Dropping Anchor

The lee side of the large green island was calm, as expected. 

We had encountered dark skies that warned of a coming squall only a day before, but the Skip was familiar with the islands and knew that once we had skirted southwest we would be out of harms way.

The islands, most of which were the result of volcanoes that had burst from the sea eons ago, were spread out along a three-hundred mile chain, and we never seemed to be out of sight of at least one of them as we sailed through the azure sea. 

Navigation was easy as we were running with the wind, and at this time of year the wind favored our course.

Which was by design. There would be no point in taking a sloop out to spend it in irons, and as close as we would get to that state would be a couple of corrections that would have us at ninety degrees off the wind for a short while.

We had been on the water for most of the day and as the sun started to drop we made for a harbor under reefed sails. 

The large island had been known as a welcoming rest stop for sailors for a few hundred years, and a modern dock awaited us, complete with a laundry and hot showers - all the conveniences in fact, even a fancy restaurant.

After securing a seat at the long bar and placing an order for dinner and drinks, I took a good look around at the packed alehouse. 

There were men and women of every strip to be seen - weary crew who had been out at sea far longer than I could imagine, still trying to find their land-legs. Tourists posing for pictures in front of the open windows that overlooked the bay, and locals dressed up for a night out with their friends or family, along with a fair number of rough looking characters no doubt there looking for prey.

Just as I was about to turn back to the bar I caught sight of a small figure sitting in a corner near the kitchen, almost hidden behind a towering palm tree. She was staring at nothing in particular and as I focused my attention on her a cold chill raced down my spine.

It was her, no doubt about it. It was the one woman I never thought I'd ever see again, not in a million years.

Except a million years had yet to pass - It had been only eight years, not the million I'd hoped for.

Desperately, I searched my pockets for my gun