CHAPTER 19

 

Slater drove through the gates to the marina and parked close to a low flat-roofed building with a store at one end and a repair shop at the other. A mechanic in oil-stained overalls waved at Slater as he took off his helmet and Slater waved back. Jenny took off the white motorcycle helmet that Slater had given her and shook her hair. “That was interesting,” she said.

“Have you been on a bike before?” asked Slater.

“First time,” she said.

Slater grinned mischievously. “That would be why you were hugging me so hard.”

“Only when you went fast,” she said.

There was a black carrier box on the back and Slater opened it. He took out Jenny’s laptop bag and gave it to her, then took the helmet from her and put it in the box and locked it.

“Do you always carry a spare?” she asked.

“Not always.”

“But today you happened to have one?”

Slater laughed. “Busted,” he said “I was planning on asking you to visit.”

“Do people always follow your plans?”

“If I’m lucky,” he said. He nodded towards the water. “Come on, I’ll show you my pride and joy.”

He took her to a wire fence and pulled open a gate and stepped aside to allow her through first. There were more than a hundred boats, most of them motor launches, moored to wooden pontoons, bobbing gently in the grey water.

“I never knew there were marinas in New York,” she said as they walked down a narrow pier.

“There’s a few,” said Slater. “But they cost an arm and a leg.”

“And you live on board?”

“Sure.” He stopped alongside a single-masted yacht and waved his hand at it. “Home sweet home,” he said. Across the stern was the yacht’s name. WRITE OF WAY. “Why did you call it that?” asked Jenny.

“Boats are feminine,” said Slater. “Never call her ‘it’. She’s a she.”

“Well pardon my lack of knowledge,” laughed Jenny. “So why is she called Write Of Way?”

Slater shrugged. “Just a joke, I guess. Plus she’s under sail which means powered boats have to give way to her. In theory, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the rules of the sea say that a powered boat has to give way to a boat that’s under sail. But if a yacht as small as this comes up against a huge freighter or a tanker in the middle of the ocean, the yacht is the one that needs to watch out.” He slapped his hands together. “They’d slam right through it and not even notice it.”

“Have you been out in the ocean?”

“Sure. Sailed her all the way down to the Panama canal last year and up through the Bahamas and up to New York.”

“On your own?”

“Sure.”

“That’s so cool. I wish I could do something like that.”

“You can. You can do anything, Jenny, so long as you set your mind to it.” He held out his hand so that he could help her climb onto the deck. Once she was safely on board he joined her and unlocked the padlock that secured the hatch.

“How long have you had her?” asked Jenny.

Slater pulled open the hatch. “A few years,” he said. “The great thing is that if you get bored with a place, you just up anchor and go.”

“Could you sail across the ocean in her?”

“Sure,” said Slater. “You’d want to be careful weather-wise but you could sail around the world if you wanted.”

“Are you going to do that one day?”

“Maybe,” said Slater. “Would you come?”

Jenny laughed. “I don’t think so,” she said.

Slater waved at the hatch. “Do you want to have a look below decks?” he asked. “I’ll give you the tour. Then we’ll take her out.”

An hour later they were standing by the wheel, carving through the gently heaving waves of the Hudson River. The nearest vessel was a good quarter of a mile away, a twin-masted yacht heading towards the sea. “Can you take the wheel?” he asked.

“What? Sail her you mean?”

“You’ll be fine,” said Slater. “The wind’s only a couple of knots, we’re hardly moving.” He put his hands on her hips and guided her to the best position to stand, and showed her the compass. “Keep us on that heading, but don’t worry if we move off course. We’re sailing so everyone has to give way to you. That’s the rule of the sea.” He pointed at the GPS monitor. “That’s your position there. With this, you can never get lost.”

“I thought sailors navigated by the stars and that sextant thing.”

“Those days are long gone,” said Slater. “I mean, I can use the stars and I do know how to use a sextant but there’s no point. You switch on that thing and it tells you where you are to within a few feet.”

He patted her on the shoulder and went downstairs into the cabin. He came back up a few minutes later with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “You’re joking,” she said.

“What?”

“You can’t drink and sail, surely?”

“It’s not like driving a car,” he said, placing the glasses on the bench seat. “There are no cops with breathalyzers out here.” He popped the cork and poured champagne into the glasses. She picked up one of the glasses. He took the other one and clinked it against hers. “To having fun,” he said. “To having fun and writing great books.”

“And to drinking champagne under sail,” she said. She touched her glass against his. “And to good friends.”

“Amen to that,” he said. They both drank and Slater refilled their glasses.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she said.

“You can do anything you want, Jenny. You just have to put your mind to it.”

She waved her glass around. “I mean, this, sailing around Manhattan. Drinking champagne. It’s so, I don’t know, decadent.”

“Decadent?” He waved at the skyscrapers to their right. “That’s decadent. Apartments costing tens of millions of dollars, some of the richest people on Earth many of whom haven’t worked a day in their lives, churning through the world’s resources like there’s no tomorrow, while others work all the hours that God sends for minimum wage. This isn’t decadent. This is just you and me sharing a bottle of wine on a boat that happens to be my home. This is real.”

“It feels real,” said Jenny. She sipped her champagne. A seagull swooped over, circled the mast, and then flew off.

“I’m glad you came,” said Slater.

“I’m glad I came, too.” The wind blew her hair across her face and she shook her head to clear it from her eyes. “So is this going to be in the book?”

Slater studied her with amused eyes. “Do you want it to be?”

She held his look for several seconds and then shook her head. “No.”

“Okay then.” He looked up at the sail. “The wind’s changing, turn to port, just a bit.” She turned the wheel and Slater nodded approvingly. “You’ve really got the hang of it.”

Jenny took a deep breath. “Actually I’m feeling a bit queasy.” She rubbed her stomach and took another deep breath.

“Keep your eyes on the horizon. It’ll help.”

Jenny tried that for a few minutes, but then she didn’t feel any better. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Maybe we should go back.”

“Why don’t you go below and lie down while I take her in?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Don’t be silly, you go down below and chill.”

Jenny nodded. “Thanks.” He helped her through the hatch and she went unsteadily down the stairs. Slater turned the wheel and pointed the yacht towards the marina.