Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Bryon Miseph
1999
Dedication
This book is sincerely dedicated to the people who taught me
best, encouraged me to think for myself, put up with my
wandering ways, and badgered me to write about it all. Love
shows itself in many ways. Thanks Mom & Dad
Acknowledgements
Like so many things in life, this book would never have
come to be without a lot of inspiration, encouragement, and
opportunity. Thanks to all who helped, whether you meant to
or not. Ultimately a man’s efforts are his own; we are each
by ourselves fulfilled.
THE DOLPHIN LORD OF THE FISHES1
Oppian
(fl. c. A.D. 177-A.D. 180)
Now all the viviparous denizens of the sea love and cherish
their young but diviner than the dolphin is nothing yet
created; for indeed they were aforetime men and lived in
cities along with mortals, but by the devising of Dyonysus
they exchanged the land for the sea and put on the form of
fishes; but even now the righteous spirit of men in them
preserves human thought and human deeds
1
From A.W. Mair’s translation of Halieutica
PROLOGUE
***********
The struggle was futile and mercifully short. The
captives were led aboard. Although the captain saw no value
in the Shaman’s withered frame, he was brought first onto
the ship. After him, the rest followed with no resistance.
The natives were stripped and sent below, their few
rags and simple possessions just dumped overboard. The
Shaman’s leather pouch, however, caught the captain’s
attention. He was surprised and awed to discover the smooth,
gold likeness of a great sea creature from such a humble
source. He assumed it had been traded or lost by another
culture. There was something in the deep blue eyes of the
figurine that put a chill in his heart and tightened his throat.
In his cabin below hung a recent gift from one of the
traders; an intricately carved ivory cage. In what he
pretended was a fit of artistic fervor and some humor, the
captain put the dolphin inside the cage, and felt instantly
more at ease. With this final action the long voyage home
began.
The crossing was slow and uncomfortable. Dolphins
followed the ship every day; usually regarded as a good luck
omen by sailors, this captain now feared them as a portent of
ill chance. Perhaps, because he dreamed every night of their
brighteyed, golden leader.
When they finally reached the upper islands of the
Bahama chain, almost over the top, the wind began to grow
and did not stop. The captain fought, but on this voyage the
spirit of the sea was against him. The wind and tide bore his
ship relentlessly against a line of small, unnamed islands.
In a last desperate act of Christian humanity he sent
some crew below to unchain the cargo. Then a reef reached
up, a gaping jagged mouth of coral fangs, and tore the belly
from his ship.
CHAPTER 1
1
CHAPTER 2
Thick fog drifted across his aching eyes, and vile dust
sifted down from pallet to tongue. Memories of night and the
early morning hours returned with a quiver.
It had begun again, this time, with just a few mugs of
John Courage Ale at the Pilot House Hotel on the other side
of the bustling harbour road. While sipping peacefully, Paul
watched the latest load of sunworshipping Canadian
secretaries and dental hygienists arrive on schedule. Rarely
did they bring their own escorts. Every two weeks these pale
beauties arrived by the planeload looking for fun and
romance in a tropical paradise; as advertised by the hotel and
the Island Chamber of Commerce.
The ladies brought much more than their lovely
selves. Besides a welcome diversion to the locals and would
be residents of the island. They brought the soul of the
tourist trade. They brought the manna from the North. They
brought money.
Not that guys like Paul were for hire or anything like
that. He was a gentleman and would never have considered
such a thing, exactly. He and most of the harbour residents
were yachtsmen, after all. But living in the islands for a
while brought about an aura of unreality. The rules were
different here. Life was a game that everyone played and
enjoyed.
Some of these modern day cruising yachtsmen were
still akin to their swashbuckling buccaneer predecessors. So
Paul and the rest of the dockside royalty waited, every two
weeks, with carefully stifled anticipation, for the next crew
of paradise seeking fun lovers to arrive for their pleasure.
Often the end of the two week vacations was a tearful
farewell, full of pleadings and promises, as sad ladies
boarded the hotel minibusses for the lonely ride back to the
airport. Little waves and kisses blown through the window of
the moving bus were like fluttering flags at the end of a
2
squall. It was a heart rending scene, but the valiant sailors
had hardened their hearts to the experience.
“So ends another day in paradise,” the dock rats
would say, “but we’ve lived to love another day. And the
next plane is on the way!” They would laugh, slap backs, and
return to the cool nautical bar where the tab was already paid
in advance. There to await the return of the bus bearing
snowland’s next bountiful burden.
This ritual, in one form or another, has been
perpetuated for many years in resorts around the world. It’s
all part of the service and the show. It is part of the essence
of the tourist trade, and all comers are, to some extent,
participants in the time honored tradition.
The dockrat yachtsmen themselves were only slightly
more dedicated visitors than most. They drifted in from
everywhere, and stayed indefinitely to bask in the glorious
sun. The dedicated learned to live by whatever means most
readily occurred to them. Most often this involved the
continuously flowing tide of tourists from the North.
These dockrats, pirates and scallywags all,
maintained their lifestyles, and some their very existence, by
virtue of wits, longevity in the islands, and the skill with
which they reaped the bounty of the tide. The endless pace of
this game continued as a natural order along with the ebb and
flow of the vacationers, or the only slightly less transient flux
of the sailors themselves.
