Ship to Shore

Chapter 1
Red Sky in the Morning…
Drew stood on the bow of the boat looking for a sign of land. According to the plots on the map and his sophisticated equipment, he should be nearing a port. Yet he hadn’t seen anything he would have expected to see by now: no sea gulls, no terrain, and no surface trash. Could he have been mistaken? His food supplies were running low and his dog seemed a little restless as he peered into the setting sun. Large dark clouds far off on the horizon suggested it was going to be a marathon evening and he was more than a little disturbed by the fact he hadn’t been able to make radio contact for several hours.
Maybe this had been a bad idea after all. He listened to an experienced sailor at the last port who told him if he sailed just out of sight of land, he would be able to make better time. The sea waves wouldn’t be as cantankerous as the ones near the shore and the sailing would be a might bit easier. All that had been true, but Drew accustomed to using the shoreline as his focal point, hadn’t planned on loosing radio contact. If he trusted his system, which he did, he should be able to get some information from the shore.
The long dark night gave way to ruby steaks across the morning sun. He watched the sunrise, an ending to a foreboding night at sea. The crimson skies hinted rain would almost assuredly come before evening. He needed to make a harbor port soon, if at all possible. He set his course and went below deck. He needed some rest, even a couple of hours.
After returning to his cabin, the sailor searched the bungalow for a particular book. He fell asleep easily with a book in his hand. Judging by the size of the room he knew his search would not take long.
The galley kitchen made up the back wall. A gas stove was wedged into the cabinet complete with three burners and a small oven. A floor to ceiling refrigerator one-half the size of the one in his home flanked the left side of the counter. A small narrow stainless steel sink, matching the other appliances, sat between the refrigerator and the stove. Beautiful mahogany cabinets complete with nickel-plated handles finished off the rest of the kitchen. He decided to straighten up the encompassing area as he searched. A table for two was implanted into a small alcove. His bed was a spacious nook to the right of the door entry. Drew loved the layout, it was what sold this particular boat to him the second he walked into it. It reminded him of his one-room rental he had lived in before the accident. He quickly brushed the thought aside not wanting to think about that right now. He had more pressing matters to consider, “Ahh, yes the book.”
His hand knew the book it held. The tattered cover didn’t do much to promote the wisdom held inside. He loved his books, but this was his favorite. It was a gift from his parents some sixteen years ago when he was eight years old. It had sparked a love of the sea deep within him. In its’ pages he read the wisdom of the sages, for wisdom was what he was seeking today. He couldn’t stop his mind from wondering, ‘Am I lost at sea?’
After reading a short story entitled, “Batten Down the Hatches and Pray Hard,” and considering another potential long day at sea, Drew allowed the rhythmic rocking of the boat to lull him to sleep even as the sun was still rising over the horizon. His book fell beside him on his cabin bunk. Pirate, his dog companion who had been showing signs of restlessness all night long, decided to curl beside the bed. His large frame covered most of the available floor space in the one room chamber, which had been their home for the last six weeks.

Drew woke with a fright. He slipped off his bed and braced himself for the next wave. Fear near panic churned inside him. The storm had begun in the middle of the afternoon, not late evening as he had expected.
“Hold on Pirate, This is a big storm.” Pirate’s wet nose touched Drew’s hand seeking a reassuring touch from his master. Awareness of Pirate’s restlessness earlier came unbidden, “You knew we were in for this. Didn’t you? I need to pay more attention.”
Pirate barked and wagged his tail as another wave tossed them into the cabin bunk. “I’ve got to go, boy; I have a lot of work to do.”
Slipping into his wet suit was no easy task even when the seas were calm, so Drew didn’t even attempt trying given his current circumstances. With much effort the captain of the small cruiser managed to make it up on deck. The main sail slapped in the wind like a sheet holding onto a clothes line for dear life after the pins had been plopped to the ground. He knew instantly he should have heeded the oldest warning in the world known to a sailor: Red sky at night sailors’ delight, red skies in the morning, sailors take warning.
“I should have done this earlier,” Drew stated matter-of-factly. The habit of talking to himself would be hard to break once he got his land legs back. ‘If I ever get them back?’ The wandering thought caused him to hasten his chores around the deck. The next wave sent his body facedown into the ropes tucked up near the bow of the boat. He grabbed the rope he was searching for and headed back to the center of the cruiser, careful to duck under the guide pole that was used on calm sailing expeditions. It was useless in a storm like this. He had to tie it down for his own safety.
Once everything was tucked, tied, and secured, he slipped back into the relative safety of the hold. Saltwater splashed across the floor of his bedroom chamber before Drew could fasten the door in front of the oncoming downpour. Virtually every part of his body was aching from the assault he had just endured on the top deck.
“Ok, Pirate, we are in for the ride of our lives. The waves are swelling to at least twenty feet. Maybe higher.” He never bothered to dry off before throwing his jacket on his bunk. Wet bedding was the least of his worries. Pirate jumped up next to him as Drew took hold of the below deck Captain’s wheel keeping his ears alert to any sudden changes.
A few minutes later the biggest attack began. Whitecaps splashing over the deck, saturating the rigging and tarps were visible from the cabin porthole. Drew held tight to the wheel but his mind paced the length of his beloved ship wandering what havoc was being caused to her. Within a short time he had no choice but to allow the wheel some freedom in this violent storm. It tossed back and forth in sporadic fashion, giving him little control.
If he and pirate were not lost before the storm, they would be now for sure. “It will certainly take some plotting and planning to figure out our position,” he looked directly at Pirate who responded by placing his head on his paws.
Drew felt unusually vulnerable to this display of nature. As the rain slashed across the deck, it was hard to tell if the water came down from the sky or up from the ocean. He started the second part of what he read earlier, “Everything is battened down. It’s prayer time.” He began.

“That forty-minute roller coaster ride took a year off my life,” Drew spoke to his canine friend as they surveyed the damage to their tattered boat.
Resisting the urge to call an emergency distress call, although the temptation to do so was real, had been a smart decision. He realized from his police background that mayday alerts should be reserved for times of dire circumstances, knowing the help would have been put in great danger. The risk for them to try and find him in such a terrible storm could have cost someone their life.
Working quietly and efficiently, Drew hoisted the battered sails, turned on his auxiliary power, and called for more weather information on his ship to shore radio. Hoping the storm had left the area and somehow unwittingly directed his ship closer to his port destination.