Twenty-Seven
Themis was anchored stern-to to the wharf in the Grand Harbour of Malta. The stern gangway was down, and our view to the aft was directly out at the stone walls of Fort St. Angelo. To either side, including the view outside my galley window, were more superyachts. Since we’d arrived, one of the first ones on the scene, the harbor had filled with other boats, and walking down the dock was a flurry of activity as crews cleaned and polished their boats, getting prepared for their owners’ arrival.
I barely noticed. Instead Roy and I had been swamped with deliveries and prep work. Natasha, Justin, and Alex would arrive tonight, and the regatta would start tomorrow. We would have a full day motoring around as a spectator boat, and then we would spend the next day dockside, prepari
