The Marital Corporation Ch. 10

Anne guiltily pulled away from Peter. He turned, and pointing, said, "In that cupboard, Gordon."

Gordon silently poured a cup of coffee. Anne resumed whipping air into the waffle batter. Peter wondered how much of their conversation Gordon had overheard.

The cruise to Vashon island was almost anticlimactic. As before, everyone was nude. The Schaefers sailed the boat, while Marge and Peter sat quietly on opposite sides of the cockpit; Marge next to Gordon, and Peter sat next to Anne. He was enjoying the summer sun and the light breezes that ruffled Marge's colorful hair from time to time, and caused Anne's pointed little nipples to harden. Gordon and Peter had settled most of the logistics of the upcoming delivery cruise the night before, but they had not settled on a firm date for their departure. "We're going to have to get plane reservations soon," Peter said.

Gordon nodded silently. "When do you suggest?"

"My last day at the office will be June 27," Peter said. "The next day's a Saturday, which will give me a chance to get my stuff together what about Sunday, the 29th?"

"That sounds good," Gordon said. "Will you get the reservations, or shall I?"

"Well, if you'll remember to do it," Peter said.

"We use a travel agency in our building," Gordon said. "I'll get them on it first thing in the morning."

The afternoon went quickly. They anchored in their favorite cove, and enjoyed a quick dip. Soon they returned to Shilshole. As Marge and Peter left the marina, Marge said, "It's going to seem strange not having Love Boat much longer."

Peter had been thinking the same thing since he had placed a For Sale ad in the newspaper and posted a notice on the Yacht Club bulletin board.

The next two weeks passed quickly. Peter closed the files he had been working, and updated the cases still being processed. He met his successor, a nice young man, class of 1995, from the University of Washington, and began indoctrinating him. Connie and Peter had lunch twice. She had given two months notice, and had also agreed to plead open cases now pending. At their first lunch, she described Marty Robbin's emotional outburst when she had handed him her resignation.

The second lunch was more mundane; they had to decide where to open the new firm's bank accounts, and what the firm style should be. Marge had been adamant that as the older, more experienced lawyer, Peter's name should come first, but his name was not necessarily an asset, while hers, as a prominent litigator, was often mentioned in the papers in a positive light, so it seemed logical that they call ourselves Marco & Baylis.

At the same time, Peter began studying the long range marine forecasts, watching the Japanese and Aleutian weather systems form and move across the high North Pacific. He also began making lists.

Peter prepared a list of the needed ship's gear. This subdivided into engine room lists, lists of galley equipment, sail inventory, bo'sun's stores, navigation gear (including charts), medicine chest, food (including rough menus) and personal lists. This latter category subdivided into clothing and personal gear.

He and Gordon spent several hours studying the lists and menus Peter proposed. Gordon suggested several amendments to the food lists largely because of his personal preferences. He also promised to ask his doctor to write the necessary prescriptions so they could stock their medicine chest.

Of course, the quantities of food and water they needed depended on the number of days they expected to be at sea. Peter's copy of Ocean Passages for the World, an ancient British Admiralty text, advises sea captains commanding sail powered craft from San Francisco to Puget Sound, to

". . . run about 200 miles off-shore, and then make to the N, profiting by every shift of wind, and always standing on the most favorable tack. It would be well not to approach the land until up to the parallel of the port. . ."

Peter measured the route and discovered it was approximately 1,300 nautical miles. Peter knew a boat the size of Love Boat II should average at least four knots or about 100 miles per day, and that the trip, therefore, should take 13 days. However, he also knew that the weather didn't always cooperate. To be safe, he added an additional 1/3 of the calculated quantities.

The day for their flight to San Francisco arrived. The crew met at Seatac airport; Marge delivering Peter and Kenny, together with their pile of duffle, while Anne brought Gordon and his seabag. The three adventurers kissed their women goodbye; then they swaggered into the concourse.

Hal Jensen, Dancing Cloud's owner, met them at San Francisco International. After Peter introduced Gordon and Kenny, Hal led them to the taxi stand. "I only have my pickup," he said apologetically. "I can carry one of you, and your gear, but two will have to ride in a cab."

