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Captain's Choice Ch. 05-06

By: coaster2



This story was edited by ErikThread and DaveT with my thanks and appreciation. Any errors are mine alone. Previously posted on another site.



Captain's Choice



Chapter 5 Lost at Sea



We were on a four day break in the middle of August. Our next charter would be arriving on a Friday afternoon and our most recent had just left on Monday morning. It was a necessary breather and a way to recharge the batteries as we headed into the home stretch for the busy summer season. It had been nearly six weeks since that frantic coupling with Del and nothing had happened since. I kept wondering if I should say something, but I didn't want to upset the equilibrium we had established. As before, we worked as a finely tuned crew, everyone knowing their role and everyone happy with it.

Ardele had decided to take the bus to Nanaimo to visit a friend she had gone to school with. Pete and Dean were shacking up with a couple of girls they had met earlier that summer. They would be staying at the girls' apartment until Friday, enjoying the company and dry land for a change. I decided to treat myself to a couple of nights in the motel we used for our guests. It was within walking distance of a pub and our usual shopping area, so I could find things to do to keep myself occupied. I checked in on Tuesday morning, intending to check out Thursday to give myself a day to get ready for our next group.

In the back of my mind I was still thinking about Ardele and what might become of us. Was our brief session the beginning and end of any intimate relationship? It didn't sound like it when we talked afterward, but perhaps she'd changed her mind. 

I took advantage of my little vacation before heading back to Menzies Bay. Other than groceries and some supplies, there was nothing for me to do on the boat and I could relax until Del returned. 

On Thursday afternoon I taxied back to Menzies Bay Marina. As I approached the gangway I saw a boat moored in our spot, but it wasn't the Captain's Choice. What the hell? Where was my boat? I looked over the small marina and couldn't see it anywhere. I stormed toward the office, intending to find out what had happened.

"It was gone Tuesday morning when I got here," Manager Tony Burdock told me. "As far as I knew, you took it out. I didn't see anyone else around it."

"Well it sure as hell wasn't me. The boat's been stolen. You have security cameras covering the floats. The RCMP is going to want to see the recordings. That boat is worth a fortune to me. I'm really pissed that someone could waltz down there and steal it with no one noticing," I snapped.

"Look, Mr. Hamelin, people come and go around here all day long. I can't keep track of them all. The gate has a security lock and only those people with a card can get down there. You call the Mounties and we'll get them the discs."

I pulled out my cell phone and grabbed the office phone book. I punched in the number for the local station and asked to speak to a constable. A few minutes later, I had reported the theft and had been asked to come down to the station with photographs of the boat and the disks from the marina. I called a taxi while I collected up my photo album of my restoration, and stopped again at the marina office to get copies of the camera discs. Barely forty minutes later I was at the RCMP detachment, filing out the stolen property form, passing along the video discs from the marina and showing pictures of Captain's Choice to the attending officers.

"Is there anything unusual about this boat, Mr. Hamelin?" the corporal on duty asked.

"Yes. It's unique, probably one of a kind. It's over fifty years old and completely restored as you can see by the photos. I've valued it at a half-million dollars, but that's only what it's insured for. It's worth far more than that to me."

"I understand, but what I'm asking is if there's something that would make it easily identifiable if spotted on the water? The shape or superstructure ... anything?" 

"Nothing really unique except to an expert on old boats. To most people, they all look almost the same. Nine out of ten people will tell you it looks like an old Chris Craft."

The corporal nodded, probably thinking the same thing.

"Well, we've got some good pictures of it, and we'll go over the video to see what we can see. I doubt this is some kids stealing it for a joyride. If it's stolen for a purpose, I'm sure it will have the name and probably the registration number painted over by now. We have two patrol boats in the area and these pictures will help them identify it. At least they'll know what they are looking for. I'll have it on their e-mail this afternoon."

"Okay ... thanks. I'll check back in with you tomorrow to see if anything turns up. You've got my cell phone, so if you hear anything at all, please call me ... anytime."

He nodded, looking grim. I got the impression he wasn't too hopeful that they would find my boat in good condition any time soon.

I was lost. I had clients coming in expecting to embark on a four day tour on Friday and I had no boat. Force majeure popped into my mind. Circumstances beyond my control. What could I do? I had three remaining charters before we headed back to Coal Harbour and the last four charters of the season. What to do?  I called my insurance company to give them a heads-up. 

In a moment of desperation, I called the marina office in Campbell River and asked if they knew of any charters that could handle four to six people that would be available immediately. I got a very negative response, although the man did promise to check with a couple of captains that might be available. I wasn't holding out much hope.

I walked to the pub and ordered a beer. As I sat in my chair, it finally hit me that Captain's Choice was gone and it didn't look good that I would get it back any time soon. It was the last remaining link to my father and I had no idea how I would deal with its loss, if that's what would turn out to be the case. I thought of the many hundreds of hours I spent restoring it to its former glory. I thought of the pride and pleasure I had being the owner and captain of that beautiful work of marine craftsmanship. I felt sick at heart. Please don't let it be gone.

