It was actually the quiet that woke Hunter up. He listened intently and only heard the sound of gentle waves lapping at the side of the sailboat and the occasional clanging of the broken mast against the hull. The 'Stargazer' wallowed gently in total darkness. Hunter unlashed himself from the settee and switched on the cabin lights. He immediately saw the captain's body. He wanted to take time to grieve, but more pressing issues were at hand. At least the blood flowing from the captain's head had stopped. He stared at the captain's body for a few seconds, then scrambled up the companionway and opened the hatch. He was greeted with a chilly star filled night with calm winds and a calm sea. That wasn't right. He should be looking up at the canopy over the cockpit. Instead, yes, those were definitely stars. Hunter reached just inside the companionway and grabbed a flashlight. He shone it around the cockpit and found the canopy and its frame hanging just over the port side, tangled with the mast. The wheel was still lashed, but where the compass had been at the top of the pedestal, there was nothing but broken glass. Hunter rushed over to the wheel. The compass had been smashed, he assumed, by the canopy's aluminum framework. He shivered at the thought of no compass and at the chill in the air. Hunter hurried below and pulled on a jacket over his sweatshirt. Then he scoured the cabin in search of anything that might help, particularly a compass.

"Yes," he said to himself and he grabbed the handheld GPS from the corner of the salon.

"No," he whispered to himself when he saw the smashed screen. Hunter sank back on the settee and took a deep breath. Taking quick stock of his situation again, he found he had absolutely no ability to navigate and no ability to even figure out where he was. He glanced at the sheet shrouded body of Captain Turner. The towel was soaked in blood around the captain's head. Hunter made a quick decision. The captain wasn't a big man, but moving dead weight was still difficult. Hunter unlashed the captain's body from the bulkhead. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the captain's feet and dragged the body into the aft cabin. He re-lashed it to the cabin wall.

"Out of sight, out of mind," he mumbled to himself as he firmly closed the door. He redoubled his efforts to clean the blood from the cabin floor and was pleased with his efforts. One more reminder of the tragic death of the captain was removed. Hunter briefly considered himself being cold and calloused to the situation but quickly reminded himself that it was survival that was most important at this point.

He took a quick inventory of the galley. Thankfully, it was well stocked. He remembered filling the freshwater tank just before leaving, so he knew he had plenty of that. The fuel tank had been topped off as well. Everything was there he needed to survive until he was rescued.

Hunter fired up the diesel engine that provided a hundred twenty-volt electricity and charged the batteries that powered the refrigerator. Hunter searched for and finally found a coffee pot and put on a pot to brew. There was something familiar about the slurping sounds coming from the coffee maker. The familiarity with the sounds and the smell calmed him down.

While waiting for the coffee to brew, he grabbed a loaf of bread, then some lunchmeat and the mayo out of the refrigerator and made himself a quick sandwich. He grabbed a bag of chips too.

The coffee finished and he poured himself a cup. He shut down the engine and enjoyed the sudden quiet sans the loud diesel engine. He wrapped his turkey sandwich in a paper towel, then with coffee, sandwich and chips in hand, Hunter made his way topside and settled down in the cockpit.

The coffee warmed him and helped stave off the chill in the air. The sandwich tasted like sawdust, but just the act of chewing brought normalcy to a non-normal situation. Hunter looked up into the star filled night and wondered how far the storm had pushed him out to sea. The last thing he'd remembered before he fell asleep was the raging storm. The wind, the tossing of the boat by the waves and the thunder had lulled the exhausted boy into a fitful sleep. The waves had the sailboat pitching so wildly he'd actually had to tie himself to the settee to keep from being thrown to the deck. How long it took between that time and when he woke up, he had no idea. He just knew it was solidly in the middle of the night. The storm had started mid to late afternoon. He could easily be a hundred miles out to sea within that period. It was the not knowing where he was that weighed heavily on Hunter's mind. Well, that and the fact that the only thing that would keep him alive until he was rescued was … himself. It would take all his knowledge, all his experience and a lot of guts to keep himself alive.

