DestinationPart IVSidney seemed to "dance" as she slipped into the water. Madness had taken her away. Like Ophelia, she had floated for a minute or two, and then the ocean "folded" about her and pulled her down. As the boat moved on (at least it seemed like it was moving) I looked at that part of water where she had been buoyed up. There, spreading out on the surface was a small smudge of that damned gray fog. It remained for a few seconds then dissipated. The warm Southwest breeze was still at our Port bow and it had scattered the abomination that had covered her. Sidney’s cloud had taken her into the "Nowhere". I guessed that’s where Gordy was. I will not go there! The gravity of what happened the last few hours was pulling me down. I felt tired. More tired than I’ve felt in my life. I had to almost crawl down the steps and into the cabin below. I got to the settee and that’s all I remember. I don’t know how long I slept. It must have been hours. It was evening and what light there had been was going. It was getting that blue, black color outside. I say I don’t know how long I slept because the clocks had stopped. Even the quartz electric clock at the navigation table. As soon as we had discovered that, we had to come up with an idea of how to keep crew watches. The plot line on the GPS gave us that. Every 6 miles was an hour. Even though everything else told us we WEREN’T moving, the little Plot Line kept laying down a track. 18 nautical miles equaled one watch. It seemed like it was the only "Right" thing left on the boat. I woke up hungry and very very thirsty. We had stocked plenty of food and there was some leftover pasta. I ate it all. I picked up a cup and turned the handle of the faucet in the galley sink. STOP ! A voice went off in my head. I quickly shut it off. I had no idea how much water was in our tanks. We'd filled in Astoria but I didn’t have any idea how much we’d used since. It now had been over two weeks, by my reckoning, and I had no idea how much water tankage this old boat had. I’d better check. There’s no telling how long it’ll be before …….. Before what? Rescue? I figured it’s still a good idea to find the water tanks and check just how full. Or… empty they are. It didn’t take long to find them. Two big old copper tanks. Copper? I started to laugh. "You damn fool, you’ll probably die long before the copper poisons kill you," I said out loud. Each tank had an inspection/cleaning plate. I opened the first one, looked in. It was FULL! The second one, FULL! Not one tank showed any use. This was another "Wrong" thing on the boat. In two weeks we had used a lot of water. Yet the tanks were full! I suddenly got giddy. I decided to test this impossible situation. I took a long hot shower, I washed down the entire cabin sole, Washed and rinsed the dishes, took another shower and drank so much water that my bladder hurt. Then I looked into each water tank….They were STILL FULL! This was too much for me to take in. How could they continue being full NO matter how much was used? Next I tried the "test" on the liquor cabinet. Inside there was a bottle of 18-year-old Scotch, unopened. I cracked the top and poured my coffee cup full. The bottle went back into the cabinet. And I went back to the settee. It took a long time of sipping its smooth fire to finish. By the time the cup was empty, I had warmed my body and numbed my soul. Cautiously, I unlatched the cabinet door and swung it open. There the bottle stood. The cap seal unbroken, Full. I was beginning to understand what was happening, but I didn’t want to say it ….Yet. I’m not sure it wasn’t the full cup of Scotch that made me woozy or just the confusion of the event. What ever it was I had to set down, Quickly. Suddenly I was struck with another thought. The engine was an old 3 cylinder Diesel. That kind of engine must use about a half gallon an hour. Since Astoria we’ve been on engine power for 14 days. 14 DAYS! We’d had to have at least 150 gallons of fuel. That’s all wrong! It’s impossible to have that sized fuel tank. I had to find out. It took some effort to move all the lines and junk that had collected in the cockpit lockers. Finally I spotted the rusty sheet iron that had to be the fuel tank. As I suspected there was a fitting on the top. Next to it was an old yardstick that someone had calibrated by cutting notches at a few places. One notch was marked " Half " another "Full". It took a large wrench and a lot of effort to loosen the fitting. Finally it began to move and then came free. I shoved the Dip Stick down into the hole and slowly pulled it out. The wetness ran all the way up the stick to the notch marked "Full". Now I knew the truth. At least I thought I knew SOME of the truth. I went back to the saloon and sat on the settee for a long while. My coffee cup of Scotch had been filled and empted twice by the time I saw the book. Gordy’s Daily Journal lay on the navigation table. That gray leather covered book. (Funny, I could swear it was covered in Red leather?) I moved to the table and sat down. The journal’s first entries were what you’d expect. Notes about the delivery, comments about weather and sea conditions. Stuff that probably was in the Ship’s log. There were observations about Sidney and me. He had liked us and thought us to be a knowledgeable and a happy crew. As I turned the pages, the tone of the entries began to change. I could read Fear in each new line added. Then the entry of two weeks ago. And then the last pages written in a shaky hand. Rambling words. As I read, I understood. I KNEW the purpose of this voyage. I now knew the Destination of the L'Espoir It was never going to be … San Diego! The destination is…………………………. To be concluded… Monday October 30, 2006 |