Girl at Sea: A coming of age Tale

By David Burton

Death is an Albatross.

How does a happy, naive 14 year old girl become an agent for Death and Justice?

“It’s said that bad memories prepare you for life. If so, we’re ready. If I hadn't met Silas, I wouldn't have any memories any different than any ordinary girl. If I hadn't met Silas, there’s a good chance I’d be dead. Funny how things work out.” ---
Beth Portman

"Girl At Sea is a beautiful, dark, but ultimately triumphant book about recognizing evil that exists within some people, but also accepting the goodness that can be found through genuine friendship, lovers, and family. Only then can the albatross fall from our necks and we can truly be free." Julie Sara Porter: Bookworm Reviews.

Two people, vastly different, but with a common thread binding them together, set off on a voyage of discovery and adventure.

After 14-year-old Beth Portman’s parents are killed in a suspicious fire, she finds herself cast adrift in more ways than one. For Beth, there was no use in looking back. There were no family or friends to wave goodbye to. Teaming up with her old sailing mentor and ex-Navy Seal, Silas Tuft, who is also grieving for a family lost to violence, they sail the seas of the South Pacific, seeking a way to endure their respective grief. But Death, in the form of a black Albatross, hasn’t finished with either her or Silas and they are set on a journey they are unable to refuse.

In Australia they encounter Beth's best friend Judy, who is escaping from her vile and abusive father. Only then do Beth and Silas finally understand what Death wants from them as the parallel tracks of their lives are guided towards one small act of revenge, atonement, justice or murder, depending on how one looks at it, that will set them free of their guilt and grief.

“I, too, lost my family by going to sea. They say time heals all wounds. But survivor guilt can fester like a dead Albatross, making you hard inside and careless outside. We survived several potential disasters. Silas thought, though he didn't say it, he survived because he had not suffered enough.
I began to believe Death was not ready for us, that there was purpose, or a curse, to our survival. At first, I thought we were spared for the events fourteen days after my sixteenth birthday. When I killed my first man.” ---
Beth Portman

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Burton
• Release date: Apr 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463900581

David Burton

David Burton is an American writer living in sunny Southern California. He traveled by motorcycle through Mexico, US, Canada and Alaska. From motorcycles he turned to the ocean, building and sailing his own boats to Mexico, Tahiti, Hawaii, and through the Panama Canal to Florida. He spent a lot of time reading while on the water, so he decided to write books he would have wanted to read at sea.Having swallowed the anchor he now mops floors and collects trash for money, writes for a living, and has become a (temporarily?) unrequited sailor.

Book preview

Girl at Sea

BY

David Burton

https://davidburtonwriting.com

Girl at Sea

Copyright © 2012 by David Burton

Revised edition © 2020

All rights reserved.

Previously published as Ancient Mariners

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition

Poetry lines from Rime of the Ancient Mariner

By Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Discover other novels by David Burton at

Davidburtonwriting.com

Warning

This story is fiction, not fact. Any deviations from geological, bureaucratic, legal, or interpersonal relationship reality is my fault. You're welcome.

Dedication

Dedicated to all those of any age who sail the seas

for the love and freedom of it.

And, as always, to Dee.

Girl at Sea

Present Day

San Diego, CA

On a beautiful clear day under a stiff breeze, Montegar, a forty foot sailboat rigged and equipped for bluewater sailing, slips into San Diego Bay past the Harbor Police on the tip of Shelter Island.

Silas Tufts, working up to fifty, weathered and hardened, sits behind the helm. His movements sure, he looks only ahead.

Beside him, Beth Portman, recently eighteen, stands easily beside Silas, hand on his shoulder. Exuding confidence, she, too, only looks ahead. They had no need to talk. They’d lived and sailed together for four years, they each knew what to do. And after the events of that morning, what was there to say?

"No use looking back. There’s no family or friends to wave goodbye to. This is not our home anymore, and it’s likely we’ll never be back. The last four years prepared Silas and I for this day, this morning. It’s said that bad memories prepare you for life. If so, we’re ready. If I hadn't met Silas, I wouldn't have any memories different than any ordinary eighteen-year-old girl. If I hadn't met Silas, there’s a good chance I’d be dead. Funny how things work out."

Beth Portman

Chapter ONE

FOUR YEARS AGO

San Diego

Little ripples left behind by the colorful, eight foot Sabot sailboats as they darted back and forth over a protected area of the Bay sparkled in the late afternoon sun. Kids screamed and yelled and taunted each other as they rounded the windward mark and ran downwind to the finish line.