My cell rang.

"Hello," I said, hoping it was the RCMP and they had found the boat.

"Yeah ... this is Tony Burdock at the marina. There's a skipper here that has a boat you could charter for the next while. Problem is, he doesn't have any crew."

"That's not a problem. I can supply a crew. I also have a catering firm lined up as well. What's this boat like? Is it big enough for six guests?"

"Oh yeah. It's a fifty-seven foot Bayliner. Should be big enough."

"Okay, how do I get hold of him?"

"I'll have him meet you here at the office when you come. He'll take you down to the boat and you can look it over. I don't know anything about this guy, but I'll leave that up to you."

"All right. Thanks for the help. I should be there in about ten minutes if you can let him know."

"Sure thing. See you then."

Well, it's something at least. I just hope it didn't turn out to be bad news when it came to the boat's condition and the skipper. I didn't need the grief it would give me, nor my reputation in the business. It was time to move over to the marina with fingers crossed that this would be acceptable. Price wasn't going to be an issue, I decided. If this guy wanted to hold me up, I was going to have to let him. I needed to look after my customers.

When I arrived at the marina office, Burdock was the only person present.

"He's on his way. Should be here in five minutes. His boat is that big white plastic thing just beside the tug on the inside."

The way he spoke, he didn't sound like he had too much use for the new stylish fibreglas yachts that seemed to be in favour these days. I had to agree with him, but I held my tongue.

"Any word on what happened to your boat?"

"No ... nothing so far."

"Well, there's one thing about it," Burdock said thoughtfully. "There aren't many boats of that vintage around here. It should be fairly easy to spot. They sure as hell didn't steal it for speed, so they must have some other need for it."

"Yeah, I'm sure you're right, but what did they steal it for?"

He shrugged. "Maybe hauling dope or servicing a grow-op. The cops are always looking for them near some of the old logging camps. My bet is it's going to turn up somewhere nearby."

"I hope you're right," I said as a big man stepped into the office.

"This the fellow who's looking to charter?" he asked Burdock.

"Yeah, I'll let you two get acquainted."

"I'm Pat Hamelin. I own Captain's Choice and charter it here. Unfortunately, it's been stolen. I need to look after my customers so I'm looking for a substitute. Burdock said you might be willing."

"Sure. I'm Ernie Tillman. Nice to meet you. Bad luck about your boat. I haven't heard of boats being stolen around here ... leastways not big ones. How big was yours?"

"Fifty feet. I understand your Bayliner is fifty-seven."

"Yeah. Let's go have a look, and if it suits, we can talk."

The transom of his boat read "Logged Out", and it was registered in Port Hardy, near the top of Vancouver Island.

"You're a long way from home," I noted.

"Yeah, but this is where most of the business is. It's my first year trying to get some charter work, so I thought I better come where the action is. Not much doing where I'm from."

"What did you do before this?" I asked.

"I flew for Trans-Coastal Air. Mostly Twin-Otters. Wife and I split up when she wanted to live in the city again and I wanted to live up here."

"I understand you don't have a crew," I said.

"No ... I've tried a couple of the locals but they're unreliable. Any suggestions?"

"Yeah, advertise early next year in the college papers. UBC, Simon Fraser, UVic. Lots of experienced kids looking for work on charters. I can probably give you a couple of leads as well."

"Thanks. But that doesn't help you, does it."

"I've got two crew with me and they're experienced. I'd be surprised if they didn't go with you if I'm without a boat. They need the work and I can vouch for them."

"Damn! That would be great. What do you pay them?"

We sat down and I went over the rates and payment schedules for both the guests and the crew. He didn't seem to be concerned about the money, so I assumed he was okay with it. From memory I sketched out my schedule to the end of August and he was able to fit all of the charters in. I felt like a big weight had been lifted off my shoulders. 

As I walked through the boat and looked at the equipment, I was pleased. It was fully equipped and very tidy. I don't know why that was a surprise. He was, or had been, a pilot. Organization and safety were big items on his list of important things. On top of that, I liked the guy. He had a friendly smile and gave me the appearance of being a professional.   

I was satisfied he had the facilities to handle my guests, so I told him that my crew would be returning tomorrow morning and I would bring them over to introduce them. I was confident that with my endorsement, Pete and Dean would be happy enough to transfer to this boat for the three charters. When we went back to Vancouver at the end of the month, we could begin to look for another boat, either to charter, or if my boat didn't reappear, one to purchase. I was hoping against hope that wouldn't be necessary. 

