"Are you awake?"

Mitchell groaned, half asleep. "Yeah."

"Do you have any idea what we’re going to do with the boat?"

"Give me a day to sleep on it."

"I’m going ashore. You want anything?"

"Gasoline. And oil."

"I put some food on the cooler with the water jug," Andy said.

Mitchell listened with eyes closed to Andy’s footsteps on the ladder and in the cockpit. Then he relaxed his head and neck and shoulders and listened to his heartbeats fade into deep sleep.

BOOM!!

Mitchell’s eyes burst open as he grabbed for the sail tie and jerked himself up on an elbow. He searched the below decks. Everything was intact. He was sure he had heard something but the sea wasn’t rushing in. A good sign he thought. He laid back to watch the blueness of the sky through the companionway. He figured it must be afternoon now and closed his eyes and slept again.

"Woo, woo, woo!" Andy vaulted over the transom into the cockpit, shouting like a wild man.

"What the hell?" Mitchell opened his eyes.

Andy jumped down into the cabin and slapped on the vent switch. "Do you know where you are?"

"I’m in a confined space with a goddamn lunatic."

"You’re adrift! You’re out in the islands!" He hurtled over the cooler and disappeared forward.

Does this shit ever end? Mitchell raised himself and reached for the jug. Is it like this for everyone? The anchor chain rang on the foredeck. He wanted a violin solo, something haunting and passionate. Andy’s footsteps topside crashed along the starboard deck. Landing on both feet in the cockpit he thrust his upper body into the cabin to shut down the vents and start the engine. He pushed off the hatch, throwing himself backward to bend for the throttle.

"Do you want half of this sandwich?" Mitchell’s voice was engulfed by the engine roar below decks.

At the helm Andy’s attention was riveted ahead. Mitchell ate peanut butter and banana between thick slices of pumpernickel bread. He drank heavily from the water jug then laid back, dragging his hands behind his head to open them. The hull must have hit a mooring stem as it was drifting he figured. A rock would have opened the fiberglass. The boat needs a hailing port, a place to repair. Christ knows I’d like to keep going but my ass and my shoulder won’t take it. I need a bimini against the heat and a cushioned helmchair that will tack to the high side before I can think about distance sailing. The black swift on the wing for Block Island appeared in his mind. I’m beginning to understand he thought. A man will thirst. Finding no comfort he will make that thirst his meaning.

Andy anchored the sloop and Mitchell listened to his footsteps on deck and down into the cockpit again. Andy leaned over the transom to pull the dinghy closer. He lifted a brown bag aboard and crossed the cockpit and climbed down into the cabin. "Did you know you were adrift?" There was a sternness in his voice.

"Does anyone? I’m starved. Have you eaten?"

"I had to hail a powerboat," Andy said. "It took us over an hour to find you. Smart skipper, too. He let his boat drift on the current and then made a line on his chart. You’re almost two miles out." He laughed but there was no humor in his voice.

He wants me to be shaken, or humbled Mitchell thought. But it’s over. Besides I was sleeping. "Well there’s a memory for you, huh? Have you eaten?"

"Listen," Andy barked. "I’m not hungry.