Chapter X, Sailing with Jennifer

[This story involves the coming together of an oddball cast of characters who are drawn into a controversial project to answer some fundamental universal mysteries. Jennifer St. James is one of these characters. This particular chapter occurs probably about ¼ of the way into the novel, and Jennifer has already been introduced in a previous chapter.

The chapter just before this one leaves off with Dr. Grey discussing the project with his colleagues. They’re discussing ways to sort through volumes of data, and one of the professors mentions celestial navigation as an example of a data reduction technique, and asks Dr. Grey if he understands the concept.]





  Jennifer St. James certainly understood celestial navigation. Almost by accident (or was it fate?), Jennifer had become a self-taught expert in her own brand of navigating by the stars. After two years of travelling the oceans, going wherever the stars led her, she had developed a mental database of astronomical information that would be envied by even the most gifted scientists. The irony, of course, was that she considered her voyage as an escape from her previous life in the scientific community.

  She and her shipmates were finally enjoying a perfect sailing evening. Ever since they had left their last stopover on Vanuatu over a week ago, they had been sailing through a variety of frustrating conditions. The last several days brought them fog, drizzle, and unpredictable breezes that varied from very light to nonexistent. Jennifer’s heavy thirty six foot sloop responded poorly in such conditions. But now they were out of the Coral Sea and on the open waters of the southern Pacific Ocean. The crew was delighted to be sailing through a steady fifteen knot breeze. The sails were full, and Jennifer’s boat ‘Off The Grid’ was clipping along at a brisk pace, splashing through the swells and tossing the occasional spray back to the cockpit. Along with the perfect sailing wind came increased rocking and bobbing of the boat, but all three occupants were seasoned sailors, they had developed their ‘sea legs’, and it was a trade off they were happy to make.

  They were about another week out from their next resupply stop on French Polynesia, choosing to avoid the crowds and high prices of Fiji by sailing to the north around that cluster of islands. After their next stop they would be spending the following few weeks crossing the open ocean before reaching the Galapagos Islands and finally the Panama Canal. As much as Jennifer tried to convince herself that sailing solo was her preferred lifestyle, she was very glad to have the company of the Roland-Smiths as she crossed this desolate and expansive part of the globe. She had met Harold and Margaret during her extended stopover in Cairns Australia, and the elderly British couple had charmed her from the beginning. Her guests had settled in comfortably, blending into the well worn woodwork and old-school craftsmanship of her 40 year old boat in a way a person of her generation couldn’t.

  The sun was just dipping below the western horizon, the crescent moon was visible to the North East, and the first of the evening’s stars were making their appearance. This was the time of day Jennifer always awaited eagerly. With the sun, moon and stars all visible in the twilight sky, she had ample material to fuel her fascination with the heavens. She relaxed silently in the cockpit with Margaret, lulled into a state of peaceful meditation by the rhythmic splashing and rocking of the boat, soaking in everything the celestial bodies had to say to her. 

  Margaret broke the silence, “Harold darling, the sun is nearly over the horizon, and here Jennifer and I sit absolutely parched after an exhausting day of sailing. What ever are you doing down there?”

  “Patience Margaret my dear, patience,” replied Harold from the galley below. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither is the perfect margarita.” Jennifer loved Harold’s thick and very proper British accent. She reflected on how two years away from home had taken the edge off her own Boston accent.

  Truth be told, the delay in the evening’s libations had nothing to with perfection, quite the opposite. Harold’s pride and joy, his ridiculous hand cranked blender, was struggling fiercely to break up the chunks of ice he’d chipped off the block in the ice box. The slurry that would eventually result from his efforts, after the arthritis in his shoulder would finally put an end to his cranking, was a far cry from the smooth slush one would normally associate with the perfect margarita. But … one’s standards in food and drink tended to diminish rapidly as distance from civilization increased. Right now, Off The Grid was over 500 miles from any port, resulting in a complete lack of standards all together.

  But none the less, Jennifer had come to appreciate this evening tradition of margaritas. Harold and Margaret insisted upon the ritual. Ever since they had first tasted the “elixir of the God’s” several years ago while sailing through the Caribbean, they had always kept their boat stocked with tequila, lime juice, ice, and of course Harold’s infernal contraption. When they left their boat in the shipyards of Cairn for bottom painting and maintenance, they insisted that the margarita supplies come with them as they hitched a ride on Jennifer’s boat.

  Harold took a brief break from the cranking to rub the kinks out of his shoulder. “I say, while you’re waiting, perhaps you two lushes can earn your keep around here and set sails for the night.”