Arms held tight around her slender body, Diane Portman stood on the dock, watching the Sabots scoot across the water, a thin smile on her thin lips. She enjoyed watching the little boats flitting about. Though as a child she hadn't been a sailor, it reminded her of the freedom of her soccer kid days. Now she was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed sailor mom, who, though she was still mad for her husband, was secretly pleased to be thought of, behind her back, as a hot MILF. Once, a young man who'd chugged way too much beer for his brain to handle called her that. She'd acted all offended, but wasn't.

Diane took little pleasure now in the dashing about. She had news that both saddened and disappointed her. Even worse, it would sadden and disappoint her daughter, Beth.

A pink Sabot shot into the channel between moored boats leading to the dock. On a broad reach, the breeze over the port side, it raced toward the dock, closer, closer, narrowly missing the line of boats in their slips. With no room to spare, the skipper rammed the tiller to starboard. The boat headed up into the wind, lost way, and gently kissed the dock at Diane's feet.

Beth, a cute, normal, sparkly, fourteen year-old, unleashed a grin on her mother. Her arms shot into air, index fingers extended.

Did you see me? I won! I won! Ha! Ha! I left that Nicky Albert in the dust. That'll teach him to call me a ’deck scrubber.’

Diane forced a quick smile. I saw you. Congrats. In truth the win wasn't that big a deal, except for beating Nicky Albert. Beth rarely lost and had had her sights set on bigger boats and bigger water for some time.

Beth held up a hand for a high five. Her mother's lackluster response and the swift disappearance of her smile clued her in that something was up.

Mom, what?

Silas Tuffs knelt on a cockpit seat, deep into the greasy intricacies of the mast winch for the headsail. He'd been rebuilding winches for twenty of his forty-five years, that particular one four or five times, but he was never quite sure he'd gotten it right until it was all together and actually performed as it was supposed to.

Hello, Silas, Diane said from the dock. May we come aboard?

Silas glanced over his shoulder. He couldn't help but think of Two peas in a pod whenever he saw Diane and Beth together. A beautiful woman and a beautiful girl. A crooked little smile quirked up a corner of his mouth, even as a tear, not the first and not the last, formed behind his eyes.

Of course. You're crew now. You don't have to ask.

For more than four years Silas had sailed Montegar single-handed, keeping mostly to himself. He traveled throughout the Caribbean, through the Panama Canal, into the Pacific and then to the US west coast. Though he'd avoided people, preferring to suffer alone and had only recently joined The Living, he could still pick up on a bad vibe.

What's wrong? he asked, when they'd boarded and settled on the cockpit seat opposite him. Beth sat cross-legged shoulder to shoulder to her mom.

My mother passed last night. Heart attack. Right out of the blue. So I won't be able to sail to Cabo with you.

Silas stopped wiping the grease off his hands. Ah, I'm sorry. I only met her once, but I remember her.

Diane managed a small smile at that. She did have that effect on people.

In a good way.

My dad's been pretty sick and she was taking care of him. There's only a couple distant cousins left in the family, and none of them has any interest in taking care of my father. But, there's a lot of money involved, and the scavengers are circling. So I'm going back to look after him.

Beth bumped shoulders with her. Mom's the white sheep of the family.

Silas said, I know she is. Lucky for all of us. A look passed between Diane and Silas that spoke of past pain shared. I can wait a week or two. I know how much you were looking forward to the trip.

Thought about that. But who knows how long it will take to settle my mom's affairs, and I have work commitments coming up, and Beth has school. It's pretty much now or never. Or next year, anyway.

Well, I can't say I'm not disappointed. For once I was looking forward to some company.

Mom. Beth nudged her mother - Ask him. Ask him.

Neil and I discussed that this morning. We thought maybe Beth could go. It would be good for her to get away at this time. If she would be any help in handling the boat.

Another nudge. Mom. Duh.

Oh. Well. I was planning to spend the week in a drunken stupor, so I guess she would have to handle the boat some.

Not funny, Silas.

Silas took Diane's hands in his calloused ones.

Diane, Beth is a natural sailor. I have no doubt she actually could sail to Cabo by herself if she had to. But are you sure you don’t want to wait until you can come with us?

Like I said, she has school and--.

That’s not what I meant. Neil and I, and you, have been friends for a long time, but some people might question the intentions of an old fart like me sailing out of the country with an unrelated minor.

Silas, it’s not like you’re kidnapping me. Please. I really, really want to go.

Diane looked into Silas’s eyes for a long moment. We trust you. Beth trusts you.

Visibly touched, Silas nodded gratefully. And Neil’s really okay with it?

Anything to do with being near a body of water larger than a kiddies' wading pool is not okay with Neil. But, for some reason he loves this little water rat. Beth's face lights up at being called a water rat. So, yes, he’s okay with it. He did want me to remind you that he was an Army Ranger and an FBI missing persons expert, and a CIA assassin.

