Captain's Choice Ch. 05-06

This story was edited by ErikThread and DaveT with my thanks and appreciation. Any errors are mine alone. Previously posted on another site.

Captain's Choice

Chapter 5 Lost at Sea

We were on a four day break in the middle of August. Our next charter would be arriving on a Friday afternoon and our most recent had just left on Monday morning. It was a necessary breather and a way to recharge the batteries as we headed into the home stretch for the busy summer season. It had been nearly six weeks since that frantic coupling with Del and nothing had happened since. I kept wondering if I should say something, but I didn't want to upset the equilibrium we had established. As before, we worked as a finely tuned crew, everyone knowing their role and everyone happy with it.

Ardele had decided to take the bus to Nanaimo to visit a friend she had gone to school with. Pete and Dean were shacking up with a couple of girls they had met earlier that summer. They would be staying at the girls' apartment until Friday, enjoying the company and dry land for a change. I decided to treat myself to a couple of nights in the motel we used for our guests. It was within walking distance of a pub and our usual shopping area, so I could find things to do to keep myself occupied. I checked in on Tuesday morning, intending to check out Thursday to give myself a day to get ready for our next group.

In the back of my mind I was still thinking about Ardele and what might become of us. Was our brief session the beginning and end of any intimate relationship? It didn't sound like it when we talked afterward, but perhaps she'd changed her mind.

I took advantage of my little vacation before heading back to Menzies Bay. Other than groceries and some supplies, there was nothing for me to do on the boat and I could relax until Del returned.

On Thursday afternoon I taxied back to Menzies Bay Marina. As I approached the gangway I saw a boat moored in our spot, but it wasn't the Captain's Choice. What the hell? Where was my boat? I looked over the small marina and couldn't see it anywhere. I stormed toward the office, intending to find out what had happened.

"It was gone Tuesday morning when I got here," Manager Tony Burdock told me. "As far as I knew, you took it out. I didn't see anyone else around it."

"Well it sure as hell wasn't me. The boat's been stolen. You have security cameras covering the floats. The RCMP is going to want to see the recordings. That boat is worth a fortune to me. I'm really pissed that someone could waltz down there and steal it with no one noticing," I snapped.

"Look, Mr. Hamelin, people come and go around here all day long. I can't keep track of them all. The gate has a security lock and only those people with a card can get down there. You call the Mounties and we'll get them the discs."

I pulled out my cell phone and grabbed the office phone book. I punched in the number for the local station and asked to speak to a constable. A few minutes later, I had reported the theft and had been asked to come down to the station with photographs of the boat and the disks from the marina. I called a taxi while I collected up my photo album of my restoration, and stopped again at the marina office to get copies of the camera discs. Barely forty minutes later I was at the RCMP detachment, filing out the stolen property form, passing along the video discs from the marina and showing pictures of Captain's Choice to the attending officers.

"Is there anything unusual about this boat, Mr. Hamelin?" the corporal on duty asked.

"Yes. It's unique, probably one of a kind. It's over fifty years old and completely restored as you can see by the photos. I've valued it at a half-million dollars, but that's only what it's insured for. It's worth far more than that to me."

"I understand, but what I'm asking is if there's something that would make it easily identifiable if spotted on the water? The shape or superstructure ... anything?"

"Nothing really unique except to an expert on old boats. To most people, they all look almost the same. Nine out of ten people will tell you it looks like an old Chris Craft."

The corporal nodded, probably thinking the same thing.

"Well, we've got some good pictures of it, and we'll go over the video to see what we can see. I doubt this is some kids stealing it for a joyride. If it's stolen for a purpose, I'm sure it will have the name and probably the registration number painted over by now. We have two patrol boats in the area and these pictures will help them identify it. At least they'll know what they are looking for. I'll have it on their e-mail this afternoon."

"Okay ... thanks. I'll check back in with you tomorrow to see if anything turns up. You've got my cell phone, so if you hear anything at all, please call me ... anytime."

He nodded, looking grim. I got the impression he wasn't too hopeful that they would find my boat in good condition any time soon.