Hunter looked around and only saw dark water, not a light in sight. No sign of life anywhere. What surprised Hunter the most is that he wasn't consumed by fear. Sure, he was a bit scared. Who wouldn't be? But he had hope … hope for being found … and hope that he would make it through this. The only thing he wished for more than anything else was not to have to go through this alone. He didn't have the captain anymore. The radio was shot. There was no one else. It was then that Hunter knew loneliness would be his biggest nemesis.

Hunter finished his sandwich, grabbed a few more chips, then drained his coffee. It was going to be a long night. It was going to be a long, lonely night all by himself in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

* * * * *

"I don't want no uniform on my boat," Captain Turner said to the Coast Guard Commander in voice that brooked no argument. "I'm too old and too set in my ways to have some young upstart Coast Guard Academy Grad-u-ate tell me what I'm doing wrong."

"Look, Bill. This new radar is top secret and we need to keep it under wraps," the commander started.

"Stop right there, Wayne. I agreed to do this for you, but I agreed to do it on my terms, not yours, if you would be so kindly as to remember our previous conversation. Seems you need me worse than I need you. Those were the terms that we agreed to." Commander Walsh sighed. The captain smiled.

"Okay, okay, I remember, but I still want someone with you. Will you at least give me that concession?" Now it was Captain Turner's turn to sigh. He contemplated his friend the commander for a moment. He also considered all the advantages of having a first mate; someone to handle the lines and trim the sails. Someone to do the grunt work. Someone to cook and clean. Someone to boss around. Yes, that could work.

"Fine, and just who do you suggest?" huffed the captain. Commander Wayne Walsh smiled. He'd gotten the concession he was looking for.

"Hunter Ward," he said with a grin on his face.

"Who the hell is that?" Captain Turner asked gruffly.

"You know Captain Westphal?" Of course, Captain Turner knew of the renowned search and rescue pilot.

"I do, fine man."

"You know his son Jesse?" The captain had seen the youngster around his dad from time to time. He seemed like a good kid, poised to follow in his daddy's footsteps.

"Fine young man," Captain Turner nodded.

"Hunter is Jesse's best friend. He's the one responsible for getting Jesse into sailing. He owns an eighteen-foot Catalina. He and Jesse sail just about every day." Commander Walsh's grin grew wider.

"A rinky-dink Catalina ain't nowhere near what the 'Stargazer' is. That's a kid's boat. You ain't got anybody else with at least some sailing experience?"

"Hunter is my best choice to be your first mate."

"He's Jesse Westphal's friend?"

"He is."

"Wait a minute! Jesse's just, what, fourteen?"

"No, Bill. He's seventeen and Hunter is quite the seasoned sailor. Although he doesn't hold a candle to you, my friend."

"Pass out all the compliments you want, but I ain't taking no snot nosed brat on a blue water sail," Captain Turner said as he crossed his arms defiantly across his chest.

"Blue water sail? I thought we agreed this would be a coastal sail, something that Hunter is very familiar with," Commander Walsh said with an even wider grin. Captain Turner gazed out the window. He'd been caught by his own words.

"Fine, but the minute that boy says the word 'rope' he's done." Commander Walsh grinned knowing all 'ropes' on a sailboat were called lines. He also recognized the concession in the negotiations.

"It seems we have an accord then." Commander Walsh reached his hand out to the aging captain and they shook.

* * * * *

"Hunter! Hurry up! You're gonna be late!" his mom yelled.

"Be right down," he called back. Hunter quickly put the last few items into his duffle bag. At the last minute, he hesitated, but finally decided to put a framed picture in. He looked at the photo and smiled sadly. It was a picture of him and his 'used to be' best friend, Jesse. They were standing in the cockpit of Hunter's sailboat 'The Pearl.' It was taken the Saturday they had both painted the name on the transom. They are arm in arm, grinning madly in shorts with paint smears on their arms. He loved that picture. He shoved it down between tee shirts and pulled the cord, closing the duffle up tight. The young man hoisted the bag on his shoulder and headed downstairs.