The staleness of the routine, or just an overdose of
paradise, would sometimes drive one of the sailors back to
the sea, or into a bottle of rum, or even back home again if
such a place still existed. At times the beauty and wonder of
“The Life” seemed bare compensation for the loneliness that
often accompanied “The Style”.
Much of the good life had left for Paul Sullivan. He
found himself and his boat stranded on the docks, a prisoner
of his own indecision and apathy. He had become a habitual
slave to the easy rituals of the island lifestyle. He still
believed there was something important in life, but it was
somehow missing. He had no idea where to find it. He
3
genuinely loved these islands and the sea. For some time
though, the sunshine had been dim.
He was losing inspiration. So he had let himself fall
into the routine, and part of that game was playing in the bars
and plying the willing snowbird trade for sport and the
furtherance of his aimless ends.
The endless succession of two week stands added up
to a whole lot of nothing, and Paul tired of the game. The
footloose life of noncommitment was getting old. But
paradise held limited diversions, especially at the dock. Old
habits die hard, and a fresh bunch of tourist ladies in town
offered a temptation he could not yet resist. He wandered
over to the hotel to have a few drinks and at least help wash
the sun into the sea once again.
4
CHAPTER 3
***********
6
They had met quickly in the bar that evening, and
he’d become too drunk so fast that he could barely remember
much else. She insisted on paying for all the drinks, and Paul
was in no mood to argue. They’d talked about boats and
sailing. His boat. Places he’d been and planned to go. The
cruising life in general. She’d wanted to hear all about the
different islands. Paul’s responses were automatic. She was a
great find, and seemed to have a bottomless bag of money.
After drinking their way down most of Bay Street,
late in the night, they had run into Paul’s old crewmate,
Deebe.
When Paul first arrived in Nassau, Deebe was on the
dock catching lines. Their acquaintance had grown to a loose
friendship with the island native accompanying Paul on
many of his diving expeditions. They worked well together,
and each shared a common respect and love for the sea.
Lately, Deebe had been involved with his own
enterprises. He was a rising star in the island’s underground
tourist trades.
“Paul, I got to talk to you, mon. Where you bin?”
Deebe’s big grin was genuine, but his tone was solemn.
“There be big troubles, mon.”
“Around Deebe, just around. How ya doin”?” Paul
asked cautiously.
“You still on de boat at de Yacht Haven?” asked
Deebe.
“Sure,” smiled Paul. “You still sellin’ coke?”
“All ways mon,” smiled the Bahamian, “but how’s
you money?”
Paul half turned and winked at the dark haired girl.
“Hey Babe, got a couple of hundred bucks? My friend here
can help us out.”
She reached into a deep shoulder bag and placed
some cash in Paul’s outstretched hand, a neutral expression
on her tired face. Paul and Deebe exchanged gifts. While
Paul pocketed the dope, and extra change, Deebe turned to
look into the woman’s eyes.
7
Through the long experience of his compact life,
Deebe had come to know many secrets of the soul both black
and white. Possessed of an instinctual power derived through
his heritage and a wisdom well beyond his years, the young
islander saw more than perhaps even the woman herself
knew was there.
“Deebe, this is, ah... my new friend...” Paul faltered
as he noticed the intensity of the gaze.
“You seem a nice lady, miss.” Deebe began, looking
now at the both of them, “You be careful, and take care. This
mon got some big problems here now. Best ya go from here,
and soon.” With that he turned, and simply walked away into
the thinning crowd.
“What was that all about?” she asked with a quizzical
look.
“Nothing,” Paul had replied quickly. “Nothing at all.
Forget about it. Here, let’s go get high.” After that his
memories faded.
The night had deteriorated rapidly into the hazy,
drunken, doped stupor that finally ended back on the boat
until this raging ragged day and...
8
CHAPTER 4
11
CHAPTER 5
13
presence such as yours is always welcome. Bingo tells me,
Paul, that you are most desirous of clearing up your debts.”
Mr. Adam looked down at the currency spread on the
table before him, but he shook his large mahogany head in a
negative manner.
“This certainly will not do. Do you have the rest of
my money Mr. Sullivan?”
Paul’s mind searched, reaching in vain for any
possible excuse or stall. Before he could create anything
even remotely plausible, Mr. Adam continued.
“I thought not. I am sure you understand that, as a
business man, I cannot allow this situation to continue
indefinitely. In fact, it has continued far too long already.
However, I am willing to reward initiative. I have a
proposition for you Captain.”
Now alarm bells were beginning to jangle with the
rest of the hangover rattling in the back of Paul’s skull. Mr.
Adam was not known for his philanthropic nature. He had to
at least get the girl out of this quickly.
“Mr. Adam, sir, I’d be happy to talk with you, but my
friend here isn’t interested in our business. I don’t think we
should trouble her with any of this. Dahlia, why don’t you
grab some lunch. I’ll meet you later back at the boat.”
