The Inside Passage (Ted Higuera Series Book 1) (10 page)

Friday Harbor, Washington

“M’ name is Jack
MacDonald,” the old man said as Ted and his companions entered the cabin.

Ted drank in the
smell of bacon and onions cooking, blended with the sweet tobacco smell from
the old Scotsman’s pipe. A pot simmered on the diesel stove and the fragrance
of baking bread wafted from the oven. Somewhere in the background, the aroma of
diesel oil and fish blood completed the scene.

Man, everything
on this boat is neat
, Ted thought. There were no implements or cooking
clutter on the counters. Everything was in its place.
I wish our boat could
be this neat.

“This is Robby,
short for Robert the Bruce.” The Scotty’s ears perked up at the mention of his
name.

Meagan stooped
down and rubbed the old dog’s ears. His eyes rolled back up into his head in
ecstasy. 

“And who might y’
be then.”

Chris and Ted
introduced themselves.

“I’m Meagan
O’Donnell.” Meagan held out her hand.

“O’Donnell? You’re
Irish then.” Jack shook her hand gently.

 “Somewhere way
back, I guess. I’m just All-American.”

“Well, I’m from Scotland, as yez can plainly see.” 

Ted was surprised
at how deftly Jack moved in his galley for a crippled up old man. Jack laid
four large ceramic bowls, soup spoons, a butter dish and knife on the table.

“Would y’ like a
wee bit o’ wet before yer dinner?” Jack reached into a locker and produced an
amber-colored bottle.

“Sure.” Ted
reached for the water glass that Jack filled with two fingers of Scotch.

 “D’ yez have
anyone who can help y’ with yer engine problems?” Jack sniffed his glass. “’Tis
a taste of heaven, it is.” He carefully sipped and savored the Scotch.

“No, I guess we’ll
have to see if there’s a diesel mechanic in town.” Chris tasted his Scotch.

“Aye, there’s a
couple as calls themselves that, but I think they’re more pirate than
mechanic.” Jack sipped at his Scotch again. “I’ll just pop over in the mornin’
and have a look at it.” He opened the oven and removed a steaming loaf of
French bread.

“You’re a
mechanic?” Meagan asked.

“Aye, lassie, I’ve
done a bit o’ everything in m’ time.” Jack painfully lowered himself to the
bench behind the mess table. “Y’ have to be a mechanic to keep an ol’ bitch
like
Nessie
goin’

“Why do you call
her
Nessie?
” Meagan eased herself into the seat next to the old man and
swirled the Scotch in her glass.

“Isn’t it obvious,
Lass? She’s a bit of a monster. I swear I fight more with her than I did with
m’ dear departed wife.”

“So what’s your
story?” Meagan asked as she patted Jack’s hand.

Meagan’s fondness
for the old man moved Ted. It reminded him of how his family revered old
people.

“I was born in Scotland. I served in the Royal Navy during the war, mostly on destroyers in the Far East. After I retired, I moved to Canada”

“Which war?” A
puzzled look crossed Meagan’s face.

“The big one, Lass.”

“That’s World War
II,” Chris interjected.

Meagan wasn’t too
good with history.

“Are you Canadian,
then?” Meagan asked.

“Aye. I live on
Nessie
here, mostly around Port McNeil, but I go where I please. I’m on m’ way home
from visiting m’ sister. She married an American GI after the war and ended up
in Olympia.”

“After the
service, what did you do for a living?” Chris tore off a piece of the warm
bread.

“I’ve been just
about everything. I was a merchant seaman, a fisherman, a shipwright, a cook,
and aye, I’ve even been a pirate in m’ time.” Jack ladled the oyster stew into
the bowls and passed them around.

“A pirate?” Ted
took a spoonful of the rich stew.

“That’s a story
for another time, lad. Right now, y’ folks have a problem. We need to figure
out what to do about yer engine.”

Ted stuffed
another spoonful of stew into his mouth. “This oyster stew is delicious.”

****

“Wake up down
there.” A loud rapping on the companionway hatch shattered the morning
stillness. “The day’s a wastin’. Yez going to sleep all day?”

