reader to swing open the painted wrought iron gate for Collin.
Collin practically ran down a grated, steel ramp and across a faux wood deck to the waiting boat, glancing over his shoulder as he went. The sirens approached and brakes screeched. Collin jumped aboard and ducked through the narrow passage into the quarters below decks.
The Captain ordered his men to double time it and cast off now. One of the men gave the boat a mighty push and jumped onboard as the Captain started the engine and steered his way into the channel. As they backed away, a police officer came running toward the dock. By the time he reached the locked gate, the boat was swinging around. Determined to do his duty, the officer found a nearby maintenance worker to open the gate. The men on the boat busied themselves and pretended not to see him. They were already two hundred yards away with their back to the marina when the officer reached the end of the dock. The cop yelled and waved his arms above his head in vain and finally threw his hat on the ground in defeat.
“Stay cool now,” barked the Captain. “No hasty maneuvers. Got it? We don’t want suspicions.” At the same time, he motioned nonchalantly for Collin to remain where he was.
The Captain smiled proudly as the men worked the sails, ropes, and rigging on the deck, while he steered the boat out of the harbor as fast as its engine would allow. Once they cleared the breakwater, the crew unfurled and hoisted all sails, and before he knew it, Collin’s personally chartered sail boat was moving along at an amazing clip. He came up to the deck at the Captain’s bidding and stood near the stern, clutching the railing.
The Captain claimed it had a top speed of nearly twenty-four knots when the wind was right. “And the winds are favorable this morning,” said the Captain with pride. “Yes, this is the fastest charter boat on the island. We can take you to Jamaica faster than any of them.” His hand swept toward the marina behind them.
Collin couldn’t gauge their speed, but the wind rushing through his hair and the sea spray wetting his face told him they were moving fast. His senses were alive. All of them. A sparkling, glittering sea of turquoise and the synchronized, almost orchestral movements of the four crew members dazzled him. His ears heard the rush of the warm air as they sliced a path through the water and the flapping of the mighty sails as they captured the wind and turned it into speed. Adrenaline coursed in his veins, tightening his muscles. Exhilaration spread through his chest at the thought of having outfoxed his pursuers again. His primal need to survive had kicked into high gear and was now guiding him down a previously unconsidered path. An unlikely path, given his Lukas-inspired want for planning and precision.
Collin kept checking behind them, watching the harbor become smaller and smaller as the distance from the shore steadily grew. So far, so good. No one coming after them.
“We’re near top speed now. Twenty-one knots at the moment,” said the Captain, as he surveyed the GPS monitor.
“That’s good. Thanks,” Collin said, not sure what else to say. Would it be fast enough? Was anyone coming after him? Now that they were away from the island, speed meant little to Collin because the destination meant nothing.
Collin stood in silence, his brow knit and his forehead creased. The Captain studied his face and grinned.
The Captain was wise. He knew things. It showed in his eyes. He occupied himself with the usual captain-like activities, checking the compass, the GPS, and the radar. He eyed the masts and the sails and barked a few nearly incoherent orders to his crew, who were lounging on the bow.
Settling back into his chair, the skipper glanced over at Collin and said, “Everything’s good. Nothing to worry about, man,” he declared.
“I wish that were true,” Collin muttered.
The Captain must have heard it. His eyebrows spiked up and the
Collin practically ran down a grated, steel ramp and across a faux wood deck to the waiting boat, glancing over his shoulder as he went. The sirens approached and brakes screeched. Collin jumped aboard and ducked through the narrow passage into the quarters below decks.
The Captain ordered his men to double time it and cast off now. One of the men gave the boat a mighty push and jumped onboard as the Captain started the engine and steered his way into the channel. As they backed away, a police officer came running toward the dock. By the time he reached the locked gate, the boat was swinging around. Determined to do his duty, the officer found a nearby maintenance worker to open the gate. The men on the boat busied themselves and pretended not to see him. They were already two hundred yards away with their back to the marina when the officer reached the end of the dock. The cop yelled and waved his arms above his head in vain and finally threw his hat on the ground in defeat.
“Stay cool now,” barked the Captain. “No hasty maneuvers. Got it? We don’t want suspicions.” At the same time, he motioned nonchalantly for Collin to remain where he was.
The Captain smiled proudly as the men worked the sails, ropes, and rigging on the deck, while he steered the boat out of the harbor as fast as its engine would allow. Once they cleared the breakwater, the crew unfurled and hoisted all sails, and before he knew it, Collin’s personally chartered sail boat was moving along at an amazing clip. He came up to the deck at the Captain’s bidding and stood near the stern, clutching the railing.
The Captain claimed it had a top speed of nearly twenty-four knots when the wind was right. “And the winds are favorable this morning,” said the Captain with pride. “Yes, this is the fastest charter boat on the island. We can take you to Jamaica faster than any of them.” His hand swept toward the marina behind them.
Collin couldn’t gauge their speed, but the wind rushing through his hair and the sea spray wetting his face told him they were moving fast. His senses were alive. All of them. A sparkling, glittering sea of turquoise and the synchronized, almost orchestral movements of the four crew members dazzled him. His ears heard the rush of the warm air as they sliced a path through the water and the flapping of the mighty sails as they captured the wind and turned it into speed. Adrenaline coursed in his veins, tightening his muscles. Exhilaration spread through his chest at the thought of having outfoxed his pursuers again. His primal need to survive had kicked into high gear and was now guiding him down a previously unconsidered path. An unlikely path, given his Lukas-inspired want for planning and precision.
Collin kept checking behind them, watching the harbor become smaller and smaller as the distance from the shore steadily grew. So far, so good. No one coming after them.
“We’re near top speed now. Twenty-one knots at the moment,” said the Captain, as he surveyed the GPS monitor.
“That’s good. Thanks,” Collin said, not sure what else to say. Would it be fast enough? Was anyone coming after him? Now that they were away from the island, speed meant little to Collin because the destination meant nothing.
Collin stood in silence, his brow knit and his forehead creased. The Captain studied his face and grinned.
The Captain was wise. He knew things. It showed in his eyes. He occupied himself with the usual captain-like activities, checking the compass, the GPS, and the radar. He eyed the masts and the sails and barked a few nearly incoherent orders to his crew, who were lounging on the bow.
Settling back into his chair, the skipper glanced over at Collin and said, “Everything’s good. Nothing to worry about, man,” he declared.
“I wish that were true,” Collin muttered.
The Captain must have heard it. His eyebrows spiked up and the
Similar Books
