It caught the morning sun from the east, a white triangle on the horizon standing out from the purple sky and dark water that were above and below it. It bobbed slightly as it picked up breezes, ticking like a needle on a gauge.
She kept looking at it as it made its slow way across her field of vision.
“Hey Jenny,” the man next to her asked, “you got something?”
“You ain’t gonna believe it, Charlie,” she answered as she looked at him in response. “It’s a sail.”
“No, really,” she said as she passed the binoculars to him.
“Hey, wha’ the hell… Hey, Dutch, Tomo, Georgie, you ain’t gonna believe this.”
The man and the two women Charlie had roused from a pre-dawn half-sleep yawned and started looking out where he was pointing.
“Give me that back, Charlie,” Jenny said as she took back the binoculars. “Gotta get a heading on these. OK… They’re heading to port, maybe five knots…”
“Port’s what again?” asked one of the women.
“The left. Geez, Tomo, you gotta get those down.”
“Screw that,” said the other woman. “What are we doing here? We going?”
“Wait, wait,” said Tomo. “Why a sail?”
“Guess it’s quiet, saves on gas,” said Jenny.
“You don’t think it’s just some weekend sailor who’s lost?”
“Not this far from shore,” said the other man.
“Dutch is right,” said Jenny, “and if he is a weekender, maybe he’d be smart and just behave.”
“I’m thinking he ain’t a weekender,” said the other woman, “ya know?”
“I agree with Georgie,” said Dutch.
“OK,” said Jenny, “that’s Georgie and Dutch for.”
“Me too,” said Charlie.
“Hey,” said Tomo, “I was just asking. Of course we go.”
“Then let’s do this, ‘kay?” said Jenny.
The quiet of the morning was shoved aside as clips clacked into auto rifles and Jenny tapped the choke and twisted the battery connector into the motor. The igniter barked to life as she grabbed the tiller and engaged the throttle with her free hand.
And Jenny guided her boat, putting her and her crew on course to claim the sail…
All content Copyright © 2011 James Ryan