Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men (18 page)

“Shut up,” he said.

“Well I still want to visit that big mound of trash. Obviously I mean Chilliwack.”

“All there is out here is miles and miles of ocean,” Darrel said, ignoring me, apparently. “And maybe a few ghost ships.”

“Ghost ships?”

“Swept out by the tsunami in Japan. The US Coast Guard sank one of them last year off the coast of Alaska. I’ll bet there’s still one or two of them out here somewhere.”

“I hope not,” I said. “The last thing we need is for you to try and climb aboard some lost ship just to impress us.”

He grinned. “Would that work?”

“Sure it’d work. As a friend.”

He nodded.

He climbed down into the salon without saying goodnight.

I decided to watch the whales a little longer.

TUESDAY

NO ONE
was inside when I woke up; I’m surprised I slept in so late considering the noise up in the cockpit. I ran upstairs as arguing turned to yelling.

“How the hell could you let this happen?” Jon asked, pointing a finger at Darrel. “Don’t you have some kind of autopilot?”

“There’s an alarm system,” Darrel said. “I guess it isn’t working.”

“We’re off-course, Steph,” Breccan said, looking at me.

Darrel shook his head. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve already taken care of it. And we’re making excellent time.”

It felt like we were moving more quickly. I looked up at the mainsail. It seemed to be rocking in the waves or the wind; it seemed less steady than I’d remember it being before.

“Maybe we’ll get to that garbage patch after all,” I said.

Darrel wasn’t the only who glared at me that time.

“Hold on,” Jon said. He pointed out in front of us. “What is that?”

I couldn’t see anything.

“There’s something in the water,” Jon said.

“More whales?” Breccan asked.

“There’s nothing out there,” Darrel said as he peered out over the water.

“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there,” Jon said.

“Don’t start lecturing me, jackass.”

“I don’t know which one of us is the bigger idiot. No, wait, I guess I am, for agreeing to go sailing in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with a guy who doesn’t even know how to stay on course.”

“This isn’t helping,” I said. “Can you see anything, Breccan?”

She shook her head.

“Maybe it’s just the sun reflecting on the water or something,” I said.

“It’s there,” Jon said. “Whatever it is we’re about to run right into it.”

“Then it’s too late to steer around it,” Darrel said. “I guess we’ll just have to ram it.” He had a stupid grin on his face. I’m sure he was the only one who was finding it funny.

Jon gripped the railing hard, and Breccan soon did the same. I almost grabbed it too, but I noticed Darrel watching me and I started to feel silly.

The boat kept sailing forward.

There was no noise, no bump, no maritime disaster.

After a minute or so Jon headed down to the salon.

Breccan looked down the stairs.

“You want to go down?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “And I’ll need backup.”

“We’ll be downstairs,” I said to Darrel. “Don’t ram anything while we’re gone.”

“I can’t,” he said. “You told me you wanted to just be friends.”

I think I let out a very loud groan at that.

Breccan and I were at the table again, fidgeting and not really talking, while Jon had put himself in exile on a bunk, reading a magazine.

We all heard the sounds; a crack followed by a thump and a splash, and the feel of the boat being jerked a little to the left.

“What was that?” Breccan asked.

I didn’t have an answer.

The three of us climbed up to the cockpit.

The main mast had snapped in half. The mainsail and rigging were being pulled towards the water, where the top half of the mast was bobbing as it dragged.

It was slamming against the side of the hull, the jagged aluminum mast stabbing back at us.

“We need to cut it free,” Darrel said.

“Then what?” Jon asked. “Don’t sailboats need sails to... you know, sail?”

“It’s not like we’re going to be able to fix the mast. And we’ll be in worse shape if that thing has its way with the hull or the rudder.”

“Look at you... pretending you know what the hell you’re doing.”

“Guys, please,” I said. “We’ll measure your dicks later. Let’s focus on the problem here, okay? How do we cut it loose?”

“With a knife,” Darrel said.

He already had one in his hand. He started on the rigging of the mainsail.