I called Ardele and found her on the bus, just an hour out of Campbell River. I filled her in on what had happened and let her know I had reserved a room for her at the motel. I would be paying for it. She protested briefly, but I insisted and told her what the short-term plan was. I think she was as upset at the loss of my boat as I was. We agreed to meet at the motel.

"I can't believe it," Del said, shaking her head. "Who would steal it? What for? Surely the RCMP will find it. It can't get that far that fast."

"I don't know what to think. It keeps going through my brain over and over again is that it was the last link to my father. Something tangible that I could have that was his too. It'll kill me if we can't recover it."

We had adjoining rooms with a connecting door. Del had thrown her kit bag on her bed and come through to my room. We were sitting on the bed, side by side as I described what had happened and what I had done so far.

"What we need is a plane to search for it," she said.

"Search where? It's been gone since Tuesday afternoon. How they knew there was no one aboard, I do not know. I'm thinking they got on board from a small boat and that's why no one noticed. I was going to talk to the girls and see if they saw anything."

"No! I'll talk to them. You stay away from them," she said in no uncertain terms.

For the first time that day, I laughed. 

"Okay, okay, you do it then," I said in surrender. "They are always on their boat if it's here and I'd be surprised if they didn't see something."

It was then that she put her arm around me and hugged me close.

"I know how much that boat means to you, Pat. We are going to do whatever it takes to get it back. I've got some money, so we should charter a seaplane and check out Desolation Sound and some of the islands in the area. That's bound to be where they were headed."

"What makes you so sure? And by the way, you aren't paying for the aircraft charter and that's final." 

"It's going to be expensive. At least let me contribute."

"You'll contribute by keeping me concentrating on finding the boat. We need to do this in an organized fashion, just like the Search and Rescue people do. In the meantime, we can't do anything until the boys get back and we get them settled with Ernie Tillman."

"Okay, Boss," she grinned. It wasn't a time for humour, but I did find she lifted my spirits just by being with me. At least now we had an outline of a plan.

It was well past our normal supper hour and I was finally beginning to get hungry. There was a while there when I didn't think I'd be able to hold down any food. We walked to the local diner and ordered the special: meat loaf. The place wasn't licensed, so we couldn't have a beer or a glass of wine. All our supplies were on our missing boat. I wasn't in a very good mood.

I was grateful the motel wasn't in sight of the marina. That would have probably driven me crazy, looking out at the space my precious boat once occupied. It was hard for me not to get emotional about the loss. I had a horrible feeling that we'd seen the last of Captain's Choice. I don't know why, but it was a distinct feeling that it was gone. Spirited off to some place that it could be sold for big money? Who knew? What would I do if it was lost? There wasn't another to be had and besides, there was only one that belonged to my father. That made it irreplaceable.

I tossed and turned quite frequently that night, trying in vain to get some sleep. Perhaps it was the loss of my boat, or just the uncertainty of what I would do about it tomorrow. Charter a small plane to search for it? And what about Ardele? What would she do? Stay? Move on to another job? The whole thing was just one question after another and no answers.

I heard the creak and looked over toward the connecting door. In the dim light coming through the curtain I could see her standing there, not moving. At some point she must have made a decision and moved toward me. She didn't hesitate then, pulling the covers back and climbing in with me. I reached for her and she welcomed me into her arms. I sighed. It was a sigh of relief. Someone else cared. I needed that.

We didn't kiss for a while at least. We just held each other in the comfort and warmth of our embrace. It was amazing just how restorative that simple act was. 

"I knew you couldn't sleep," she whispered. "I could hear you. I'm sorry, Pat. I'm sorry about the boat and I'm sorry about everything it means to you. I hope we can find it and bring it back. I want to help you. It's important that I help you."

"Thank you," I murmured. "That means a lot. Thank you."

We held each other until I fell asleep, realizing just how comforting her support was at that moment. I slept well for what was left of the night. I had no dreams, no nightmares, just a peaceful, contented sleep.

I awoke to sunlight on the big window lighting the room. Ardele was still in my arms but facing away, my arm draped over her hip. I watched her as she slept. She was as beautiful in slumber as she was awake. Her light blonde hair never seemed to get too mussed. 

I slipped my hand under the loose t-shirt she wore and cupped a breast gently, feeling the soft smoothness of it. My morning erection was now pressing between the cheeks of her backside, insisting its presence on her. She moaned softly, stirred slightly, but remained asleep. I closed my eyes and fell back asleep as well.

When I awoke once more, Ardele was facing me, her hand wrapped gently around my still-erect member, her big, blue eyes watching me, unblinking. I groaned as I struggled to come fully awake. I brought my hand up to her face and stroked it softly before leaning toward her and kissing her. No tongue, just lip to lip and holding it for only three of four seconds.

She blinked, smiled and said, "Good morning. Feeling better?"

"Yes ... thank you." I was still stroking her cheek and she brought her hand up to mine and guided it to her breast once more. I felt her leg move over me, all the while maintaining her soft grip on my erection. It took me a moment to realize she was no longer wearing panties. 

