Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
After a meal of canned sausages, sweet corn, fried eggs and potatoes washed down with a
cup of strong, hot coffee, I felt a lot better. I rigged up the little bimini which helped keep
the sun out of the cockpit. I opened the floor hatch by laboriously undoing about thirty little
nuts that kept it bolted down and water tight. I had taken away the companionway steps
and had ascertained that there was diesel; we had not run out of fuel, as first we suspected.
I bled the injector, fuel pump, and filter and tried to hand crank it to life, the starter motor
having long since packed up. It was no use, even with some infallible quick start fluid, it
wouldn't even kick over. My head was pounding, my ankles cramping from the way I was
standing on the floor coaming, and my back was aching from constantly bending down into
the bilges over the engine. I was stymied for now. I needed to think. Just then Gavin piped
up, “Here come your boyfriends.”
“What!” I looked over and saw Neptune's fancy tender making a regal beeline towards
Déjà vu. “God, not now please. They are the last people I want to see - - - ever again!” I
corrected.
Swiftly now, the tender was brought alongside and I was surprised to see Mike and Harry
the only occupants. “Good morning guys, hope we haven't caught you at a bad time,” Harry
said, staring at my semi naked torso. I was wearing just a pair of raggedy jean shorts due to
the heat and nature of the dirty job at hand. I writhed in renewed embarrassment.
“Morning, I am just trying to figure out why the engine conked out yesterday,” I said breez-
ily, trying to keep my annoyance to myself.
“Mind if we come aboard?” asked Harry.
“Sure, but be careful I have the floor up.” Mike tied the painter to the rail, and the two
of them jumped nimbly aboard. Harry produced a bottle of red wine and a dazzling smile.
“Hey, I apologize for last night you guys. I guess I read the situation wrong. I've been feel-
ing very bad about it and want you to take this wine as a peace offering.” He put the bottle
down on the seat, ensuring that I wouldn't refuse.
“You didn't have to do that, Harry. I was just very tired and drunk last night; I felt rather
stupid.”
“So what actually happened to the engine then?” enquired Mike, changing the subject and
engaging me with his startling, pale, blue eyes.
“Well, we were just puttering slowly up the channel when all of a sudden it seemed to
cough. Actually now that I think about it, I did hear a weird clicking noise, and there was a
cloud of black, oily smoke from the exhaust,” I explained, wiping my hand on a rag. Mike
was quiet for a while, as though thinking. He was a good-looking, young, blonde boy of
around twenty or so. He had tousled yellow hair, pale blue eyes, and a dazzling row of teeth