And I thought he was a science geek specializing in desert geology. I’ll take care of Beth as if... she was my own. A darkness passed over his face. Better than my own.

Diane tenderly touched his cheek, gripped his shoulder. We know you will.

Appreciative, Silas attempted a smile. And I was a Navy SEAL. Besides all that stuff Neil claims to be, I'm better.

A few days later Neil Portman, a rangy, handsome, bespectacled man with searchlight eyes and tousled hair, stood hands-in-pockets at the west end of Shelter Island. Beside him, Judy Winehouse, Beth's best friend forever, held tight to herself and hoped her tight-lipped frown and jittery stance would keep the tears away.

On the water, Montegar slipped past with only the main sail up. Silas worked at the mast, raising the foresail. Beth, barely tall enough to see over the leather covered wheel, couldn't keep still. Her skinny ass wagged to a beat only she heard. Her hands beat an occasional tattoo on the leather. When she spied her father and Judy onshore she flashed them a grin of pure excitement and waved both hands until Silas yelled at her to mind the helm. That didn't dampen her grin the least bit.

Neil understood water coming out of a shower, or in a desert mud hole formed by a geologic anomaly, but he didn't get his daughter's fascination with large bodies of water, or her desire to travel over them in a small boat. She was a healthy, happy, smart kid, her enthusiasm hard to resist. He grinned and waved back at her, his heart thumping to see her so happy.

Judy waved, too. Though she couldn't bring herself to smile. For two weeks Judy would be alone, and though it wouldn't change anything, the idea terrified her.

Montegar swiftly sailed into the bay and with a last wave, Beth turned away, looking forward to the open ocean.

Father and best friend finally turned away. Judy wiped her leaking tears. Neil had known Judy for over ten years. He worried about her as much, if not more, than Beth. For Judy was a thin, frail girl with little happiness in her. Beth being the only one able to coax a real smile from her.

She'll be back soon, Judy. He told her. Two weeks. Maybe less.

Neil touched her shoulder for reassurance.

Judy jerked away. Swiped at her tears.

Judy, you okay? Everything all right?

Judy glared after the quickly diminishing sailboat, her mouth twisted in a very uncharacteristic sneer. My father would never let me leave like that. Never.

Eyes narrowed in thought, a chill that had nothing to do with the weather, made Neil Portman shiver in the San Diego sun, as he slowly followed Judy to his car.

Behind Montegar, high and awy, an outsized, black Albatross sared. Not of any known specis, its kind had followed vessels as long as there had been vessels, from the first primitive rafs to the latest huge warhips. Unseen by any crew, the bird’s presnce could never be denied whn the time cae, as it alwys does, to make iself felt.

Montegar - In Mexican Waters

Excitement, more than anxiousness, prevented Beth from sleeping. She had beautiful weather for her first night at sea and she didn't want to miss a second of it. A waning moon a week after full, lit their way out of a clear sky. Silas had set a course to keep well west of the Coronado Islands until they turned a few degrees east of south to follow the Baja coast to Cabo San Lucas. A light Northwest breeze propelled them through the night at an easy four knots while the self-steering wind vane, nicknamed James, as in Home James, kept them on course. As far as Beth was concerned all was right with the world.

Silas took the eight to midnight watch. Unable to sit still, let alone sleep, excited and scared at the same time, Beth stayed up with him. Hand steering was not necessary, James the windvane took care of that. Ships and fishing boats were the danger.

At twenty plus knots a freighter can come up fast, run us down and vanish over the horizon before a sleeping watch keeper realizes she's drowning, Silas told her, several times.

He shared in Beth's exhilaration. For years sailing offshore had been a way to get away from people, an added punishment. Beth stirred up the old excitement he'd felt on his first offshore voyage.

Between the stories and expressions of Oh my God this is so cool and, What was that? and Did that really happen? Beth's bluewater cruising education began.

Silas disconnected James and had Beth hand steer in the dark, adjusting to the rhythm of Montegar, steering by anticipating the sea and boat’s motion through her bare feet, or her ass on the helmsman’s seat. As the first stars appeared after sunset he brought out his sextant and had her measure their angle and time. When she complained that it seemed too much like homework, he said, If the GPS craps out, how are you going to find your destination?

Call dad and have him come pick me up in his sand buggy?

You wish. Your dad would say, ‘Beth who?’ and go turn over some desert rocks.

Yeah, he probably would. Until mom hit him on the head with one and told him to go save his sweet little sailing daughter.

They laughed together, and it was good.

Midnight. Beth was officially on watch. Silas brought her a Mountain Dew and a fruit bar then went down below to try and sleep. He had every confidence in Beth, so it wasn't having an inexperienced crew on watch, it was having somebody else on the boat after so many years that had him lying awake with a pain in his chest and tears on his cheeks.