I was lost. I had clients coming in expecting to embark on a four day tour on Friday and I had no boat. Force majeure popped into my mind. Circumstances beyond my control. What could I do? I had three remaining charters before we headed back to Coal Harbour and the last four charters of the season. What to do? I called my insurance company to give them a heads-up.

In a moment of desperation, I called the marina office in Campbell River and asked if they knew of any charters that could handle four to six people that would be available immediately. I got a very negative response, although the man did promise to check with a couple of captains that might be available. I wasn't holding out much hope.

I walked to the pub and ordered a beer. As I sat in my chair, it finally hit me that Captain's Choice was gone and it didn't look good that I would get it back any time soon. It was the last remaining link to my father and I had no idea how I would deal with its loss, if that's what would turn out to be the case. I thought of the many hundreds of hours I spent restoring it to its former glory. I thought of the pride and pleasure I had being the owner and captain of that beautiful work of marine craftsmanship. I felt sick at heart. Please don't let it be gone.

My cell rang.

"Hello," I said, hoping it was the RCMP and they had found the boat.

"Yeah ... this is Tony Burdock at the marina. There's a skipper here that has a boat you could charter for the next while. Problem is, he doesn't have any crew."

"That's not a problem. I can supply a crew. I also have a catering firm lined up as well. What's this boat like? Is it big enough for six guests?"

"Oh yeah. It's a fifty-seven foot Bayliner. Should be big enough."

"Okay, how do I get hold of him?"

"I'll have him meet you here at the office when you come. He'll take you down to the boat and you can look it over. I don't know anything about this guy, but I'll leave that up to you."

"All right. Thanks for the help. I should be there in about ten minutes if you can let him know."

"Sure thing. See you then."

Well, it's something at least. I just hope it didn't turn out to be bad news when it came to the boat's condition and the skipper. I didn't need the grief it would give me, nor my reputation in the business. It was time to move over to the marina with fingers crossed that this would be acceptable. Price wasn't going to be an issue, I decided. If this guy wanted to hold me up, I was going to have to let him. I needed to look after my customers.

When I arrived at the marina office, Burdock was the only person present.

"He's on his way. Should be here in five minutes. His boat is that big white plastic thing just beside the tug on the inside."

The way he spoke, he didn't sound like he had too much use for the new stylish fibreglas yachts that seemed to be in favour these days. I had to agree with him, but I held my tongue.

"Any word on what happened to your boat?"

"No ... nothing so far."

"Well, there's one thing about it," Burdock said thoughtfully. "There aren't many boats of that vintage around here. It should be fairly easy to spot. They sure as hell didn't steal it for speed, so they must have some other need for it."

"Yeah, I'm sure you're right, but what did they steal it for?"

He shrugged. "Maybe hauling dope or servicing a grow-op. The cops are always looking for them near some of the old logging camps. My bet is it's going to turn up somewhere nearby."

"I hope you're right," I said as a big man stepped into the office.

"This the fellow who's looking to charter?" he asked Burdock.

"Yeah, I'll let you two get acquainted."

"I'm Pat Hamelin. I own Captain's Choice and charter it here. Unfortunately, it's been stolen. I need to look after my customers so I'm looking for a substitute. Burdock said you might be willing."

"Sure. I'm Ernie Tillman. Nice to meet you. Bad luck about your boat. I haven't heard of boats being stolen around here ... leastways not big ones. How big was yours?"

"Fifty feet. I understand your Bayliner is fifty-seven."

"Yeah. Let's go have a look, and if it suits, we can talk."

The transom of his boat read "Logged Out", and it was registered in Port Hardy, near the top of Vancouver Island.

"You're a long way from home," I noted.

"Yeah, but this is where most of the business is. It's my first year trying to get some charter work, so I thought I better come where the action is. Not much doing where I'm from."

"What did you do before this?" I asked.

"I flew for Trans-Coastal Air. Mostly Twin-Otters. Wife and I split up when she wanted to live in the city again and I wanted to live up here."

"I understand you don't have a crew," I said.

"No ... I've tried a couple of the locals but they're unreliable. Any suggestions?"

"Yeah, advertise early next year in the college papers. UBC, Simon Fraser, UVic. Lots of experienced kids looking for work on charters. I can probably give you a couple of leads as well."