Peter decided to send Kenny with Hal, so Gordon and he went to the cab stand, while Hal went to the parking lot for the truck and Kenny collected their baggage. Soon, they were rolling out of the airport on the Bayshore Freeway toward the Golden Gate bridge.

Hal pulled into Ernie's Boat Yard parking lot fifteen minutes after Peter and Gordon arrived. While Gordon and Kenny stacked their baggage, Hal took Peter to one side. His face was solemn as he asked, "You being a lawyer and all," he said, "You reckon I should get a lawyer to help me with this deal?"

"That's up to you," Peter said. "It's not necessary, but you might feel better if you had one with you when we start talking business."

Hal looked at Peter suspiciously. "There ain't goin' to be any funny stuff, is there? I mean I've been cooperating with the carpenter and mechanic and all."

"I know, Hal, and we appreciate it." Peter said. He turned to Gordon, "Let's take a look at your soon-to-be new boat." He slapped Gordon on the shoulder.

Gordon grinned in reply. "OK," he said. "Lead on."

If he was disappointed when he saw her unyacht-like dark green hull, he hid it well. He stood still for two or three minutes, much as Peter had done a month earlier, trying to absorb the many details the boat offered. "Can we go aboard?" he asked shyly.

"Of course," Hal said. "Help yourself!"

Gordon gingerly stepped over the lifeline and stood, for the first time, on his own deck. His eyes followed the running rigging, while he struggled to understand what he was seeing. He turned to Peter. "Do you understand what all these ropes are for?"

Peter smiled at his partner's lubberly expression and nodded. "Sure," he said with a confidence he was far from feeling. "It's all simple enough and very logical. You'll catch on quickly."

Gordon shook his head. "I don't know," he said doubtfully. "I hope so."

Peter tried to reassure him. Then Hal said eagerly, "Come on below. Take a look around inside the boat."

They followed Hal down the short companionway ladder. When Peter saw how Hal and Martha had cleaned up and brightened her accommodations, he realized how badly Hal wanted to sell the boat. He turned to Hal, and was about to ask after her, but when he glanced at Gordon, he knew this was not the time. He remembered Anne's confession of jealousy just in time.

Gordon's face was a stoic mask. He began the bargaining by playing on what he judged were Hal's fears.

The two sat opposite at the galley table. Gordon opened his briefcase. He removed the original magazine ad, and Cap Bowker's survey, and laid the papers on the table. His shyness had disappeared.

"Hal," he said, "as you can see, we're serious about this boat. However, I'm afraid there are just too many discrepancies between this ad and Captain Bowker's report to overlook. For instance, the ad says the sails are in new condition." He then read from Bowker's survey: "`the four lowers were worn and stained but serviceable except the outer jib required a grommet repair.' Then there's the problem of the rotten frame. Shall I go on?" he asked politely.

Hal was dogged. "You knew all that when you came down here," he said.

"Yes, I did," Gordon said affably, "because I thought you might be willing to bear the cost of delivering the boat that you promised." Gordon reached into his briefcase a second time and withdrew an envelope which he passed to Hal.

Hal opened it and withdrew a certified check. "But this is only for $110,000!" he said. "The deal was for $125,000."

"The difference is what we think it will cost to replace the four lowers, replace the rotten frame, and fix up the rigging."

Hal surprised Peter. He stood and grinned down at Gordon. "It's too bad you made this long trip for nothin'," he said. "But hell, I got a feeling I ain't got close to your bottom card yet."

Gordon sighed, and reached in his pocket for his wallet. He withdrew a second certified check which he handed to Hal. "You can't blame me for trying," he said. "But this is my bottom card."

Hal sat again and stared at the two pieces of paper. The buyers waited, watching him make up his mind. Finally, he sighed, and neatly folding the checks, he tucked them into his wallet. Then he reached for his file and pulled out a large salmon colored instrument. "This here is her document," he said. "Where do I sign?"

Peter indicated the proper line. Hal signed the document, stood up and held out his hand. "I guess you own a boat, Mister," he said. "Congratulations!" Even while they enjoyed a celebratory drink with Hal, Peter never had an opportunity to find out what had happened to Martha.

Love Boat II was everything Peter thought she might be. They had left Sausalito at daylight on July 6, heading west southwest, hard on a brisk northwesterly breeze. The boat was almost stately in her easy rise and fall as she made her way over endless westerly swells that had originated somewhere in the China Sea. by early dusk, when Peter began preparing for a round of star sights, they were nearly 45 miles offshore.

