I thought it was you following us. I couldn’t believe it when I saw him. What are the chances of him being here now?”

“We’ll discuss this later. Right now we have a bigger problem to worry about.”

Once the shopping was unpacked and stowed safely away in the galley, we sat round the table over a pot of tea and one of Staci’s sponge cakes. I filled the girls in on my trip to the boat yard. “Nice chap called Jonathan Hynds owns the repair yard. They don’t have too much on at the moment so they can fit us in. That’s the good news. He says we can’t sleep on the boat while she’s being repaired for insurance reasons. He says there is a fairly cheap hotel nearby. I’ll try them later.”

“They’ll be booked solid this time of year,” Lou said.

“He didn’t seem to think so. Anyway, he’ll collect Avon in the morning.”

Staci looked worried. “What’s the damage?”

“Two new engines—one of which needs to be ordered in from the States, new mast, four new windows and new decking.”

Lou laughed. “And where do we get that kind of money? Rob a bank?”

“Yeah, I’ll go now shall I?” I snapped. “The money isn’t a problem OK?”

 

Captain’s log supplemental point 23.

Admittedly, funds are a bit low but we are not broke yet. I shouldn’t have yelled at Lou like that, but she does have the ability to rub me up the wrong way at times. The Panama Canal money is set aside safely. There is a slight chance that I can do the work or at least some of it myself, and we have a month before we have to leave, so that would help. A stay longer than a month means you need visas. But time is passing and every day we delay is a day longer Mum and Dad are lost.

Anyway, it is late, very late and it’s time for bed. By the way, I found the hotel and we are booked in from tomorrow for a week provisionally. More expense, but it can’t be helped.

 

Captains log sea date 25/07 point 10.

Another two weeks at the best. I don’t believe it. The storm must have done more damage than I originally thought. What I don’t understand is there was no sign of a leak before we docked. The storm was a good three weeks ago. Why now? Jonathan said he’d send a diver down to take a look before they move her. If needs be they will put her in the dry dock and repair the hull first.

 

Captain’s log supplemental point 13.

The diver reckons it wasn’t storm damage that caused the leak. There are several holes in the hull. They are moving Avon to the dry dock to have a closer look. Good thing too, as there were several inches of water inside the hull by this point.

Captain’s log supplemental point 20.

OK. There are ten holes in the hull, consistent with a sharp metal spike being forced up into it. The holes were definitely made from the outside. Staci suggested it could be this American chap. Rather farfetched idea that, even if I don’t like the guy. Dashingly handsome he may be, according to the girls, that is. Scores 9/10 on the hunk scale (whatever that is). Personally, I’d trust him about as far as I could throw him. There is just something about him. I don’t know what. Lou reckons I’m just jealous of his perfect white teeth.

The good news is I can do some of the work myself and just pay for the parts. That will help a bit. But it means a lot longer before we can find Mum and Dad. I’m hoping and praying they are safe.

 

1st Officer’s log 02/08 point 17.

I got bored with the sea date in case you’d wondered where it had gone. Jim is working flat out on the boat, hence the lack of Captain’s log entries. He says he’s too tired. And I’m too busy sitting on a beach working on my tan.

Jim hasn’t asked anymore questions about Cornwall or Jack. Hopefully he’s forgotten.

Staci and I have been trying to keep a low profile—on the beach or in our room. I know that when Jack helped us with the bags last week, he recognized the boat. It won’t take him long to put two and two together and make five. Although I’m pretty sure he knows anyway. There was something in his eyes when he saw Staci and when Jim introduced himself.

At least with Jim not writing the log we get a rest from mentions of sharks. Sharks do not live in the Atlantic. Anyway, when we leave here we will be in the Caribbean Sea.

 

1st Officer’s log 09/08 point 21.

Still no sign of the boat repairs being completed. Bored with the beach, Staci and I went to the Turks and Caicos National Museum. It was neat.

We’ve managed to persuade Jim to take tomorrow off. It being his eighteenth birthday and all. Not that we are planning on doing anything. We’re saving money by not splurging remember? It’ll be the first eighteenth birthday in history not to be celebrated with a party, cake, and presents. But that is what he wants so there you go.

 

Captains log 10/08 point 06.

Lou’s right. It’s pointless putting sea date in all the time. Just don’t tell her I said so, I’ll never live it down if she knows she’s right about something. Repairs are coming along slowly. The hull is now repaired and the new engine has been ordered so hopefully we can be underway again soon.

