Chapter Ten

Poseidon expected they would arrive in Brookings around three o’clock in the afternoon. Scroat was in such high spirits he was nearly intolerable. He planned on kissing the ground the second he was on dry land. Then, with luck, he was going to arrange a stash of liquor and porn for the next leg of the journey. He was also thrilled that they’d be rid of Robert Wheeler.

Hep was also looking forward to getting to port. He planned to get at least one more book of knots, and maybe try to find a few other small projects to work on.

Robert Wheeler had mostly been asleep for the last twenty four hours, but when he was awake he tried to be helpful. He’d made dinner the night before, and breakfast that morning, and was currently cleaning, in a general sort of way, the cabin.

Hep and Scroat were sitting on deck, chatting.

“I’m going to get the biggest fucking hamburger in town, along with their biggest, coldest beer,” Scroat said.

“That sounds pretty good,” Hep said.

“Yeah, right? Enough of this healthy eating high fiber bullshit. I swear my colon has never been this clean in my entire life. I need red meat and grease before my personality is forever changed and I end up a patchouli stinking hippie, living in a park somewhere, trying to score some weed and yapping endlessly about how love is going to solve all the worlds problems.”

“I don’t think that would happen,” Hep said. “You’re way too much of a dick.”

“You think there aren’t asshole hippies out there?”

“Well, OK, you’ve got a point.”



They spotted land about an hour earlier. It was now, ever so slightly, closer than it had been. They were currently sailing more East than North. Scroat had been standing on the bowsprit, watching, ever since Hep said he thought he could see land in the distance.

“Fuck. Somehow I forgot how fucking slow this fucking boat is. Can’t we fire up the motor and just get there?” Scroat said.

“This is as fast as the boat goes, motor or not, “ Hep said. “Maybe you should find something to occupy your time for the next couple of hours.”

“Maybe you should go find a goat and suck its dick,” Scroat said. “I just want my fucking hamburger and some porn.”

“Whatever you say. Have fun trying to make the boat go faster.”

Hep went down in to the cabin, and found Robert Wheeler reading a book about solo circumnavigation. He sat down on the settee across from Robert.

“That was a good book,” Hep said. “I’m not sure it’s something I would want to do, but it’s a pretty epic undertaking, all the same. You’ve gotta respect that.”

“Yeah, what a dream life that would be,” Robert said. “Of course, I suppose you know better than me about sailing.”

Hep laughed. “Yeah, I’ve got a whole week and a half worth of experience at sea.”

“So, if you aren’t a regular sailor, what got you on to this boat?”

“It’s a really long story,” Hep said. “Let’s just say the opportunity presented itself, so we jumped on it.”

“Huh. So is this what you guys were riding through the desert in the middle of the night for?”

“Nope. So what were you doing, driving through the desert in the middle of the night, by the way?” Hep said.

“I was on my way to Los Angeles for a meeting with some clients.”

“Are you a salesman?”

“No, more of a consultant.”

“What do you consult about?”

“I provide well researched facts, for a fee. You might call me an information broker.”

Hep sat back, as well as he could, on the settee. “Sounds like you probably blackmail people, to me. Or you’re a sleazy private detective.”

“No,” Robert said. “It’s nothing so glamorous. I mostly go through newspapers, and pore over facts and figures in the library, then give reports to my clients summarizing everything I’ve found. So, if you weren’t going to Los Angeles to sail North, why did you go?”

“To visit my brother,” Hep said.

“Any special reason?”

“Well, my house burned down, and I needed a place to stay.”

Robert sat forward a bit. “You don’t say. That’s horrible. What are you doing on a boat now?”

Hep laughed and said, “Like I said, the opportunity presented itself. The house burned down, there wasn’t much to salvage, and we needed some time to figure out our next move.”

“Why not start with figuring out a way to rebuild your home?”

“Well, that probably would have been the logical thing to do, but we were just back from a long road trip and, well, I guess maybe we were a bit more tired than we realized. Going to Los Angeles seemed like the best plan, at the time.”

“So,” Hep continued, “You do research, huh? What kind of information do you gather?”

“Whatever needs to be gathered. I’m very good at finding things out. But lately I’ve been gathering news about strange happenings, and looking for unusual things that happened in the past.”

“Are you working for a magazine or something?”