Soon after midnight the moonset and the stars busted out clear and strong. Beth forgot to breathe as she tilted her head back and attempted to take it all in at once. So many, so huge, so beautiful. And tears came to her eyes.

By twelve years of age, Beth had read several times sixteen year-old Abby Sunderland’s book about her attempt to sail alone around the world, until she was dismasted deep in the Indian Ocean. And three times, she’d read sixteen year-old Jessica Watson’s book about sailing alone, nonstop around the world. Already interested in sailing, these books more than any others, focused her desire to voyage offshore. When an old friend of her parents showed up with a cruising sailboat she thought her dreams had been answered. And now, here she was, starting a real voyage. It was beautiful, and wonderful and scary. She was so happy she could barely breathe.

Happiness continued for Beth the next ten days, the happiest Beth would enjoy for a long time to come. She took noon sights with the sextant everyday, matching her positions with the GPS. By the time they reached Cabo her positions were as close as made no difference. Whales blew, dolphins rode the bow wave, inviting her to join them. Sharks followed, hoping for an easy meal. They caught two fish which Silas taught her how to kill quickly with a billy club shaped like a miniature baseball bat.

The wind blew up and Beth reefed the main by herself. She'd done it before in calm water, but this time she felt what it was like to do it under actual sailing conditions. One hand for the boat, one hand for yourself, became very real.

They stopped for two days in Bahia Tortugas, Turtle Bay, a good anchorage and a popular stop for sailors traveling up or down the Baja Peninsula. A couple on their second circumnavigation invited them for dinner. Beth barely said a word as the couple and Silas swapped sea stories. She so wanted to have her own stories. And she missed her mom, who had sailed across the Atlantic and cruised in the Caribbean twenty years ago before meeting her dad. It would have been so cool to have her there, listening and sharing her own tales. After swearing her to silence on pain of keel hauling, Silas let her have her first sip of beer. They all agreed, you can't be a bluewater sailor without tall tales and beer!

The second day out from Turtle Bay, Silas informed Beth that he was going to be sick for the next twenty-four hours and she was in charge, wake him up for dinner. Then he went back to bed.

It took Beth a few minutes to get it that he wasn't really sick, that she was on her own. They were offshore, no land in sight with a twenty knot breeze kicking up some seas. She spent ten minutes scared and unsure, then rallied. All she had to do was what she'd been doing, only now she had to figure out what and when on her own. Really, there wasn't much: watch the weather, watch for other boats, take the noon sight and plot their position without Silas looking over her shoulder, eat lunch, watch dolphins, read, make dinner, and stay awake all night. Under no circumstances would she ask Silas for help.

About mid-afternoon Silas emerged, looked around, ignored her, and carried a book forward where he read for awhile or contemplated the sea from the bow pulpit. Beth ignored him, too. Except when he didn't clip on his safety harness lanyard.

Clip on, she said to no one in particular. He did.

While Silas communed with the sea up forward, a fish struck the fishing line they trailed behind. So far with limited success.

Oh my Gosh. Oh my Gosh! A fish. A fish.

Beth scrambled to the stern rail.

Clip on, a voice from nowhere said.

Oh shit. Way to go, captain, she muttered. She clipped on.

She felt the weight as she pulled in the line hand over hand. A flash of gold and green became visible about twenty-five feet away. Then a much bigger shape shot up from underneath. The front three feet of shark erupted from the water, with the rear third of a Mahi Mahi, gripped in its teeth. Its black eyes glared a this-is-my-dinner-don't-mess-with-me look. Then, with a quick shake of its sleek head the shark splashed into the water, jerking the line hard through her bare hands.

Ow. Damn it! In her excitement, she'd forgotten the gloves, letting the mono-filament line cut into her left hand. She didn't let go. With a this-is-my-dinner-don't-mess-with-me look, Beth quickly hauled the Mahi Mahi toward her. Anxious that the shark would come back for seconds, instead of landing the fish on the stern steps, she swung the tailless trophy over the rail and into the cockpit.

Bang! Montegar shuddered as the shark, attempting to make good on its don’t-mess-with-me warning, slammed into the boat’s side in its leap for the wounded fish.

Beth stumbled to her knees against the rail. If she’d been in a B horror movie she’d have gone over the side and the shark would have had an unexpected second course. Instead, the creature glared at her and slipped back into the water with barely a splash. Gripping the rail, Beth stared into Montegar’s wake. She half expected the toothsome beast to shoot out of the water and, if she was lucky, bite her head clean off, otherwise it would sink its teeth into her arm and drag her into the sea where it could savor her at leisure. Surely she would taste much better than a fishy old fish.

When the shark didn't