His mom looked up when he came into the kitchen. She looked worried.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do on your spring break?" she asked. Hunter sighed. They had been through this several times ever since Captain Turner first asked Hunter to be his first mate. The captain's offer had come with the stipulation that Hunter would serve as crew and listen to the orders given by the captain. Hunter had quickly agreed. The promised generous paycheck for his time on board was just icing on the cake, a lot of icing.

"Yes, mom. I'm sure," he said as he sat at the kitchen table and started to eat his breakfast.

"But wouldn't you rather spend your break with friends? With Jesse?" she asked for, what Hunter thought, was the ninety-ninth time. He rolled his eyes, smartly keeping them from where his mother could see.

"We've been through this before, mom. This is a wonderful opportunity. I'll have a few days at sea with Captain Turner delivering a really beautiful sailboat to the Florida Keys. They are paying me more money than I have ever seen in my life. And, if things work out, I'll even have a day or maybe two to enjoy Key West," he patiently explained as he shoveled a fork full of eggs into his mouth.

"But what about Jesse? I thought he was your best friend. Couldn't he go along too?" Hunter slowly swallowed his eggs. His excited expression turned sour.

"No, mom. I don't think that's gonna happen. Jesse has his own ideas about what it takes to be friends and his ideas no longer match up with mine." Hunter stabbed a piece of sausage and viciously bit it in half. His mom didn't catch the change in her son's mood and decided to take another tactic.

"Are you sure this is going to be safe? After all, you're going to be in the ocean. It's not like day sailing around the island." Hunter bit viciously into a piece of toast. "Was she really going to keep this up? I'm going on this sail and that's that," he thought to himself.

"Yes, mom. The sailboat has all the modern navigation and communications equipment. It will be a coastal sail, which means we will never be far from shore. It's the same kind of sailing Jesse … uh, I've been doing for years. It will be easy and like I said, I'll be paid a lot of money. So, no open ocean sailing, plus Captain Turner has been doing this for years."

"That's what bothers me, Hunter. Captain Turner has to be almost seventy." Hunter turned to his mom with a look of exasperation.

"And since when did that have anything to do with anything. Pops is pushing eighty and he still drives, plays golf and goes sailing with me." Mrs. Ward sighed, knowing she was not going to win this argument. When her son was determined to do something, he did it.

At seventeen, Hunter was in his senior year of high school. She had watched her once always happy child turn inward, slowly closing out his friends. He liked to spend his time sailing. When he wasn't on his sailboat, he was always reading and studying. She had no argument about that since his grades were almost perfect. A scholarship was certainly a strong possibility. Hunter had closed off the majority of his friends and then suddenly, just last week, he had a huge falling out with Jesse. That boy had been her son's best friend since they were eleven years old. She just couldn't understand what could possibly have come between them. Something must have happened to cause such a sudden rift between the two boys. Something she just couldn't put her finger on and she had even discussed it with Hunter's father. Together, both parents were totally clueless about anything that could end such a beautiful friendship.

His mother smiled gently as she watched her almost grown son devour his breakfast, draining down two glasses of milk and a cup of coffee in the process.

"She'd never understand," Hunter thought to himself. "Jesse certainly didn't." He'd won that round with his mom, knowing she was just concerned for his safety. He was looking forward to sailing with Captain Turner. Hunter couldn't wait to pick up a few pointers from the sailing legend.

* * * * *

Hunter looked up into the star filled night remembering his last conversation with his mom. As his eyes gazed up into the heavens, they came to rest on the Little Dipper. It was upside down tonight. Didn't that mean rain was coming or was that just an old tale? Something in his memory niggled at his consciousness. It was memories from studying for his Astronomy Merit Badge. What was it about the Little Dipper? Hunter stood abruptly as the memory clarified in his mind. The star at the end of the Little Dipper handle was the North Star.

"I can navigate!" he screamed into the night. Hunter pulled in the bucket that was his makeshift sea anchor and stowed it back in the lazarette. He fired the engine and unlashed the wheel. Hunter faced Polaris. He knew that would be north. A quarter turn to his left would be west, the direction he needed to go. Hunter brought the 'Stargazer' around in that direction.