Gordon was plainly delighted with his new toy. He spent hours sprawled over the bow watching his boat's cutwater slice through the deep blue Pacific swells.

After lunch the next day, a small pod of porpoise came to investigate. Satisfied that Love Boat II and her crew were harmless, they put on a magnificent display, showing off like children. In perfect unison, three animals leaped into the air, again, again and again. Others zig-zagged in front of the boat, missing each other and the bow by scant inches. The animals entertained them for hours. It is not surprising that sailors have such affection for these gentle creatures.

Kenny wanted to experiment with endless sail adjustments, but Peter kept him on the wheel. He had to make sure the boy knew how to steer by the compass before he could trust him to stand a watch alone. Gordon was another eager pupil. He and Kenny shared the afternoon watch, hour on and hour off, while Peter explained the rules of the road, and drew diagrams explaining the significance of any navigation lights they might see during the night.

Peter also showed them how to take bearings on other vessels, and the significance of unchanged headings. Finally, he gave them a quick course in VHF radio etiquette. "It's not necessary out here to switch to a working channel," he said. "But remember that if you can't raise them on channel 16 try channel 13."

Scraps of doggerel he had nearly forgotten came back. "Green to green, red to red, all is safety - go ahead."

Neither of his shipmates had claimed competence in the galley, so Peter went below and whipped up a quick supper of canned spaghetti, crackers, and canned fruit. Gordon remained in the cockpit while he and Kenny ate. Then Peter relieved Gordon, and told them both to hit the sack after they had cleaned up the galley.

Peter held out until after 2:00 am, when he went below and called his partners for their watch. They limped along in that fashion through another 24 hours, before Peter was able to set a regular watch schedule, but when they did, the ship's company performed well.

Kenny discovered a talent for the galley, and when he realized his mistakes would not be criticized, he began producing unusual but highly edible meals.

Gordon was determined to learn as much as possible about handling the boat and her seemingly complicated rigging. There was plenty of opportunity for practice, because they seldom remained on the same tack for more than two or three hours.

Each day, noon to noon, they consistently logged 100-110 nautical miles over the ground, and Peter marked their daily progress on the chart.

By the end of the first week, they were about 300 miles offshore, at 40 22 N, approximately the same latitude as Eureka, California. Gordon was fascinated by the apparent ease with which Peter determined their latitude. Peter taught him how to take a noon sunline.

A three man watch schedule was an ideal arrangement since it gave each man an opportunity for an uninterrupted eight hours of sleep, while allowing them to keep up with the normal ship's chores. It also gave them opportunities for long intimate conversations.

After Gordon called Peter one morning, instead of retiring to his bunk, he followed Peter back into the cockpit. They chatted of inconsequential things for a few minutes, and then fell silent, listening to the wind in the rigging and the restlessly surging sea around them.

Peter studied Gordon's indistinct starlit profile, and asked, "Something on your mind, Gordon?"

"Well, yes, I suppose there is."

Peter waited for him to continue. He knew whatever Gordon had to say would come out eventually.

After several minutes, Gordon said, "Can you tell me more about this family corporation idea of yours?"

Peter replied, "My basic idea is to pass a law that would enlarge our present corporate statutes so that people could incorporate personal as well as economic relationships. For want of a better name, I call it a `family corporation'. It would give all the partners to such an arrangement the same rights, duties, privileges and status that married people enjoy."

Gordon asked the same question Lansing had. "When you said, `all partners', does that mean there could be more than two people in such an arrangement?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe such an idea is really feasible?"

"I don't think it's so much a question of feasibility," Peter said slowly, "as it is a matter of human survival." He went on to give Gordon the same lecture he had given earlier in the coffee house and else where, adding, "I hate to sound all doom and gloom, but imagine what the world will look like just another 25 years when eight billion people populate the earth! We thought we were crowded in 1975 with four billion. People will have to come together to survive. I don't think there's a rational alternative," he concluded.

"Where do I sign up?" Gordon asked.

Peter laughed. "Whoa. We're not there yet, pal. Plus, I have a feeling you'd have a hell of a time convincing Anne. But first, I have to get elected. Then I've got to find enough support so we can begin the legislative process. To be perfectly honest, I think the only way something as radical as this could ever become law would be by referendum. I don't think there's a chance in hell that most legislators would even permit it to go on the calendar."