  “Ay aye cap’n.” Jennifer saluted smartly. She stood up, moved behind the helm, and spun the wheel to aim the boat northward into the breeze.  “Margaret, mind grabbing the helm while I reef?”

  “Absolutely luv,” replied Margaret as she took over the wheel. She envied the way Jennifer could effortlessly launch her tall, lithe frame up onto the cabin top.

  Jennifer lowered the mainsail slightly and tied the loose cloth against the boom. She then cranked the sail tight again. Reducing the size of the sail by reefing may not have been required this night as the wind showed no indications of increasing, but they had decided earlier to forgo a half knot of speed in favor of a more relaxing night.

  Jennifer then took over the helm again and re-established the compass course. She was adjusting the wind vane to maintain their heading when Harold finally emerged from the companionway, tenuously balancing three large plastic cups full of the green, chunky concoction. The ladies rescued two of the cups, and the trio settled into the teak cockpit benches to finally enjoy the fruits of his labor.

  After several sips and “Aaaaah’s” all around, Harold exclaimed “Spot on! Perhaps my finest batch yet, if I do say so myself.” Margaret smiled, but Jennifer wasn’t paying attention, she was once again mesmerized by the stars. After several evenings of cloudy, starless nights, Harold thought she looked like a child who had been reunited with a long lost pet. He recalled how she had impressed fellow yachters in Cairns Harbour with her extensive knowledge of the stars and her ability to establish position with just a compass and naked-eye observations of the sky. He was hoping an evening such as this would come along to witness her peculiar talent again. Harold snapped Jennifer out of her trance. “So what say you Jennifer? You haven’t seen the stars in a while and we’ve been on wind vane for over two days now. Do you think you’d have a prayer of figuring out where we might be tonight?”

  Harold was right of course. The wind vane maintained the boat’s heading relative to wind direction, not compass heading. And given the changing and unpredictable breeze they had been sailing through the last few days, the resulting path of the boat was anything but a straight line. Any chance of using last known position to help resolve their current position was hopeless.

  Jennifer wasn’t sure if the mild buzz she felt from Harold’s strong margarita helped or hindered her remarkable ability, but either way by the time she downed half the contents of her large cup she was ready to take on Harold’s challenge. Besides, she had been making careful mental notes on sun, moon and star positions for the last half hour and already had a head start. She decided to up the stakes a bit. “Margaret, why don’t you grab your handheld GPS,” she said with a sly grin.

  When Margaret and Harold were invited to catch a ride with Jennifer, they were shocked to learn that she didn’t even have GPS on board her boat, so they insisted on bringing their own handheld. Margaret went below to retrieve it. She came up, settled back into the cockpit bench, and was about to turn it on.

  Jennifer stopped her. “Wait, not yet!”. She set her cup down, stood up behind the wheel and oriented her body to face due South based on a glance at the compass. “OK … NOW!”

  Margaret caught onto what Jennifer was doing. “Oh my, you CAN’T be serious!”

  “What’s the matter Margaret? Afraid I’ll put your fancy little toy to shame?”

  Margaret smiled “Oh heavens, you can’t possibly … Well then, let the games begin, shall we?” She gripped the GPS.  “One .. two … three … GO!” She pressed to power button. After several seconds, the screen flashed to life, displaying the Garmin logo along with the usual warnings and disclaimers.

  Jennifer instantly kicked her brain into overdrive. She carefully noted the positions of the sun, the moon, and five of the key stars visible in the twilight sky. She stashed this data away in her mental database.

  The screen on the GPS switched to a dialog box, asking Margaret if she agreed to the terms and conditions of the previous user license screen. ‘Yes, for the thousandth time, of course I do!’ she thought. She pressed the AGREE button on the touch screen.

  Jennifer closed her eyes and began resolving rough latitude and longitude positions. Even though she no longer needed her sextant and astronomical charts to perform these calculations, she still pictured the complicated instrument in her mind as she drew lines across the surface of an imaginary globe, originating from the positions of sun, moon and five stars. Her first iteration at resolving position resulted in seven widely varying data points.

  Margaret’s GPS then switched to the “Acquiring satellite data” screen. As satellite signals were locked on, each satellite transponder code was displayed along with a LOCKED checkbox. She watched as the first, then the second, then a third satellite were locked in. On the open ocean, away from interference and atmospheric disturbances of civilization, the GPS would typically lock onto five satellites before calculating position.

  Jennifer then recalled the relative motions of the objects she had been tracking in the sky over the last half hour.  She re-ran her positional calculations taking these motions into account. The latitude and longitude positions began converging toward one another.