Today is my eighteenth birthday. I’ve been awake since three. I’ve given up trying to sleep. It’s not excitement. Its memories. I’m not going to go into details here, but I shall find today hard. In a way, I’m glad the girls haven’t planned anything. I can hear movements next door. Sounds like they are awake. This hotel is OK but it’ll be nice to get back on the boat again. That is the only home I have now.

 

1st Officer’s log same date point 09.

He’s fallen for it. Yes...

1st Officer’s log, supplemental point 22.

Well I’m shattered. We packed so much into today and finished it with a picnic party on the beach. I think Jim enjoyed himself. I know he wasn’t looking forward to today, but we couldn’t let his special day go by without some kind of celebration. I’ll let Jim explain.

 

Captain’s log supplemental.

I did enjoy today. We started by going diving. Staci came out on the boat but didn’t dive. It is so beautiful. The Atlantic is so warm here. There is a seven thousand foot vertical wall just a five-mile boat ride off shore. The coral formations are incredible. We swam amongst seahorses, manta, turtles, and dolphins. Didn’t see any humpback whales though, unfortunately.

Then we visited the lighthouse and the ruins of the air force base. We had lunch from a very swish restaurant—typical Caribbean food. The picnic on the beach as the sun set was lovely. Birthday cake with eighteen candles, jam and marmite sandwiches (together of course) and cheese and pineapple on sticks. I must say whoever thought of putting cheese and pineapple together deserves a medal.

The girls even gave me a present. Shorts and t-shirt, sandals, and a pair of jeans. They shouldn’t have spoilt me like that but it was nice that they did. I just wish...well you know what I wish.

 

1st officers log 12/08 point 21.

I know Jim reads this, so it isn’t exactly confidential, but I need to talk to someone and I guess the logbook is it. Hopefully he won’t say anything, because I feel awful as it is and I don’t know what to do. I went shopping this morning. Staci and Deefer came too, obviously. This is more difficult than I thought. A lot more difficult.

Anyway after the market, Staci wanted to go for a drink in that place we went to before. We eventually found it and guess who we bumped into. Jack. Staci insisted that he join us, as he was stopping there for lunch anyway. I was hoping he’d say no, but he didn’t.

He seemed surprised to see us. “I thought you’d be long gone,” he said as we sat down with our drinks.

I tried to think of a suitable answer without giving too much away but before I could say anything, Staci answered.

“The boat needs more repairs than we thought.”

“If it’s a hire boat that’s not your problem. The company should give you a replacement.”

“Avon’s our boat. Well, Jim’s,” Staci said before I could stop her. “She was damaged in the storm and needed lots of repairs.”

“Staci,” I said.

“But then after we got here, someone made holes in the hull and...” She broke off as I kicked her under the table.

“Staci, I’m sure Jack doesn’t need to know all this.”

He smiled awkwardly. “No it’s fine. If you own her, then the repairs must be costing a fair bit.”

“Yeah, but we’re managing. So what are you doing here—you can’t still be on holiday?”

“No, I’m working.”

“Do you live here?”

“No, I go where the job takes me and at the moment it’s here.” Jack finished his soda and ordered curry and another drink.

Staci ordered burger, chips, and soda, and I just ordered another drink. How she can eat like that and not put on weight, I don’t know. It’s not fair.

“So Staci, are you enjoying your holiday?” Jack asked.

“It’s good. Well most of it.”

“What bits weren’t so good?”

“My fall. The storm, but then I missed most of that. Not having my parents here.”

Lunch and the drinks arrived and we ate in silence for a bit. Well I didn’t eat, not having ordered myself anything. A couple of Staci’s chips perhaps but nothing more.

Jack asked, “So how much damage was done to the boat, Lou?”

“Both engines, the mast, four windows, the odd bit of decking. The hull was the final straw.”

“Phew. What kind of a storm did you run into anyway?”

“Erika,” I told him. Well there was no point in hiding it.

“Hurricane Erika?” he asked, shock registering on his face.

“Yeah,” Staci said. “The boat turned over. We should have drowned but we were saved by an ang—”

I interrupted her. “Staci, eat before it gets cold.”

She sighed. “OK.” She finished her chips and got up. “Back in a sec.”

Jack watched her go. Then he fixed his piercing brown eyes on me. “Can you afford the repairs? Be honest.”

I avoided his gaze. “I don’t think so. Jim says things are OK, but I’m not convinced. We just have to be careful.” I stood up. “We’d better be going.” I opened my bag to get my purse out, but Jack stopped me.