“What the Hell?”
Ted rolled over and reached for his wrist watch. Six am. “
Dios mio
,
who’s there?”

“It’s me, old
Jackie, come to help y’ with yer engine problem.” His brogue was no less
pronounced at this ungodly hour.

Ted crawled out of
his bunk, pulled on some jeans and popped open the hatch.

“Come on down.”
Ted ran his hand through his unruly hair. “It’s awfully early isn’t it?”

Jack stepped over
the bridge deck onto the steep companionway stairs. Slowly, he lowered himself
one step at a time, pausing to catch his breath on each step.

“When y’ get as
old as I am, y’ find y’ have little need fer sleep. There’s going to be an
eternity of it soon enough.” Finally reaching the cabin floor, Jack examined
the engine cover. “Let’s take a look at yer engine.”

Ted struggled into
a T-shirt and sneakers, then unhooked the companionway stairs and pulled them
free to reveal the engine compartment.

“What’s all the
racket out here?” Chris appeared at the forward cabin door, pulling a T-shirt
over his head. “Jesus, Jack, it’s awfully early.”

“As yer Benjie
Franklin said, ‘Early to bed and early to rise . . .”

It’s way too
early in the morning for homilies
, Ted thought. 

“Good morning,
Jack. Would you like coffee?” Meagan, fully dressed, emerged from the forward
cabin.

“Aye, a spot of
coffee’d be nice.”

While Meagan
heated water and ground the beans, Chris joined Ted and Jack at the engine.

“Let’s fire her up
and see how long she runs,” Jack suggested.

Chris climbed over
the engine and up to the cockpit to push the starter button. The engine fired
right up. Ted watched over Jack’s shoulder.

“Would you like a
bite of breakfast, Jack?” Meagan asked.

Chris and Ted
stared at each other, wide-eyed. A thought flashed between the two.

Now she offers
to cook?

“That’d be nice, Lassie.”

The engine ran
while Meagan provided scrambled eggs, bacon and cantaloupe to go with the hot
coffee. Ted had a hard time enjoying breakfast with the engine rumbling loudly
at the other end of the cabin.

Meagan and Chris
climbed up to the cockpit leaving Ted to sullenly wash the dishes.

“It looks like
it’s not going to give us trouble today,” Chris shouted down the companionway.

You want
trouble, buddy? Just keep old Teddy on KP.

“I wouldna bet on
that, Laddie.” Jack hollered up. “How long did it run the first time before it
died?”

“About two hours.
Then it died every ten minutes or so.”

“Well, maybe it
needs t’ run two hours before y’ can find the problem.”

“We can’t sit here
with that racket for two hours,” Meagan shouted.

“Shut her down, Lad.
We’ll do a little trouble shooting.”

Chris shut down
the engine. Jack carefully worked through the fuel system on the hot engine.
Ted crowded over his shoulder, watching Jack’s every move.

“Aye, Laddie, I
think your wee pump has bought it,” Jack said as he dismantled the fuel pump.
“Y’d best replace it.”

Ted memorized the
connections. He heard his uncle Ernesto in his head: 
Mechanics is ninety-percent
observation.

“Can we get a new
fuel pump here?” Ted asked.

“I doubt it, lad,
y’ll probably have to have it flown up from Seattle.”

****

Jack and the
Nessie
departed that morning to handshakes and farewells.

“Too bad Jack had
to go. I kinda liked the old guy.” Ted turned his attention to the bustling
town above him. “Hey, dude, it’s good to be back on solid ground,”

“You’ve only been
on the boat one day, dufus.” Meagan shoved his shoulder.

Even after only
one day on the water, Ted was happy to feel grass under his feet at the small
park above the marina. To Ted’s left, the ferry dock brought swarms of mainland
tourists.

The trio explored Friday Harbor waiting for the new pump to arrive. They wandered through the myriad of
shops, killing time. Meagan insisted that they visit every art gallery on Main Street and she didn’t miss many boutiques.

“Hey, honcho, how
do you like this one?” Meagan plopped a Greek fisherman’s cap on Ted’s head.
“This is a lot better than that silly yachtie hat.”

“Loves it.” Ted
looked at himself if the mirror. There was sooo much to admire.