“No, it’s just what my clients are interested in.” Robert looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat a bit.

“I see. Did they tell you why they’re interested in this stuff?”

Robert looked extremely uncomfortable. “I’m not really at liberty to say exactly why they want it. Let’s just say they’re trying to make some predictions based on things that happened in the past.”

“Oh. Day trading. Gotcha,” Hep said. “I hope you personally aren’t trying to beat the market. Can’t be done, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”


An hour later, land was ever so slightly closer. Scroat was now sitting on the bow of the boat, apparently trying to stare down the coast until it gave in and started to come towards them at a reasonable speed. Thus far, he was not winning the staring contest.

“You know,” Poseidon called to Scroat, “you could go sleep somewhere. It might make the time pass faster.” And get your grumpy ass off my deck where it is currently spoiling my mood, he thought.

“Yep, I could do that, but I’m not fucking sleepy. So I’ll just stay up here if it’s all the same to you.”

“Suit yourself,” Poseidon said. He started to dread having Scroat as part of his crew all the way to Alaska.


At approximately three o’clock, they reached the jetties that marked the entrance to the Brookings harbor. Poseidon radioed ahead to the dockmaster to find out where he could tie up. Very shortly after that (but not nearly quickly enough for Scroat’s taste), they reached the marina. Poseidon sailed the boat into their assigned slip as though it were as easy as tying his shoes.

“Scroat, hop down there and tie us up, please.”

“My pleasure, cap’n,” Scroat said. He practically leapt from the boat to the dock, and whistled a happy tune as he tied the boat up.


Once the boat was secured, Hep, Robert and Poseidon joined Scroat on the dock. The four of them walked to the top of the ramp.

When they got there, Poseidon said, “Well, I’m going to find a hotel for the night. I need some private time, as I’m sure you do. You two are welcome to stay on the boat, of course.”

He turned to Robert and said, “as for you, do you need any further assistance?”

“Well, if you’ve got a handful of change for a payphone, that’d be great. My wife is probably a little worried about me by now.”

Poseidon dug in his pocked for a moment, and came up with a handful of quarters.

“I think they’ve got a payphone at the marina office, I’ll walk over there with you. As for you, Hep and Scroat, all the action in this town is that way,” Poseidon said, and pointed. “I think you’ll find plenty to keep you occupied for the night, and you should be able to buy whatever you need to make the rest of the trip more comfortable. I’ll be back on the boat and ready to leave by nine tomorrow morning, so if you don’t sleep on the boat, get back here by then.”

“Sounds good, see you tomorrow,” Hep said. “So long, Robert. I hope the rest of your trip goes smoothly.”

“Yeah, try not to cause too much trouble on your way home,” Scroat said.

He and Hep started walking towards town, in search of whatever trouble they could scrounge up. They found a bookstore, where Hep was able to get his books on traditional seafaring crafts, and Scroat was able to stock up on porn.

With these critical provisions in hand, they set off in search of greasy red meat and strong drink. They managed to find a dive where all the professional fishermen and other salty types went to cause a ruckus while they were on dry land.

The bar was dark, smoky, and smelled like a boat’s bilge. There were boat fenders, anchor buoys and other worn nautical detritus covering the walls as decorations. The bartender had an eye patch, and Hep was almost certain that it was not just a bit of costumery.

Hep and Scroat went straight to the bar, and ordered beers. They also asked about the menu.

The bartender gave them each a piece of grease-stained paper, then leaned on an elbow and looked around as if to see if anyone was listening.

“I’ll tell you what, our cook can do up a decent enough burger, but if I was you, what I would get is the fish and chips. They’re so good, if your mom reached across to grab some from you, you’d slap her hand.”

“Bacon Cheeseburger, medium rare, and fries,” Scroat said.

“I’ll try the fish and chips, what the hell?” Hep said. He’d never had fish so good he’d slap his mom. That was the kind of thing that could get your ass barbecued by a couple of well-placed lightning bolts.

“Good choice,” the bartender said. “That’ll be up in a minute.”

Hep took a long drink from his beer. When he set it down, he saw they’d been joined by a pair of women who looked like they’d never met a drink they didn’t like. One was a dirty blond, actually, dirty, greasy blond, and the other had curly brown hair. They both had too much eye makeup and heels so tall they bordered on parody.

“Hey sailors, buy us a couple drinks?”