“We have two adult males. Three if you feel able to include Jefferson Lee Thomas. I have my own doubts. There is myself, Pamela and also Jeanne, who strikes me as being a capable person. The rowboats are obviously too small.”
“Take two of them,” insisted the bearded eighteen-year-old. “Room enough, then.”
“Halve our speed.” Nanci held up a hand to stop any further argument. “I’m sorry, Paul, my dear young man, but I’m afraid I don’t have the time to continue this fascinating discussion of the metaphysical logistics of traveling. That one,” she stated, pointing at the vessel with the muzzle of the Port Royale, which had somehow appeared in her fingers.
It was called the Eureka Belle and was forty feet long. There had once been an auxiliary engine, but that had rusted away. There was a tall mast that carried both a mainsail and a spinnaker, in dark green canvas.
Nanci went to the stern and took the wheel, ordering Mac to loose the bow cable. Without being told, Paul went to free the rear line from the frost-slick bollard.
Sukie and Jocelyn were taken below by their mother, who reappeared on deck to report there were eight bunks in two separate rooms.
“Fine. Jeff, get ready to haul that rope there. Jeanne, you help him. Pamela, can you go below decks and keep an eye on the little ones. No knowing what trouble they might get into. The bow line goes first, Mac. Push her off and jump. Don’t leave it too late. We won’t be coming back for anyone. Then drop your rope, Paul, and move fast to get on board. Everyone knows what’s happening?” Nobody answered her. She sniffed. “Why do I bother, I wonder? Let’s do it, people.”
It was a perfect departure.
The ship ghosted gently away from her berth, and both Mac and his only surviving son managed to scramble on board without too much trouble.
Nanci gave the order to haul on the mainsheet, and the big sail began to inch its way up the mast.
“I recall some poem about going to the sea again,” she said as she tested the feel of the wheel. “With laughing fellow rovers. But let it pass.”
The water bubbled away behind the Eureka Belle as Nanci set a course due west, chasing the long-gone sunset. There was no alarm, no attempt at a chase, no shooting.
It was the perfect getaway.
Jeanne joined Pamela and the girls below decks to sleep, followed by Paul. And, within the hour, Jeff Thomas.
Mac remained on the deck, leaning on the rail, watching the casually competent way that the older woman handled the ship.
“Reckon you could do this on your own, couldn’t you, Nanci?” he said.
“If I had to, Mac.”
“Big boat like this.”
“Not too difficult. She’s been set up so that one person can sail her in calm weather. If the wind rose or the sea got rough, then it would take two. Probably three.”
“You’ve done this sort of thing before?”
She smiled at him, her even teeth gleaming in the fading moonlight. “I’ve done most things before, Mac. And been most places. Sailed as a little sprat with my father, off Poughtucket Sound up in New England.”
The wake was straight as an ebony ruler, leading back toward the invisible bulk of the land. Mac breathed in, savoring the clean taste of the sea.
“Good,” he said.
“Beats most pleasures.” She glanced up at the leading edge of the mainsail and made a slight adjustment to the helm. “Wind’s freshening and veering a couple of points southerly. Help us on our way.”
“To catch Jim and the others?”
“Strength in numbers, Mac. ‘Specially when you’re all strangers in this strange new land.”
“I read that.”
Nanci looked sideways at him. “Then you know where the quote comes from?”
“Course. I used to read all the science fiction going. It’s Robert Heinlein.”
“Sure, Mac. But he got it out of the Bible. From the Book of Exodus. The twenty-second verse of the second chapter.”
“You know the good book real well.”
The sail fluttered, and he was conscious that they’d picked up a little more speed.