“Put it away,” he said firmly. “I’ll pay.”

I shook my head. “I can’t let you do that.”

“I want to.”

“We aren’t that broke that we need charity yet.”

He lowered his voice. “Don’t argue with me. It’s not charity, I’m treating a friend to lunch—even if she didn’t order anything for herself. Aren’t you hungry?”

“No,” I said quickly. He looked at me, knowing I was lying. “All right, yes I’m hungry,” I said. “But we can’t afford—”

“Sit down, and I’ll get you some lunch. You’ll only be ill otherwise and then who’ll take care of you? You need to think seriously about things.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do. Now sit down.”

I sat and allowed him to buy me lunch. Staci returned and eagerly ate the chocolate gateau he’d bought her. After lunch, he looked at me. “There is no shame in admitting you were wrong,” he said. “Or in changing your mind.”

“And sometimes you have no choice but to continue.”

“There’s always a choice, Lou.”

“No there isn’t. Not anymore. Thanks for lunch. Bye, Jack.”

We headed back to the hotel and dropped off the bags. Then we sat on the beach until teatime. As we got back to the hotel to get ready for dinner, Jim met us with a big grin on his face. “Hey guess what?” he said.

“The repairs are finished?”

“No.”

“The new engines arrived?”

“Well yes, but that’s not it.”

“Tell us then.”

“Look at this.”

“What is it?”

He handed me a piece of paper. I glanced it and said, “It’s a bill from the repair yard. For a lot more than we can afford.” I gave it back to him. “That’s no reason to celebrate.”

“Look at it properly. Read the bottom. Paid in full.”

“Paid? We haven’t got that kind of money. Paid by whom?”

“I have no idea. Jonathan said someone came in this afternoon and paid cash for all the work.”

“Who? What did they look like?”

“He wasn’t in the office at the time. But the repairs will be finished by the day after tomorrow.”

Staci was ecstatic. Neither could understand my lack of enthusiasm over our unknown benefactor. I think I know who it was and I just hope I’m wrong. Look at the time— almost 2300. It’s taken ages to write this. This log reads like a fairy story at times. Dramatic bits, escapes by the skin of our teeth, angels, and now being bailed out by lots of money. If this was a book people would be shouting totally implausible, need a better script. So much they know.

Jim when you read this, if it was him, I didn’t ask for it. You should know me better than that. I shall try and find him tomorrow and find out for sure.

 

1st Officer’s log 14/08 point 16.

Well, the repairs are finished. I’ve spent the last couple of days looking for Jack but he must be working or else his job has moved back Stateside. I don’t know whether I’m relieved or not.

Avon is being moved back to the marina so we are packing up at the hotel, hence the scribbled note at this time of day. Next entry will be back on our boat.

Captain’s log supplemental point 23.

Back on the boat at last. Jonathan suggested we tour some of the other islands for a week and then return to have the new engines checked. Sea trials if you like. So we are keeping the berth here and going out for days and returning each night. I’d rather not wait any longer, but better safe than sorry.

Another strange thing, the berth at the marina has also been paid for. So the only thing we have to pay is the departure tax when we finally leave here around the 20th. Mind you, all I really want to do is sleep tomorrow.

 

1st Officer’s log 15/08 point 18.

He did and all. Staci and I stocked up the cupboards, fridge and freezer. Was a bit like Old Mother Hubbard’s place to start with. At least I didn’t have to count the pennies or cents this time.

 

Captains log 17/08 point 16.

These engines are fantastic. It makes such a difference having two new engines. She goes much faster and smoother now. Visited a conch farm today. I’ve been re-reading the stuff from the Panama Canal. They only provide a pilot for boats under 65ft under special circumstances so we shall have to manage. I saw another shark today. I’m sure Lou reckons I’m making them up, but I’m not. Picked up a couple of dinghies as we lost ours in the storm. Actually, I’m quite anxious to get underway again. We’ve finished another two memory cards for the camera. Lou suggested sending all the discs home to keep them safe. If we do post them back to Nichola, we need to leave here before they arrive in England.

 

Captains log 20/08 point 23.

Well, we are under way again. We had the engines checked this morning and having been given the green light, we did a final food shop and topped up the water and fuel. I took her out and once we were clear, Lou took over. Staci has agreed to take up the kitchen duties again and I have rearranged the cupboards so she doesn’t have to climb up to reach dishes or glasses again.

We have just cleared the Windward Pass between Cuba and Haiti and are in the Jamaica Channel. Then into the Caribbean Sea and across to Panama. Lou’s posted the photo cards. I guess at least that way Nichola knows we’re OK.

