“The mast stuck in the bottom when we flipped. That’s why she didn’t self-right.”
I thought about it for a moment and said, “That’s great, we ran aground in 25 feet of water.”
“Gotta be a world record,” Jim said.
Tony asked, “What caused us to flip like that?”
“It’s called a broach. We tripped over the keel when she turned sideways.”
“It happened so fast,” Tony said.
“Think about it like skiing behind a boat and you make an abrupt turn. You may be facing a new way, but you’re still going in the same direction. Now shove the flat side of a four-foot keel straight down.”
Tony nodded, and with solid ground moments away, he glowed in a new color. Sun flushed pink.
We went silent again. I gazed at the approaching shoreline. Tony futzed with his jacket zipper. In a few minutes, we were edging up to the dock. I jumped off and tied the bow and stern. “Gotta make a call.” I walked over to the payphone, dug a quarter out of my jeans and dialed home.
Linda answered immediately. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I said in a weak voice.
“Something’s wrong, you okay?”
“What happened? Something’s not right.” I stayed silent.
“Steve, I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
“I’m here—you can tell me everything.”
I hung up the phone, walked to my car and got in. I looked back at Jim and Tony preparing to pull May Flyer out of the water. I drove away without saying goodbye. Jim would call tomorrow, probably at 6 a.m. •SCA•
Steve and Linda’s love of sailing began during a weekend sailing school with their three boys. It became their passion after exploring the Florida Keys on Ablest, their Hinterhoeller designed Shark 24. On September 27, 2013, Linda lost a 10-month battle with kidney cancer. Steve keeps her memory alive with stories of their life’s journey and traveling adventures spanning 45 years.