68 Knots by Michael Robert Evans

his crew. The railing gleamed of polished brass. The deck was blue fiberglass ribbed with warm teak. The conversation was charming and polite.
    â€œSo you’re on a training course,” Turner said. “That’s fascinating. Nothing like sailing to instill a sense of discipline and order. Nothing like it at all.”
    Arthur smiled. “We learn more every day. And it sure hasn’t been dull.”
    Turner took a sip of his martini, stared off at the dark sea, and sighed. “Ah, I remember learning how to sail long ago, as a boy in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. My father had given me a Laser, even though my mother protested vigorously: ‘ButBruce, he’s only six! That boat’s too big for such a young boy!’ Father just grinned. ‘Let’s see who’s bigger—the boy or the boat.’” Turner chuckled. He rolled his eyes. “Rumor has it—the boy was bigger.”
    Arthur raised his glass. “The boy is always bigger than the boat,” he said. It was Dawn’s turn to roll her eyes.
    â€œSo tell me,” Turner asked, “who is in charge of this sailing outfit of yours? Not that you can’t take care of yourselves, of course, but surely the people running this camp don’t just throw a bunch of you on a tall ship and push you out to sea. Who is supervising this trip? And why isn’t he over here, helping himself to our hospitality?”
    Dawn didn’t miss a beat. “He’s down below,” she said, struggling to find words that were truthful but misleading, “and he has asked not to be disturbed.”
    The term “down below” nearly caused Arthur to choke on a shrimp, but he managed to keep his composure.
    â€œAh, too bad,” Turner said. “Please give him my regards. It’s a pleasure to meet young people who are working to improve themselves, and I’m sure your leader must be a very interesting individual.”
    Marietta pried her way into the circle. She had a martini in one hand and a salmon-and-cream-cheese mini-sandwich in the other. She was wearing a low-cut blouse, and she laughed and stepped in between Arthur and Dawn. “What a beautiful boat this is, Captain,” she said. “What do you do for a living? You must be very successful.”
    Turner cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I’m the CEO of a manufacturing firm. Paper products, mostly. Nothing terribly exciting. Probably the highlight of my dreary grind is getting out on this boat and enjoying a day off every now and then.”
    â€œFascinating, simply fascinating,” Marietta said, twirling her blond-streaked hair. “Arthur, could I show you something? I just got a tour of the boat, and there is something you have to see.”
    â€œSure,” Arthur shrugged. He didn’t want to seem uninterested in Turner’s pride and joy. He turned to Dawn. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
    Marietta led Arthur across the deck and down the gangway toward the cabins below.
    The captain’s quarters of the
Elkhart
shimmered with polished brass, hand-rubbed mahogany, and sparkling crystal. A large bed covered with an inviting feather comforter nearly filled the room. The piano music brightened the warm air. Marietta sat down on one corner of the bed and motioned for Arthur to sit beside her.
    â€œWouldn’t it be great to have all this?” she asked. “Wouldn’t you just love to take this beautiful ship out for a sail whenever you wanted to?”
    â€œIt would be nice,” Arthur said, sitting on the bed. “When I own a boat like this, it will be because I own some really cool company of my own. Something I start from scratch. Something that everyone else wishes they were doing.” He smiled. Decide what you want, his father had said, and then go for it. Don’t let anything stand in your way.
    â€œAnd as the owner and president,” Marietta said, fussing with her