"Perfect," he thought as he jabbed at the autopilot button. Nothing happened. He jabbed at it again. Nothing. It was then he remembered all the electronics on the boat had been shorted out by the lightning strike, including the auto pilot. He'd have to hand steer. Keeping Polaris over his right shoulder, Hunter knew he was steering west … west toward great state of Florida … west toward safety.

It was a last ditch effort, but a calculated one. The one wild card in the equation was not knowing where he was. Hunter put that knowledge into his equation and decided that even if he did not know where he was, steering west would almost guarantee running into Florida. Afterall, it was a rather large piece of real estate and it would be hard to miss.

Now that 'Stargazer' was underway, the mast and canopy frame banged against the fiberglass hull even harder. Hunter slowed and lashed the wheel. He worked as quickly as he could in the darkness to lash the whole mess down. By the time he was finished and had returned to the wheel, Polaris was directly behind him. He swore under his breath, unlashed the wheel and turned back to starboard, bringing him back on course. As the minutes stretched into hours, Hunter fought to keep his eyes open. Despite the short nap and the cup of coffee, the adrenalin he'd spent during the height of the storm had taken its toll. Hunter was exhausted. Through bleary eyes, he watched as the dark night slowly turned to gray. Dawn was coming and with its arrival, his only method of navigation would leave. Lashing the wheel wouldn't work. He'd learned that earlier.

As the sun rose over the horizon and the starlit night slowly turned to blue, Hunter shut off the engine and let the 'Stargazer' drift on the open ocean. Even though the fuel tank was full when they left, it was best to conserve what fuel he did have. He would need the engine to charge the batteries and he would need the batteries to keep the refrigerator working.

Hunter scanned the horizon and saw nothing but water in every direction. There was no sign of another boat … no sign of anything. He stumbled below deck and sat heavily on the settee. His blue eyes darted around the salon and finally fell on the aft cabin door. Just beyond that door lay the body of Captain Turner. Grief and helplessness struck at the same time. Hunter just wanted to escape the situation he was in. That's when his eyes fell on the half full bottle of tequila. Without giving it a second thought, he snatched the bottle from its place on the shelf along the bulkhead. The warm liquid slid slowly down his throat and was followed by an intense burning that brought tears to Hunter's eyes. He took another healthy slug from the bottle and settled back onto the settee.

Hunter's thoughts turned to Jesse and the last time they had seen each other. That memory was harsh and a few stray tears made their way down the young sailor's face. He viciously wiped them away and took another drink from the bottle. Hunter's alcohol consumption history was limited to an occasional beer. Hard liquor had never been consumed before. Without even knowing it, following the last swallow from the bottle, Hunter slipped away into a dreamless, alcohol infused sleep. The now empty bottle of Jose Cuervo gently rolled against the bulkhead with each sway of the boat making a slight clink with each sway, but the seventeen-year-old was fast asleep without a care in the world.

* * * * *

"You don't understand!" pled Hunter as tears streamed down his face. Jesse, his best friend, looked at him with disgust.

"Oh, yes. I do understand," Jesse said, his voice dripping with hatred. "You're a fag and you've been perving on me ever since we met!"

"It's not like that!" screamed Hunter as he started to stand up. A fist connected with his jaw sending him sprawling back onto the couch.

"It's exactly like that. You just told me you asshole!" Jesse screamed. "You said you've been in love with me since we met for Christ's sake." Jesse whirled around and headed for the door. "Good God, all those nights we slept in the same bed and you were, you were, goddamn you, Hunter. I never, ever want to talk to or see you again. Just stay away from me!" Jesse yelled as he walked out and slammed the door behind him.

Hunter knew he was taking a chance on telling Jesse that he had slowly been falling in love with him. He couldn't help it. Jesse knew everything there was to know about Hunter, well, except the love part. They were best friends and did everything together. As their senior year was coming to a close, Hunter knew that he had to tell Jesse how he felt. The pressure of keeping his feelings secret was just about to drive him crazy.