"Thanks. But that doesn't help you, does it."

"I've got two crew with me and they're experienced. I'd be surprised if they didn't go with you if I'm without a boat. They need the work and I can vouch for them."

"Damn! That would be great. What do you pay them?"

We sat down and I went over the rates and payment schedules for both the guests and the crew. He didn't seem to be concerned about the money, so I assumed he was okay with it. From memory I sketched out my schedule to the end of August and he was able to fit all of the charters in. I felt like a big weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

As I walked through the boat and looked at the equipment, I was pleased. It was fully equipped and very tidy. I don't know why that was a surprise. He was, or had been, a pilot. Organization and safety were big items on his list of important things. On top of that, I liked the guy. He had a friendly smile and gave me the appearance of being a professional.

I was satisfied he had the facilities to handle my guests, so I told him that my crew would be returning tomorrow morning and I would bring them over to introduce them. I was confident that with my endorsement, Pete and Dean would be happy enough to transfer to this boat for the three charters. When we went back to Vancouver at the end of the month, we could begin to look for another boat, either to charter, or if my boat didn't reappear, one to purchase. I was hoping against hope that wouldn't be necessary.

I called Ardele and found her on the bus, just an hour out of Campbell River. I filled her in on what had happened and let her know I had reserved a room for her at the motel. I would be paying for it. She protested briefly, but I insisted and told her what the short-term plan was. I think she was as upset at the loss of my boat as I was. We agreed to meet at the motel.

"I can't believe it," Del said, shaking her head. "Who would steal it? What for? Surely the RCMP will find it. It can't get that far that fast."

"I don't know what to think. It keeps going through my brain over and over again is that it was the last link to my father. Something tangible that I could have that was his too. It'll kill me if we can't recover it."

We had adjoining rooms with a connecting door. Del had thrown her kit bag on her bed and come through to my room. We were sitting on the bed, side by side as I described what had happened and what I had done so far.

"What we need is a plane to search for it," she said.

"Search where? It's been gone since Tuesday afternoon. How they knew there was no one aboard, I do not know. I'm thinking they got on board from a small boat and that's why no one noticed. I was going to talk to the girls and see if they saw anything."

"No! I'll talk to them. You stay away from them," she said in no uncertain terms.

For the first time that day, I laughed.

"Okay, okay, you do it then," I said in surrender. "They are always on their boat if it's here and I'd be surprised if they didn't see something."

It was then that she put her arm around me and hugged me close.

"I know how much that boat means to you, Pat. We are going to do whatever it takes to get it back. I've got some money, so we should charter a seaplane and check out Desolation Sound and some of the islands in the area. That's bound to be where they were headed."

"What makes you so sure? And by the way, you aren't paying for the aircraft charter and that's final."

"It's going to be expensive. At least let me contribute."

"You'll contribute by keeping me concentrating on finding the boat. We need to do this in an organized fashion, just like the Search and Rescue people do. In the meantime, we can't do anything until the boys get back and we get them settled with Ernie Tillman."

"Okay, Boss," she grinned. It wasn't a time for humour, but I did find she lifted my spirits just by being with me. At least now we had an outline of a plan.

It was well past our normal supper hour and I was finally beginning to get hungry. There was a while there when I didn't think I'd be able to hold down any food. We walked to the local diner and ordered the special: meat loaf. The place wasn't licensed, so we couldn't have a beer or a glass of wine. All our supplies were on our missing boat. I wasn't in a very good mood.

I was grateful the motel wasn't in sight of the marina. That would have probably driven me crazy, looking out at the space my precious boat once occupied. It was hard for me not to get emotional about the loss. I had a horrible feeling that we'd seen the last of Captain's Choice. I don't know why, but it was a distinct feeling that it was gone. Spirited off to some place that it could be sold for big money? Who knew? What would I do if it was lost? There wasn't another to be had and besides, there was only one that belonged to my father. That made it irreplaceable.

