owlrigh

"They can probably hear you laughing all the way in Cid Harbour," said Ben shortly after he began working on Coral Trekker. We were in Tongue Bay, the other side of Whitsunday Island.

Last week we were once more in Tongue Bay, at the top of Whitehaven Beach, when I climbed the rigging after the skipper told me to put a cork in it. Being up there is excellent; the view at the best of times is beyond par, and that night there was a full moon and clear sky.

I lay on the end of the yard, hanging on with a leg, and listened to music on my iPod, callously abandoning Ben to wash the dishes. When he came up to find me he was understandably cranky. It didn't last long. One comment, and then I was laughing.

Nearby was a charter vessel crewed by some friends of mine. She heard me laughing and began laughing as well -- and I could not stop laughing, louder and louder. Soon the whole anchorage was full of boats laughing. One man began singing. A-wim-oh-weh.

I laughed until I was weak and nearly fell off the t'gallant; only Ben hanging onto me kept me on the rigging. They probably did hear me in Cid Harbour that night.

"You're going to have to control your laughing," said the skipper a few days later. "You're driving me fucking bonkers. It's been four months, mate, and it's wah, wah, wah, all the time."

It's not the first time the skipper has told me to put a lid on it, and I got the idea a while ago that he wasn't too keen on me laughing by the spearing looks I got from him if I got into one of my laughing fits.

"Did you hear what they said?" asked Ben yesterday. "They said 'When she laughs, you can't help but laugh as well' and Bob just gave them a look."

That's the thing; a day I don't laugh and I have the skipper having a go at me for sulking, and if I do laugh I'm driving him around the bend -- while the passengers laugh any time I start up. I don't know why; it's very strange for they don't start laughing when the other crew do, but it's like I throw something in the air.

And it pisses off the skipper.

On the other hand, he came down later and gave me a hug. "I don't mean to ruin your fun, mate, but just keep it under control."

He's a funny man, himself; just the other day as we left for Bowen and the slipway he began into the alcohol right away. I opted for another route, and chowed into the dark chocolate I'd brought.

Almost straight away I began bouncing around the place as I normally do when hyper.

"Four months with you, mate, and then you're into the chocolate!" he said. I saw him saying something to Ben later as I bounced around, Ben peering at me curiously, and went to investigate.

"Lifestyles in the broccoli!" said the skipper. I froze, then went over the bow to hide in the net. Ben appeared shortly.

"'Eaten half a bar of chocolate,' Bob said, 'and Lifestyles! Watch out tonight,'" repeated Ben duly. "How embarrassing!"

It's been like that since I informed Bob -- who is hardly stupid and probably knew -- that Ben and I'd hooked up. Later on that evening he went on to inform a bar full of people that you knew there were going to be problems with the crew when you're finding Lifestyles -- condoms -- in the broccoli.

So I hid in the front netting and watched the water part before us. I hadn't realised how much power there was in water displacement with that yacht; there was a continuous roar as she sank into the waves, bow wave going as far as the end of the sprit ... and me dry as a bone watching it all from there. We were going fast, not really sailing, but it felt more real than any of the useless sailing trips we do when under charter.

Sometimes I don't realise how big a boat Coral Trekker really is; I got an idea of it then, watching the water froth before the bow, and an even better idea later when she was on the hard. So much beneath the surface, so much work to do in the way of painting and scraping!

Even if I only tended to cook, clean on the inside ... and finally, hand-wash everyone's clothes because the washing machine which supposedly worked was really not. Being asked to do laundry and cooking when I was supposed to be there to do maintenance annoyed, so dinner was botched completely by accident.

I guess it's hard not to get on one another's nerves when you're around each other all day, every day, and no crew have had time off from each other in two weeks.

Last I had time off I went to visit my yacht, spend the afternoon and evening aboard her. At the same time I took opportunity to go through my belongings and pick out things I didn't want anymore, which I packed up into bags and took over to the family catamaran -- easier than taking it to a charity bin.

When returning home I looked over to see my father harassing the dog by holding the cat out of his reach. The dog is very jealous of any other animal. Then Phil, my father, threw the cat into the dinghy, presumably to see how she'd get aboard.

She tried -- and slipped, as the dog was there, and then I saw this little head swimming all the way up the boat. I turned around and rowed faster than ever before in my life.

"Hurry up, Missy, the cat's in the water!"

By the time I got to the front of the boat the cat had gone around to the inner hull, and she had begun miaowing plaintively. She was too far for me to get to before she would have swum to the stern -- on the inside. There was but one thing for me to do. Remove my phone from my bra, take off my glasses, and plunge over the side.

I got to the cat quickly, and as soon as I lifted her out of the water she stopped miaowing and lay there passively. Swimming holding a heavy, water-laden cat out of the water is something I've never before tried and hope to never have to do again. Trying to dissuade my mother from lifting her by the front leg -- and hurting her -- was almost as difficult.

Then it was off to rescue my dinghy, floating off to the other end of Shute Harbour by this point. Shute, where a story goes around about a crocodile found in the rear of the bay.

It's not for just any creature I'd go over the side. And my dad on the deck, not even ready in his dinghy to take the sodden cat off me -- but imagine if it were the dog, whom he would go bonkers trying to rescue!