Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
“By the way, have you been to the old hospital yet?” She asked as she was drifting off, her
hand on the starter chord. She was bent over the engine and was wearing a black, one piece
swimsuit. All eyes were on her attractive butt, and she caught us red-handed.
“No, didn't know there was one.” I answered distractedly and somewhat guiltily, “Ask the
doggies, they'll know.”
Her face broke out into a lovely grin, “Great idea, want to come and explore with us this
morning?”
“Sure do!”
“I'll call you up on the radio.”
We continued cleaning chores on-board for a while. The boat could get surprisingly dirty
and unruly very quickly. Bits of dried fish and bait, scales, and blood stuck to the seats and
decks in and around the cockpit. Down below was just as bad. The galley was the worst;
the stove became a site for grime, dried baked bean gravy, and bacon rinds. Bread crumbs
from the toast we made almost every day and spilt, sticky tea added to the grime. The head
had to be periodically cleaned and serviced too, a nasty job that we took in turns.
Around mid morning Gavin took off in his red rubber duck to collect firewood. The dogs
were also keen to get ashore, and they both piled in the minute they felt that Gavin was
ready to go.
Penny called up and arranged to meet at 2 p.m. at the clubhouse to explore the hospital ru-
ins. She had arranged to include Steve and Linda as well for the trip to the hospital to the
north of the island. They hadn't seen the ruins yet and were keen to go. Neptune's Chariot
had given some excuse. We had seen them take the tender on exploratory trips through the
channel and around the lagoon, usually dressed for a dive or fishing trip. I felt a bit guilty. I
liked the guys for themselves and felt that Harry had taken my reaction to his gay overtures
quite personally. To me that was extremely immature. It was like hell hath no fury like a
woman scorned! For heaven's sake, when a man is turned down after making a pass at a
woman, he will pick himself up, bow wistfully at his ambitious folly, and naturally move
on, in most cases. It seems sometimes when a woman, or in this case a gay man, has been
scorned, nay, just politely refused, he feels the right to feel bitter and bent out of shape for
the refusal. Surely he must have been refused before?
Well, my esteemed reader, I have a confession here to make. When living in Kaneohe and
when with Jeri, we had taken some photos of herself and me in the nude. Needless to say,
I sailed away south with quite a collection of these incriminating photos. Heaven alone
knows what crossed the developer's mind, and it can only be hoped that he (or she, prefer-
ably) had glanced, smiled understandingly, and had moved swiftly along!
