“Just what we needed!” we managed to proclaim, to her intense relief.
In spite of my forebodings, Barbara had not forgotten to bring the champagne and a bag of netting to cover it, so the glass wouldn’t be sprayed at the critical moment. The bottle was promptly hung from the bow, convenient to the platform that had been erected for the ceremonies. Beyond this we had barely a moment to exchange a conjugal word (“Did you remember to bring the lanterns I left on the porch?” “Yes.”) before we were surrounded by friends who shoved bouquets and gift-wrapped parcels into our hands and asked us to pose, together with reporters, who held microphones of portable tape recorders in front of our faces, and press photographers, who begged for “Just one more, please!”
Long before noon all the choice vantage points, including nearby hills and the roof of Yotsuda-san’s house, were filled with people. By eleven o’clock there was no room left on shore, and very little left on the water. At 11:30 the program began, and promptly at the tick of noon the Phoenix was launched.
2 PREPARATIONS
FOR A VOYAGE
“Cruising is walking, talking, buying, scrounging ... but cruising is also sailing.”
It was almost dark before visitors ceased to stream aboard the Phoenix, now riding at anchor in the bay. Then it was time for me to go ashore for a conference with the owner of the sampan we had wrecked during the launching.
After that, I told Barbara, Ted and I would attend a party ashore, given for everyone even remotely connected with the building of the boat—except, of course, females. For the first time Barbara appeared recalcitrant.
“Do Jessica and I stay on board here alone?” she asked.
“No, you go on back to the house. The Yacht Club boys will keep anchor watch. Come back out tomorrow.”
“It was nice knowing you,” Barbara said, climbing down into the dinghy. “I hope you and the Phoenix have a wonderful honeymoon.”