Peter saw Gordon's head move in the gathering light. "You might be right," he said glumly. "But I still think it's a hell of an idea, and if it's a question of money, perhaps I can help. In the meanwhile, I think you ought to consider setting up a website on the Internet. I could help with that, too."

"Thanks, I appreciate your loyalty," Peter said, extending his hand.

He took it, but instead of shaking it, he stood and pulled Peter to his feet. Then he threw his arms around his neck and impulsively kissed Peter on the mouth. Gordon quickly released him, and stepped back. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I've wanted to do that almost from the moment we met. I hope you're not offended."

Surprised, but not offended, Peter replied. "Tell you the truth, I have bisexual leanings, too, although frankly, I have never thought of you that way. Perhaps I was too focused on your beautiful wife."

Gordon laughed in a self deprecating way. "I can understand that; I've been playing second fiddle to that woman ever since we married."

"Does she know you're bi?"

"God, no! How about you and Marge?"

"Oh, sure," Peter said. "She knows everything there is to know about me. I'm not very complicated."

Gordon laughed again. "We're all complicated," he said. "It's just that some are better at covering it up than others."

"Maybe some of us don't care about covering up," Peter suggested.

"Touché," he said. "As long as we're talking about these things, and this is all out in the open, tell me: do you think I'm gay or bi or what? I've never been able to figure it out."

"I have no idea," Peter said. "Label pasting has always seemed dumb to me because people come in an infinite variety of shades and flavors, but labels don't. Unfortunately, most of us ignore that and look for convenient ways of lumping people into categories."

"Come on," Gordon said, "you're the first guy I've been able to talk to about my sexual leanings. Help me a little. What do you think I am?"

Peter was beginning to lose patience with this narcissistic foolishness. "I don't know what you are, but if you enjoy yourself with the ladies, I'd say you're probably bisexual, just like I am."

The relief on Gordon's face was almost palpable. "God," he said, "and to think that all this time I thought I was a queer!"

Peter was curious, now. "Now that you know that you're not, what put that silly idea in your head in the first place?"

The light was strong enough now so Peter could see the blush on his cheek. He glanced at the companionway, then looking at anything except Peter, he said in a low tone of voice, "For years, I've had this obsessive desire to play with another man's cock; maybe even taste it. I'm not so sure about taking it up the ass, though." He shuddered slightly at the thought.

"Well, Gordon," Peter said, "the next time we have a party, perhaps you and I can do each other. Most ladies would like that, just as we like to watch them play with each other."

He vigorously shook his head. "Hey, no way, man!" he said. "If Annie even suspected what I've told you, she would haul me into court and take my kids and my business. I wouldn't have a chance!" He reached over and put a tentative hand on Peter's thigh.

Peter shook his head. "This is neither the time nor the place," he said. "But perhaps when this trip is over, you and I will be able to get together."

They continued cruising at an average of 4½ to 5 knots, pushed now by a northwesterly wind flow, and each noon sight saw them almost two degrees of latitude, or 120 nautical miles, closer to their Cape Flattery landfall at the entrance to the Straits of Juan de Fuca.

The weather throughout the passage was fair and warm. They saw only two ships before they entered the Straits, but in addition to the porpoises they saw at the beginning of their voyage, they also saw whales.

Kenny was on watch. They heard him yell, "Whales comin' straight at us!"

Gordon and Peter rushed on deck. Kenny had slipped the lanyards over a wheel spoke, and stood on the side deck excitedly pointing at a pair of sleek dark shapes one much larger than the other swiftly approaching their starboard beam. They broached the surface in unison, blowing plumes of salt spray high in the air. For a moment, Peter feared they intended to ram the boat, but at the last instant they dove together under the keel and surfaced on the opposite side. Peter concluded they were cow and calf sperm whales.

The little ship's course changed gradually from northeast to east when they reached the 49th parallel. Shortly after Peter came on watch on the ninth day of their voyage, he saw a light flashing in the far distance off the starboard bow. He carefully counted the light's sequence, and compared it with the Coastal Pilot. They had made their landfall. The lighthouse was on nearby Tatoosh Island.