The Bouncing Buns Gentleman's Club

Chapter 22

As soon as Beverly arrived on the aft deck of the Azimut, Ensign Adams was there to escort her in.

"This way, doctor. We have to hurry. This boat is going down, ma'am, and we don't want to be with it when it does."

Beverly took a deep breath, and gathered her courage as they both ran toward the now blown-away salon door. She was amazed at the sheer size of the cockpit as they ran across, much larger than it had appeared from the bridge of the Triton. Mentally comparing the Azimut to her sixty foot Chris Craft, she quickly decided her boat might actually fit inside this one with plenty of room to spare on all sides. Imagining her boat with everything enlarged to twice its current size was even difficult as increases in exterior size seems to create relatively larger increases in interior space.

She soon found that size was only one of the impressive things about this boat. Walking in through the blown out salon door was like entering a palace. There were plush carpets and wooden floors, built-in leather furniture, burled maple paneling and cabinetry with so many coats of varnish that the depth of the finish almost seemed three dimensional.

Passing the inside helm area, Beverly thought, I've never seen such a well equipped boat. It even seemed to have two of most things electronic. Everything about this boat was magnificent and unlike anything she'd ever experienced in her short yachting career. She was even more amazed when she walked past what appeared to be an elevator.

"Ensign Adams, this is the most amazing boat I've ever seen, let alone been on!"

He'd been watching her as they went through and had already seen that she was impressed by what she saw. There was no time for a tour, however.

"Yes, ma'am. It's one heck of a boat. Too bad it's going to end up at the bottom growing oysters with Davy Jones. At least all the vomit we've found in different areas will be diluted down. They must have been sick as dogs in here for quite awhile. Lucky for us, I guess. It's hard to fight at your best after you've been dehydrated from puking your guts out. I suspect their reaction time suffered quite a bit."

Remembering the urgency of their situation, he said, "No time to admire the boat though, we have to hurry. It, and we, don't have that much time left!"

The comment brought the Ensign's visualization of this beautiful boat growing oysters at the bottom of the gulf back to mind. A new visualization of a horrible and all too possible reality replaced it. She'd seen Dana down there with the boat, forever trapped in whatever room that metal door protected.

"Where is she, Ensign? Has she said anything to you yet?"

"She's on the next deck down, just above the area that's already flooded. It won't be long before the water gets into that level as well, so if you can't talk her out we'll have to try to blow that safe-like door and hope we don't injure her in the process. She still won't talk to us. I hope you'll have better luck, doc."

They made their way down a flight of curved and polished mahogany stairs. Beverly found herself walking on a Persian runner held in place with highly polished and ornate bronze rods just under each step. On one side of the staircase, was a wall of perfectly finished burled maple paneling, while the inside curve of the staircase was open to the landing below.

As Beverly descended the stairs, she noticed that her knuckles were white from gripping the railing in fear and apprehension of what was, perhaps, to come. At the bottom, she stepped onto a carpet lying on white marble, custom made to fit the landing's semicircular contour. The landing led to a hallway she thought rather wide for a boat, and to what were most likely staterooms, each with a maple door and polished bronze hardware.