It’ll take a few days to get back into routine of the shifts again I suppose. Oh, I’m tired. Still got another two and a half-hours to go.

 

1st Officer’s log 24/08 point 11.

The Caribbean is so pretty - even though we are not visiting any of the islands. The sun shines and sparkles off the clear blue sea. Staci and I went swimming in the sea today. Jim wasn’t impressed—muttered something about sharks. Needless to say, we took no notice and plan to swim everyday if we can.

 

Captain’s log 26/08 point 20 (local time—6hrs behind GMT)

Arrived at the Cristobal entrance to the Panama Canal this morning. As per the instructions they sent me, I contacted the Admeasurement office on the VHF channel. They then sent someone to measure Avon and do a safety and equipment inspection. They then gave me three forms. The first, so I could pay for the transit. The second a copy of the handline lockage request, and the third the release and indemnity.

We have been assigned a transit advisor who communicates with the locks and other vessels. As you need four people to handle the lines plus a captain to operate the boat, the admeasurement office have very kindly given us a pilot. We had to hire tires to put on the sides of Avon to avoid damage in case she hits the chamber walls.

 

Captains log 27/08 point 22.

In the Pacific. We did transit the Canal in a day. We tied alongside a Canal tugboat whilst in the locks. The ropes have to be taken in or let out in order to keep the boat straight in the locks as the water rises or falls. The first lock was hard, but they got easier.

The three locks took us up to Colon City then we went under our own power through the Canal, still with the pilot and advisor on board. The lock chambers btw, are 110ft wide, 1000ft long and 85ft deep. The Canal is 85ft above sea level hence the three locks at each end. On reaching the other side at Balboa Point, we went down the three locks, again manipulating the lines. We’re anchored there tonight. Long day. Must go to bed.

 

Captains log 28/08 point 16.

We’re off again. We got $800 dollars back this morning which I paid back into the account. The girls did some shopping—when don’t they? Staci did really well handling the lines yesterday. She surprised everyone, including herself.

 

1st Officer’s log 01/09 point 4.

Peace and quiet. Makes a change. Staci and I are still swimming when we can. Jim doesn’t like it but tough. It’s September already. Today marks the three-month anniversary of our leaving. Sometimes it seems longer. No mention of sharks recently.

 

Captains log 01/09 point 10.

Sharks. Sharks. Sharks. Just because I don’t mention them doesn’t mean that they’re not there.

Three months. It doesn’t seem possible. We have come so far and done so much. And yet still not reached our goal. Sometimes when it’s quiet I think how nice it is, that I could live like this forever. Then I remember Mum and Dad and just wish I’d flown or something in the first instance. Then when Staci is around, I realize that she needs more than I can give her. She needs a proper home, not this hand to mouth existence on this floating haven, at risk from everything 24/7. Maybe we should turn back. Before something happens. I have this bad feeling.

 

1st Officer’s log 03/09 point 20.

He does talk such rot at times. Sharks, bad feelings, wanting to turn back. Personally, I think this Captaincy thing has gone to his head. He needs to chill out. In fact I think I have the perfect answer—make him walk the plank. What do you mean we don’t have one? Since when has that stopped us? We’ll improvise...

Chuck him overboard.

 

Captain’s log supplemental.

They did, too. Rotten lot. I shall get my own back though. It may take a while, but I will be avenged. The question is not how but when. When they are least expecting it. I shall leave it for a couple of weeks and then when they least expect it…

 

Captains log 04/09 point 11.

Lou will no doubt moan, but I’m sure I can still see sharks.

The Pacific is the world’s biggest ocean I think—correct me if I’m wrong. Another five or six weeks, and we should reach the Philippines. Before then though, we need to make a decision as to what we do when we get there. If they send us back, we’ve come all this way for nothing.

 

1st Officer’s log 10/09 point 11 and a quarter.

Break the mold. Why are the logs always written exactly on the hour anyway? I am so cross right now, I’m tempted to spoil his log on purpose.

Well, he has gone and done it this time. I’m not surprised I’m writing this. He daren’t show his face on the bridge right now. Jim and Deefer were messing around—chase or catch or something. Anyway, something flew onto the bridge through the open door and into the radio. Don’t ask me how but it did. Anyway, Jim decided he would fix it. (ROFL.)

The short story is the radio no longer works. It is defunct. Deceased. An ex-radio. So much for contact with the outside world. So my phone now lives on the bridge where the radio used to be. At least we still have that.

