Free Run Before the Wind by Stuart Woods Page A

to it, then." He shook hands all round and departed.
    "Let's get at it," Annie commanded.
    "Haven't we time for a glass of wine?" Mark complained.
    "It's the cocktail hour, you know."
    "I'm cooking dinner in this cottage tonight," Annie replied firmly, "And I'm not cooking until everything is in its place."
    We fell to work and, in an hour and a half, under Annie's close supervision, we had transformed the cottage into something resembling a home. There was a good-sized living room with a dining table at one end and a large fireplace at the other, two bedrooms, one large and one small, a kitchen, and a newly constructed bathroom. Annie had a talent for nest building I remembered, now, that Toscana had the same look about her, one of lived-in comfort.
    What had been a bare collection of rooms was now cozy and inviting. By the time another two hours had passed, we had all showered and had a good dinner and some wine and were scattered before a cheerful fire. Shortly after that they shook me awake and sent me to my bed. Before sleep overtook me, I had a moment to reflect on where I was and what I was doing. My father's comment to my mother came back to me, about the model airplanes I had never finished. When reciting my list of manual skills to Mark, full knowing why he was asking me, I had neglected to tell him that I had never finished my shop projects in school, either, or the building of the small house on the farm. There was something in me that, once I learned about something, made me lose interest. I had no staying power, and I knew it. I resolved, with as much resolve as I could muster in my sleepy state, that I would finish this one; that I would make up for my lack of candor with an enthusiasm I would find somewhere. Somewhere.
    Next morning, after a huge breakfast that included my favorite Irish foods, smoked bacon and soda bread, Annie set about doing still more to the cottage, while Mark and I paid a visit to Cork Harbour Boatyard.
    We borrowed Lord Coolmore's Land Rover and motored down a bewildering series of country lanes until we came upon a creek running up from Cork Harbour. As we turned and drove up its banks the water receded until there was nothing but steep banks and a bottom left dry by the receding tide. Shortly, a very large tin shed appeared. There was a rudely shingled addition attached to one side and an old, stone quay running along the dried-out creek bed A little railway ran from the creek's edge into the large shed. Half a dozen yachts and boats, in varying stages of disrepair, perched on cradles scattered about the yard. We parked the Land Rover and entered the shed through a small, hinged door cut into a huge, hangar-type sliding door.
    The scents of wood shavings and some sort of glue struck me, and a hammering from a nearly finished fishing boat that nearly filled the shed was temporarily deafening. A short, dumpy man detached himself from the crew of half a dozen working on the boat and shambled toward us.
    "Captain Robinson," he said, sticking out the hand not holding a hammer.
    "Been looking for you to turn up."
    Mark took the hand.
    "Good to see you, Pinbar." He turned to me.
    "This is Willie Lee, who'll be working with us. Willie, this is Finbar O'Leary, the best boat builder in Britain and Ireland."
    Finbar O'Leary blushed and seemed astonished at the same time.
    I would learn that he had an astonished expression fixed upon his face at all times, in all moods.
    "Mr. Lee," he said, "glad to have you aboard. I understand you're handy. We can use the help if we're to give Captain Robinson the boat he wants." He turned back to Mark.
    "Got some news for you. The little yacht we were to build after this one.. .." he nodded over his shoulder at the fishing boat, "has been canceled. The owner opted for something in plastic." There was a touch of scorn in his voice at the mention of a glass-fiber boat.
    "That means you're next; we should be laying your keel in ten days or so."
    Mark's face spread