Adrift Page 2

  "All set, Chief?" Jim came down the stairs, backpack in hand.

  "Yeah, let's go." He hurried out the door and let his partner lock up.

  The drive to the marina was a quick 20 minutes of air-conditioned comfort, during which Blair nearly fell asleep. He had to shake himself awake when they parked, hoping he'd be able to stay alert long enough to enjoy the weekend. Just being down by the bay was cooler, and the breeze coming off the water was a nice antidote for the bright sun beating down on them from over the hill.

  "Simon left the keys with the harbormaster." Jim locked up the truck and swung his pack over one shoulder. "Daryl's probably here already."

  "I hope he doesn't mind spending a weekend with us, instead of his dad."

  "Sandburg, don't you remember anything about being a teenager? It couldn't have been that long ago."

  Blair rolled his eyes and followed Jim to the harbormaster's office but decided not to reply to that one. They stepped inside and a middle-aged man with a clipboard in one hand and a file in the other turned to face them, smiling.

  "Hello. What can I do for you?" He set down the files and Blair could see the ID badge on the man's lapel, identifying him as the Chief Harbormaster, Tom Robbins.

  "My name is Jim Ellison. Simon Banks sent me down to..."

  "Ah, yes, he called," the harbormaster interrupted with a nod. "I have the keys for you here. Slip 27. And there's a message for you to phone Mr. Banks at the office." He produced a set of keys attached to a large red floater then placed a cordless phone on the counter.

  "Thank you." Jim accepted the keys then the phone, setting his pack on the floor so he could dial.

  Blair braced himself for a quick end to their short adventure and set his pack down at his feet while Jim waited for an answer. Daryl was nowhere to be seen, but it wasn't like the Captain not to call Jim on the cell phone if there had been a sudden change in plans.

  "Captain, it's Ellison."

  Blair turned to look out at the boats docked beyond the shore. The sun glinting off their windows was almost painfully bright.

  "Oh, no, Simon, we ..... are you sure?"

  The water was such a deep blue, the color itself seemed to take on a life of its own. The smell of the salt and seaweed, the sounds of seagulls circling overhead, and the clang-clang of riggings as they slapped into masts brought back fond memories Blair had thought long gone.

  "We really appreciate this, Simon. I'm just sorry you won't be with us."

  It wasn't the memories he'd thought he lost, but the urgent sense of adventure these sensations brought out in him. The time spent on the oil rig a few months ago had given Blair a taste of what he missed, but relishing the memories had been short-lived when his time was suddenly occupied by a criminal investigation and Jim's confession of a deep phobia, as well as other inconveniences.

  "Okay, thanks again, Simon." Jim ended the call and handed the phone back to the harbormaster. "Well, Chief, looks like it's just you and me."

  Blair had turned back to Jim when he finished his call, and now retrieved his pack from the floor, following Jim's lead. "What's up?"

  Jim nodded his thanks to the harbormaster and walked out the side door toward the dock. "Daryl's mom decided to take him out of town this weekend. Some family thing." He shrugged and opened the gate, holding it for Blair to pass through. "Simon says there's no sense in wasting a stocked boat and a weekend off, so we're on our own."

  "You're kidding. Simon doesn't mind us just taking off with the boat for a weekend?"

  Jim shook his head and looked at the slip numbers while they walked. "I think he minds being at work while we're out having a great time, but I wasn't going to insult him by declining such a generous offer."

  "There, number 27." Blair pointed to the slip they were looking for, then gazed at the boat moored there. "The MarySue. Looks like a classic."

  "Yeah, that's the one." Jim led the way, tossing his pack onboard. "His uncle used to live onboard. Now he hardly takes her out."

  "It's an expensive hobby." Blair boarded, glancing around with a practiced eye at the woodwork and perfect condition of the yacht. Jim unlocked the cabin and they both went inside.

  "You can handle a boat this size, right, Chief?"

  "Sure, no problem. It's like riding a bike. Where should we go?" Blair accepted the keys and took a seat at the helm. "He's got the chart mapped out here for a trip through the Straits." The map was tacked next to the compass and he was pleased at how well he could still read a nautical chart.