She stroked the head of my cock along her slit a couple of times before mounting me and guiding me into her center. It was slow and steady and she was completely in command. It was unexpected, but welcomed. She was watching my reaction and all I could think about was the stupid grin I must be showing. It was one of those times when I didn't need to say anything and neither did she.

I had my hands now gripping the perfect sculpted cheeks of her bottom as we developed that perfect rhythm that lovers seek. It all seemed so automatic. There was no learning curve to overcome. We were perfect together and we both knew it. She laid her head on my shoulder and we continued our ancient dance. There was no urgency, no demand to complete, no desire to dominate the other. It ... was ... perfect!

The passion was there, but it was controlled. No raging torrent to drive us forward. I'm not sure I'd ever made love to a woman quite this way before. I was pretty sure I hadn't. I was completely relaxed despite the fact that I was also totally aroused. I know that sounds contradictory, but it's the only way I can describe what I felt. It took quite a while before I knew my time was at hand. Somehow, Ardele knew that too. 

There was no breathless gasping or rivers of sweat pouring from us. She slipped off me but stayed attached, her arm over my chest and her head tucked into my shoulder. I couldn't think of what to say, so I remained mute. There didn't seem to be any point. I was confident that Ardele was just as satisfied and comfortable as I was.

"I guess we should get up and start thinking about finding a pilot and plane," I said.

"Hmmm, yes," she moaned, not very enthusiastically. "Shower time."

I looked over at the clock and saw that it was nearly nine am. I couldn't remember the last time I was still in bed at nine. 

"Come on, we'll do this together," I said, pulling on her arm to get her out of bed.

She stood and stretched, then pulled off the t-shirt, revealing her perfect body once more. I let her use the toilet in privacy before I joined her and turned on the shower. We weren't in any danger of running out of hot water, but I was sure housekeeping would be along soon and we hadn't hung out any signs to warn them off. Del giggled at the thought of our being discovered then hurried her shower and grabbed a towel, heading for her room.


Captain's Choice Ch. 05-06



We beat housekeeping by at least ten minutes after calling for a cab to take us into the town for breakfast. I borrowed a phone book and made note of a couple of flight charter operators.  The most likely was VanIsle Air, a local Campbell River operator with both float and wheeled aircraft. I was pretty sure a float plane would make the most sense. 

I punched in the number and spoke to the dispatcher. It was clearly a small operation and the prices they quoted sounded realistic: $350 per hour, three hour minimum, for a Cessna 185 on floats. I thought that would be the ideal aircraft and Ardele agreed. When we finished our breakfast, we made for the airport and VanIsle's office. One platinum credit card later and we were booked for today and tomorrow.

Our pilot was Jerry McIvor, a fairly young guy who was living the life he always wanted. Single and flying all over the north island and mainland coast, he had a perpetual grin pasted on his face. We explained the circumstances and showed him the pictures of the boat. He was keen to get started and had a chart that would allow him to systematically do the search. He agreed that the most likely place to try and hide a boat of this size was Desolation Sound or even as far as Toba Inlet.

Within a few minutes, we were airborne and Jerry was retracting the wheels into the pontoons. It was cloudy and calm, with a ceiling at about five thousand feet. Flying at a thousand feet gave us the ideal view. Ardele was in back and I sat in the right seat, watching Jerry as he worked his chart, making marks to indicate where we were and where we had been. The chart was plastic laminated and folded up. He explained he used it over and over again for flight planning and keeping track of his course. 

Three hours later, we had covered a lot of territory, seeing nothing that was even remotely like the Captain's Choice. It was just approaching one in the afternoon when Jerry got my attention and tapped the fuel gauge on the cockpit panel. I knew he had to get back to refuel and we all needed a break from the concentration. 

We had lunch together while the plane was being refueled and Jerry showed us where we had covered and what might be our next plot. 

"Your boat isn't particularly fast," Jerry said, "but if you're running steadily for twelve or sixteen hours a day, you can put a lot of distance between Menzies Bay and wherever you are headed. How much fuel was on board and what would the range be?"

"Four hundred gallons of diesel, topped up. Range? Between twenty-five and thirty gallons per hour at normal cruise. That would about eight to ten knots."

"Okay, let's look at the maximum it could travel on your fuel," the pilot said. "I'm sure the RCMP has alerted the various fuel stations to be on the lookout for your boat. That's the first thing they would do." 

Jerry did some quick math, pulled out a protractor and drew a red arc with the center at Menzies Bay.

"Taking into account that there isn't a straight line to any destination from here, this is about as far as it could get on fuel."

We looked at the chart. In theory, the boat could be in U.S. waters by now. My heart sunk. We might be on a wild goose chase after all. They had a two day head start and at a steady ten knots, the range was far in excess of what I had hoped.

