REVENGE
By mike_lang
- 543 reads
REVENGE
A light-hearted short sailing story by Mike Lang
Peter laughed openly, as his yacht sailed over the finishing line, at
least three inches in front of Brian's latest acquisition. Just to make
sure, he listened for the hoot of the finishing horn before jibing, and
turning left towards the shore, and the shouts of glee from his fellow
club members.
"Well done Peter!"
"Wow!"
"He got you this time Brian!"
Brian usually finished first, because he always had to have the better
boat. No matter what you bought, his was always better. If you were in
front, there always had to be a reason why you were in the wrong.
Peter glanced sideways at Brian, and could just see his face starting
to colour with embarrassment.
What a race! The club had rarely experienced such high winds at the
beginning of a meeting! The start was positively dangerous with Brian
sailing on Starboard tack, along the starting line, so that he had
right of way, scattering other yachts like flies, and causing extensive
damage to at least three of his opponents.
There was a gnashing of teeth from those concerned and shouts
of:-
"Water!"
"Protest!"
"That was unfair!"
Brian had sailed on, oblivious to the threats and entreaties from those
around him.
This was the moment at which Peter had vowed to catch Brian and put him
to shame. " The contemptible toad," he had thought, as he set off in
pursuit of Brian, who was sailing along the first leg of the
course.
The next encounter came when Brian's yacht had almost reached the first
mark. This was a small round buoy with a red flag on top of it, which
consequently marked the end of the first leg (The complete course
usually consisted of a triangle, and thus the three sides marked out
the three legs of the course).
As Peter sailed up behind him, his face grim with determination.
Brian's concentration lapsed for a moment, as he missed a slight
wind-shift induced by deflection from trees at the nearby shore. Peter
seized his moment. With a flick of the rudder, he surged forwards, and
neatly overlapped his opponent.
"Luffing!" Brian gave the traditional warning and turned briefly into
the wind, forcing Peter to sail the wrong side of the buoy.
"Oh dear!" Peter had lost the wind, and his boat was sailing backwards
'in irons'. As he regained control he could see the rest of the fleet
starting to catch up.
Eventually, he set off after Brian on the downwind leg of the
triangular course. "Josh! He is fast," Peter murmured to himself as he
concentrated with fierce determination, on the wind patterns on the
water, trying to anticipate the minute shifts in wind direction that
accompanied every gust.
The next buoy was can shaped, and the black was difficult to see in the
darkened water. Peter had often remarked that it should be painted
fluorescent orange to make it easier to see. He looked, and then looked
again, at Brian's boat, for it was sailing in the wrong direction.
Peter had uttered a grunt of excitement which prompted a speedy
reassessment of the situation by Brian, who realised his mistake far
too late, and Peter had already caught up.
Together, they rounded the buoy. Neck and neck together, they skilfully
tacked, in opposite directions, back and forth, across the lake towards
the last mark of the course. This would normally have been another
downward leg. But the reducing wind had now veered by almost ninety
degrees, causing the leading craft much difficulty. Furthermore, the
wind had also dropped to a gentle breeze, and the ripples on the water
were changing to fickle changes in wind direction that made sailing
difficult.
At last they both reached their goal. Together, they rounded the buoy,
and started the downwind run to the finishing line. Again, they were
sailing neck and neck, each helm steering the course that would find
himself with the most wind, until they had both eventually
finished.
Brain was the first to reach the shore, but Peter didn't notice, he was
carefully steering his craft towards a suitable landing place in the
now dying breeze. Eventually his model yacht's keel touched the rapidly
shelving lake bottom, and Peter jumped into the water to lift out his
revered craft. He picked it up and carried it to a place of honour on
the grassy bank by the lakeside path. De-rigging the yacht took some
time because of the many congratulatory interruptions.
"Well done!"
"You've got a good boat there!"
"Good sailing," and, many more such comments.
When the yacht was eventually de-rigged and stowed safely in the boot
of his car, Peter asked, "Where's Brian?".
One of the other model boat club members replied. "Oh him? He's gone.
Didn't even say goodbye. I somehow don't think he's a good
loser!"
Peter smiled to himself. Yes! Revenge was sweet!
END
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