  "Good enough for me, partner. Anyplace cool and quiet. I'll cast off." Jim tossed his pack into the main bunk and walked back on deck. "Let's blow this city before anyone has a chance to change their minds."

  Part 2

  * * *

  After untying the last line, Jim gave the MarySue a massive shove away from the dock, then jumped back onboard. Blair had the engines warmed up and began to ease the boat away from the marina while Jim pulled in the bumpers. The temperature difference alone felt like a vacation, and the sights, sounds and smells were invigorating. As they moved farther away from the docks, the noise and the heat of the city, he could feel the tension of work and sleepless nights fade away. With a sigh of contentment, he took a seat aft, facing forward, and gazed at the blues and greens ahead. Blair was handling the controls like a seasoned pro, and Jim watched him for several minutes, wondering just where his friend had picked up this particular talent.

  He'd heard of only the one uncle, but with Naomi's habit of attracting men, there was no telling how many different personalities had a hand in shaping a young, impressionable Blair Sandburg. Of course, his mother alone was just quirky enough to explain everything Jim found in his friend. But he did wonder now and again how much Blair had picked up from those men. He knew from experience how having a less than ideal family shaped your personality, and he sometimes wondered what his life would have been like had his father acted just that much more kind, that much more affectionate. Somehow Jim couldn't imagine Blair with any other type of personality than the one he had developed. But then, he also knew better than to regret the past. Whatever had happened yesterday, good or bad, was what brought you where you were today.

  And where he was today was exactly where he wanted to be. He had a stable job, one that he was good at. His Sentinel senses, as strange as they still seemed, were at least more in control. And he'd finally found in Blair a friend he could trust everything to. He was friend, partner, little brother, and even teacher when the need was there. Jim trusted Blair with more than his life, he trusted him with his sanity.

  Once they cleared the last marina marker buoy, Blair opened up both engines and headed up the channel toward more open water. Jim stood and walked forward, ducking slightly as he entered the cabin. He slapped Blair lightly on the back as he passed, moving into the galley. The refrigerator was fully stocked, just as Simon had said. The cabin itself was large and roomy, with a propane stove and oven, lots of cabinets fully stocked with dry goods as well as utensils, pots and pans. There were two settees, one of which unfolded to make an extra bed in addition to the master berth fore and guest berth aft. Each berth boasted a head, shower, and queen-size bed. And in a storage locker below one of the couches, Jim found the fishing gear.

  Since it was only 8:00 in the morning, two cans of ginger ale accompanied Jim back to stand next to Blair at the helm. "Not bad, huh?" Jim handed his friend a can and leaned against the back of the seat, gazing out over the bay and the many boats they were passing.

  "Pretty nice, actually." Blair accepted the can and popped the top, smiling. "I don't know what we did to deserve this, but let's try and do it again sometime."

  Jim laughed, nodding. "So tell me, where'd you learn how to handle a boat this size, Chief?"

  Blair swallowed ginger ale and set his can on the sidebar. "One of Naomi's friends had an old clunker he was fixing up, and for the 18 months she lived with him, I got to know my way around it pretty well. He had four daug
hters, none of them lived with him, but when they'd visit, they hated the boat. Three of them got seasick just looking at the water." He shrugged and glanced out the port window at a sailboat they were passing. "He was so thrilled to have a kid around who would listen when he talked, sometimes I couldn't get him to shut up." Blair retrieved his can and took another drink. "By the time Naomi and I moved out, that boat was running pretty well."

  "So, Skipper, how long will it take us to get out in the Straits?"

  "About 3 hours. There's a great spot just off the point, sort of midway between the peninsula and the first of the islands where the fishing can't be beat. Or at least it was a good spot 10 years ago."

  "Any spot away from Cascade is a good spot, Chief." Jim took off his shoes and socks, stuffing them under one of the cabin seats, then walked aft. "Just wake me when we get there." With a nod, he returned to his seat at the stern and got comfortable on the padded cushions forming a couch over the transom. The twin engines encased beneath provided the perfect vibrating massage. That, coupled with the fresh, cooler air, had him dozing in minutes, only vaguely aware of the sounds around him.

