Troubled Sea by Jinx Schwartz Read Free Book Online

Just starting to feel secure inside the boat, she really didn’t want to go out to see if the bogeyman waited. Especially half-naked. But when a determined Jenks grabbed a flashlight and left the cabin again, she followed close on his bare heels. Inching along the damp deck they made their way aft.
    “Oh, my,” Hetta gasped when Jenks’s penlight beam picked up small pieces of Jenkzy scattered on the deck, and several holes riddling the dinghy’s bottom. The only other damage seemed to be some splinters notched from a teak rail. Then Jenks spotted one neat hole in their aft cabin hatch door.
    “Where do you think the bullet ended up?” Hetta asked, fingering the hole and fighting off a wave of nausea. The door was right over their bed.
    “I’ll check it out when we go back in...make sure it didn’t do any serious damage. You know, we must have run into this fog bank right after we went below,” Jenks said, putting his arm around Hetta. He whispered into her hair, “Another minute or two and they’d’a had us for sure.”
    “Honey, I will never bitch about fog again. That’s a promise.”
    “I won’t hold you to that,” Jenks said, pulling her closer. “You did real good, my little sea wench.”
    “Oh, yeah, more like sea wimp. If it hadn’t been for you, Wonder Woman here would have just stood on the bridge peeing her pants while they turned her into Swiss cheese. Oh, Jenks, I was so scared.”
    “Me, too.”
    “You sure didn’t show it,” Hetta said. Then the events of the past hour overtook her and her teeth began to chatter.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 11
     
    Oh pilot, ’t is a fearful night!
There’s danger on the deep.—Thomas Haynes Bayly The Pilot
     
    A hot shower, dry clothes, and a brandy later, Hetta and Jenks huddled in the main saloon. For lack of a better plan they cut the engines, closed all the drapes so as to use their red night lighting, and were drifting with the tide. After all the brouhaha they'd endured, the whispery quiet of the dense fog bank was welcome, but eery.
    Jenks lit a cigarette inside the cabin, a court-martial offense on any other day, but Hetta ignored it. She carefully took a small sip of brandy, afraid her chatter would return and she'd break a tooth on the glass. “Poor Jenkzy . Her bottom’s full of holes.”
    Jenks shrugged. “Easy fix.”
    “Did you trace that bullet's path after it rudely put a hole in my bedroom hatch?”
    “I couldn’t find it,” Jenks lied. “I guess it's buried in a firewall.” He went to top off their brandies in hopes of diverting her attention. While she was in the shower earlier he followed the damage trail. The bullet passed right through Hetta’s hanging locker, ricocheted off something in the engine room, holed the water bottle they drank from when they were down there, and finally lodged in a stringer. He knew Hetta would eventually figure it out, but she didn’t need anymore scary stuff tonight.
    Hetta suspected there was more to the bullet story, but chose not to push it. “So, Captain Jenkins, what now?”
    “How come I’m Captain Jenkins only when you don’t want to make the decisions?” he growled with uncharacteristic gruffness. He immediately regretted his words.
    His combative tone caught Hetta by surprise. She started to respond in kind, then thought better of it. “Just asking.”
    Jenks sighed and put his arm around her. “Sorry. Hell, I don’t know. I need to think.”
    “I hate it when that happens,” Hetta said, trying to relieve the tension with their private joke. She waved smoke away from her face.
    Jenks shrugged an apology. “I didn’t want to go outside. Too cold.”
    “Oh, fooey on that. I think you’ve earned special privileges tonight. Besides, you do your best thinking with carcinogens coursing through your veins. And I suppose right now the last thing I should worry about is ending up a lung cancer widow.”
    “I’d say it had a low priority. How about Puerto