Chris dragged Ted
to the Whale Museum. Meagan insisted that they eat fish and chips for lunch.
Ted found a spot on the deck overlooking the bay. The warm summer breeze kept
the direct sunlight bearable.

Fortunately, Ted
realized, Friday Harbor is still part of the civilized world. As they moved
north, they wouldn’t be able to have parts delivered as easily.

Ted lay in his
bunk that night, unable to sleep because of the noise coming from the forward
cabin. He heard Meagan and Chris tumbling around on the V-berth, then Meagan’s
loud moaning. After a few “Oh Gods” and “I’m comings” there was blessed
silence. Then a few minutes later it started up again.

After the third
round, Ted was disgusted. He pulled on his jeans and a sweat shirt and went for
a walk on the deserted docks. Returning to the
Defiant
at well past two
am, the couple in the forward cabin were finally played out. Ted climbed back
into his berth.
Jesus Christ, why did Chris have to bring her along? I’m
like a third wheel around here
.

The pump arrived
promptly the next morning at the Harbor Master’s office and Ted spent most of
the day installing it. After bleeding the fuel lines again, they were ready to
go.

“In the morning
we’ll cross the border to Canada.” Chris said.

Friday Harbor, Washington

The navigation
station was inches from Ted’s head. Chris rustled around with charts and tide
tables, occasionally mumbling to himself.
How’s any self-respecting ‘mano
supposed to sleep through this?

“Can’t you work a
little more quietly, dude?”

“Good morning,
sunshine. I’ve got to burn the image of the Haro Straits into my mind.”

Ted vaguely
remembered Chris going over the charts with him before they left. They might as
well have been written in another language. The charts were light green where
there was land and white over the water. The land part was covered in little
lines and the water part covered in numbers. How was anyone expected to know
what all of that meant?

“The Straits
separate the United States from Canada. This is the real start of our adventure.
Today we boldly go where no Hardwick has gone before.”

“Oh God. I suppose
you want me to queue up the Star Trek theme?” Ted rolled over and pulled a
pillow over his head.

“C’mon guys, get
up,” Chris shouted a few minutes later while he made coffee. “I want to catch
the flood tide. My goal for the morning is to reach South Pender Island and clear Canadian Customs.

“I’m going back to
bed,” Meagan complained as soon as they were under way. “This is too damned
early for me.” She deserted Chris and Ted and crawled back down the
companionway stairs.

“Women,” Ted said
in disgust as he handed a mug of coffee to Chris at the helm.

“Her loss, bro.
She’s missing the best part of the day. I love the quiet of the morning, the
stillness of the air and the water.”

Ted had to admit
that Chris had a point. Mount Baker glowed like a rose-colored snow-cone in the
morning light. 

Chris sipped his
coffee “It’d be a lot better though if we had a little wind so that we could
shut down the engine and sail.”

Instead, Ted listened
to the incessant rattle of the diesel as first the rays of dawn slid above the Cascade Range to the east, then the sun poked above the mountains cheering the day. “I’m
not sayin’ that gettin’ up this early is OK, but, dude, this is spectacular.”

Chris pointed out
the landmarks as he steered the
Defiant
north through the San Juan
Channel and around the tip of the island into the Haro Straits. The sun crept
higher in the blue sky, reflecting off the water like a million tiny mirrors.

Then the engine sputtered
and died.

“Jesus Christ,”
Chris cursed. They sat on the water in ghostly stillness.

“What d’ya think,
‘mano? I thought that the new fuel pump was going to fix that.”

“Maybe we just
didn’t bleed all the air out of the lines.”

Ted bled the fuel
lines again and re-started the engine. It ran for about ten minutes.

“Damn,” Chris said
“We might as well fix some breakfast if we can’t sail.”

“Teddy’s got it.”
Ted took his coffee cup and descended the companionway stairs to the galley.

****

“Whatcha making?”
Meagan asked, stumbling sleepily into the main cabin wearing her night-time
uniform of one of Chris’ T-shirts and panties.

“Huevos
rancheros.” Ted stirred a pot of refried beans on the stove. “And can’t you
cover yourself up?”