Mr. Adam held up a soft restraining hand. “Oh, from
what I am told Miss Dahlia is a most understanding young
woman. For now I prefer that she remain part of this
conversation.” His eyes shone with a canny look. “I believe
the beautiful lady has already involved herself in this affair,
and now that she is in she will stay. Besides Captain, isn’t
she your first mate? Let’s hope she is a good crew. I believe
you are going to need some help,” he continued with a stern
look. “This will be your very last chance.”
Mr. Adam went on to explain that one of his
profitable enterprises was suffering due to difficulties in
obtaining black coral. The beautiful coral is in demand as
natural pieces or fashioned into jewelry. Mr. Adam was
trying to supply an international market through his many
shops in the islands.
14
Black coral is the rare mineralized exoskeleton of a
coral that survives in the dark deep water of a tropical sea. It
grows usually below a hundred feet, where most of the sun’s
rays never penetrate. It is often found under dark ledges and
in even darker caves. Under the diver’s light, sleek smooth
curves shine a lustrous, polished black, and thin delicate
branching arms reflect the pressurized beauty of the depths.
The rare stuff is a natural sculpture, reflecting in miniature
the strange power of the abyss.
Most divers consider the risks too great to pursue this
illusive natural beauty. Extended bottom times searching at
great depth leave a diver weak and subject to many perils.
Nitrogen narcosis, the bends, and other inherent dangers of
deep diving become serious factors. Beyond that, due to its
value and scarcity, black coral is protected by the
government. Taking it is very much against the law.
“Damn, Mr. Adam,” Paul exclaimed, exasperated,
“getting to that coral is dangerous. And even if I can find
some, if the law catches me I could lose my boat.”
“Captain Sullivan,” Mr. Adam answered in an
assured tone, “I have every confidence in your abilities to
find the black coral and bring it up. As for the boat, if she is
lost, the loss will be mine, as the vessel now belongs to me.
Isn’t that so Mr. Sullivan? I am offering you a chance to
keep her. Consider this carefully.
“Now, why don’t the both of you go out and get your
lunch. I have other matters to attend to ,” he spoke abruptly
looking at his slim gold wrist watch. “Enjoy yourselves on
our beautiful island, and prepare for your voyage. I am
anxious that you begin at once. Return here at four o’clock,
Captain, and report your progress. We shall discuss further
details of our arrangement at that time. With a wave of his
hand he summarily dismissed them.
As the pair made for the doorway, Bingo spoke one last time,
“We be watchin’ de boat fa you Cap’n. Make sure she don’
come loose, okay?”
15
CHAPTER 6
19
CHAPTER 7
20
a passable actress; talents she had picked up no doubt from
her mother.
She suspected Paul was exaggerating the dangers,
and there couldn’t really be all that much to learn about
sailing. She had never actually been on a moving sailboat in
her life, but lots of people did it. How tough could it be?
***********
21
After two years he finally left her. Terri noticed he
was gone when she returned to an empty apartment from a
long weekend party excursion to a palatial home on the edge
of the desert community. She felt depressed, ill, and alone.
Not many weeks went by before she realized that she was
almost broke, and pregnant.
Baby Megan was brought home to a one bedroom,
second floor apartment with the rent overdue, but she was in
the arms of a very determined woman.
Drawing on the energy of her grim determination,
and working at least two jobs at a time, mother Terri was
able to provide the physical necessities for her growing
daughter. Terri also found ample time to date, and young
Megan’s life was full of “uncles” and Mom’s “special
friends”.
As Meggy approached her teens, Terri began to leave
more and more frequently on “short business trips”. The
young girl learned to depend on herself. Sometimes she
envied Terri the freedom she seemed to enjoy. At the same
time though, she noticed the frustration and desperation in
her mother’s life; she determined that hers would be
something different.
22
CHAPTER 8
24
As Paul explained, “Ice melts fast in the tropics. And
when it’s gone, so are these groceries.”
The supplies were carefully stowed in the proper
places. All heavy items, canned goods and such, were stored
in bins below the cabin floor to keep the ship’s center of
gravity low. Meager locker space in the neat galley was
reserved for lighter items and those requiring easier access.
The next trip went to the ship chandlery where
Megan was confronted with a whole new world. Poles,
cables, pulleys and ropes, charts, anchors, oars, chains, and a
withering profusion of hardware, blinking electronic lights,
flags, instruments, horns, whistles, bells and all manner of
things she had never seen before and could not imagine the
purpose why they were stacked, stuffed, shelved, and
hanging all over the place. She began to wonder if she might
be out of her depth after all.
The only familiar items were in the wardrobe corner.
The quality of the sturdy, practical clothing was impressive.
A bright display of waterproof jackets caught Meg’s eye. On
closer inspection she was not comforted to discover they
were designed to ‘Inflate Automatically for Buoyancy in an
Emergency’. Somehow that took most of the fun out of
clothes shopping. Acting on Paul’s advice that she would
have to “dress amphibious” most of the time, Megan bought
herself several colorful but basically shapeless tank suits.
With a wink and a leer, Paul picked out and insisted she
throw in a vivid string bikini.
He bought little for himself, except a pair of high
quality deck shoes. As he added them to the growing pile of
supplies he recognized a brief twinge of guilt. Based on past
experiences there was every possibility the shoes would long
outlast the relationship with the girl who was paying for
them.