"What do you think, Jerry?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Hard to say. Why did they steal the boat in the first place? They must have had a purpose for it. If they were headed north, they might go around the top of the island to the west coast. Nootka Sound is another great place to hide away. I'm sure the RCMP have thought of that and they've got a patrol boat in the area. I'm sure they'll be checking it out.

"The other option would be to make a run south, trying to get to the U.S. If it's smuggling they're into, that would make some sense. Sooner or later they are going to need fuel and supplies and that's where they're vulnerable."



"So what are you suggesting?" I asked.

"I think we should stick to the original plan for now," the young guy said. "Let's keep looking in the general area we first decided on before we look elsewhere. I'll leave it up to you to decide when you want to change direction or stop altogether."

"I've got clients arriving this afternoon," I said, "and I need to get them settled with the guy I've hired to take them. Why don't we plan on picking this up again tomorrow morning early? Will that work for you?"

"I'm okay until about three tomorrow afternoon, then I've got a flight. Tell you what. I'll pick you up at Menzies Bay tomorrow morning at seven. That will save you having to find a cab early on Saturday morning."

"That will be great, Jerry. Thanks a lot." 

I looked at Del and she was nodding in agreement. We thanked Jerry again and headed for the cab stand and the ride back to Campbell River. I wanted to check in with the RCMP to see if anything had turned up yet. The answer was a quick no. No one had reported seeing the boat and the notification had been sent out to all units including the Vancouver Harbour Police and the Coast Guard.

We headed back to Menzies Bay to meet our crew and our next clients. I had phoned Dean and Pete earlier to give them a heads up that we had an alternative for them and made sure they understood that they would be working for Ernie Tillman for the next three charters. After that, we would talk about it.

Tony Burdock had already told the boys where to find Ernie and they had headed on down to scope out their new boat. They were on the way back with Ernie when we arrived.

"What do you think?" I asked Pete, the senior of the two.

"Great. Nice boat, clean, plenty of room. It's going to be fine, Pat. Thanks for doing this. It would have been easy to say it wasn't possible."

"I'm glad we got lucky and Ernie was available," I said. "You can help him too, since he's new to chartering. I'm sure your experience will come in handy for him."

"Glad to do it," Dean said, nodding to Ernie.

"That gives me a real boost, guys," Ernie smiled. 

I was pretty sure Ernie would benefit from our two guides being with him for three charters. He'd know what worked and what didn't. He'd have a good idea of what he wanted in a crew, and he'd gain a lot more confidence with the customers. It was all good from his point of view.   

The clients arrived and I told them what had happened and what arrangements we had made for them. Their motel rooms had been reserved. I assured them that my crew would look after them just as they would if it had been my boat. I also let them know that the caterer was the same, so no changes there. One look at the boat put them at ease and when I mentioned Ernie's credentials, I could see the last remnants of concern disappear. Besides, they knew where to find me if they weren't happy.



Chapter 6 Discovery 



True to his word, I heard the snarl of Jerry's plane just before seven on Saturday morning. Del and I were on the dock, coffee thermos in hand and ready for a full morning of searching. I watched Jerry drift the sleek float plane near the narrow end of the dock, cut the engine and step onto the pontoon. I caught the line he threw to tether the plane and tied it off to the nearest cleat.

"Mornin' Jerry," I said.

"Mornin," he replied. "Did you hear about the explosion last night?" 

"No ... what explosion?"

"One of the salmon farms in Jervis Inlet reported an explosion and what they thought was a fireball somewhere in Hotham Sound about ten-thirty last night. Why don't you call the RCMP and see what they can tell you before we take off."

I had the RCMP number on my saved list and punched it in.

"RCMP Campbell River, Constable Myers speaking."

"Constable, this is Pat Hamelin. I've reported my boat being stolen on Tuesday. I understand there was a report of an explosion and possible fire in Hotham Sound last night. Do you have a report on that?"

"One moment," he said, putting the phone down. I could hear him talking to someone in the background but I couldn't make out the conversation. He was back on the line a couple of minutes later.

"Yes, we have a report of a boat exploding in that location. Can you describe your boat?"

"Fifty foot, wooden hull, wooden superstructure. Restored heritage boat from the fifties. It was stolen from our mooring in Menzies Bay sometime Tuesday night I believe."

"Okay, I've got the report now. It's possible that this might be your boat, but the damage is such that it's going to be difficult to confirm that."

"Constable, I've got a charter float plane standing by that we've been using to search for my boat. We'll fly down to the location and see if there's anything we can identify. It's extremely important to me to know if it is mine."

"I understand Mr. Hamelin. However, you'll either find one of our boats or the coast guard at the scene. There's a report that there were fatalities involved and that will be the site will be cordoned off. You'll have to follow the strict instructions of whoever is in charge."

