Jeanne rose slightly to stare past him into the wheelhouse and saw the unattended wheel. Then she looked up at the sails and aft at the three white rivers of light bubbling out behind them. Finally she looked back at Neil.
“Amazing,” she said.
“As long as there are wind, sails, and sea, the world won’t be all bad,” he said.
“For you, ” she commented.
“For me,” he agreed quietly.
“I’m still not comfortable out here,” she said. “The idea that there’s a mile of water beneath me and no dry land within a hundred miles is a little terrifying. I’m sorry.”
“If it weren’t a little terrifying,” Neil replied after a pause, “it wouldn’t be so beautiful.”
She also took some time before replying.
“For a while I thought you weren’t emotional about anything” she said.
“I guess I’m not,” he replied, “except about the sea.”
“Millions can die, but a good wind cures all,” she said, not sarcastically but rather questioningly, as if trying to understand him.
“If I can’t save the millions,” Neil replied cautiously, “then I’m willing to enjoy a good wind.”
“But what if you can?” she countered.
“Then I’d like to know how.”
She turned away and stared out into the darkness.
“No, the millions are lost,” she finally said. “And I have to admit you’re good at saving the single digits.”
Still standing behind her, Neil didn’t reply.
“A ship’s no place for children,” Jeanne went on quietly. “Especially with reduced rations… no definite destination, people sick… their whole previous lives… gone forever…”
“I know,” Neil said, “but children who’ve just… lost their father, seen their mother beaten up, been hit on the head with a gun butt, aren’t likely to be comfortable in any new place.” He paused. “But Lisa’s doing great out here,” he went on. “Skippy will too. Give him time.”
“I suppose so,” she said, “but the portions of food you’re making us dole out are so pathetically small, it’s frightening.”
“I know,” Neil said, then had to grab the back of Jeanne’s settee as a swell sent him staggering. “But just ask yourself how you’re going to feed Skippy two weeks from today.”
She grimaced, nodded, and finally managed a small smile.
“I keep forgetting that the next supermarket may be a decade away.”
“If we’re lucky,” Neil replied. The radio reports made it clear that on the mainland supermarkets had ceased to exist even in the “untouched” areas. Everything—even in farming country—was being confiscated and rationed by the military. Food was going to be their major worry for a long, long time. He and Jeanne had set aside an emergency food supply on their second day at sea, good for ten days at half-rations, but not counting that emergency cache, they had enough food even at their present low rate of consumption for only four or five more days. Catching fish was their key to survival.
A random wave slapped loudly at the speeding hull and sent a fine spray up over them in the cockpit. As he stood there he suddenly got a strong sense of Jeanne’s fear and loneliness.
“I’m afraid stability and the familiar are gone forever,” he said quietly.
She was still looking out over the sea. “Even on land there’s no place left to stand,” she said in a low voice.
In a shattering rush Neil was aware of her as a woman, filled with the desire to hold her, protect her, care for her. He released his grip on the wheelhouse roof and took a stride toward her just as an unexpected swell lifted Vagabond’s port hull and then lowered it with a slam, sending Neil tumbling forward and down onto Jeanne. After clutching her right leg to steady himself, he ended up sitting beside her on the cockpit seat.
“What’s happening?” she asked him urgently. “Are you all right?”
Neil laughed softly. He could see her face clearly for the first time in the moonlight. The bruise on her check was almost gone, and she looked beautiful.
“I wanted to come over and comfort and protect you,” he said, smiling. “Instead I almost knocked you overboard.”
Gazing wide-eyed at him, she took awhile to absorb what he’d said.
“Maybe you’d better get us life preservers,” she commented, smiling.
For Neil the world was reduced to her eyes gleaming in the moonlight. He pulled her gently toward him, cradling her head against the side of his face, simply holding her close. He only noticed the stiffness of her initial response after he felt her suddenly sag against him, relax, and sigh.
“Oh, Neil,” she said, and he felt her arms tighten around his back, her powerful hug surprising him. After a long moment they drew apart, and Jeanne tilted back her head to look with her large glowing eyes into his. Their faces came together as slowly and inevitably and perfectly as Vagabond correcting her course; their lips touched, wetted, parted, kissed. Neil lost track of time and place, and when the kiss ended and Jeanne gasped for breath, he instinctively glanced at the sails and sea to assure himself that his ship was still on course.
Jeanne sighed.
“Well,” she said, blinking her eyes and looking a little dazed. “Well.”
“How beautiful you are,” said Neil. She looked up at him uncertainly.
“Neil!… Neil!”
When Jim’s voice invaded their world with cruel abruptness, Neil released Jeanne and stood up.
“Over here, Jim,” he said, looking into the wheelhouse and dimly seeing Jim standing by the wheel.
“Oh, there you are,” Jim said, rubbing his eyes. “I just came up to go on watch and saw there was no one at the wheel and panicked.”
“Vagabond’s sails are balanced,” he said. “She’s self-steering.”
“Really? That’s fantastic,” Jim said, coming toward Neil. “Isn’t it about time for me to take the helm. I thought you said… Oh!… Hi, Jeanne.”
“Hi, Jim,” Jeanne said.
“It’s about twelve thirty,” Neil said, glancing at his watch. “Since Vagabond was doing the job by herself, I thought I’d let you and Lisa sleep.”
“Thanks,” said Jim. “Wow. Look at that moon.”
Neil turned to follow Jim’s gaze out to the east, his eyes just meeting Jeanne’s briefly.
“It’s quite a night,” Neil agreed.
“I feel great,” said Jim. “I think I needed the extra sleep.”
“Do you want me to fix you some coffee?” Jeanne asked.
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” said Jim. “Besides, Neil says we can’t have any coffee at night except under pressure conditions.”
“‘Pressure conditions’?” Jeanne inquired, looking up at Neil.
“I think it means no coffee unless we’re sinking,” said Jim, grinning.
“I doubt we’ll be able to get any more coffee unless we end up in South America,” Neil commented with his usual seriousness. “It’s now a delicacy. Sorry.”
“Our Captain Bligh,” said Jeanne, smiling.
“He was a marvelous seaman,” Neil rejoined.
“But unpopular with his crew,” said Jeanne.
“I like Neil,” said Jim solemnly, and Jeanne and Neil both laughed.
A sudden violent snapping and flapping from the bow sent Neil rushing past Jim over to starboard. The genoa was luffing, and Vagabond was veering off course upwind. He turned the wheel to port, and when he saw her swinging back on course he realized that the genoa sheet had come loose.
“Winch the genny in,” he said to Jim, who had followed him over to help. As he steadied Vagabond’s course, he watched Jim pull in the line controlling the genoa, first by hand and then with three turns around the winch.