“What’s a matter,
don’t you like what you’re seeing?” Meagan arched an eyebrow and placed a hand
on each hip, striking a pin-up pose.

Ted ignored her.

“Can’t we just
have good old-fashioned bacon and eggs or even oatmeal and fruit?”

“Sure, princess,
whenever you feel like cookin’ it.” Ted spread a layer of refried beans on
three tortillas on a sheet pan, then laid eggs, sunny side up, on top of each
them. “If I cooks, I cook what I likes.” He smothered the eggs with ranchera
sauce from a Tupperware container and sprinkled cheese on top, then popped the
pan in the oven to melt the cheese.

“I’ll just have
coffee and toast.”

“Feel free to make
it.”

****

By the time Ted
finished washing the breakfast dishes, Chris had hoisted the sails and the
Defiant
ghosted along. She was still barely moving at walking speed. A steady
procession of big motor yachts steamed north past the
Defiant.

“Look at those
power boats,” Meagan whined “Why can’t we just ask them for a tow?”

“Because we’re a
sail boat.” Chris explained the obvious fact like he was talking to a five-year
old. “We sail.” 

“Well, we’re not
doing very much of it. I’m getting bored.” Meagan folded her arms, turned and
headed forward to the bow.

****

By noon the wind
veered to the south and freshened.

“Jibe-ho!” Chris
called out, a grin on his face, as he put the Defiant across the wind again.
The boom came roaring over from starboard to port with the power of a freight
train and the boat surged ahead.

 “How come we have
to keep zig-zagging?” Ted asked, sheeting in the jib. “Why can’t we just go
straight down wind?”

“Because the main
blankets the jib and it doesn’t draw.” Chris looked up at the billowing sails.
“I guess we could run wing and wing.”

“Wingy-whaty?”

“That’s when the
main sail’s on one side of the mast and the jib’s on the other. It’s tricky
though, to keep the boat headed directly downwind so both sails can draw at the
same time.”

“That wingy-dinghy
thingy sounds good to me, let’s give it a try.”

“Okay, bro.” Chris
eased the wheel over slightly until the jib lost all of its wind.

“Cast off the port
jib sheet and haul in the starboard.”

Port?
Starboard. Why can’t he just say “left” or “right?”
The wheels in Ted’s
head spun for a moment, then he sprang into action.
  

The jib gradually
filled on the starboard side of the mast. The
Defiant
ran directly down
wind, her speed picked up and a white wave formed at her bow, but the sensation
of motion almost completely disappeared.

With the boat
moving at the same speed as the wind, the apparent wind in the cockpit dropped
to zero. The warm July sun beat down on them. Chris and Ted removed their
shirts. Meagan dashed below to change into her bikini.

Ted couldn’t help
himself. He kept an eye down the companionway hatch, hoping to catch a glimpse
of the forbidden fruit.

“If we’re not
careful and cross the wind, the boom can come crashing over with enough force
to cause some damage.”

Chris’ voice
brought his attention back to the cockpit.

“If it hits you,
it could really hurt.” Chris paused to think a while, then added, “My dad used
to rig a preventer gear”

A preventer
what?
“What in the hell are you talking about, dude?” Ted asked.

“It’s a line we
tie to the boom to keep it from flying over on an accidental jibe.  Meg, if
you’ll take the wheel, I’ll show Ted how to do it.”

“Let Ted take the
wheel. I want to catch some rays.” Meagan leaned against the cabin, applying
sunscreen.

“No, I need to
teach Ted how to do this.” Chris’ voice took on a firm tone.
 
“We’re
going to be out here a couple of months and we might get into heavy weather. I
might need him to rig a preventer while I’m at the wheel someday.”

“I might as well
be sailing with my father.” Meagan cast him an icy glance as she took over
behind the wheel.

C’mon lady, get
with the program,
Ted thought as Chris led him to the cabin top. While
Chris worked on the side deck, Ted stood on the coach roof, listening to his
instructions.

“Look out, oh
God!” Meagan held her hands to her mouth as the boat crossed wind’s eye and the
boom flew over from the port to the starboard side.

Ted looked up in
time to see the thirty-foot long hunk of metal coming right at him. It struck
him on the shoulder and sent him flying over the rail.