Weekend Write-In Story Collection

Apollo's Anchorage

In 500 words, tell a story where a character embarks on a bold voyage of exploration. Written for the Weekend Write-In prompt themed "Apollo" 17-19 July 2015

I've done many hundreds of anchorages during my fifty-one years of boat ownership. Here's another one with a difference...

Fouled Anchor

"Can't we stay here at least a day?" Catharine asked, almost pleaded. "Look at this cove; it's like paradise. We could snorkel, we could haul out the scuba gear."

"The guidebook doesn't even mention it," David replied. "Much better anchorage around on the other side of the island."

"Another of those crowded coves?"

"Says it's one of the most popular in this corner of the islands."

"As I thought, teeming with tourists. We're anchored in a wonderful place now, a wild, unspoiled little cove. This is what I dreamed the Greek Isles to be, not your crowded anchorages. Let's stay a while, relax and enjoy."

"There's a good sailing breeze blowing," he said, pointing to the small whitecaps outside the cove's protection. "The only reason we anchored here last night is that I didn't want to continue motoring after the wind died; we're low on diesel."

As David stubbornly prepared to weigh, Catharine prayed to the gods. The Greeks have so many gods, surely one of them will help me.

Twenty minutes later, after many attempts to break the anchor free, Catharine said: "You're not going to get it free, I've been telling you for the past quarter hour that it's snagged something down there."

"Let me work it a bit more, David replied, as he shifted again to astern. "You know this Rocna is often very stubborn, doesn't want to let go of the bottom. Let me work it. The chart says it's shingle and mud."

"Stop wasting fuel, let's dive on it."

"No need. I've now shortened-in to twelve metres, it's up-and-down. We'll let the swell pull it free.

The continuing sharp judders from the bow with each swell finally convinced David that the anchor was actually fouled.

"Hooka or tank?" he asked, his head in the locker.

"Let's do the tanks. Let's enjoy a dive; we haven't done that for a long while. We're in the Greek Isles, for God's sake, David. What's your rush to keep moving on? Boat all day, a crowded anchorage, then move on. Repeat and repeat and repeat. It seems the gods are telling us to stay here awhile and enjoy. Can't we do that?"

David took the pummelling again, though this time he left a crack of his mind open to listen to her logic. Dammit, she's right, why the hell are we rushing through here? More to the point, why am I rushing? We need to slow down and enjoy. He told himself. I need to slow down and enjoy.

"I'll veer back to three to one," he said. "This is a nice spot. Let's stay here a while longer."

She smiled for the first time in a long while. "I'd really like that."

Thirty minutes later and ten metres down, they swam through clouds of flitting fish as they followed above the anchor chain across the bottom.

Looks like marble, she thought, as they approached the anchor hooked in the scattered ruins.

She smiled. It's hooked on a statue of Apollo.