Tell them I have dengue fever, Michael said. It’s obvious.
He has dengue fever. He thinks.
Would you like to talk to a medic, Juliet?
Yes. Yes, I would, thank you.
We’ve got one aboard the Magpie. That’s the vessel near you. We’ll have to radio him. Hold the line.
Oh, this is all very good news, I said, turning to Michael. They’re patching me over to a boat nearby.
This is Private Jones on the Coast Guard cutter Magpie, said a new voice. Do I have the yacht Juliet on the line?
Hi! I said. Yes, this is the yacht Juliet.
We’re getting a medic for you, Juliet. In the meantime, I’m going to ask you more about your vessel. How many crew do you have aboard, Captain?
Oh, I said, laughing. I’m not the captain.
Are you in command of the vessel Juliet?
Yes.
Then I’m going to call you Captain, OK? So everyone’s clear.
I opened my mouth. No words came. I was standing in the middle of the cabin, looking up at the perfect square of blue sky framed by the companionway.
Are you there, Juliet?
Yes. I’m here. Onboard it’s just me, my husband, and our two children.
Are the children in distress?
No. They’re just fine. They’re watching Frozen.
What’s your destination?
We were…We’re headed for Jamaica. My husband’s mother is meeting us there.
That’s about three more days under sail, the young man noted. It’s still two days if you turn around and head back downwind to Colombia. Have you considered a bailout location?
A bailout location?
Michael tugged on my shorts. He raised a finger.
What? I snapped. What is it?
I followed his gaze to the nav station.
Let me check the chart, I said. I don’t even really know what’s close.
A nautical mile is
A nautical mile is one minute of arc
* * *
—
Providencia is a possibility, said the young man. You could fall off to Providencia. You wouldn’t have to fight the wind, but on the other hand, it’s not much faster than where you’re going. Also, as you said, you have someone waiting for you in Kingston. Hmm…The voice relaxed, and I could imagine him twirling a pencil. I closed my eyes and pretended he was right next to me.
What’s your name again? I asked him.
Pardon me?
What’s your actual name, please?
I’m Private Amani Jones, Captain.
My name’s Juliet, I said. Like the boat.
That makes things easy to remember, Jones said. All right. We have Medic Grant Brown on another line. This is Medic Grant Brown from the Coast Guard cutter Magpie. Medic Grant Brown, this is the captain of the yacht Juliet. I’ll stay on the line.
Hello, Captain.
Hi, Doctor.
For your information, Captain, I’m not a doctor, the new voice said. I’m in my final year in epidemiology at West Point. I’ve been down here a lot. I’m very familiar with dengue. Is that what we are suspecting here? You can speak to a doctor if you prefer. Most folks have a twenty-four-hour doctor on call associated with their traveler’s—
I’d like to talk to you, please, I said. Please.
When did your crewmember start being symptomatic?
It’s my—my husband started to complain yesterday afternoon.
Have you taken your husband’s temperature?
Yes. It’s a hundred and three. It was higher before, but it responded to Tylenol. I have to force him to take Tylenol.
Is he conscious?
Yes.
Is he lucid?
I looked at Michael. His hands hovered just over his thighs, séance-style. His lips moved privately.