Refugee

Chapter Thirteen - Plans.

The morning brought blue skies and a promise of sunshine, this served to lift the heavy burden of yesterday. Perhaps Jordan would be able to come up with a plan to aid the boys; he knew he had to do something.

Pierre was standing in the galley with a mug in his hand.

"Coffee?" he watched as Jordan made his way through.

"That is exactly what I need." He waited as Pierre poured him a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

"So how do you like crewing for my uncle?" Jordan took the mug of coffee and savoured the wonderful aroma.

"It's fine," Pierre smiled at him. "They are nice people, and very relaxing."

"Relaxed, very relaxed."

"Yes, I'm sorry. My English is not great."

"No, no, it's fine Pierre. Your English is hundred times better than my French." Jordan sipped his coffee and idly looked around the boat.

"Vous parlez Français?" Pierre seemed to light up at that possibility.

"Pas vraiment, mais un petit peu. Et si tu plait, c'est tu, nous sommes amies, non?"

"Oui, okay, friends of course," Pierre was smiling again.

Jordan thought he must miss the company of his fellow countrymen. Everywhere you go people usually speak English, that is if they speak another language, but French is less common.

Still, you do find French people all over the world, probably more so than Americans or Brits.

"I wanted to talk to you alone," Pierre was looking directly at him, which made Jordan think he must have something important to say. "You see, maybe I have some way to help you."

"Some way to help me?" Jordan repeated, not quite following where this conversation was going. "How?"

"Well, I know this Englishman, Simon Conway, he has a yacht business. He often needs to find someone to take boats to different places. You see, people hire a yacht, then fly home, so he has to get it to the next place." Jordan was listening, but still not certain what Pierre was getting at.

"So he needs someone to take a yacht to Italy, and he asked me."

"But you're crewing my uncle's yacht." It was still too early in the morning for Jordan to figure out what Pierre was telling him.

"Oui," Pierre had reverted to French, perhaps frustrated that Jordan wasn't getting it. "It's because your uncle never said it yet, but he wants you to sail with them. So this means I am free. Your uncle would pay my ticket back to France, but... well this is what I was talking to Simon about. Because I could take that other yacht. You understand?"

It was becoming clear. "Yes, I understand. I think so. I think I need more coffee." He walked over to the counter and poured himself another mug. "More coffee?" he asked Pierre.

Pierre proffered his mug and Jordan filled it. Then as Pierre was stirring in his dose of sugar, Jordan attempted a recap of the situation. "You're saying Ted is going to ask me to sail the Med with them, which means he won't need you. But if I don't go along with that plan, then you stay onboard and this guy Simon still needs someone to take his yacht to Italy."

"You got it!" Pierre had that big smile right across his face.

"But how does that help me?"

Pierre sighed. "I spell it for you, listen carefully," this made Jordan laugh. "Simon, yacht, Italy via Turkey..." He paused, looking hard at Jordan. "Get it?"