A Stormy Introduction

A storm from the south-west was increasing in ferocity when the commander of a naval patrol boat looked through binoculars at a 38ft yacht being tossed around by the heavy swell.

He ordered the vessel be contacted by radio via the harbourmaster's office some 32 nautical miles away.

"That should work if the sail lettering AV107 is a local yacht," he said to the coxswain.

"Yes sir."

A radio rating hurried over and said, "We have contact via radio-telephone sir. The sole occupant and owner-skipper is Miss Kelly Nathan, a blue water solo sailor of repute sir. She says she's okay but is waiting for you to speak to her."

"This is Lieutenant Commander Barrett of the naval patrol vessel Rushcutters Bay Miss Nathan."

"Hi commander do you require a tow?"

The ship's senior officer looked at his phone as if it were faulty. Others on the bridge with more crew arriving had heard the conversation on speaker and were grinning.

"Miss Nathan..."

"Commander Barrett I've had blue water sailing experience totalling some 12,000 nautical miles and this weather..."

"Miss Nathan, our weather radar shows a low depression is heading this way and the Weather Office Forecast update indicates it has intensified and we can expect wind gusts of up to eighty-five knots and severe rain dump. You need to drop sails and put out a sea anchor."

"I hear you commander. Christ I have a hair appointment at 7:00 tonight."

"Miss Nathan I don't believe this is a time for frivolity."

"Please do not confuse frivolity with reality. I had to book five weeks ago to get the first available slot for Bette Masters to cut my hair."

"Oh pardon me miss, I understand your frustration. If you wish I can send a RIB over to drop a man to assist you."

"Meaning?"

"Two heads are better than one in times of crisis if this blow and rain dump becomes as bad as indicated by our radar."

"Oh sir, I've just checked my barometer and it's falling faster than a whore's drawers - Omigod, I apologise; that's one of my father's favourite sayings when mum is not around."

Ted Barrett joined the laughter on the bridge.

"No offence taken miss because none of us fine upstanding men here know what a whore is."

"Thank you sir, and yes I accept your offer of a man."

"Are you Chip Nathan's daughter, I mean Captain Christopher Nathan, holder of the coveted National Star for Gallantry, retired?"

"Yes sir, over and out sir, I must get my sails down and dig out my sea anchor.

The lieutenant commander gave the order for the boatswain to supervise the crewing and launching of the RIB and three ratings stepped up to volunteer to be the guy to board the yacht.

"Mills find Lieutenant Watson and get him kitted up urgently. Brief him and tell him this is a VIP emergency, that the woman alone in the yacht is the legendary Chip Nathan's daughter."

"Aye, aye sir."

"Oh Mills make sure a cameraman is aboard the RIB. This little drama will be material to be featured on tomorrow evening's TV news and that will give the Navy valued publicity and bring the name of our patrol boat before the entire nation."

"Aye, aye sir', said Sub-Lieutenant Mills pulling out his radio and flashing his 'Now hear this' messages via the vessel's audio communications system.

Kelly had got down the mainsail but the self-furling system of the foresail had jammed and she was figuring out what to do when she heard the rigid hull inflatable boat (a RIB) arriving. It was bobbing up and down in the sea growing more turbulent by the minute and she knew the boats coming together for the transfer could inflict damage.

But the RIB helmsman stood his craft off and she watched a lean guy in a wetsuit calmly jump into the sea with a light line tied around his left ankle and he allowed the surging swells carry him to the stern of her yacht. He hauled himself athletically up the short stern ladder and into the cockpit.

"Oooh you look as if you're on a school swimming picnic." she said.

He raised his goggles, flashed very white teeth and said, "At your service miss. I'm Lieutenant Alex Watson."

"God why did they sent over brass?"

"Because the Navy owes a big debt of gratitude for the illustrious service your father gave representing the senior service during his 35 years of enlistment. Our Lieutenant Commander is determined there will be no fuck up in you riding out this bit of a blow out and said I was the man."

He gazed upward and said, "Excuse me miss the self-furler of the forestay appears jammed; I must shimmy up the mast to avoid having to cut what appears to be a fairly new sail. I suspect the top swivel has come over the end of the foil and jammed."

"It's too dangerous for you to go about in these mounting seas under power to take the pressure off the sail and see if it will free itself at the point of jamming."

Kelly thought that made sense.

"Whatever you say lieutenant."

"It's Alex."

