Owen McCuen

I unhooked my binoculars to see if I recognized the other boat.

That's when I noticed something seemed wrong.

The boat was moving erratically, rolling in a beam wind and then straightening.

It was hard to know from this distance, but the sails certainly weren't being tended to.

It could be people letting the boat meander while they, well, did more interesting things, but I asked Tammy to take a look.

That boat out there, I said, doesn't seem to be in control.

I'm wondering if we should go over.

She peered through the binoculars, first mentioning the same erotic thought I had, but agreed we should head that way.

I figured the wind would be favorable enough to get us there.

Otherwise, there was always the engine.

We told the others what we were doing.

It didn't take long to arrive.

I recognized the name Wanderlust.

A boat with that name had been lost not long ago.

I called out.

No answer.

There was no doubt about my first impression that the boat was untended.

The sails flapped, sometimes loudly.

I called again.

Sailors, good sailors, don't just let their boat bounce around like this.