CHAPTER 13

Aboard the Bitter Harvest

Atlantic Ocean

December

THE AZORES ARE A volcanic archipelago consisting of nine islands clustered into three groups in a nearly four-hundred-mile stretch along the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. Though the islands are located 850 miles from the continent, they are autonomous regions of Portugal and, therefore, represent European soil. Flores, named for its lush vegetation, is the westernmost island in the chain and is one of the least populated. With its high peaks, sharp cliffs, and towering waterfalls, its landscape could easily be mistaken for one of the Hawaiian Islands, with a temperate climate to match. The sight of so much lush greenery after weeks of blue seas and gray skies was startling to the senses. To Reece, it looked like Eden.

The northwest quadrant of the island between Ponta Delgada and Fajã Grande was virtually uninhabited, which is why Reece made his approach from that direction. The World Cruising Routes book, coupled with the boat’s charts and the small GPS, had allowed Reece to make it this far. An unnamed island sat just off the west coast, forming a small cay that was protected from the winds and waves of the Atlantic. Reece steered the Bitter Harvest into the protected waters, lowered the sail, and dropped anchors fore and aft to secure the boat. Despite the strong desire to swim to the nearby beach and walk on solid earth, he resisted temptation and stayed aboard the boat. He wasn’t sure whether anchoring in such an area would prompt a visit from the coast guard or other authorities, and at this point he just needed sleep.

He secured the deck and headed to the main stateroom, where he closed the curtains to block out the afternoon sun. Climbing into bed, he let himself fully relax for the first time since leaving the United States. Sleep came almost instantly and lasted fifteen uninterrupted hours. His bladder forced him awake, and he glanced at his watch as he made his way topside, confused as to whether it was six in the morning or six at night. After drinking from a water bottle on the bedside table, he went back to sleep for another four hours before finally waking refreshed and starving.

Emerging onto the deck, Reece marveled at the tenacity of the trees and bushes that found purchase, and therefore life, on the steep cliffs that ultimately met the white sand of the deserted beach at their base. He turned into the light breeze and closed his eyes, the familiar smell and taste of the sea soothing and calm, as if telling him he had been tested and found worthy. After ensuring all was in order and that he was still securely anchored, he headed down to the galley to make a proper breakfast. He cooked a half-dozen eggs, an entire package of bacon, and four frozen waffles and made a pot of coffee. Finishing every bite, he stripped down and took a shower. Clean, with a full stomach, a good sleep, and dry clothes, Reece took stock of the situation. He made up a checklist of duties and went about the process of confirming that everything on the boat was in working order. He inspected the sails and lines for signs of chafing, replenished the onboard fuel tank using some of the cans strapped to the deck railing, and confirmed that the bilge pumps were functioning.

A severe headache forced him to retreat to his bunk for a few hours, and again he found himself wondering if this was the one that would reunite him with his wife and daughter, but it passed as had all the others. He quickly grew hungry again and grilled himself a large tuna steak, which he ate along with two microwave bags of rice that he found in the freezer. An entire bottle of South African Cabernet Franc helped him go back to sleep, and he logged another solid night’s rest, uninterrupted by nightmares emanating from the repressed emotions of his subconscious.

Reece cooked another big breakfast before consulting the Routes book and studying his charts. His final destination lay across a continent, 6, 985 nautical miles away. If he could maintain an average of five knots, he had a fifty-eight-day voyage ahead. If his sailing proficiency allowed only for four knots, he was looking at closer to seventy-three days at sea. He was pushing his luck by sitting close to land for this long; it was time to make some forward progress. The seas were relatively calm as he steered south to clear the island and then east toward Sã o Miguel. From there, Reece would head southeast to the Canary Islands before continuing on toward the Cape Verdes. Then the real voyage would begin.

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