EIGHTEEN
Jockey had told Sassi that they were making good time. Without the delay of the pan-pan or the night in Miami, they should knock at least three days off the time of their return trip. Though they’d be stopping somewhere to refuel. But Jockey wasn’t worried about that taking too much time apparently.
They were about four days into their voyage home, on her twenty-eighth day at sea.
Sassi missed being at anchor already, being still meant there was no imminent danger and… No, that wasn’t why she missed it. Sassi missed it because it had been a perfect existence for a while.
Lazy afternoons in the galley practicing her techniques, swimming, sunbathing, scrubbing the deck with Fidget and touching up paint on the bulkheads. And regular afternoon delight, of course.
She got to spend
