“I ran cross country before going to the Academy–and of course Swamp Weeks and the first year athletic curriculum are like a 24/7 gym routine. I’ve heard that hazing is prohibited–but I would hate to see what it was like before–if this wasn’t hazing. I lost 20 lbs of fat and gained at least that much muscle in the first six months. Essentially, all of us are training to be at-sea rescuers and that requires stamina and strength. Even if more than half of us never enter the rescue branch. And I thought I was giving you a hand down here! It sure feels like I’m getting the hand. Are we sharing all responsibilities?”
“Sure, cut up these melons. I’ll unwrap the cheese and cold cuts. There is bread in that hamper.” He pointed to a large wicker basket on one of the sofa-bunks. “I think we’re going to have sandwiches and fruit since we’ll be underway for another few hours. We’ve got to keep up our lovers’ stamina.”
The winds at 20 knots persisted from the southeast, driving the Starfish at a nice speed right into the Dry Tortugas with only a few course corrections. Soon they would be seeing the abandoned brick and stone fort–the only tall structure on the island, a three story hexagonal structure that nearly covered the largest part of the largest island. When they spotted the fort, they would begin watching for the coral reefs that protected most of the approaches to the arid waterless islands. The plan was to find a good anchorage for the night, then to take the dinghy to snorkeling spots for a leisurely late afternoon of exploration. The trip back the following day would presumably take much longer because of the unfavorable direction of the winds, but if it was constant, they would make good time. Meanwhile, they had an afternoon, evening and morning of sunshine, snorkeling, and sex.
As they approached, it was obvious that other tour boats had also made the trip–and being motorized; they had been in place for a few hours already and were all day-trippers. But, that meant Speedos were going to be required until later in the day when all the other tourists departed. All of the anchorages were spotted with “Seacures”–buoys that were anchored to the floor to which boaters were expected to tie up. No anchors were to be dragged over the fragile Gulf bottom, particularly near the endangered coral reefs. Starfish approached one; Scotty easily used the hook to grab the tie-line; and he quickly and expertly tied them to it and then used a deck line to double tie. The sails were dropped and the Starfish drifted easily into a position facing the light wind. It was a small cove with a C-shaped sandy beach and very little vegetation. Two other older motor yachts were also in the space, but they were already stowing diving gear for the return trip to Key West. They would be alone in an hour or so.
JM and Pete launched the dinghy and noting the strength of the sun, Pete remarked, “I think we’re going to need UV shirts–or none of us will be good for anything by tonight. He went below and returned with four, all new and in wrappers.
“Thanks Pete. This was very thoughtful.”
“Actually, I spotted them under one of the bunks when I was checking out the cat. Previous charters must have left them.”
Scotty checked the knots on the Seacure again. Then all of the guys hopped down the steep aft stair-ladder to the dinghy. It started right up and they were soon off to an area just outside the cove which was marked for snorkeling–and prohibited for boat traffic. Scotty shouted, “We swim with buddies. The sea seems calm and I don’t detect any currents, but it is simple safety. If we’re going to get more than 150 feet from the dinghy, then one pair should remain with the dinghy–and we take turns snorkeling.” They tied to a buoy at the “entrance” to the coral reef discovery “path.”
“Let’s test the waters.”
“So all of the guys donned masks, snorkels and fins and jumped into the clear, warm waters. The depth seemed to range from 8′ to 20′; the temperature was a balmy 82 degrees, and there was essentially no current. But the waters were alive with tropical fish–many of significant size. It was like an aquarium–except the fish were up to 3 feet long. Oranges, yellows, blues, reds, angels, darters, turkey fish, lionfish, even a small school of barracudas. The corals were less impressive–although it was clear that climate change had damaged some; careless boaters had destroyed others. But, there was new growth, new color, even a few anemones. The reef was in recovery. It was beautiful and lively.
The men snorkeled for almost an hour, returned to the dinghy for water and rest and then did another hour. Then they made their way back to the Starfish where they all used a deck-mounted hose to wash. The other tourists had left. So clothing was once more discarded. Snacks–cheese, crackers, grapes, salami, and cold beers–were served.
The two front cabins had air-scoops attached to the surface ports with solar-powered fans. Scotty latched both open and soon a refreshing breeze was cooling the two owner’s cabins, and provided doors were left open, the entire cabin was being naturally cooled. “I’m ready for a siesta. I need you to join me,” whispered Pete.
“Yes, sir,” replied Dave.
JM looked at Scotty. “I guess I’ve lost my buddy. It’s me and you, babe.” He took Scotty hand and led him to the other cabin. The cabins were identical with large vee berths, port holes above, little walking space, and relatively low ceilings. Between the two cabins were two miniscule shower/toilet combinations. JM remarked, “It looks like missionary unless you want me to take you from behind while you bend over the bed. The ceilings are too low for doggie style. I’m too tall.”
JM and Scotty crawled into the berth and JM immediately spooned Scotty into his abs. They began to whisper, assuming that the cabins were not well sound proofed. “Tell me a little more about yourself, Scotty.”
“I come from a little town, about an hour and a half from San Antonio in horse country. My folks breed horses–not for racing, but for ranch work. I was home schooled until I was 15–otherwise public schools would have been hours of commuting away. The family was large–I have 8 brothers and sisters. Both Mom and Dad were Pentecostals. I can quote most of the Bible. They were strict. We didn’t have television–which they considered sinful. No mixed dates, no dancing, no music, no cards. When I arrived at the regional high school in my junior year, I was placed well academically, but I had no social skills whatsoever. I was a loner–although I began to realize that I was attracted to forbidden fruit–male athletes. My only outlets were running and horse-back riding. I did well, but I wanted out–desperately. There was no money for college, I was told. So, I decided to apply to the Academy–even though I couldn’t swim and had never seen an ocean. They accepted me and required remedial swimming lessons–which meant I reported to New London only a few days after high school graduation–even before Swamp Weeks began. And here I am.”