Windhaven 7

I usually write about supernatural stuff or mystery/thrillers. Windhaven might have some thrills but no mystery and no vampires or trips to hell (see my other books.) It’s a survival adventure that could happen any day now.  I’m not doing official chapters every post, just whenever.  The numbers are to keep it all in order, for you and me.  Comments and suggestions are always welcome as long as you know that I may or may not follow them.

To start Windhaven from the beginning go HERE.

 

What If? Poseidon was hungover after partying too much in the Equatorial party zone? To find some quiet to recover he rises to the surface where he spies a sailboat single handed by a young woman. He introduces himself, as a shipwrecked hunky man, and they get along very well. But eventually his bitchy consorts find him and persuade him to return to the Party. Brokenhearted the woman sails on into a storm she cannot survive until the Man himself saves her and they live happily ever after, under?

What If? there were vampires in space. (see Down Home as an example) What If? they were accepted for their gifts (strength and emergency space walks without a suit)and all the crew donated blood for them. But them some unknown aliens attack. In the fight a lot of blood is spilled. Some vamps taste the alien blood, and love it. They want more, lots more, they’re addicted. The vamps and humans win the fight, but now the vamps want to find the home planet. The humans have doubts about that idea, but can they go against the stronger, quicker, addicted vampires? What do you think?

 

Windhaven 7

Linda’s third grade students felt her excitement at the upcoming streaming session. Most just thought it was because of the adventure part. A few thought she had a personal reason. They hadn’t missed the spark in her eyes whenever she mentioned the man who told her about the race.

This would be the second session. The first had been from Newsboy, a sixty-five footer in fourth place at the time. There’d been some glitches, but she was sure this one would be perfect. Fourth grade kids had joined them, forty-eight kids and several teachers packed into her classroom.

Gary Duckworth, the man in charge of the race, spoke from his headquarters in Newport, Rhode Island.

“Hi kids. I’m Gary and I’m sort of in charge of this wild race. Today we’re going to visit Windhaven, a seventy foot long sailboat that is in either first or second place at the moment. Windhaven is in the Doldrums right now. That’s an area around the Equator of very light and fickle winds. Even a sailboat as big and advanced as Windhaven, which is capable of going twenty-five knots, may only be moving at a slow walk pace. And just to make it interesting the area has many squalls, small, fast moving storms that can quickly go from no wind to twenty-five or thirty knots.”

Gary glanced to the side and nodded.

“Okay, we are live with Captain Red Smathers of Windhaven.”

The scene switched to a live shot of Red standing in the cockpit.

“Hello kids, welcome to Windhaven. We were planning to just have a little meet and greet with the crew today. But, according to our master navigator and all around electronics guy, Larry…” Larry reached around the video camera he held and waved. “… we have within the last twenty minutes crossed the Equator.”

The camera’s view moved to show Ricky at the helm and the boat’s quiet wake.

“That’s Ricky, our first mate at the helm and the Equator is just back there a little bit.” Red moved to the rear of the cockpit. “Now we have eight crew on this boat. Six of us have crossed the equator before. Two haven’t. So you are just in time to witness an ancient initiation, a solemn ritual of the sea.

“Usually this ritual is performed by Poseidon, the God of the sea. But, he could not attend today so he sent Princess Leighatude, of unknown family connection, in his place. Come Princess Leighatude and preside over the festivities.”

Larry focuses on the companionway as Leigh, a hasty paper crown holding down her sun bleached hair, wearing a bikini top and a sarong, and holding a boat hook as a scepter, emerges and stands in the middle of the cockpit. The kids laugh and hoot.

“Thank you Captain Red for that questionable introduction. The old bum would have been here, but he drank a bit too much last night and hasn’t quite dried out yet.” She faced the companionway. “Bring up the Pollywogs,” she ordered.

Thomas and Noah climbed out. They wore large towels around their waists and seaweed draped over their heads and shoulders. The students and teachers laughed, mingled with a few “Ewwws.”

Linda laughed, covering her mouth with her hands. She had been giddy with anticipation to see Noah at the helm wearing shorts, and a tight T-shirt and sunglasses and a proper floppy hat and looking like a roguish adventurer. But she was delighted, too, to see him in that bit of whimsy far from home. Maybe a little bit jealous, but delighted.

“Kneel, Pollywogs,” Leighatude ordered, striking the deck with her scepter. The two men knelt while the rest of the crew tried to look serious despite their smiles. “You have braved the seas on this perilous journey and crossed the great divide.” Tapping each of them with her scepter, she said, “So, by the authority invested in me by a drunken God with a massive hangover, I dub you Old Salts and cleanse you with the polluted waters of the southern seas.”

Alain and Ivan doused them with buckets of water.

“You may now remove that stinky seaweed and return to your duties, forever Old Salts.”

Smiling big, Noah sat back on his heels and flipped off the seaweed. He looked up, and his eyes opened wide. “Oh shit!”

The camera spun around, facing aft, showing a black squall, a wall of rain a hundred feet behind and coming fast.

“On deck!” Red shouted. Initiation forgotten, the crew leaped into action. “Ricky and Alain, the spinnaker. Noah on the helm.” Noah jumped up. He brushed past Leigh, knocking off his towel. A super gust blew it out of grasp. The kids gasped and giggled as a solid deluge obscured his untouched by sun ass.

Author: davidburtonwriting

David Burton is an American writer living in sunny Southern California. He traveled by motorcycle through Mexico, US, Canada and Alaska. From motorcycles he turned to the ocean, building and sailing his own boats to Mexico, Tahiti, Hawaii, and through the Panama Canal to Florida. He spent a lot of time reading while on the water, so he decided to write books he would have wanted to read at sea. Having swallowed the anchor he now mops floors and collects trash for money, writes for a living, and has become a (temporarily?) unrequited sailor.

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