I tossed and turned quite frequently that night, trying in vain to get some sleep. Perhaps it was the loss of my boat, or just the uncertainty of what I would do about it tomorrow. Charter a small plane to search for it? And what about Ardele? What would she do? Stay? Move on to another job? The whole thing was just one question after another and no answers.

I heard the creak and looked over toward the connecting door. In the dim light coming through the curtain I could see her standing there, not moving. At some point she must have made a decision and moved toward me. She didn't hesitate then, pulling the covers back and climbing in with me. I reached for her and she welcomed me into her arms. I sighed. It was a sigh of relief. Someone else cared. I needed that.

We didn't kiss for a while at least. We just held each other in the comfort and warmth of our embrace. It was amazing just how restorative that simple act was.

"I knew you couldn't sleep," she whispered. "I could hear you. I'm sorry, Pat. I'm sorry about the boat and I'm sorry about everything it means to you. I hope we can find it and bring it back. I want to help you. It's important that I help you."

"Thank you," I murmured. "That means a lot. Thank you."

We held each other until I fell asleep, realizing just how comforting her support was at that moment. I slept well for what was left of the night. I had no dreams, no nightmares, just a peaceful, contented sleep.

I awoke to sunlight on the big window lighting the room. Ardele was still in my arms but facing away, my arm draped over her hip. I watched her as she slept. She was as beautiful in slumber as she was awake. Her light blonde hair never seemed to get too mussed.

I slipped my hand under the loose t-shirt she wore and cupped a breast gently, feeling the soft smoothness of it. My morning erection was now pressing between the cheeks of her backside, insisting its presence on her. She moaned softly, stirred slightly, but remained asleep. I closed my eyes and fell back asleep as well.

When I awoke once more, Ardele was facing me, her hand wrapped gently around my still-erect member, her big, blue eyes watching me, unblinking. I groaned as I struggled to come fully awake. I brought my hand up to her face and stroked it softly before leaning toward her and kissing her. No tongue, just lip to lip and holding it for only three of four seconds.

She blinked, smiled and said, "Good morning. Feeling better?"

"Yes ... thank you." I was still stroking her cheek and she brought her hand up to mine and guided it to her breast once more. I felt her leg move over me, all the while maintaining her soft grip on my erection. It took me a moment to realize she was no longer wearing panties.

She stroked the head of my cock along her slit a couple of times before mounting me and guiding me into her center. It was slow and steady and she was completely in command. It was unexpected, but welcomed. She was watching my reaction and all I could think about was the stupid grin I must be showing. It was one of those times when I didn't need to say anything and neither did she.

I had my hands now gripping the perfect sculpted cheeks of her bottom as we developed that perfect rhythm that lovers seek. It all seemed so automatic. There was no learning curve to overcome. We were perfect together and we both knew it. She laid her head on my shoulder and we continued our ancient dance. There was no urgency, no demand to complete, no desire to dominate the other. It ... was ... perfect!

The passion was there, but it was controlled. No raging torrent to drive us forward. I'm not sure I'd ever made love to a woman quite this way before. I was pretty sure I hadn't. I was completely relaxed despite the fact that I was also totally aroused. I know that sounds contradictory, but it's the only way I can describe what I felt. It took quite a while before I knew my time was at hand. Somehow, Ardele knew that too.

There was no breathless gasping or rivers of sweat pouring from us. She slipped off me but stayed attached, her arm over my chest and her head tucked into my shoulder. I couldn't think of what to say, so I remained mute. There didn't seem to be any point. I was confident that Ardele was just as satisfied and comfortable as I was.

"I guess we should get up and start thinking about finding a pilot and plane," I said.

"Hmmm, yes," she moaned, not very enthusiastically. "Shower time."

I looked over at the clock and saw that it was nearly nine am. I couldn't remember the last time I was still in bed at nine.

"Come on, we'll do this together," I said, pulling on her arm to get her out of bed.

She stood and stretched, then pulled off the t-shirt, revealing her perfect body once more. I let her use the toilet in privacy before I joined her and turned on the shower. We weren't in any danger of running out of hot water, but I was sure housekeeping would be along soon and we hadn't hung out any signs to warn them off. Del giggled at the thought of our being discovered then hurried her shower and grabbed a towel, heading for her room.