This is the thirty-fourth episode of the novel Two Tamas in Paradise. There are fifty episodes. This is the fourth novel in the Trace Troy South Pacific Adventure series.
It may now be purchased on Amazon. It is available in paperback or Kindle digital format.
Rough Seas
Trace heard reports on the radio of high winds, around fifteen to twenty miles per hour. Because it was near sundown, he had the sails reefed before everyone turned in. Indeed, at 10:00 PM, the winds blew steady at fifteen to twenty miles per hour.
Trace saw only a night light coming from below. Makani was the last to go to bed. He brought a thermos of coffee and a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich along with two blueberry Danishes.
The wind shifted and came from the south. The temperature dipped to fifty-eight degrees. Trace shut the windows. He dashed below and got a jacket from the locker in his cabin.
Trace sat at the chart desk. The sudden drop in templates might indicate a sudden storm with higher seas. He looked for a nearby island that he might be able to position The Tramp Islander to minimize or avoid the anger of brutal seas. There was nothing within a hundred miles.
‘At that distance, it’s hardly worth a try,’ he thought.
He swiveled the chair back to the wheel and checked the wind speed. “Gusts to twenty-five,” he murmured.
He eyed the phone. He picked it up and punched Sage’s room number.
It rang four times. “Yep,” Sage said.
“Gusts are up to twenty-five,” Trace said. “Reef the sails. Get Makani Up. Let your dad sleep.”
“Aye, aye,” Sage said and hung up.
Shortly, Sage and Makani swayed in the pilothouse.
“Whenever you two are ready,” Trace said. “If you want a coffee before going out, that’s fine.”
“Sounds good,” Sage said. “It’s cold.”
“I’ll make some coffee,” Makani said and slid below.
“Winds are from the south,” Trace said. “This is their version of arctic air. When I was on the Bering, this was a day in paradise. Arctic air was the only air.”
“Antarctic,” Sage said.
“I stand corrected,” Trace replied. “Tell you what, watch the wheel, and I’ll go check on the passengers.”
Trace climbed below and swayed his way forward to the passenger’s cabins. He rapped on each cabin and asked how they were doing. Everyone was awake and trying to make the best of the situation.
“Look,” Trace said from the hallway, “if you can’t sleep, Makani is making coffee. Maybe you might feel better in the mess or salon.”
Trace walked back toward the pilothouse. He heard the cabin doors open. All the passengers came out as if they were waiting for the order.
“Hey, Makani,” Trace said. “Take a coffee up for you and Sage. And Maxwell and Calvin, I’m sure you have Makani’s permission to go into the galley. How bout you two getting coffee or tea for the ladies and serving them a snack? That’s alright, isn’t it Makani.”
“Sure thing,” Makani said. He grabbed a thermos of coffee and two cups and climbed to the pilothouse.
“I was in storms much worse than this on the Bering Sea,” Trace said to the passengers to calm them. “When it got rough, we’d do this; get together and talk about things that make us happy—I just hope there are things that make you happy.” He flashed a grin to let them know he had no worries.
After Sage and Makani finished their coffees, they went out on deck, and reefed the sails. They came back dripping wet.
“What have you heard about the weather?” Sage said.
“Moderate gale, spindrift seas,” Trace said. “This is the heaviest seas I’ve seen since down here.”
“I’ve seen much bigger,” Makani said, “from my house on shore.”
“The minute we get a gust to moderate gale, we’ll drop the sails completely,” Trace said. “Take no chances.”
“How long last?” Makani asked.
“The best I can figure is another twenty-four hours,” Trace said.
“I get bucket for passengers,” Makani said and climbed below.
“You loosened up a little bit on the passengers,” Sage said.
“Yeah,” Trace said. “They’ve been with us long enough, besides, we’ll check their pockets before they leave.”
“They seemed to have changed, too,” Sage said.
“Something about going through tough times that can either draw people together or pry them apart,” Trace said.
“It’s sort of funny,” Sage said, “a few days at sea without makeup and those gals start to look wholesome.”
“Yeah, they do,” Trace said.
“Can you keep a secret?” Sage said.
“If I said no, would that keep you from telling me anyway?” Trace said
“I went into Maxwell’s cabin,” Sage said. “I took his hair goop and tossed it overboard. Hair goop might belong on a cruise ship, but not on The Tramp Islander.”
“That’s not good,” Trace said. “We don’t go into a cabin without the permission of the passenger or the captain.”
“It won’t happen again,” Sage said, “but you have to admit, he looks better without it.”
“I’m going to have to punish you,” Trace said. “When the weather clears, you have to show him how to trim the sails.”
“Can’t I just confess and buy him some goop?” Sage said.
“Nope,” Trace said, “Make him a sailor.”
“Ay, ay, Captain Bligh,” Sage said.
Good episode.
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