Spending Meg’s money extravagantly, Paul
purchased a list of long depleted ship’s supplies and some
new charts. They updated the scuba gear and bought new
equipment in Meg’s size. On the way out, Paul helped Meg
25
choose a wide brimmed hat and polarized sun glasses. Meg
traded cash for all the supplies with no complaint.
A comfortable air of domesticity appeared to
accompany the attractive young couple as they pushed a
loaded hand cart away from the store. The cart squeaked and
wobbled over the uneven planks as they wheeled their way
down the long dock and back to the boat. Through the heat
of the day they stowed the rest of the gear aboard until it was
time for the meeting with Mr.Adam. Then Paul left Meg
with one last task. “There’s a small Laundromat up in the
marina,” he
mentioned in an offhand manner, “I’ll leave the handcart.
Why don’t you do some laundry, then we’ll be ready to go
when I get back, okay.”
“Sure, right away mon capitaine.” She saluted and
smiled sweetly. Paul stepped off the deck and strode
purposefully down the pier.
Meg really didn’t mind the task. It would help to
keep her mind off other things, but she wondered if she’d
have enough time or detergent. The cabin still looked like the
inside of a hamper and there were huge laundry bags all over
the place. Organizing and sorting laundry was not a pleasant
chore. Meg began to feel both sympathy and disgust for
bachelors everywhere. She thought about rubber gloves, but
decided to settle for a long hot shower at the marina after the
work was done.
Paul might be a slob, she thought, but he was
attractive and basically a sweet guy. Meg could sense
something in him more than his haphazard, easygolucky
manner disclosed. That, and the fact that he could probably
save her life, inclined her to put up with his petty tyranny
and insecurities for the time being.
Even the problem with Mr. Adam had worked nicely
in her favor. It sure helped pry Paul and his boat away from
the dock. Paul and Mr. Adam. Men! She could handle them
all easily. And why not, she thought, they weren’t even
playing in her league. She had the advantage of a lifetime of
experience.
26
Unbidden and unwanted, images and memories returned her
to another time and other places.
27
CHAPTER 9
29
CHAPTER 10
31
CHAPTER 11
35
Armed only with this meagre bequest, her wits, and
an indomitable spirit, Megan Tarrentino made a desperate
and final decision.
At the airport in Montreal, Megan Jacobs boarded the
next plane leaving immediately for Nassau. Her destination
was there and points beyond, and the beginning of a new life.
36
CHAPTER 12
37
as good as she looks. It’s like a palace inside. Come on. I’ll
give you the nickel tour.”
Inside the catamaran was bright and spacious, with
numerous nautical but homey touches. Herbs growing in the
galley threw a delicate scent, and beautiful plants in secure
holders decorated the airy cabin. It looked like a floating
dream house. This, thought Meg, is something I could get
used to. She remembered the many temporary, cold, and
lonely apartments of her youth in the dry toned desert. How
different it would be to live in this beautiful world, floating
in your own glorious home with lively, caring friends.
“This is just beautiful Doreen. I hope you have a
wonderful trip.”
“Oh, we will. I just know we will. It’s been
wonderful already, and we haven’t even gone anywhere yet.
And Captain Baker is probably just the best skipper in these
islands and he’s promised to show us everything we can see
in only weeks,” she said in one long gushing breath while
smiling and looking up behind Meg’s shoulder.
Meg turned slowly and saw the tall, older man who
had silently appeared behind her. Sharp gray eyes shone out
from under a battered, black and salt stained yachtsman’s
cap. There was a friendly, easy smile in the white oval of
mustache and neatly trimmed beard.
“Hello,” even his voice smiled as he extended a lean,
tan, longfingered hand to Meg. “I’m Ray Baker, captain of
the good ship. Welcome aboard.”
“What a beautiful boat you’ve got here Captain. Hi,
I’m Meg.” And she returned his firm but gentle handshake.
“Well dear, I can see from your pale skin and a red
nose that you haven’t been here long. Where are you from
and how’s your vacation so far?”
The sudden, if friendly, questions left an empty,
awkward stillness in the air. The fatherly Captain stepped
forward and put an arm around the girl’s shoulders, guiding
her toward a large spiked plant growing under an open hatch.
“If you plan to spend much time down here you’ll
have to watch out for this sun.”
38
The kindly old captain spoke slowly and gently. He
looked closely at Meg, clucking and bantering some more
about fair haired beauties and the tropical sun.
It’s even worse on boats, you know.” He explained,
“The sunlight reflects off the water and deck and sails; it’s
like being in a solar oven. Are you going out on a boat?”
As he spoke he removed a bone handled knife from
his pocket and snapped open a clean, shiny blade. He cut a
thick green shoot from the growing plant and deftly sliced
down its length. Meg watched closely as she answered.
“Why yes,” she told him with barely a pause. “I’m on
the Crazy Lady with Paul Sullivan. We’re going out soon.
Do you know him?”
“Oh yes, I know Paul all right. We worked together
for a little while. The boy’s a good seaman, and a hell of a
diver too when he wants to be.” Captain Ray had a quizzical
look as he asked, “How did you happen to hook up with
Paul? I didn’t know he was taking charters again. Now hold
still a minute.”