"Yeah, sure. I just need to know. Thanks, I'll check in down there when we arrive."

I hung up and turned toward Del and Jerry. "They've confirmed the explosion and that it was a boat. Apparently there were fatalities. It's possible it's not the Captain's Choice, but we need to fly down there and check it out. How long, Jerry?"

"Thirty minutes, thereabouts. We can go now."

"Let's go. The sooner I know, the better off I'm going to be, even if it is the worst news.

Jerry got us to Hotham Sound in just over thirty minutes and dropped down to overlook the site. I could see the RCMP patrol boat, an oversized inflatable, and a couple of other boats around what appeared to be the semi-submerged hull of a large boat. He rounded out the pattern and made his landing approach well clear of the site and sat in place a hundred meters off the area, waiting for someone to approach.

It didn't take long before another, smaller Zodiac came racing out to meet us. I opened my door and carefully stepped out on the pontoon. The inflatable slowed and approached from my side of the aircraft. Jerry had killed the engine and we were just drifting at that point.

I could see a uniform on the man in the inflatable and assumed he was RCMP.

"What are you doing here?" he asked politely. "This is a controlled area for now." 

"I understand. I had my boat stolen a few days ago from Campbell River and I wanted to find out if this was it."

"Okay, I heard about that. We're wondering the same thing. Why don't you step aboard and I'll take you over there. Maybe there's something you can identify. There isn't much left of it though."

"I'm Pat Hamelin," I said by introduction and we motored carefully back to the scene. 

"Corporal Williston, Search and Rescue, Comox. Was your boat all wood?"

"Yes. It was a motor launch built in the 1950's."

He nodded but didn't say anything. I was getting the ominous feeling that this was my boat all right. 

"The constable I talked to in Campbell River said there was a fatality."

"Two so far. One on the boat, burned to a crisp, and one in the water."

"Do you have any idea what caused the explosion?"

"Too early. Might have been gas fumes, might have been propane."

"My boat was diesel and had automatic sniffers and fans. The propane tank ran the stove top and oven, refrigerator and heat."

"Large tank?"

"Yes," I answered. "It's possible that they didn't know how to control the propane shut-off valve and flooded the bilge with gas."

We were drifting slowly closer to the sunken hull of the boat. It looked like the boat had been anchored in fairly shallow water and the hull was visible from above. I scanned it carefully, becoming more and more convinced that this was my boat ... or what was left of it. I could barely make out the registration numbers on the bow, but when I did, I knew.

"Oh, fuck!" I spat, slumping back on the inflatable's seat board.

"You recognize something?" the corporal asked.

"Yeah, I recognize the last four digits of my registration number on the bow. That is the Captain's Choice. I'm sure of it."

"I've got a diver on the patrol vessel. I'll get him over the side to confirm the number."

I nodded, numb now that I knew the worst. 

The corporal spoke into a shoulder-mounted mike and a couple of minutes later a scuba diver appeared, putting on his tank and fins and slipping over the side of the big patrol vessel. Less than five minutes later he confirmed what I already knew. The registration number, or what was left of it, corresponded to Captain's Choice.

"Any likelihood anyone got away alive?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I doubt it. There wouldn't be any warning if it was gas accumulation. The guy we found in the water looked like he'd been run over by a train. We're still collecting pieces of debris for the forensics guys, but I doubt we'll find much more than scrap wood. We did find an inflatable on the shore. Would that be yours?"

"Yeah, there were two of them, one racked on the transom, one on the foredeck. We used the boat for charters and the Zodiacs were for fishing."

"Well, only one of them has shown up. I'll have the diver check to see if the other is on the bottom somewhere nearby. Otherwise, maybe someone took it to go somewhere and missed the fireworks."

"I don't think there's anything else I can do here, corporal. Can you take me back to the plane and we'll get out of your way."

"No problem. Actually, you've been a big help identifying the boat and letting us know about the other inflatable. Stay in touch with the RCMP, please. They're just getting started on the investigation."

"Sure. My insurance company is going to want some details, so I'll contact them and let them know who to talk to."

He took me back to the plane and I thanked him before climbing back into the cabin. 

"Well, Del, it's our boat all right. What's left of it, that is."

"Oh, Pat. I'm so sorry. I kept hoping that we would find it and it would be all right. I guess I was just kidding myself."

"I think I knew all along that it was never going to be recovered. That we'd sailed our last cruise on it. Damn that hurts."

"That boat was something special to you?" Jerry asked as we continued to sit and drift.

"Yeah. It was my father's. I restored it and turned it into a charter boat. It was the last thing he owned that I still kept. It was a beautiful boat and it's a damn shame it's been destroyed."

Jerry nodded, turned a switch and pushed a button to start the engine. It coughed to life and a minute later we were taxiing out toward the middle of the sound, giving us clearance for a safe takeoff. 

