The wind blew over the bow and Josh held his breath from the smell. He closed his eyes and tapped his finger against the boat’s helm ten times. He exhaled. The boat swayed as the wind shifted, losing its strength. It settled, and he lazily turned the boat to close-haul. The boat slowed, then crawled; two knots, then one.

The wind died. Water lapped against the lumbering hull. Josh stuck his head out from under the bimini and checked the sails. The mainsail hung dead. He sipped his Red Stripe and focused ahead. The sailboat barely responded as he turned the wheel; he relaxed his grip.

The boat drifted aimlessly with the sea. Josh dropped his empty beer bottle into the bucket and held his breath. The bottle rolled. Fifteen seconds elapsed; he slowly exhaled. The smell had passed.

A moth that had followed them from the bay flew starboard and skittered out over the water. Josh burped with his mouth closed and released his breath with a dry chuckle. He hauled in the sails and started the engine. Sea birds soared in the distance.

At 6 knots he lowered the engine’s rpm and removed his sunglasses. He applied sunblock over his cracked lips and leathered skin. The smell crossed over the cockpit and he held his breath. It passed. He exhaled. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes had passed.

Keeping his foot on the steering wheel, he reached into the cooler and poured iced rum into his coffee cup. After his second cup, he pissed off of the boat’s stern. The courtesy flag flapped along the stay. Josh ducked under the bimini and headed to raise the mainsail. In the companionway, he held the halyard and stared at the line in his cracked palm. He coiled the line, set it aside and returned to the helm, raising the motor’s rpm.

Sea spray wet his face as the bow pierced growing waves. He poured another rum and smiled as he wiped away the sunblock stinging his eyes. He skirted the maritime border and aimed at Peter Island.

Three miles from shore, he released the holding tank. Shit passed under the boat in a brown cloud. He laughed at the stench and left the valve open to cleanse the chamber. After ten minutes, he returned to the head and wrenched the valve shut.

Sea air whipped the deck and he inhaled the clean smell. The foul smell passed faintly in the breeze. He held his breath, returned to the cooler, and poured himself another rum, setting the bottle in the ice next to the burlap sack. The rum swayed in his cup. He surveilled the open water, then tossed the sack into the bright blue ocean. The motor strained against the increasing waves as he relaxed his breath. He sipped his rum and sailed towards the horizon. The smell faded with the islands behind him.