He squeezed a clear jellylike substance from the
sliced leaf and applied it gently to the sunburned areas on
Meg’s face. The burning was immediately replaced by
soothing coolness.
“This plant is Aloe Vera. It’s about the best thing you
can do for sunburned skin.” Captain Ray answered the
unasked question he thought he saw in the young woman’s
eyes.
His touch was so strangely familiar she shuddered. It
was like a deep memory, something lost but forever
connected. For a brief moment there was a feeling, a contact,
a familiar touch somewhere deep in her very soul. How odd
she felt. Perhaps she had been out in the sun too long.
“Now where did you say your charter was going?”
“Oh, well it’s not a charter exactly, I guess. Paul’s
going to take me diving,” Meg answered vaguely.
“Diving is it? Well you take care, Miss. Paul knows
his stuff, but... Well, just don’t you get careless. Diving can
39
be dangerous if you’re not on top of the situation. Do you
know where you’re going?”
“No,” Meg replied cautiously. “We haven’t discussed
it yet. Not far probably. Why do you ask?”
“No reason really, none at all. Just curious I guess.
Tell you what though, our itinerary’s not definitely set either.
We could be cruising in the same area. I know Paul isn’t
much for radio talk, but I always monitor channel sixteen for
emergencies. You can give us a call if you’re in the mood.
We might be nearby and we could get together. I’ve been
meaning to have a talk with Paul, but he’s been a tough guy
to track down lately. Tell him I said hello.”
“I will Captain. It would be great to get together, but
I don’t know what Paul has in mind for this trip. And now
I’d really better be going, I still have a lot to do, and Paul
wants to be ready to go when he gets back from his errands.
Thank you so much for the skin treatment; it feels much
better now. Doreen, thanks for all your help, I don’t know
what I would have done without you,” she said, really
meaning it.
“Hey, I hope we see each other on the cruise.
Wouldn’t that be just great?” said the perky traveler
bouncing out of her chair to hug and say goodby.
***********
The sun was low on the horizon and the wind blew
gently from the Southeast. Meg left the catamaran and
pushed the cart along the piers heading back to the Crazy
Lady. The weight and fatigue of the past days felt heavy. It
was a real and oppressive burden on the back of her neck and
shoulders.
The weight bore down on the spirit as well as her
body. But there was no time to stop now. Already she felt
mired down in the muck of her own lies. And the pursuers
could be anyplace, just behind her, ready to do to her and
anyone around her what they had already done to Vinny. She
40
had to keep going. She had to find Paul and make him leave
soon. Tonight!
41
CHAPTER 13
***********
The dreams came again. All around her the tall frosted
evergreens pointed to nowhere and their heavy, snow laden branches
drooped to the frozen path. Ahead the forest changed, but it was still dark
and intimidating. Bare pointing arms of trees reached out to embrace
only the frozen air. And everything was so lonely. So alone.
44
CHAPTER 14
45
Paul was passive about the evening’s uneventful sail.
He appeared calm and relaxed, reclining on the cockpit
bench with his head resting on a faded red and white boat
cushion. He seemed like a different man to her; this self-
assured and confident captain. He was in his element here,
his own world. It was a world she was unfamiliar with, but
becoming comfortable in.
“Paul, are we okay here?” she asked vaguely. “I
mean, is this a good place to be? Shouldn’t we still be
sailing?”
“We’re just fine. Nobody will find us here for a
while.”
“What do you mean,” Meg’s conscience made her
snap. She turned away to hide her guilt and fear.
Paul replied easily, “I mean Mr. Adam of course. I
figure he’ll try to keep an eye on us. That’s why we were in
such a hurry to leave last night. I wanted to be on the move
before he was ready for us. He has planes flying all through
these islands, but they don’t fly legally after dark.
“He probably knows we left by now, but he doesn’t
know where we are. With a little razzle dazzle, and
creativity, he may not catch up until we sail back into
Nassau. I was worried we weren’t going to make it last night.
What kept you? Get lost on the way back from the
Laundromat?” Paul stretched his back and closed his eyes,
like a cat in the sun. He seemed to expect some frivolous
answer.
Meg was relieved, yet for some reason felt compelled
to jolt this smug creature out of his contented lethargy.
“As a matter of fact,” she told him, “I ran into an old
friend of yours. Ray Baker says to say hello.”
“Really.” Paul barely opened one eye and smiled
faintly, “And is that the only message the estimable Captain
Baker has for me?”
“Well, he said to ask you to call him on the radio. He
might be in the area and we could get together. He wants to
talk to you about something, but he hasn’t been able to find
you lately. What kind of work did you do with him,
46
anyway?” Meg asked, remembering the Captain’s allusion to
working with Paul.
“When I first came to the islands I met Captain Ray.
We took out a few dive charters together on his boat,” Paul
remembered. “Once, we found the remains of an old Spanish
wreck, and later salvaged some brass cannon from her.”
“An old shipwreck,” Meg exclaimed, truly surprised.
She had never thought about such things really existing.
“Sure,” Paul explained. “The Abaco chain, north of
here, is littered with wrecks.”
It was one of the romantic, but true tales of the
Caribbean. Old Spanish sailing ships carrying gold, silver,
and other plunder had frequently met their doom on the
rocky barrier reef that protects the islands from the sea.