  The change in the engine's pitch and the reduction of his massaging vibrations alerted him to their arrival several hours later. Stretching, Jim looked around, taking note of the large land masses visible in the distance to either side of them. Not that he needed the reassurance, he really was over that fear thanks to his partner, but it was still an instinct to want to know your position relative to any given point of reference. Judging by the distance to either shore, and the huge expanse of deep blue water around them, Jim decided this must be the "spot".

  "Hey, Jim, is this great or what?" Blair shut off both engines, then flipped a switch on the console that lowered both bower and sea anchors. "I don't care if there's fish out here or not, man. Just being out of the city for a while is worth any trip."

  Jim watched as Blair, seemingly out of habit, checked the instruments before securing the helm. He couldn't help but wonder sometimes what his partner had been like as a teenager. But then some days, usually when women were around, he thought that couldn't have been more than a few hours ago. "Yeah, I think I'll drop a line and see what comes up." Jim walked back inside the cabin and put his empty can in the trash, then went below and changed into shorts himself.

  When he came back out on deck, fishing pole in hand, Blair was already napping on the bow. His jeans had been traded in for cutoffs, and he was using his shirt as a pillow. Before Jim could question his good sense, he spotted the tube of sun screen next to the tackle box. After setting up his line and securing the end of the pole inside one of several braces, he applied some of the sun screen, grateful that it was non-scented, and relaxed in the sun. It seemed odd, how the exact same sun that was now--and had been for nearly a week--beating down on the city with such force it kept them awake even at night, could at the same time be so much more pleasant from a different location.

  Jim set both feet up on the transom as he found a more comfortable position in the seat. A quick focus forward told him Blair was napping, so he set his own mental clock to wake him in thirty minutes should he fall asleep himself. If Blair was down for a good long sleep, sunblock or not, someone would have to roll him over. With eyes closed, Jim let his hearing wander over the waves, listening to the sound of water lapping against the hull, seagulls in the distance, and even the bark of an occasional seal.

  The gentle rolling was hypnotic, and the hollow sound of the waves hitting the boat drew Jim's attention downward. Letting his focus change direction, he began to notice different sounds coming up from the depths. Sounds that seemed almost alien in nature. Clicks and whirs presumably from fish, or maybe even some whales in the distance. Bubbles bursting on their way up from the sea floor. The echo from waves as they hit the MarySue, bouncing back down to the blue depths. Sitting there, eyes closed and attention directed downward, Jim was struck by the presence of the sea itself. It wasn't just the multitudes of sea life, or even the mysteries still to be found, but something more. Something so profound it defied description. It was as if the deepness itself had a presence. As if you could remove all life found there, and still there would be something alive. It felt as though depth was no longer a unit to gauge, but a distinct object in its own right. If the sea had a soul, it was the very depth of it.

  Jim came suddenly alert. He glanced instinctively at his watch and was rewarded once again with infallible timing. Running a hand over his face he stood, then looked down at the very water he'd been zoning into. No doubt I have Sandburg to thank for that moment of philosophy.

  After checking the pole, he walked through the cabin and up to the hatch that Blair had left open. "Hey, Chief, how about some lunch?"

  Blair rolled over sleepily and looked down at Jim. "Man, I could sleep for a week."

  "Yeah, but we've only got the weekend. Just roll over while I fix something to eat."

  He nodded and wordlessly changed positions, falling almost instantly back to sleep once he'd gotten on his stomach.

  Jim stretched again, letting his back pop a few times before going into the galley to see what was available. The MarySue was well equipped to house several people for a few weeks at a time, and by the looks of the cupboards, Simon had expected to be out for a while with Daryl. There was a large assortment of meats and cheeses, as well as fresh fruit. Already tired of fruit salad, Jim gathered up the bread, meats, and other sandwich fixings and set about making a substantial lunch. The city had been so hot, neither man had much appetite over the past several days. But out on the water, with the cooling breeze blowing steadily in from the ocean, Jim felt like making up for some lost time. He made sandwiches, then found a bag of chips and retrieved two beers from the fridge since they were anchored for the duration now. After placing lunch on the main table, Jim walked forward and tapped on the window Blair was resting against.