It was a quiet threesome as we flew back to Menzies Bay. Jerry dropped us off at the dock and wished us the best, however things turned out. I thanked him for all his expertise and help. Del and I walked slowly up the ramp toward the motel. We could forget about the boat now. It was gone and never coming back. 

It was still early, not yet ten am. I had no idea what I wanted to do. 

I turned to Ardele. "Well, that closes the book on that. What now?"

She seemed to be lost in thought and I chose not to interrupt her. I took her hand as we walked along and tried to focus on what I might do now. 

"You need another boat, Pat," Ardele said, stopping and looking at me. "As important as your father's boat was, it was the life it created for you that you love. There are a thousand other boats out there that you can get and continue to do what you really want to do."

I didn't respond. I thought about what she said. I wasn't so sure I agreed with her. It was important that it was "that boat." That was my connector to the past, something tangible that linked my late father to me. It was more than just a boat. 

"I know what you're thinking," she continued. "It was special and it was personal. But it's gone now. What you have left is the rest of your life. It doesn't mean that you've lost contact with your father. That's in your head and in your heart. The boat was just a reminder. After all, wasn't it he who left it in that shed for ten years and didn't set foot on it. It was an object, Pat. A beautiful one to be sure, but still ... it was an object. Objects can be replaced."

We hadn't moved since she began her comments. Still holding hands, her eyes boring into mine, she was trying to convince me to carry on. 

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm asking you if you still want to be in the charter business?" she said quietly.

"Okay, good question. I don't know. I guess that's the first decision to make."

"Pat, you're good at it. But more important, you enjoy it. I can see it in your face, your eyes. You love it. The boat is replaceable. Your happiness isn't. Do what you love to do."

"You sound pretty adamant about it. You must like it too to want to see me back in business."

"I do. I love it, we both do. We love being on the water and this is the best of all possible worlds. You've had a terrible thing happen to you, but you're young and you'll get over it. Ask yourself this question, Pat. What would you do if you didn't do this? I'd love to hear the answer."

"Oh, I don't know. I could probably be a clerk in an office somewhere. You know, with a little cubicle and my brown bag lunch."

That got me a punch on the arm. "Be serious. You know damn well it would be hard to replace this job."

"Impossible, is the word for it," I agreed. "You're right, Del. This is what I enjoy doing and it looks like I do it fairly well. So ... maybe you're right. Maybe I've got to think about another boat."

"Good for you, Pat," she said with a big smile and wrapping her arms around me in a bear hug. "Can I help?"

"I wouldn't have anyone else," I said, kissing her. "You're my first mate and I need you by my side."

"Thanks. I'm glad you listened to reason. Of course, it wasn't exactly unselfish of me. I really didn't want to see the best team on the west coast split up."  



I looked at her steadily. "Can't let that happen. Bad for business."

"I have a suggestion," she said, still with her arms around me. "I should cancel my room at the motel and move in with you. It will save money we can use to get by until we're back in business."

"Very frugal of you," I grinned. "You think you might be able to move in tonight?"

"If we hurry, I can check out before the next day's charge applies. That will look after lunch and dinner tonight, my treat."

"Let's go," I agreed. "Besides, neither of us had breakfast, so I think a nice brunch is in order."

I had a spare key to Pete's car and knowing he was gone for the day, I borrowed it to take us back to the motel, then into town for something to eat.

The pub opened at eleven am and we feasted on a pair of ham and cheese omelets, bacon, hash browns and coffee.

"There's a boat yard right next door, Del. We should see what they have for sale. It might give us some ideas."

"Sure. Did you tell me that your boat was insured for a half-million?"

"Yeah. Assuming they will pay out the full amount we can get a pretty decent boat for that much."

"You're not kidding. With the economy the way it is, I'm sure you can get a good boat fairly cheaply and put some money into it to make it even better."

"That's my thinking too. My experience with the Captain's Choice taught me a lot about what kind of performance and layout I'd really like to have. They say you have to own a couple of boats to know what you really want. I'm hoping that I know what I want and that I can find it."

"So ... you've decided then?" she asked tentatively.

"You mean ... replace Captain's Choice?"

She nodded. 

"Yeah, although it is dependent on a couple of things."

"What things?"

"Well, one of them is that you would help me find the right boat," I said with what I hoped was a serious tone.




Captain's Choice Ch. 05-06



"Okay, what's the other?"

"That you would still want to be first mate," I managed a little less certainly.

"Uh huh," she said with a knowing grin. "That's it?"

"That's it," I nodded.

I must have had a worried look about me because she took my hand and held it as she replied.

"I'd be hurt if I didn't get to help you find another boat. I'd be even more hurt if I didn't have a chance to keep my job," she said, looking me right in the eye.

"You know ... and I know ... it won't be just a job," I said, still serious.

She nodded and smiled. "I'm counting on that."

