A Short Stay in Bermuda
There are few places, if any, more inviting or pleasant than Bermuda. Scintillating breezes pass over the island and sway the palms like a gentle friendly wave from a longed-for lover. There is a pleasant majesty of the Royal Navy dockyard perched to the east entering the Great Sound. The confluence of white sand beaches, blue skies, emerald waters, and the thick green of the island is visually resplendent.
As Rich steered past the Royal Navy dockyard he said, “God has been good to Britain.”
Rich piloted The Odyssey around the jagged rocks of the Great Sound and dropped the sails before entering Hamilton Harbor. He started the motor and putted to a marina. It was still early morning and there was no activity on the docks or the marina. The only sound, the low rumble of The Odyssey’s engine. Rich cut the engine as they drifted beside a dock. They secured The Odyssey. Glancing at each other as if to say ‘it’s so quiet and safe, let’s both go’ and they walked together along the dock towards the marina store.
“There are so many boats here we won’t be noticed,” Salty said.
“The store is closed,” Rich said. He peeked in the window; his forehead pressed against the window with cupped hands on both sides of his head to see better what was inside. “Groceries.” He moved along the window to survey more of the store.
His eyes scanned by a poster. Rich stepped back. It was a photo of him. “Have You Seen This Man?” was written in bold print above Rich’s face. “Armed and Dangerous” was written below.
“Salty!” Rich said backing away and nodding toward the poster.
Salty squinted as he read. He quickly looked around. “You go to the boat and stay below out of sight,” I’ll get what we need. And then I’ll pull over and fill the tanks with gas and take on some fresh water.”
They walked casually back to the boat and climbed below. Salty waited until the store opened. Rich stayed in the cabin of The Odyssey while Salty bought supplies and hauled them back to the boat.
Salty sat down across from Rich in the cabin for a rest.
“Anything going on at the store?” Rich said.
“I was the only customer,” Salty said. “The clerk hardly said a word and I obliged him with the same. I gave him my Irish accent, though. I figured the fewer the words the less likely he would be able to detect it was phony. I figured you’d be in here with a rifle laying across your lap.”
“Well they did say armed,” Rich said. “Actually, I’ve been spending time going over the charts and doing some calculations and I drew a picture of Mickey Mouse.”
“It doesn’t bother me not to stay here,” Salty said. “So don’t think I’m disappointed.”
“I’m just worried about how you feel,” Rich said.
“I’m fine,” Salty said. “I picked up plenty to keep the bug away. Don’t worry about me. They ain’t lookin’ for old used-up shoe leather; it’s you they want or should I say it’s you that’s wanted?”
“That sounds terrible,” Rich smiled. “I’ve always wanted to be wanted, but not this way.”
“I’m almost envious,” Salty said, “not really.”
“What have you been figuring on the charts?” Salty said, “and don’t tell me that Disneyland is off the coast of South America.”
“Salty, I couldn’t have chosen a better mate,” Rich said. “Here’s what I’ve been thinking; I’m not paranoid, just acutely cautious, but after we fill the tank we head east; that is in case somebody is watching our whereabouts. As long as nobody sees my face we don’t have to worry about authorities. Authorities will nab us right away. White and Smithson and their brood must wait for opportunity. That’s something we can control. And I don’t think we have to worry about the authorities. That poster is not official. There were no official markings on it. The British would only do things proper. It appears as if somebody just dropped by and asked the store to post it. Anyway, I’m getting side tracked; we head east for a couple of hours and then south and towards the Caribbean.”
“Sounds as if you got it all worked out,” Salty said. “Let’s fill ‘er up and hit the road.”