Years ago, I discovered a few mystery novels set in the yacht sailing world, written by Bernard Cornwell. Kind of like Dick Francis books with salt water. I scarfed them up, because I love a good sailing tale for some reason (maybe it’s genetic; heaven knows I haven’t had much experience in the field). Cornwell stopped writing them and turned to a more lucrative career in historical novels, and I’ve found very few books of the sort since.

So I was intrigued to discover Timothy Frost’s Final Passage, which turns out to be a well-written, well-plotted story of danger and deception, which pleased me much and only irritated me here and there.

Martin Lancaster, the hero and narrator, is the hard driving, upwardly mobile owner of an advertising agency in London. He’s also a bit of an idiot, or so it appears at the beginning. Because it turns out he’s badly overextended, and the loss of his major client sends him to the verge of bankruptcy. He also has a rash habit of making heavy bets on his own races, and losing them. A timely acquisition by an American firm saves his bacon, and also permits him and his brother to continue their plans to participate in a transatlantic yacht race they’ve been planning on.

At the same time Martin’s very upset with his mother. She’s moving out of their family home into a retirement flat, and while going through her possessions during the move, Martin discovers the sailing log books left behind by his father, a famous solo racer who died during another transatlantic race. His mother insists on burning the books, which only motivates him to dig into the old records. But somebody seems to be determined stymie his investigation.

The second half of the book concerns the yacht race itself, during which the stakes are raised from financial ruin to life and death. Someone in Martin’s immediate circle wants him dead, and his life may depend on his ability to figure out whom he can trust.

I liked the concept, the writing was professional, and the characters were well-drawn. I was particularly impressed with the way author Frost constantly increased the pressure, putting Martin in situations where he seems to be at the bottom, only to find that there’s a lower level to drop to. One weakness that stuck out was that he didn’t know how his American characters should talk. Their dialogue is pretty inauthentic.

My main irritation was one that probably won’t bother most readers. It seems to me that “gay” characters have taken the place that used to be held by virgin sisters in literature—the vulnerable innocent, an offense against whom rouses the hero to righteous wrath. And so it is here.

Also I figured out the big surprise before the end.

On the plus side, the author takes sides in the war on drugs, and it’s the right side, in my opinion.

So I’ll say I enjoyed the book very much all in all, and recommend it for adult readers. Cautions for language and adult situations.