Many decades of looting the rich South American continent
through conquest and religion had sent large treasure fleets
back along the dangerous island reefs, riding the Gulf Stream
on the profitable voyage home. Frequent and fast moving
tropical storms in the area had easily driven more than one
heavily laden, unmaneuverable ship onto the reefs, and to a
silent grave in Davy Jones locker.
“Do you think we can find a treasure?” she asked
from behind a forked slice of pineapple.
“Finding anything underwater after all this time is
just a fluke,” Paul told her. “Lots of people with special
information, research, and expensive equipment come up
empty handed most of the time. Every storm rearranges the
bottom. Stuff has been washing up from here to Florida for
hundreds of years. There can’t be all that much left. Captain
Ray and I only found a couple of old cannon. We sold them
for a bunch of money, but a storm came up and we never
found anything else there after that. The sea giveth; And the
sea taketh away,” he laughed.
“I’d like to talk to the old guy, but this is no time for
reminiscing,” Paul insisted. “I don’t think we’ll be able to
get in touch with him this trip. We’re going to be very busy.
We’ve got some diving to do remember?” With that he got
up, opened a cockpit locker, and began removing and
47
assembling diving gear.
Paul went through all of the equipment and reviewed
techniques and procedures for Meg’s benefit. He emphasized
the fact that one or both of their lives might soon depend on
how well she understood this information. Meg tried hard to
pay close attention.
After the lecture Meg had to admit to herself that
Paul knew much more about diving than she had thought
there was to learn. She was still reasonably sure she could
maintain her bluff, however. Paul explained things well, and
with a little subtle coaxing he would teach her all she needed
to know without even being aware that he was doing it. All
she had to do was stroke his ego and start him talking. That
was something she was very good at.
A short time later they were loading gear into the
rubber boat for the trip to the reefs around Mama Rhoda
rock. Meg used the opportunity to start Paul talking. To her
surprise it was easier than she had anticipated.
Paul had a solid knowledge of his subject and the
equipment. He also had a more than passing familiarity with
the environment and creatures of the sea. Megan saw that
there was more to this man than the easily manipulated, half-
drunk sailor she had picked up.
Curiosity piqued, her questions prodded the
conversation from technical to personal.
At first Paul was hesitant to talk about himself at all. But
eventually her well practiced manner loosened Paul’s reserve
and guided him along the conversation of Megan’s choice.
Her technique worked well on Paul, as it worked on all men.
Meg was a master of her charms.
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CHAPTER 16
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“If things get too dull, Bruno,” Captain Ray told him,
“I’ve got some great videos of all the super bowl games, and
coverage from the last Olympics.”
“Hey, great. I was beginnin’ to wonder if anybody
about sports and stuff down here. Thanks Captain.”
“I know some sports and stuff handsome,” Doreen
batted her eyelashes provocatively. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep
you occupied.”
Bruno looked at the older captain, and blushed
deeply. It was something amazing to behold.
“I gotta go do my push ups,” Bruno declared, getting
up from the table suddenly and steering for the sliding glass
doorway to the deck.
Doreen just giggled, “Isn’t he sweet? You wouldn’t
believe him on a football field though. He runs through
people like a pick up truck through a parking lot full of
shopping carts. He was really good ‘till his knees gave out.
So Cap, do you think we’ll run into Meg and her beau?”
A cloud passed over the Captain’s face. Doreen
picked up on it at once.
“You know, Doreen,” he began in his fatherly voice,
“not all people are what they seem...”
“Hey Cap, just because I might look and act like a
pumpkin doesn’t mean I just fell off the truck. Now what’s
the problem?”
Captain Ray’s clear gray eyes regarded her for a
moment, considering. Then he left the table, went to his
stateroom.When he returned there was a folded newspaper in
his hand.
“My brother lives up in Old Saybrook, Connecticut,”
he told her. He runs a marina up there. Anyway, he sends me
down a local paper once in a while - here,” he held out the
newspaper. “Take a look at this.”
There was a picture of a young, well dressed blond
woman and a thin, handsome man. The man was almost too
handsome, she thought. The long-haired woman was
somehow familiar. The caption under the picture introduced
Mr. and Mrs. Vincent Tarrentino who were among the guests
62
at a United Charity Ball held last year at... blah, blah. The
article beneath was more interesting. It described the viscous
murder of Mr. Tarrentino when his car exploded after an
apparent inside attack. Mrs. Tarrentino, it went on to say, is
being sought for questioning in connection with the murder.
The article made things look pretty bad for Mrs. Tarrentino.
Doreen looked up at the old sea captain. Grimly, he
just handed her a pencil. Doreen sketched in short dark hair
on the pretty blond. It was Meg; younger and fresher looking
in the photo without the tired lines in her face, but it was
Meg.
After a moment of silence Doreen made up her mind.
“I don’t care what that story says, Ray,” she spoke
forcefully, “Meg didn’t kill anybody. Certainly not with a
rocket launcher”.
“I don’t think so either darlin’, that’s why I haven’t
done anything with this,” he gestured to the paper, “but I
think we should have a talk with Meg and Paul. The only
problem is that now we have to find them.”