  "Wake up, Chief, lunch is on." He waited until his friend began to get up, then walked back to the table and sat down.

  "Oh, man, that felt good." Blair rubbed his face as he approached the table, then pushed a few escaped strands of hair back out of his face.

  "Have a good nap?"

  "Yeah. You?"

  "I wasn't napping, Sandburg, I was fishing." Jim picked up his sandwich and took a bite, eyeing Blair as he removed the top from his beer bottle.

  "There's a difference?" He grinned, then took a drink.

  Jim shook his head while he chewed, but decided to ignore his partner's editorial comments. He'd always known that while Blair enjoyed boating, kayaking, and just about every other outdoor activity there was, fishing was just something he did when he was hungry for fish. Jim, on the other hand, could spend hours casting a line or watching a pole, and didn't care if he caught a thing. There was a relaxing quality to simply being there, listening to the water, watching the play of light on the waves. Sentinel eyesight had proven an asset to fresh water fly fishing, since the water was crystal clear and typically rather shallow. But out here, the water was far too deep and murky with plankton and kelp to see more than a few feet down.

  They finished lunch, then went aft, Jim to once again sit beside the pole he'd set in search of some bottom fish, and Blair to sit lotus-style on top of the transom facing him. The seas were calm and the breeze blowing steadily southward seemed to lessen. Jim set his beer down and pulled the pole out of its holder so he could slowly begin to reel in.

  "Check that out." Blair nodded starboard. "I bet they're heading up the passage."

  Jim looked in the direction his friend had pointed and saw the three-masted schooner. "Looks like a charter." He turned his attention back to the pole. "I almost took one of those up the inland to Alaska last summer."

  "Really? What stopped you?"

  "Money, Chief. My old truck had finally given up and I had to make a choice. Take a vacation I didn't need, or buy a new ride." He glanced up at Blair. "Turns out, the charter was the same price as that red jeep."


  "You see, that's the trouble with money. As soon as you get ahead, something happens that inevitably costs exactly the same as the money you've got." Blair shook his head. "That's why you never want to win the lotto, Jim. I'd hate to see the kind of problem that would occur in direct relation to that kind of money."

  Jim laughed a little as he continued to reel the line in. "That's one way to look at it." He had nearly half the line back on the reel when it suddenly tugged. Realizing it was more of a snag than a fish, Jim stood to get a better angle and continued a steady re-wind.

  "You get something?"

  "No, more liked snagged something." Jim tried to focus through the water but it was too murky to see the end of his line. Blair got up and stood next to him, peering over the side. "Probably some kelp." The line was getting harder and harder to bring in, and just when Jim feared he'd have to cut it, his eye caught sight of something orange slowly surfacing.

  "Oh, man, would you look at that!"

  Jim set the end of the pole down and glanced around the deck. "Sandburg, get that grapple over there." Blair spotted the hook and went to unstrap it from the storage section. "I haven't seen one this big around here in a long time."

  Blair returned with the grappling pole and began to extend it, gazing at the huge, deep orange jellyfish as it bobbed and pulsated next to the boat. "Ever get stung by one of these?"

  "Yeah, it's no fun." Jim reeled in as close as he dared, careful not to raise it out of the water while Blair tried to hook the line and pull it close enough to cut. "Those stingers are like battery acid. Don't see many of these, thank goodness. The white ones are nothing." The line was close enough now, so Jim reached out with the fishing knife and started cutting. "Me and a buddy in the Rangers did a night dive one time, during training. We couldn't see the thing till we were right on top of it." Three passes of the knife and the line snapped, freeing the jellyfish. "I got a few stingers wrapped around my legs, but my partner really got tangled. He was in the hospital burn unit for two weeks."