“Can I help?” I asked.

“Can you lower the mizzen?”

“Maybe.”

“The smaller sail.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

I’d watched Darrel fidget with the sails often enough, and he’d had me do it once on our way up to Haida Gwaii. I took a breath and tried to calm myself, to remember what he’d shown me.

Loosen the hallyards... watch the tiller... did I need to watch the tiller with the mizzen?

I didn’t think I could do it on my own.

“Steph!” Breccan yelled. “Watch out!”

I saw the little mast falling, coming right for me.

And that was it.

I woke up in the salon and found Breccan on the bunk, sitting right next to me. I could see from the look on her face that I hadn’t been dreaming.

“What’s happening?” I asked. “Is everything okay?”

“I... I don’t know,” she said. “Both masts are down and Darrel’s cut away the sails. God...”

“There’s a motor, though, right?”

“It’s not working. Darrel... he thinks the rigging’s clogged up the propeller.”

I didn’t want to ask, but I had to know. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Breccan said again. “I’m not the person to ask.”

I checked myself out in the bathroom before I went up to the cockpit. There was a gash right across my forehead and up into my hair, with a reddened chunk of strawberry-blond hair and dried blood. They’d done very little to bandage me up, wrapping two quick layers of gauze over the cut. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know if they’d even bothered to clean the wound first.

Goddamn med students and their shoddy work.

I decided to deal with the mess later; I cared a little more about being stranded in the middle of the ocean. I climbed up to the cockpit, where Darrel and Jon were sitting, staring out to sea in opposite directions.

“So what’s the story?” I asked. “How boned are we?”

“To the power of fuck,” Jon said. “This idiot’s killed us, more or less.”

“Shut up,” Darrel said. “The last thing we need is a negative attitude.”

“Okay... that makes sense,” I said. “So you can give us something positive, right?”

“The radio antenna’s gone, but we have a handheld. With any luck we’ll raise someone in range.”

“When are you going to start on that?”

“I’ll try again in a few minutes.”

“No sails, no motor,” Jon said. “No one within radio range. Impeccably done, Darrel. Impeccably done.”

“You’re welcome to make a swim for it.”

“What about paddling or something?” I asked. “Or is that a stupid idea?”

“Not your best work,” Darrel said, bobbing his head.

“So it could be awhile before we reach anyone,” I said.

“It could take days.”

I heard my stomach grumble. It knew what was coming. “Rations.”

“Yep.”

“Okay then,” I said, trying to sound positive. “We can do this.”

I went back down to the bathroom to clean myself up. I was glad to have something to do, something to keep me from curling up in a ball and weeping.

I could see that Breccan was well on her way to that.

WEDNESDAY - Our Second Day Adrift

I WAS
woken up by an argument, Darrel and Jon close to screaming at each other.

“You don’t know how to charge the damn batteries?” John asked. “It’s a little beyond your skillset?”

“I’m charging them now,” Darrel said. “I have a little more on my mind than that, thanks.”

“If you’d have been able to make contact with someone, we wouldn’t have to be worried about anything else. Another great job.”

“That’s enough, guys,” I said. “You don’t want to argue right through breakfast.” I got up and stumbled over to the galley.

The two of them kept going at it.

I pulled out a package of ready-to-eat oatmeal, and divided up into four bowls. I measured out what I felt would be just enough water into a coffee mug and put it in the microwave.

“We’re splitting one package?” Breccan asked as she hovered over me.

“One package,” I said.

“But... you said we’ll run out of water first. So why so harsh about the food rations?”

“If it rains we’ll buy ourselves a few more days with the water we collect,” I said. “It’d be silly to use up more food than we have to.”

“This is hell.” She was starting to tear up.

“I know,” I said. “But that’s what the rum is for.”

THURSDAY - Third Day Adrift

DARREL TRIED
to unclog the propellor again, diving down under the hull. He doesn’t have the equipment to breathe underwater so he didn’t get very far.

“It’s not going to work,” he said once he’d climbed out of the water. “It’s a mess down there.”