***

That evening I met with Dean, Pete and the clients to make sure everything was okay with their day.

"It was great, Pat," Dean said. "It was different than your boat, but no problems with the equipment or the accommodations. Ernie is going to pick up a Zodiac to give us a second fishing platform, but other than that, he's got everything he needs on board."

"I'll vouch for that," Bob Crandall, the oldest of the clients agreed. "We're all fine with Ernie and his boat. I just want to let you know how badly we feel about you losing your boat. If we come back here, and I'm sure we will, we'll be contacting either you or Ernie for our charter. You've done everything possible to make sure we weren't disappointed."

I heard general agreement from the three other men and I was satisfied.

"Mind you," Bob said, "It wouldn't have hurt if your other crew member was on board either," he grinned.

That gave us a little chuckle and at that point I let the boys know Ardele and I were heading back to Vancouver on the morning plane. If there was any problem, they had our cell numbers and we'd help any way we could. Both Pete and Dean thanked us for helping them to stay employed for as long as we had.



It took very little convincing to persuade Ardele to move in with me. The apartment had been little used this summer as Del had stayed on board the boat since signing up last winter. It would be nice to have the privacy and freedom that the apartment gave us. If she was going to be a part of my future life, this was the time to find out. 

We stopped off at my insurance carrier's office and left a copy of the RCMP theft report and the contact name in Campbell River to confirm that the boat had been destroyed. I was hoping that I could get a settlement from them in short order to give us the money to find a new boat.

We had not lost all our possessions on the boat when it was stolen. By good luck, I had taken some clothes, the photo album, and my laptop with us when I transferred to the motel. Ardele had most of her possessions with her when she went to Nanaimo to visit her friend. My boat had a small safe, but there was little in it aside from my log book, some receipts for expenditures, and miscellaneous papers. Unhappily, it wasn't fireproof and that was something I vowed to correct on my next boat.

Our next mission was to get some clothes and other necessaries for Ardele, along with replacing what I had lost on the boat. We were within walking distance of the city center and had no trouble quickly finding everything we needed. Del was not a picky shopper. She knew what she wanted, found it, bought it, and left. More or less the way I shopped, in fact. It gave us plenty of time for a leisurely lunch.

"Your salary will still go into your account twice a month," I said to her as we relaxed after the light meal.

"You don't have to do that, Pat. I'm not broke," she smiled.

"You're still my employee and you're still on the payroll. Enough said."

"Pat, there's something you should know. I'm not hard up for money. I never have been in the last few years. I inherited some money from my late grandmother and I spent very little of my earnings when I was on the towboats. Until Kurt decided that he didn't have to work and could live off me, I really didn't spend very much at all. 

"We rented our apartment and our only car was Kurt's. I've never been one to spend just for the sake of spending, so I can live a pretty modest lifestyle and still be content."

"I've come to recognize that in the last several months," I said. "That's a very good discipline to have. Seems it's another common thread between us. Neither of us is really looking for status or wealth. We do what we do because we love it. I think if someone had told me that this is how my adult life might turn out, I'd have probably laughed at them."

"Not me. I'd have jumped for joy," Del smiled. "I told you I was a tomboy and I wasn't kidding. Maybe I still am at heart. I don't need a big fancy house in the suburbs or a flashy car."

"What about children?" I asked, wondering if I'd hit a sensitive subject as just the wrong time.

"Yeah ... I've thought about that. It's getting near the end of the ideal time for me.  I'll be thirty-two soon and I still haven't made up my mind. If it meant giving up this life, I'd probably have second thoughts," she said reflectively.

"Is it the boat and being on the water, or is it also the chartering?"

"Good question. If you had asked me a year ago, I would have said boat and not thought twice. Now ... with you ... I'm not so sure."

You're still young, Ardele. There's time to decide. You should do what you really want to do, not what you think others would want."

"Don't worry about that, Pat. I've always done what I wanted to do. Sometimes to my regret, but it didn't stop me from living that way. I guess that's being selfish, isn't it?"

"Not totally. Not so much that it bothers me," I admitted.

"Let's just drop it for now, okay," she said. "Just promise me you won't hold back if there's something I do that you don't like."

"That's an easy promise to keep," I chuckled. "You have to promise me that you won't get too upset if I lose my temper once in a while. It's the Irish in me."

"I've been around you for nearly eight months and I haven't seen you lose your temper yet. Lord knows you've had the opportunity. So I guess that's an easy promise for me to keep too."

"I've come close a couple of times," I admitted, "but I didn't want to upset you or the clients. I guess I'm still growing up."

"I thought you'd lose it when the boat disappeared."

"No ... I was just sick. There was no anger, even when we found it. Two of the guys who stole it died. That's the supreme penalty for them. I'd still like to know why they grabbed it."

She nodded. That was the question all right. Why?



To Be Continued