He limped into the lounge and checked the weather radar, which showed that things were definitely building, then went back to the cabin to wake the girls.
“I think we need to cancel the day’s fishing,” he said. “Looks like weather’s coming in.”
“What should I do?” Pam asked nervously.
“Not much,” Mike said. “Maybe rinse down the rods with fresh water, then put them away; we should have done that yesterday, but I got sort of caught up. Then fold the kites and put them away. They go in the locker forward of the rod locker.” He grabbed a shirt and bathing suit, heading for the closed bridge. He first checked the text message system and shook his head.
“What’s going on?” Courtney asked, coming up from below.
“There’s a tropical depression forming,” Mike said, pointing to a weather map. “It’s over in the Gulf, but the storm track is for it to cross the peninsula and come this way.”
“Is it a hurricane?” she asked as Pam came in the bridge.
“No,” Mike said. “It’s a storm, but a small one.” He thought about the different waters around and shrugged. “We can dodge it. But we’ll have to dodge south. We might try to run the Gap over to the Deeps and the Tongue of the Ocean. But I’m not sure about that because the storm might catch us in the Gap and that would be bad. Or we can just run straight south to hook around Andros. I’d rather do that, but we’re still probably going to get some effects.”
“Define effects,” Pam said.
“Rain,” Mike said. “Maybe lots. Some winds. Like a thunderstorm, but going on for a day or so. Nastier in a small boat, and this is a small boat make no mistake, than in a house. You might want to take some scop; we’re liable to pitch a good bit.”
“You want to go south, go south,” Courtney said.
“I’m game,” Pam said. “I could use some help with the rods.”
They headed south at max speed, but Mike pulled into a protected, and empty, harbor just after dusk. After dinner he set up a scene where Pam was tied watching as he played with Courtney and “taught” her. He finally took Courtney after he’d brought her to orgasm and he held back, continuing to screw her much longer than she’d expected. She had gone into a continuous quiver when he entered her, but as he continued to take her she orgasmed again.
Still, he’d held back, and when he left her he started on Pam, spread-eagling her alongside Courtney and playing with both of them until Pam orgasmed and he took her as well, then went back to Courtney.
The storm had caught them at anchor, and as it built up the boat began to rock and the two girls seemed to climb to some other plane. They were blindfolded and gagged and the rocking motion left them both quivering uncontrollably by the time Mike, finally, came into Courtney and called the scene.
They spent the night cuddled up in a ball in the main cabin as the storm raged outside. He got up from time to time to ensure the anchors were holding, then went back to the warm bundle in the bed.
“It’s wild outside,” Courtney said at breakfast, looking out at the sheets of rain running down the windows.
“It is that,” Mike said, looking at the weather instruments. The wind was blowing about thirty knots, steady, with gusts to forty. “This is going to get interesting.”
“Up to you, Mike,” Courtney said. “I trust that you’re not going to drown us.”
“No,” Mike said calmly. “But you might get seasick. Strongly recommend the scop.”
“Where is it?” Pam asked.
“This is cool,” Courtney said, staggering onto the closed bridge and looking out the windows. The rain was so solid there really wasn’t anything to see even with the wipers going full blast. “What are you doing? Driving on GPS?”
“Mostly,” Mike said, gesturing at the instruments. There were even more than on the flying bridge, and larger, giving the closed bridge something of the look of flying a plane. “Keeping an eye on the radar and the sonar, too. Watching the weather map update. I think we’ll probably be out of this by the time we get to Andros.”
“It’s rough,” Courtney said, holding on to a stanchion and then making her way to one of the seats.
“It is that,” Mike said. “Seas are about nine, ten feet. I’m staying to the outside of the islands, rather than trying to run the Gap. We’ll just hook around the south of Andros and head over in the direction of Long Island. I’ll keep going tonight and we’ll be clear by tomorrow morning. But there’s not really anywhere to dock down there, a few outlying keys, but no really good harbors.” He frowned and shrugged. “It’s a bit… lawless in that area. Lots of drug running goes through there. And there are… well, I’d hate to dignify them with the description ‘pirates,’ but there are people that occasionally attack boats.”
“And you’ll do what about that?” Courtney said, her eyes wide. “Throw a whip at them?”
“There is far more than a whip on this boat, Courtney,” Mike said, glancing at the radar. “But I think I’ll be on watch for a couple of days.”
By the next morning they were clear of the wind and rain, but the storm to the north was still kicking up the seas to nearly six feet.
“I managed to make coffee,” Pam said, coming up to the bridge with a travel mug. “I didn’t make a huge mess.”
“Not much fun being battened down, is it?” Mike said, smiling as he took it from her and set it in a holder.
“It’s cleared up at least,” she said, looking around. “Except for the clouds.”
“They’ll clear off by, oh, tomorrow,” Mike replied, shrugging. “I won’t be happy until we’re down to the south of Andros, though.”
“The pirates Courtney was asking about?” Pam said, looking off to port. “There’s clear water over there,” she said, pointing.
“Yep,” Mike said. “And see the breakers between us and that clear water? That’s the great Bahama Banks. You can’t get a cabin cruiser in there. You can’t even get a cigarette boat in most of it. It’s an area where conditions are just right to form calcium carbonate from sea water and carbon dioxide. Major carbon dioxide sink. There’s an old land-form that supports it. And it’s mostly extremely shallow. There are a few channels in it, but they move and nobody tries to chart them. Also a few very small keys. They’re technically uninhabited, but some of them are used as layovers by drug runners and some have the ‘pirates’ on them. Really just criminals with small boats that try to sneak out and pick up… well, the occasional passing yacht like us. They’ve generally got very small boats, though. What you’d probably call a john boat. I doubt even they would try in these conditions. But I’m keeping a close eye on the radar. And an eye out in general — sometimes they don’t show very well on radar.”
“That’s scary,” Pam said.
“I have various methods to convince them we’re not a good target,” Mike said. “Just going up on deck with a fake rifle will usually make them veer off.”
“And do you have a fake rifle?” Pam asked nervously.
“Yes,” Mike replied.
“What about a real one?” Pam asked. “In case they don’t scare off?”
“No comment,” Mike said. “The Bahamas is very down on guns. One of the reasons that criminals find local yachts easy pickings since plenty of guns come in with the drugs.”
“I noticed that the customs guys didn’t actually search the boat,” Pam said.