 

Captains log 13/09 point 13.

We’ve lost the phone. Or rather, I lost the phone. Lou isn’t speaking to me at the moment for which I don’t blame her at all. I had taken the phone out on to the deck to try out the ring tones. Staci had just washed the decking. I slipped and the phone went overboard. On its own, the loss of the phone would be no big deal. Coupled with the loss of the radio, it is nothing short of a disaster.

 

1st Officer’s log supplemental point 23 and a half.

Six weeks to the Philippines. That’s a long time. I know we didn’t use the radio much but it was there. Now the phone has gone too even landing anywhere will be difficult. Jim and his sharks don’t help much either. I’m beginning to regret this. We should just turn round and head towards mainland America and give ourselves up. Jim can fly the rest of the way while I take Staci home.

 

Captain’s log 14/09 point 14.

I know things are tough, and we have no contact with the world, but this boat is my home. We can get the radio fixed and purchase a new phone somewhere. There isn’t anything we can’t handle.

Right now, other than Mum and Dad being here with us, the only thing that would make life perfect would be fresh food. Fish would be nice. Fresh fish for dinner.

 

1st officers log 25/09 point 17 and a little bit.

The weather has been cold and cloudy for a couple of days now. Good job we packed jumpers. Otherwise, we’d be cold. Staci and I haven’t seen any of Jim’s “sharks” so we reckon he’s seeing things. He had threatened to throw Deefer overboard to use him as bait. I’d like to see him try. Maybe we should throw him overboard instead. (Again.)

 

Captain’s log supplemental.

Despite what the others think, I know what I saw and have put a stop to swimming for a bit. Staci still keeps mentioning fish. We have the dinghies that we picked up in Grand Turk. Two of them. One fastened to the bridge roof and the other still boxed up on the bow. (Makes a good seat.) That one is quite clever. You literally throw it into the water and it opens itself out. Maybe I’ll take the other one out and go fishing one morning. The rate things are going the first officer is going to find herself in the brig for being rude to the Captain.

 

1st Officer’s log 2045 and then some.

I have nothing to say. Just wanted to wreck the log some more. It really does wind Jim up something chronic I forgot to put the date in. Oh dear, how sad, never mind. Do we care? No, we don’t, but I suppose I ought to really. It’s September 29th. But that’s not important right now. What is important is annoying Jim and defacing the logbook.

This log needs pictures in it. OK, what next.

What would really, really wind him up? i know what i could write all in small letters. i could write in lots of small letters i could leave out the punctuatuin an spel everfink rong while knot usin anyfink uver than smal letrs

OR IN CAPITALS LIKE I’M SHOUTING AGAIN WITH NO PUNCTUATION SO THAT REALLY SHOULD BE IM

Oricoulddoitwithoutspacessoitisimpossibletoread

And then there’s graffiti.

Hey, I never realized that doodling all over the log book would be so much fun. If only I had known, I would have done it months ago. What to do next? I know I’ll draw a shark. That’ll annoy him even more. Better still, I’ll do it in color. All the better to annoy him with. And on a new sheet of paper. Bwa ha ha.

I am having such fun I think I might do another one. What is the worst he could do to me? We don’t have a brig for me to spend seventy-five years in. Toss me overboard? Make me do all the cooking for a month? It would be worth it. He-he-he. If only I could see his face when he writes the next log entry. Unfortunately, he has the next shift and I shall be in bed. Oh well. On with more sharks. You know what, let’s combine his love of rainbows and sharks and make them multicolored. Jim and his technicolored dream sharks.

Perfect. Takes up the entire sheet of paper so it is better than perfect, it’s brilliant. I didn’t give the last shark any teeth. Too late. Here comes Jim. Better go. Night. Why did I just say goodnight to the log book? I must be tired. Either that or desperate. He-he-he.

 

Captains log supplemental point 23.

Cross? Cross? That doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel right now. Livid is more like it. Seventy-five years in the brig is not nearly long enough. Tossing her overboard is no good because she is too good a swimmer for that. Likewise cooking. I shall think for a bit and come up with something.

 

Captains Log 30/09 point 04.

Thought. I shall go and wake Lou in a bit. She should’ve come up and taken over at 0200 anyway, but I reckon it’s time to go do some fishing and she has to go with me. (Lou hates fishing.) And after defacing my logbook like that she deserves it. I’ll get the dinghy off the bridge roof and then wake her up. Watch out fish. Here we come.