"Right Alex, I'm Kelly and it's my responsibility to get you ashore safely."

"There will be no shimming up the mast with these violent pitches and rolls occurring; I'll set up a bosun's chair and attach it to an electric winch and then up there you must keep safe and exercise patience. Signal me when ready to be lowered by repeatedly tapping the top of your head. The spray is starting to fly and it will be difficult down here for me to see you clearly."

"Great thinking skipper."

Alex hauled his gear in a water-tight pack over from the RIB on the line he's untied from his ankle and radioed the helmsman to stay. He wanted his ascent of the mast to be filmed as it could look dramatic with the yacht pitching in the rough sea and held back by the sea anchor to provider greater stability.

As squall dumping rain hit them as Alex sat on the heavy nylon and webbing seat ready to go.

Kelly standing a little distance away was having trouble to keep her footing and she appeared so anxious as if she wanted to kiss him and say good luck.

Alex had three sisters and an equally forward mother and knew something about how females emote.

"Kiss me."

She darted forward and kissed him and yelled "Good luck" and returned to the cockpit to operate the winch.

Alex managed to keep at least one of his diving boots against the mast to keep bouncing himself against it and the winching ceased at exactly the right spot. His guess about what the problem was proved correct and he twisted the jammed swivel free and patted his head and was lowered safely.

He jumped into the cockpit and said, "Kiss me and then we turn and wave to the RIB giving the thumbs up."

They kissed and Kelly asked why wave to those loafers on the RIB.

"That hand-picked crew is part of this and that shot of you kissing me is bound to be on TV news tomorrow night. There's a professional naval cameraman on the RIB recording everything to hard disk."

"Oh Christ, you kissing me and on TV; what will my husband say?"

That shocked Alex.

"Oh Kelly it didn't occur to me that you might be married. I am so sorry and..."

"Calm down Alex, I'm not married; it's known as a wind-up."

He grinned toothily and brushed driving rainwater from his face. He radioed to the RIB to return to 'mother' and stated they were okay to ride out the storm.

Kelly shouted as she furled the fore-sail, "Step carefully over the washboard (a removable barrier to stop storm water surging across the cockpit and spilling down the companionway into the interior of the yacht) and go down and check the barometer and return with two cups of black coffee spiked with dark rum."

God what a bossy-boots, Alex thought, although accepting she was the skipper. Anyway she had extended her friendship by ordering rum. It had become fucking cold.

He received a brief radio message that the Rushcutters Bay was on its way into port. He found two mugs with screw on safety lids and approved of the brand of dark Jamaican rum that he found.

"Thanks," the skipper said and looked as if she was ready to be kissed again but he refrained, not wishing her to think he was interested in more than a kiss, at least not at this stage.

They sipped with their backs to the wind.

He asked, "You don't look scared. Have you ever been?"

"Of course and the worst time was when I was caught solo-handed in a typhoon out of Hong Kong. At times the breaking tops of the gigantic swells appeared almost as high as the mast. But the boat was sound, I was well-drilled on what to do and we ran with it and came out okay."

They docked in the marina just after 5.30.

He suggested a drink 'at the club' and Kelly said that would be nice. They both had changed into dry street clothes (civilian dress for the naval lieutenant).

Travelling in Kelly's SUV to the yacht club slowly as the storm was lashing the city they parked and ran through the downpour to the bar that Kelly could see was unusually crowded for a Tuesday night.

Someone began clapping and suddenly everyone was standing and clapping.

The clappers including her father who was beside a guy in a Lieutenant Commander's uniform and Alex whispered, "You spoke on radio to the guy with your father who is Lieutenant Commander Barrett, my boss."

A TV crew was filming them as they walked closer and then a reporter/director had them go to the two VIP's and Kelly shook hands with Lieutenant Commander Barrett and thanked him and his crew for checking on her safety at sea and then she introduced Alex to her father.

Her father obviously knew something about Alex and asked was Alex Captain Miles Watson's son.

"Yes sir."

At that Kelly knew who she had beside her; Lieutenant Alex Watson, a decorated naval helicopter pilot who had made numerous rescues of distressed or sick sailors at sea and had been in the news after making high-risk pickups of critically injured people at disaster sites in remote areas to drop them off at airports where they would be rushed off to hospitals.

She also knew that Alex Watson had a huge reputation as a womaniser.

She stepped closer and Alex reached for her hand discreetly.

"I think I like you" Kelly said sweetly, and squeezed his hand,

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