Ghost Writer(50)

The sea was still choppy, the sky was grey, and the rain had stopped for now. I enjoyed a few moments of fresh air and peace before heading to the galley and work. I hadn't slept long, no more than three or four hours, but I slept well. For the first time in a week, I didn't dream about the station. Was it because Minton had confessed? Or was it the knowledge that if I had a nightmare, Gravell would be there to take care of me?

The sea didn't have any answers so I went to the galley. Cookie set me to work laying out cold cereal and fruit. There was another storm warning, though it would probably pass south of us. To be on the safe side, he wasn't going to fire up the stove and oven. Instead, he hauled out an electric waffle iron. As soon as the cold food was laid out, he taught me how to use it, letting me eat my first successful waffle (and the edible portions of the previous two). When I was done, I took over waffle production while he sat with his coffee and planned lunch.

The crew members were the first to eat. They came in pairs, first the ones who had been relieved at the end of the storm, then the ones finally coming off watch. All looked tired. All managed smiles when I offered them fresh-made waffles. Later, when I got a chance to look in the mirror, I realized that the smiles might have been because of the sprinkling of flour in my hair and the batter smears on forearms and eyebrows.

No, I don't know how I got batter in my eyebrows. It's a talent. All I can say is that it's worse when I make cookies, and it's worse still when I paint.

Mike and Mary Lou were the first of the researchers to make an appearance. They looked refreshed, and I suspected that the excitement of last night had carried over into the bedroom. I was envious. They each ate three waffles with fruit, syrup, and cream. I gave myself a mental slap for trying to imagine what they had done to work up such appetites.

“You're looking wistful,” said Franchot, suddenly appearing. He nodded towards Mike and Mary Lou.

“Only a little. Waffle?”

“Actually, I’m wondering if you know where Gravell is. I seem to have lost him.”

Cookie appeared touching my elbow to get my attention. “Take a break, se?ora. The rush is over. You sit too, Skipper. I'll bring you something.”

Franchot poured us coffee and we found a seat apart from Mary Lou and Mike, who had been joined by a bleary-eyed Lil.

“He spent the night with you, didn't he?”

“Only because he was too tired to move. He was waiting for me, to tell me off. Then he fell asleep on the other bunk. He was bone tired as I am sure you were last night.”

He nodded.

“He earned his sleep. Now I need him on the bridge so I can sleep. I’m running out of rested crew.”

“While you’re still awake, can you tell me about fighting the storm? My part isn't going to make very dramatic reading.”

He sat back in his chair and grinned.

“If you want drama, you need me to get some rest and tot or two of rum. I'll give you the Cliff Notes version.”

As Franchot talked, the divers showed up for breakfast and hovered within earshot. Mary Lou, Mike, and Lil moved closer.

He started the tale from the storm warnings.

“We knew it was coming, but we didn't expect it to hit so hard and fast. That's why we let the crew have some down time and you guys enjoy your evening. The storm wasn't due until the wee hours of the morning and even then, it might have bypassed us like it did earlier in the week.”

“That was bypassing us?” I asked.

“We only got the edge of the storm. The brunt hit the coast south of us. It hit you harder because you were still getting seasick. You're a better sailor now.”

I didn't know about being a better sailor. I was a better passenger.

“Se?ora Jen was great,” said Cookie, bringing a fresh carafe of coffee to the table. I blushed as he gave a flattering account of my activities the night before.

“Well done. Your group is pretty good. Sometimes the researchers we carry have no common sense at all. We spend all our time keeping them from doing something stupid.”

“Instead, I only had to be reminded to eat, sleep, and get out of the rain.”

That got a few chuckles.

“What I want to know is how you kept the station from dragging us down,” Mike said you played it like a marlin.”

Franchot liked the analogy and ran with it. He really was a good storyteller, though I detected a few touches of Hemingway and Melville in there. Lil found me a pad and paper so I could take notes. It was a score-pad from the games cupboard. It was long and narrow and printed with columns. I hoped I'd be able to read my cramped writing when I was done.

Peripherally, I noticed that others joined us, including Tracy and Jamal. Gravell came up behind me. I didn't pause to look around, but I felt someone there and knew who it was by the expression on Franchot’s face. That's why I didn't react when my phone was unclipped and placed on the table between me and Franchot.

“It can record. You don't mind, do you Skipper? I think Madame Kirby's hand is getting tired.”

Franchot gave a nonchalant wave.

“I don’t mind, but I need you on the bridge. Andre isn’t ready to be left in charge, even if we aren’t going anywhere.”

“I sent Hassan to the bridge. He can direct damage control from there and maybe get what we need from the Nottawasaga for repairs.”