  … Satellite four locked on … satellite five locked on … the GPS screen switched again, this time to the final screen showing current position. The borders for the display drew into place with empty LATTITUDE and LONGITUDE boxes. Across the display, flashing white letters within a black box read CALCULATING … CALCULATING … CALCULATING …

  Jennifer was almost there. The numbers were resolving to a fraction of a minute in both latitude and longitude. This would be of sufficient accuracy for any typical navigational needs, but not close enough for Jennifer. She continued to refine her calculations. In her mind the dancing position lines converged onto a smaller and smaller area. She continually zoomed her minds eye into the convergence, with the accuracy of her measurements becoming finer and finer, till finally she was satisfied with her numbers. She quickly yelled it out.

  “Eight degrees twenty nine point six four eight minutes south by one seventy three degrees forty point three one two minutes east!”

  Several seconds later the GPS had completed its calculations. Margaret and Harold stared at the display in amazement:



                      Latitude            Longitude

              S  8°  29.646′          E  173° 40.313′



  “So, how’d I do?”

  Harold leaned back in his seat and made a futile attempt to mask his amazement. He faked a nonchalant attitude and replied “I’m not impressed, my dear. While you may have beaten the GPS, I’m afraid you’re several thousandths off on both latitude and longitude. By my calculation, your crude navigational skills would have us sailing forty or fifty feet off course!”

  Margaret and Jennifer chuckled, knowing full well that positional accuracy to within a mile or two was usually considered sufficient for open ocean navigation. Margaret said “Congratulations dear. That really is most astounding, despite my husband’s discourteous attempt to keep you humble.”

  The three sailors sat in silence for several minutes, feeling the relaxing effects of the alcohol and enjoying the colors being painted across the expansive sea by the final rays of the setting sun. Harold finished his evening drink first, followed soon by Margaret then Jennifer. Margaret broke the silence again, “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t pry, but I just can’t help myself. Jennifer, you are a most unusual young lady. I’m certain there’s a fascinating story to be told here. I simply MUST know …”

  “Now Margaret” interrupted Harold, “Let’s not trouble our gracious hostess with our trivial curiosities.”

  “That’s OK Harold” Jennifer said. “I suppose if the three of us are going to be trapped together on thirty six feet of fiberglass for the next couple months, we really ought to know a thing or two about each other.” Jennifer debated on how much to reveal to her companions. The simple and incomplete story of her life she had shared with other acquaintances she had come across during her journey just didn’t feel right now. Harold and Margaret had earned her trust and affection, and she felt she owed them more. Not only did she feel comfortable revealing her past to them, but in an odd way she wanted to, as though sharing her story with them might actually release some sort of burden from herself.  She took a deep breath and asked  “Does my name not ring a bell for either of you?”

  Harold and Margaret looked at each other, and after mutual shrugs Harold answered “No. Should it?”

“A little over two years ago, you don’t recall the name Jennifer St. James being broadcast across the news?”

  Harold replied “Jennifer, after a thirty two year career of reporting the news for the BBC, I’ve had about all the news I need for one lifetime. Ever since Margaret and I chose to retire on our sailboat twelve years ago, keeping up with the news has been the least of our ambitions.”

  Margaret looked at Jennifer with a concerned expression on her face. “Please dear, don’t be offended if we should know who you are.  But we really have been out of touch for quite some time now”

  Jennifer laughed out loud. Even though they had no idea why she was laughing, Margaret and Harold couldn’t help but laugh along with her. They were seeing a side of Jennifer tonight that they hadn’t witnessed before. It was refreshing to see her break out of her normally somber and serious mood and show a little playfulness and frivolity. Jennifer put her arm around Margaret’s shoulder and smiled “Oh believe me Margaret, I’m NOT offended! In fact, I’m absolutely delighted to be with the only two people on the face of the earth who don’t know who I am. No WONDER I like the two of you so much!”

  The three of them laughed some more. Finally Jennifer broke the levity. “OK, sit back, relax, and I will tell you the story of the billion dollar phone call …” she paused to think about it. Harold and Margaret seemed so trusting of her, so appreciative of her abilities yet also accepting of her flaws. Was she really ready risk the relationship they had formed? Yes, she was ready. It was time.  Jennifer stood up “On second thought, I won’t tell you.” She entered the companionway, stepped down into the cabin, and said over her shoulder “I’ve got a better idea. I’ll show you!”

  Harold and Margaret heard some rustling from down below for several minutes before Jennifer emerged from the companionway holding a thick black binder.