They discussed this change in the plans, and even
brought Bruno down for a consultation, although they didn’t
trouble him with all of the details. Captain Ray was slightly
hesitant over the mission, but Doreen insisted it was her and
Bruno’s charter.
“One direction is as good as another to us, right
Bruno. And besides, what would a vacation be without
adventure and excitement. We love excitement, right
Bruno?”
“Excitement’s the name of the game. “Bruno
definitely agreed. “Hey, do you think they might have a
power liftin’ meet where we’re going?”
“Good question, Bruni”, Doreen kept the
conversation rolling, “where are we going Captain?”
“I’m not exactly sure just yet, “he replied. “but I
think I know someone who can help me figure it out. If you
don’t mind, I’ll be out for the evening. I’ve got some
listening and catching up to do. Now what’s so funny?”
Doreen was standing behind Bruno massaging his
63
immense shoulders and chuckling to herself. “I was planning
to ask you, Captain, after dinner, if the charter business ever
got boring?”
Captain Ray smiled, and looked at the young couple.
“Business can be business,” he said slowly, “but dealing with
the sea and with people is never boring. I love them both,
and there is always something new to learn.”
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pretty true. Come on down below, I want to show you
something.”
The afternoon’s scare underwater was a powerful
reminder to Paul just how vulnerable they were in so many
ways. The boat’s old radio really worked better and more
reliably than Paul let on. His preference was for the sounds
of the sea rather than the mostly unimportant banter of half
lost yachtsmen. But in an emergency, contact with the
outside world could be at least comforting and maybe even
helpful. He explained the radio’s intricacies and taught Meg
how to operate it.
“The only tricky part,” he told her, “is that it has to
have electricity. The batteries are old and weak. Sometimes I
even have to hand crank the engine to get it going. This
gauge right here,” he tapped a red and green arch with a
fluctuating needle, “shows how much power is available.
When it dips to the red the batteries are dying, and you’re
probably not transmitting. Tomorrow, if you want, we can
crank up the engine and try to give Second Wind a call. The
old Captain should be around somewhere by then.
“For now darlin’,” Paul told her, “you look
exhausted. It’s been a long day. Why don’t you make up the
forward cabin for yourself. I’ll take the watch.”
Meg was so tired she gratefully complied. Although
much recovered, she was ready for a good night’s rest.
If only the dreams wouldn’t come again, she wished
as she made her way below. Those hollow, stark dreams of
lonely silhouette trees in an empty land of dry, moaning
wind and orange fire.
She was fortunate, or exhausted, or both. She slept
well, and if she dreamed at all the dreams were peaceful and
reassuring as the comfortable rocking of a boat on a gentle
sea.
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“It seems he has some real important visitor from the
States right now who’s particularly interested in Megan.
With all the gambling, drugs, and crazy American dope cops
down here there’s no telling who he’s talking to. Our friends
could be in a lot of trouble.
“I’ve known Paul a while, and I don’t believe he, or
Megan either, know what they’re wrapped up in. Whatever it
is, with Adam involved, you can bet it’s not legitimate and
somebody might get hurt. Deebe told me Mr. Adam knows
they went south looking for black coral. He’s searching for
them down there. I just hope we can warn them before Adam
and the other guy find them, and it’s too late.”
Even in the limited passages of the Caribbean Sea the
waters are a vast place. Two ships traveling parallel courses
in opposite directions might never meet or be aware of the
others passing, separated from sight by the curve of the
earth’s surface.
VHF (very high frequency) antennas on sailboats are
usually mounted on mast tops to increase the line of sight
transmission capabilities of the signal. The tips of the
antennas on Crazy Lady and Second Wind were barely in
“sight” of one another when the hail came over the
catamaran’s radio.
“Second Wind Second Wind, the Crazy Lady over.”
Meg’s voice came fuzzy but recognizable from the speaker.
Bruno snatched the microphone on its long cord in
the nav station and passed it up to Ray in the cockpit.
Ray hesitated a long moment, then returned, “Crazy
Lady this is Windy,Windy. We copy you but broken. Radio
unreliable. Say your intentions. Repeat. Say your intentions
only.”
“Uh oh.” Paul understood immediately that
something was not normal. “That’s not the way Captain Ray
usually answers a radio call,” he told Meg. “Let me think a
minute. Better give me that mic.”
“Good day Captain Ray,” Paul’s slightly static voice
popped out of the speaker. The crew of the catamaran were
nervous about what Paul might say at first over the open
77
radio channel. Ray had his fingers crossed. He could only
hope that Paul understood his unspoken message in time.
“We just spotted your sails Windy,” Paul spoke from
over the horizon. “We were wondering where you’re headed,
and if you might have a few spare bottles of rum aboard.”
“We’re a diving charter chum, not a floating saloon.
We don’t disclose our destination over the radio. And on this
boat there’s no such thing as an extra bottle of rum.” Ray
was trying to say as much as possible in a quickly
improvised code. “All I’ve got for you mister are a few
unpleasant words the next time I get close enough to say
them in person. And I hope that is soon,” he finished with an
emphasis.
