Unlawful Chase by C.J. Schnier (new books to read .TXT) 📗

"Ok, see that white and blue line by your feet there?" I asked.

She stooped down and picked it up, "This one?"

"Yeah, wrap it clockwise twice around that winch behind you. When you're done, uncleat that black line tied off right beside the winch." She did exactly as I commanded and looked to me for more instructions.

A pang of guilt shot through my heart. It had been a long time since I had anyone to help pull the lines. That had been Kelly's job. The memory of her had stayed with me so that I had never felt alone, even when I was hundreds of miles out to sea. I had refused to risk giving up that part of her. That part that I held on to so tightly. I never cheapened the experience with crew. But now that I had someone else aboard, I had to admit that it was pretty nice. Paramour was not an easy boat to sail single-handed in tight confines. Inshore waters such as bays and sounds were hard enough. This narrow river would have been impossible. I was grateful for the help, even if it brought up painful memories.

"Ok, get ready to take the wheel again," I said, stepping out from behind the helm. "I'm going to pull out the genoa, that should give us a little more speed. Make sure you're ready to steer against it."

"Genoa, sure. Whatever the hell that is," she grumbled. Her head was bowed, buried in the chart plotter as she focused, trying to stay on course.

I grabbed the line she had pre-wrapped around the winch and gave it a pull. The genoa spun, unfurling itself from its foil mounted over the jib stay. Within a couple of rotations, the wind caught the unfurling sail and pulled the rest of it out. The massive sail filled with air, powering us forward and leaning us over farther. Grabbing one of the winch handles stashed around the cockpit, I cranked the winch until the genoa was working at peak efficiency.

With the added sail area, I could feel Paramour surge ahead. That left one sail to deal with, the mizzen. "How's she doing now?" I asked, knowing the answer before she gave it.

"That definitely sped us up a couple knots, but she's harder to steer. She keeps trying to turn away from the wind," she said.

"I've got a solution for that, hang on." I reached up and removed the sail ties holding the mizzen sail secure on its boom and then hauled on its halyard. A small white triangle of sail shot to the top of the mizzenmast. The mizzen had long been my favorite sail. Its small size made it easy to hoist and trim, but it was powerful enough to steer the boat. Like the previous sails, I trimmed it for the wind conditions and then looked back to Jaye at the helm.

She was no longer fighting or straining against the wheel. Instead she was relaxing, standing up straight. A phantom of a smile touched her lips.

"Whatever you did made all the difference! She's sailing dead straight now."

"Good," I responded. "Now just keep us on that dotted black line. There is one big turn coming up and then we'll be out in the ocean. From there it's twelve miles to safety."

Jaye did exactly that, following my previous track perfectly. It wasn't long before I saw the last bend in the river, right before it opened up to the Caribbean Sea. I held my breath as we rounded the corner, scanning for any sign of the Cuban patrol boat. But there was nothing to see except black-blue ocean butting up against dark green hills. We could make it.

"Ok Jaye, point her dead south, let's get the hell out of this country."

"I'm down with that plan," she said as she swung the boat a handful of degrees to port and then settled into a new course. "There, that's dead south," she reported.

I made a few minor adjustments to the sails and then moved back into the cockpit to check on our progress. Cuba was shrinking behind us at what felt like a glacial pace. But the GPS reported our speed at 6.5 knots, heading due south.

Mercury looked at me with a mix of questioning and expectancy. "Is this as fast as we can go?" she asked.

"Yep, we're at hull speed. She's not going to get any faster."

Her eyes narrowed, "I really wish you hadn't sabotaged my plane."

"How else was I going to get you alone on my boat?" I replied, daring to give her a wink.

"Hah!" She said, letting out a sharp laugh. "Alright there Casanova, I'll give you points for that one, but you're still going to owe me a plane when we get back to Florida."

Behind us and to the west, a flash of light caught my attention from close to shore. "Hold on to that thought, gorgeous, I think we have company."

I ran down the companionway steps and retrieved my binoculars. I didn't even bother going back on deck and instead ripped the protective lens covers off and peered through the pilothouse windows. Through the magnification, I could clearly see the white frothy wake spraying out from both sides of what could only be a small military vessel. They were a scant few miles away and closing on us.

"What is it?" Jaye asked from the helm.

"If I was a betting man, I'd say it was Bardales. How far from international water are we?"

"We have nine miles to go."

I looked back at the speeding patrol boat. It had cut the distance in half already. There was no way we were going to make it to safe water. We had risked everything on a desperate gamble, and it had failed.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

We watched the drab gray boat bounce and leap over the small waves on its path straight towards us. A massive gun sat mounted to a swivel on the bow, its operator keeping it pointed