Arrow's Rest by Joel Scott (best way to read books txt) 📕

“I’ve got this,” Sally said, shoving past them. “Two more jugs of beer and a dozen shots of tequila. Pour them all in a jug as well and give us some limes and six shot glasses.” The bartender smiled and shook his head and was about to speak when Rob reached across with her passport.

“Here,” he said, “she’s legal.” He turned towards Danny. “I’ve been wondering. What did the husband say? When Cat spilled the drink at the club.”

Danny looked carefully around. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he whispered.

The bartender filled the order, took the cash from the big scarred man, and moved on down the line. “We’re confirmed,” Sally said when they were seated at one of the big patio tables out on the deck. “Fourteen boats in our division, and they’re going for a harbour start so it’s going to be pretty tight for a while. Four of the opposition are pure racers; we likely won’t see them after the start. The others are local cruisers; Arrow should rate well against most of them. The good news for us is there’s a decent low coming in. They’re forecasting twenty knots of wind from the southeast and gusting, so we might be in with a chance. We’d be embarrassed in light air.”

“Twenty knots and gusting,” Jared said.

“Yes.”

He reached for the tequila jug, poured a shot, and threw it back.

“Should be fun,” he mumbled, his eyes watering as he grabbed for a slice of lime.

Chapter 23

It didn’t seem so much like fun at seven the following morning when Sally came aboard Arrow and pounded on the cabin doors. “Breakfast in half an hour, Merlynn’s cooking. One Caesar limit till after the race.”

“I thought the race didn’t start till ten thirty,” Jared groaned.

“We need to get on the water early and check out the conditions, the wind will be all over the place inside here. A couple of boats are out there already. I talked to a lot of those patronizing twats last night. There are some serious racers here. Three of the boats are high-flyers from Seattle.”

Jared already had deep misgivings about the coming day, and it hadn’t even started yet. Danny and his goddamned sunny disposition didn’t help. He was slightly cheered by the sight of Rob’s scowling white face when he went aboard Legalese for breakfast. Clearly a fellow sufferer.

“All right,” Sally said, “here’s the thing. We’re going to have to be aggressive at times if we’re going to stand a chance. I’ll call the shots and do the tactics.”

They’d gone through it all the previous evening when the drinks were flowing. It had sounded good at the time. In the sober light of day Jared might have changed his stance, but it was clearly far too late for that. He had no doubt that Sally knew what she was doing, Rob had attested to that, and he’d crewed on some of the Kiwi trial races for the America’s Cup back in Auckland.

Sally went on. “Our spinnaker is bigger than I would have liked for the conditions, but it’s heavy and it just might hold up. Anything we break I’ll pay for, including damage to Arrow. Or any of the other boats for that matter.” Jared jerked upright in protest and she shushed him down and continued on.

“I’m not saying that anything is likely to happen, only that on the off chance something should happen, I’m covering it. I’ve got more money already than I can spend in a lifetime, and this is going to be the most fun I’ve had in forever, so that’s settled. Besides, Arrow could run over any three of these shite plastic racers and come away with barely a scratch, so what’s to worry?”

Jared closed his eyes and clutched his Caesar.

Sally was right about the wind. It was all over the place inside the harbour. There was a gap between two of the islands just before the committee boat at one end of the start line, and the Venturi effect cranked the wind up another couple of knots on top of the relatively steady fifteen already present. Boats were running back and forth testing sails, wind, and current, constantly searching for that small advantage. Of all the chutes popping out around them, none were anywhere near as large as Arrow’s.

“On the bright side ours is quite a bit heavier,” Rob said. “Those others are all half or three-quarter ounce. Mind you their boats are a lot lighter than Arrow, less load, so there’s that.” He slapped Jared on the back. “But hey, no worries, mate.”

Jared managed a feeble smile although he secretly felt that Arrow seemed a bit like a duck among swans. He was fiercely proud of the old girl, and she was often the prettiest boat in the harbour, but she was out of place here. There was a form and function about the pure racers that was impressive. They were clearly designed for just that one thing: to go really, really fucking fast. As they slipped past Arrow on all points of sail in the pre-race jockeying, it was hard not to read condescension, if not outright pity, in the smiles and waves. Most of them had probably never raced against a wooden ketch in their lives. Jared reached for a beer and felt a slow burn beginning.

“Okay,” Sally said, “upwind start, first leg out and around Entrance Island on a beam reach, then an eight-mile spinnaker run to the buoy off Gull Island. Back on a hard beat to Entrance, then broad reach back to the outer harbour buoy, and a short downhill back to the start line. Twenty-seven miles in all. I think with Arrow’s long waterline we can almost hold our own on a beat, probably lose a fair bit on the beam reaches. Downwind we’ll get killed. We’ve got a big spinnaker but she’s a heavy old lady with a narrow ass.”

“We have a mizzen staysail,” Danny said.