At first, the feelings had been purely emotional, but as puberty matured, physical attraction became more and more prominent. Spending the night at Jesse's slowly turned into torture. They always slept together. It was just the way it had always been. And Jesse was a 'hugger.' Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Jesse would inevitably roll over and wrap his arms around Hunter. It was the closest thing to experiencing both heaven and hell at the same time that Hunter had ever known. The pressure became so intense that he was finally left with no choice. He had to tell Jesse. If his best friend left him, he'd have to live with it. If he accepted him, but only wanted to remain friends, that would work too. But somewhere deep in Hunter's heart, he desperately wanted Jesse to love him the way he loved Jesse. Now, his worst-case scenario had come true. Hunter curled up on the couch and wept. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as the realization of his loss hit him.

The following day was even worse as Jesse openly shunned him in school. People kept asking him what had happened. If two friends who were practically joined at the hip were suddenly on the outs, there had to be a reason. And that reason was not something he wanted to get out.

The whispers followed him throughout the school day. Speculation ran wild. Why would best friends since junior high suddenly have a huge falling out? There had to be a reason and the rumor mill went into overdrive.

Hunter went to school for the next few days with a heavy weight of dread on his shoulders. He glanced around at the other students and watched their whispers. Jesse had been mad enough that Hunter knew he would tell anyone who would listen. But whispers of the true reason never came. Hunter silently thanked God that Jesse decided not to say anything. He didn't especially want to be outed at school for many reasons. First, it would make Jesse appear homophobic. That would not be good. Hunter was not ashamed to be gay. There were already three other guys and a couple of girls who were out. Yes, coming out would be no problem if it weren't for Jesse. He didn't want to hurt his ex-friend despite the hate thrown Hunter's way.

The invitation from Captain Turner had been a godsend. It was the perfect opportunity to get away from school, from his friends, from his family and especially, from Jesse.

* * * * *

Hunter woke with a start. Something wasn't right. The cabin was dark and sweltering. Everything seemed okay, but a little voice in his mind told him otherwise. Suddenly, 'Stargazer' slammed hard into something and heeled sharply over to port sending Hunter to the salon floor. The sailboat listed so far over, Hunter thought it was another knockdown. But that couldn't be possible. He didn't have a mast, much less any sails. The sharp impact was followed by a horrid scraping sound down the starboard side. It lasted just a few seconds before the sailboat righted herself and swayed back and forth. Hunter started up the companionway steps only to be thrown against the settee on a particularly large sway to starboard. He grabbed at the handholds and lunged up the companionway. Hunter peered into the night. Looking astern, he could barely make out the silhouette of a large freighter with no running lights.

"Bastard!" he screamed as the dark hulk quickly disappeared into the night. His head was pounding, and he grabbed it in anguish. Hunter stumbled back below and went straight to the head. He searched through the cabinets and finally found some aspirin. Returning to the galley, he washed two down with a glass of water. A slight clinking noise drew his attention to the other side of the salon. Rolling slightly with the now easy pitch of the boat was an empty bottle of Jose Cuervo.

Hunter glanced at the electric panel and suddenly realized that he didn't have his running lights on either. He flipped the switch for the anchor light and then switched it back off. The anchor light was on top of the mast and the mast was lashed to the side. Then he switched on the running lights. He popped his head up through the companionway and glanced forward. No red and no green and of course the was no stern light because it was attached to the top of cockpit canvas cover which was also lashed to the side. Hunter returned to the electric panel and flipped the running light switch off.

"Guess I was as much to blame for getting hit by the freighter as the freighter was," he mumbled to himself. His stomach chose that moment to growl. He cranked the engine, providing needed electricity to cook and started making breakfast.

Hunter used the frying pan and a flick of his wrist to flip the eggs. The coffee pot just finished brewing much needed caffeine. A paper towel was soaking up the grease from the cooling bacon on a plate. He filled a cup of coffee as he waited for the eggs to finish.

