Wind swarmed suddenly over the boat as stratus clouds darkened the sky and the sea. Andy stepped lively to trim the sails. The sloop’s bow cleaved running swells and spray blew over the foredeck. A dun-green coast appeared through the haze and the air was suddenly cold, invading Mitchell’s chest and arms. His stomach growled. Another hunger. He focused on Point Judith rising as the eastern abutment for five long miles of seawall encircling the Harbor of Refuge. Andy scrambled up from the cabin with Mitchell’s rain jacket then stopped in the companionway, unsure how to give Mitchell the jacket with his hand strapped to the tiller.

"Forget it," Mitchell shouted over swells exploding into foam and spray above the seawall. Spray rained on deck as he steered through the southern entrance and calculated the distance to the inner harbor. "We'll have to anchor in close."

"You're crazy to anchor near a lee shore," Andy shouted.

"It's more than a mile to the inner harbor. Can you make that row with two batteries and the wind against you?"

Andy surveyed the distance. "No."

"We'll anchor in close."

"It's your boat."

"Do you have a better idea?"

No response. Mitchell steered for a point of land and laid the sloop off out beyond the surf. He waited with the helm at the ready while Andy anchored and dropped the sails then lashed them down. "Raise the harbormaster," Mitchell said. "We’ll need a name for the boat."

"How about Mickey Mouse?"

"Give it a rest, will you? It's a long way to Portland."

Andy climbed below and switched on the VHF to a transmit frequency then passed the handset up through the companionway. Mitchell raised the small square mike to his mouth with both hands and squeezed the call button between the heels of his palms. "Sloop calling Point Judith harbor master. Sloop calling Point Judith harbor master. Sloop calling Point Judith harbor master."

"Sloop, the harbor master is gone," a voice rattled through the radio. "He leaves at five. Can I help you?"

Mitchell squeezed the handset. "I need to charge two batteries. Is that possible?"

"I have a boat coming in from a tow. He'll pick you up. Where are you?"

"Near the beach. A white-hulled, forty-foot sloop at anchor."

"He'll pick you up in fifteen minutes. Out."

Mitchell passed the handset to Andy. "Let’s get me below."

Andy rigged the mainsheet. He lowered Mitchell to the cockpit sole and down into the cabin shadows where Mitchell sat awkwardly on the starboard couch with its tall back cushion pushing his shoulders forward, forcing him to slump with his elbow on the galley counter for balance. Andy dropped the harnesses then hustled to pull Mitchell’s seabag and the folded wheelchair and the tool box out from the quarter berth under the cockpit. Gear spilled from the seabag as Andy crawled deeper into the berth for the port battery. Mitchell pushed off the counter to sit up but his back couldn’t straighten. Andy lifted the battery to the top of the ladder and out onto the cockpit sole.

"Give me a blanket before you leave."

Andy wrapped a blanket around Mitchell’s shoulders. Then he swung over the cooler with the grab rails, and hurried to the vee berth to change his clothes. Mitchell tried to straighten, he fought against the aching in his back. Andy stepped into the cabin with the fenders that were stowed in the head.