None of that happened.
Once I got the gear aboard, I realized I had many unpleasant hours ahead of me before the boat would be shipshape and ready to sail. I also noticed that nowhere in the 15 tons of equipment was one most essential piece of safety gear: a throwable floating cushion. This is actually a U.S. Coast Guard required piece of equipment. Given my troubles with law enforcement so far this weekend, I decided to play it safe and legal and headed to the marina chandlery.
Fortunately, every marine store has throwable cushions. Unfortunately, this particular store is apparently not of the set {every marine store}. Great. No sailing today. That sapped my gear stowing motivation so I decided to sulk instead.
"So when are those round the world racers leaving anyway? All their colorful flags are annoying me," I grumbled to the throwable cushion-less counter lady.
"Right now," she sneered back.
That perked me up. The devil who tried to steal my bike was skipping town? Not if I could help it!
I sprinted out the door. I then sprinted even faster right back in for an ice cream sandwich and Snickers. Hey, the extra energy contained in all that sweet goodness just might make a difference.
I raced down to my boat and immediately began clearing the decks. I threw most things anywhere where they wouldn't be underfoot. Other things, I left underfoot just to make life on the bouncing waves a little more exciting.
I surveyed the boat and gave the order: "Make ready for sea!"
I reconsidered.
"Nay, lads. Belay that order. Make ready for BATTLE!"
I asked myself what that meant, then told myself to stop questioning the captain's orders. Conversations can get a little confusing when you're the only one aboard, but insolence will not be tolerated!
I leapt off the boat (I actually meant to step off but that furling line at ankle height added a little drama to my disembarkation) and quickly untied all the dock lines.
Being exceptionally observant, I soon realized (but not soon enough) that the boat was loose and no one was aboard! I gracefully leapt aboard (it's my story and I'll remember it as I want to) and resumed command of the wayward vessel. I shoved the throttle to the max and charged out of the slipway at a respectable walking pace. It is a sailboat after all.
I planned to blockade the thieving Dutch boy and, if necessary, set my (fully insured) boat afire to stop the dreaded De Lage Landen from reaching open water.
Oops. Looks like the fleet slipped my net before I even got close.
So be it! If he wants to do battle in New York harbor, I am up to the challenge. I rounded the corner at the marina entrance, preparing to leap aboard [i]De Lage Landen[/i], jack knife held in my teeth.
Looks like a long leap. Those fully crewed ocean racing boats are, apparently, really fast. Those little white specks are my quarry. Perhaps I should have grabbed two Snickers.
No matter. I had not yet begun to sail. It was time to see what my aging Hunter could do.
Ahem.
Apparently it was first time to see what the aging old crew could do.
The crew succeeded in getting the mainsail hopelessly caught up in the lazy jacks. As the fleet of ne'er-do-wells threatened to drop below the horizon, I swore at the crew and then I swore back at the captain and we both swore at the mainsail. We then both screamed at the closeness of shore but did not succeed in scaring it any farther away.
Captain and crew finally got their act synchronized and I pulled down the mainsail. I then re-hoisted it, if sending it halfway up the mast can be considered "hoisting." Blast that sail, and the man who bent it on last week! That being, um …, me.
I pulled the sail into an unruly heap and leapt (due to all that gear underfoot) for the jib sheets. I pulled mightily before realizing that I had not released the furling line. Failing to loosen the sheets before belatedly releasing the furling line resulting in a fully automatic deployment of the jib. Hey, maybe there's a really unsafe product idea here!
Under sail at last! The chase was on - but not the chase I intended. A rather menacing Coast Guard cutter headed my way. What was the deal with me and law enforcement this weekend?
As the Coasties pulled near, I veered away from Ellis Island and saluted them with a hearty, "Don't worry compadres, I'll get the bike thief!"
The Coasties veered away from me, off to attend to less pressing matters no doubt.
I turned the engine off in order to make the fight a fair one. After all, if they could sail, so could I.
I then noticed the last of the racers, er, "racing" to catch up - under full power!
No matter! I am a traditionalist, full of seafaring honor, skill and … hey, where'd the wind go?
I hoisted the Yanmar (that would be a diesel engine to you landlubbers), and resumed my pursuit.
Fear not, Lady Liberty, I shall chase down the rapscallions!
Aha! The fleet has turned as one and is headed towards New Jersey, a state full, no doubt, of people of similar low morals, ready to hide the thieves.
Pause the battle please. The Bayonne Golf Club wants to play through. Now that's what I call a water hole!
I close on them at increasing speed now that I have the angle.
Closer. Closer. Close…………
WHOA! They've turned on me and popped their spinnakers!
So they think they can ram me, eh? Think again!
I sneak behind a barge, spin stealthily and come from behind them!. Always, always keep an eye astern!
As I sandwich the fleet between myself and Liberty Island, the formerly dreaded [i]De Lage Landen[/i] finally appears after cowardly hiding in the midst of the fleet.
Bike thief, you are mine! I corralled the entire fleet of conspirators and prepared to shepherd them up the East River.
Now line up prettily and salute Lady Liberty, my prisoners.
And it's off to Governors Island with the lot of you, there to answer to the United States Coast Guard.
Liberty is preserved. Justice has been handed down. Bike racks throughout America's ports are safe once more.
Don't worry, LadyLi, I've got your back.
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