His watch told him it was eight at night. The reason he'd managed to sleep over twelve hours was the empty bottle of Jose Cuervo, now bobbing in the calm waters far astern. Hunter emptied the frying pan onto his plate and added several strips of bacon before settling down at the salon table. Biting into his first fork full of eggs, Hunter's thoughts turned to his mother and the last breakfast they had together. He knew she would be worried. Since he had promised to call her on his cell phone every day, Hunter knew she would call in the calvary. He smiled as he bit into a piece of bacon. Help was probably already on the way.

Unbeknownst to Hunter, the storm had pushed 'Stargazer' far out to sea, hundreds of miles from where she should have been. With her AIS transmitter disabled early in the storm, she could only be tracked so far. Coast Guard ships and planes were already scouring the last reported AIS location that was well away from his actual position.

And in a bedroom, safely behind closed doors, another young man sobbed into his pillow. The news of the missing sailboat hit him headlong. As the tears fell, he finally admitted what he had so vehemently denied. He silently prayed that the missing boy would be safe and, hopefully, would forgive his best friend for a moment of panic.

* * * * *

The stars shone brightly and Hunter once again put Polaris over his right shoulder as he powered the sailboat to the west and hopefully, the coast of Florida. The dishes in the galley sink from his meal rumbled quietly from the vibrations of the diesel engine. The body of Captain Turner, now cold and stiff, still lay hidden away on the floor behind the closed door of the aft cabin. Things were okay with Captain Turner's body, but the daytime temperatures reached well above a hundred at the peak of the day. A body could almost cook at that temperature. Hunter knew he would have to find land soon or he would be forced to dump the captain's body overboard. The smell of decaying human flesh was not something he was prepared to endure. He shuddered at the thought.

Hunter grabbed a flashlight and opened the port lazarette. The yellow beam of light cut through the darkness and illuminated the fuel gauge. The needle hovered around the half mark.

"Wow," he whistled to himself. "I've used more fuel than I thought." He snapped the flashlight off and closed the lazarette. It took a few minutes for his eyes to regain their night vision, but when they did, Hunter didn't like what he saw. A line of clouds was gradually moving from the west, slowly and surely obscuring the stars. By his best estimation, he had less than a half hour before Polaris would be hidden and navigation would no longer be possible. Checking his watch, Hunter knew that being underway for a mere six hours would hardly make up for the action of the current during the day. Reluctantly, he shut down the diesel engine and sat back in the cockpit. His rudimentary knowledge of the Atlantic Ocean told him the prevailing currents worked clockwise, going up the coast of the United States commonly referred to as the Gulf Stream. That simple knowledge told Hunter he was probably being pushed north if he were close enough to shore. The Gulf Stream would push him, even as much as a hundred miles a day. If he were further out to sea, he would be at the mercy of the prevailing winds. The problem Hunter had was he had no idea where he was, but he did know that Florida lay to the west. Combined with the North Star for navigation, Hunter was doing the best he could by steering toward the Sunshine State. But he still had no idea how far he needed to go to reach land.

Hunter pushed a cushion behind his back and while watching the approaching clouds, continuing to contemplate his situation. The biggest Achilles' Heel in all of this was not knowing where he was. The 'Stargazer' could easily be a couple hundred miles out to sea. If that were the case, it would take thirty hours to get back to shore at a cruising speed of six knots. Even wide open at eight knots, it would still take twenty-five hours. Hunter doubted there was enough fuel for that long of a run. He could try but exhausting his fuel supply meant no more charging the batteries and that meant no more refrigeration or lights. That was a chance he simply could not take. So, he resigned himself to let the 'Stargazer' drift with the current and hope a rescue plane would spot him soon.

As dawn broke over the Atlantic, Hunter's growling stomach demanded attention. He went below and started fixing another sandwich. He really was getting tired of sandwiches, plus this sleeping all day and steering all night schedule was going to have to change. Besides, there was a strange odor below deck that Hunter just couldn't place.

* * * * *


On to Chapter Three
"Attack!"

Back to Chapter One
"Tropical Storm Andrea"

Chapter Index

Jevic's Story Page

I'd love to hear what you think!
Email me at jevic@tarheelwriter.com