The Pulse

paint it on temporarily from the dinghy tonight when we’re anchored. This gray primer will get covered up later with topside paint, and then I’ll do it right.”

“So, we’re not going far today, you said?”

“No, I want to shake her down, make sure everything’s sorted out enough for the voyage. There will still be work to do all along the way, but as long as we have good weather, I can do most of that at sea. Today we’re going to get the rig tuned and work the stretch out of the stays and halyards, then tighten up the beam lashings and everything else before we head offshore tomorrow. There’s a pretty little island you’re gonna love just a few miles off the east coast of Puerto Rico. We can be there by late afternoon, drop the hook and make our adjustments, and still get a good night’s sleep before we head out.”

Back on deck, Artie cranked on the windlass handle while Larry and Scully maneuvered the jacks and skids. The newly christened Casey Nicole slid across the wet sand, sliced into the gentle chop of the harbor, and floated free, sitting nicely on her lines, with just a couple of inches of bottom paint showing all around. Larry and Scully high-fived it and jumped up and down cheering. Artie couldn’t contain his grin as the big platform beneath him glided away from shore, hovering like a giant magic carpet over the sandy bottom that seemed close enough to touch through the crystalline water. He had to admit he was pretty impressed with his younger brother’s handiwork. It was simply amazing to him that anyone could build such a vessel from scratch under a makeshift tent on the beach.

They spent the remainder of the morning loading the rest of Larry’s tools and spare parts on board. This included just about everything needed to maintain and repair any component of the boat, and even to fabricate broken parts. Larry said that all Wharram catamarans were designed to be built and kept shipshape with simple tools and easy-to-find materials, and that even in normal times many had been built without the benefit of power tools.

“It’s really the perfect design for sailing in the post-apocalyptic world,” he joked.

But seeing all the stuff he was putting on board, Artie wasn’t so sure he was joking after all. It was amazing to him what a relatively small cruising boat could carry, as he had first noticed during the trip on Ibis. A seaworthy offshore sailing vessel really was a self-contained world of its own, capable of traveling great distances for extended periods of time without the need to visit land or take on any of the goods to be found there. His brother was obviously well versed in the art of provisioning and equipping such boats, having made a career of passage making. Artie saw that his checklists were extensive and often doubly redundant, as well as impeccably organized so that nothing could be overlooked or forgotten. Much of the equipment on these lists was already on board in the individual hulls before they were assembled. The only thing lacking was a fresh supply of food items, but the stores aboard already contained plenty of non-perishable goods, and when they had moved all the groceries off of Celebration that they had taken from Ibis before leaving her in St. Thomas, Larry figured they had enough to last the three of them for at least a month, especially if they could supplement the stores with fish caught along the way—and much of the gear on board was dedicated to that purpose.

This included conventional tackle such as rods and reels for trolling astern and casting, as well as drop lines, collapsible bait and crab traps, and the underwater spear-fishing gear that most cruisers in tropical waters carried as standard equipment. In addition, Larry said the big tandem-cockpit sea kayak Scully had been paddling the day Artie had met him would be invaluable for fishing and other forms of seafood gathering if it came to that. The 20- foot wide overall beam of the catamaran made it a simple matter to lash it across the decks forward of the mast. Larry said he’d bought this 19-foot kayak specifically for the purpose of serving as a dinghy on the catamaran, as it was faster and easier to paddle long distances than any conventional rowing dinghy.

“It’s more seaworthy, too,” he said. “Heck, with two strong paddlers, this thing can go out in about any conditions the big boat can handle.”

“But there’s only room for two,” Artie said.

“Yeah, well, considering how things are now, I doubt we’ll all want to leave the boat at the same time. Someone needs to stay with it to keep an eye on things anyway. Speaking of which, I’ve got a special place for this.” Larry unzipped a nylon carrying case that was among the last items yet to be stowed and pulled out a stainless-steel Mossberg 12-gauge pump shotgun.

“I sure hope we don’t need that!” Artie said.

“I’ve always kept a shotgun on board whenever I could,” Larry said. “Never had to use one, but things could be different now—a lot different. I just wanted to let you know where I’m keeping it. There’s a hidden compartment right under the shelf that’s over your bunk in the nav station. I’m sleeping in the galley hull myself—where the food and coffee is.”

“What about Scully?”

“He’s got the forward single bunk cabin in the port hull when we’re at sea, but he prefers to sleep on deck in all but the roughest weather.”

Before they left the harbor, Pete and Maryanne rowed over from Celebration to where the Casey Nicole was anchored to share a cup of coffee and wish them luck on the voyage. By the time they left, the afternoon trade winds had kicked in, and Larry said it was time to go see what the new boat could do. Getting underway was much easier than it had been on the larger Celebration. As soon as Artie had the anchor on deck, Larry and Scully working together had the main and jib set and Larry steered off the wind to let them fill. Artie was totally unprepared for what happened next. Instead of heeling over and slowly gathering way like the schooner Ibis and the big cutter-rigged Tayana had, the catamaran simply accelerated, converting wind power to forward motion with a suddenness that almost caused him to fall. The twin bows sliced through the chop of the harbor with spray flying on both sides and made for the opening to the sea. Larry and Scully whooped with delight and Artie joined in. It felt like they were practically flying over the clear water, and he thought that if they could just keep this up, he would be reunited with Casey in no time.

Once they put Culebra astern, Larry aimed the bows toward the big mountain on Puerto Rico and soon they were in the heaving swells of the open ocean, the boat pitching fore and aft but not rolling from side to side as had the only other sailboats Artie had experienced. The distant island grew more distinct by the minute as they closed on it at 17 knots, changing from a hazy blue outline to a landscape of mountains that rose sharply behind slivers of sandy beach interspersed with condos, houses, and hotels. Larry was clearly pleased with his new boat and was grinning from ear to ear as he pointed out various design elements that contributed to her seaworthiness and speed. When they were about six miles from the main island, he steered for a tiny outlying islet that rose like a mirage from the coral-studded waters not far from a larger cay to the north. The islet was the postcard-perfect image of a deserted tropical isle—a rounded, sandy hump of beach, shaded by a grove of tall coconut palms and little other vegetation. It was the kind of place a cartoonist might draw to depict a scene in which a castaway is washed ashore in paradise.

Larry and Scully doused the spinnaker and brought the cat around to sail up to within 20 feet of the shore, where the water was only waist deep. Scully leapt in and carried the bow anchor up on the beach, while Larry hauled in on the rode of a stern anchor he’d deployed as they approached. When the lines were adjusted, the Casey Nicole floated almost motionless over transparent waters alive with multicolored fish.

“Welcome to Isleta Palominito,” Larry said. “This is one of the coolest little islands in this part of the Caribbean.”

“It is beautiful,” Artie admitted. “I didn’t know there were still uninhabited islands like this, especially so close to a crowded island like Puerto Rico.”

“Oh yeah, there are a lot more than you’d think. This one is one of the best, though. I’ve brought more than one of my Puertorriquena girlfriends over here for a night or two of playing ‘castaway.’”

“I’ll bet you have.”

“It gets crowded with weekend boaters from the main island, but even in normal times it’s usually deserted during the week. And now—I wouldn’t expect anyone to bother coming over here. It’ll be safer than anchoring near Fajardo, and there’s nothing we need from a city like that anyway. So enjoy your evening, Doc. It’ll be your last chance to go ashore for a few days.”

Larry and Scully worked on tightening the rigging and making other adjustments necessary after the first sail,