Paul’s voice snapped back only moments after the
captain released his microphone, “Well old man, if that’s the
way you feel, we’re headed for Balboa’s Bar to spend a few
days soaking in rum punch. Thanks anyway for your lack of
hospitality. Lady clear and out.” The radio went silent.
The crew on both vessels were appalled.
“Jeez,” exclaimed Meg, truly surprised, “I thought
you guys were friends?”
Paul nodded from his contemplation. “We are
friends,” he assured her. “We’ve had our differences, and
everybody knows that, but we are friends. Ray would never
talk that way to anybody. He was trying to tell us
something.”
“He told me once that when he was building the cat
his daughter started calling it his Second Wind; that’s how
he got the name.
“It annoys him when anybody tries to call the boat
anything else. He’d never call her something like Windy
unless he was trying to get my attention. And Ray is one of
the most generous men I know; he always has something to
share with anyone. I’m afraid that what he has to tell us is
not good news.”
On board the Second Wind, Doreen and Bruno were
equally perplexed.
78
“What was THAT all about?” Doreen wondered out
loud, eyes wide in question when the transmission ended. “I
thought we were on their side.”
Captain Ray looked up from the mic in his hand. He
was grinning from ear to ear.
“That was perfect,” he slapped a palm to his thigh,
“just perfect. What do you think? Did we sound like
friends?”
The confused couple from Canada didn’t think so.
“Anybody listening in on that conversation won’t
expect us to be anywhere near the Crazy Lady and they
won’t know where she’s going.”
“Do we know where they’re going?” asked Doreen,
still a little baffled.
“Oh yes, darlin’, we know. We don’t know where she
is right now, but we know exactly where she is going and
where they’ll be for a while.
“I think, to be on the safe side, we’ll keep heading
south for a little bit. This boat is a large target from the air.
As soon as we’ve been spotted alone we’ll shoot back up
north and have our talk with Meg and Paul.”
The Captain was pleased that Paul had been astute
enough to understand his message so quickly and respond in
kind. He wanted to help as much as he could, but he still had
an obligation to protect his passengers. Mr. Adam had eyes
and ears every place, even in the air and sea around these
islands.
“Now folks,” he continued in his best professional
manner, “I have a couple of favorite dive spots up ahead.
Would you people prefer grouper or lobster for lunch, or
perhaps both?”
“Both,” said Bruno without hesitation, “with potatoes
and some other stuff. I’m really hungry now.”
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81
Meg was helping with the ever more familiar equipment
when a fast Zzznnng came from one of the spinning reels.
“Get it Megan,” Paul called out. “This one’s for you.
And don’t let it get away. That’s our dinner.”
Meg had been fishing before, but nothing ever like
this. The rod bucked and strained in her hands and the
singing line threatened to snap at any moment. Paul just
laughed as she went into a near panic of cranking, pulling,
and yelling for help.
“Easy does it now,” he coached, “you’ve got a good
one. Keep the rod tip up... up. Work the fish in, now reel.
Take your time. You’ve got to tire him out.”
“What if I get tired first?” Meg yelled, almost
panting. “This thing must be bigger than I am.”
The play and the banter went on until Paul could
catch the wire leader. He pulled a good size red snapper into
the cockpit.
“Well done. Very well done indeed. You’ve earned
your dinner again tonight, Lady,” Paul congratulated,
beaming, applauding his pupil. Meg couldn’t help a little
selfsatisfied smile herself.
Not much later, dinner was ready. “Another specialty
Chez Paul,” he announce, placing the steaming platter on the
cockpit table. “Seasoned delicately and basted with coconut
milk over an open fire.”
Meg clapped with appreciation. This was better than
anything, everything she had ever known before. All the
trials and disappointments of her life seemed so very far
away for the moment. Loneliness and disaster were
momentarily but vague recollections. Even the danger that
chased her to this place was a beast lurking far in the
distance of another world. It was hard to believe life could
go so far astray when all of this was here, simple and
beautiful, just waiting all the time like an unknown dream
come true.
Dinner talk turned to real life in the islands. Even
paradise had its drawbacks. They considered the strange
disappearances and happenings in the Bermuda Triangle.
82
Paul told her stories of the modern smugglers and profiteers
plying the trade routes with money, drugs, guns, and
diplomacy throughout the Caribbean. He told her how, often,
the low, fast planes would kick their South American crop
cargoes into the sea.
“How do you know about all this stuff? Are you
involved with smugglers?” she asked with cautious interest.
“I know a few,” he told her honestly. “Out here most
everyone’s been exposed to smuggling one way or another.
It’s been going on for a very long time.The guys I know are
the old fashioned, free spirited, buccanneer types.They have
an interesting point of view.
“They figure there will always be someone willing to
supply what people demand, regardless of what any
government or authority tries to prohibit or restrict. I think
they’re right. Just look at Prohibition or even the Boston Tea
Party.
“Everybody knows this stuff, especially the
governments. All through history some groups have always
used restrictions and rules to create conflict and tension.
Governments need those things as an excuse to build their
own power. People feed the governments out of fear but then
usually, the governments themselves become the most
frightening thing of all. The U.S. right now is trying to turn
half the world, including these islands, into a war zone. It’s
big business.
“Sometimes,” he told her, with a sad shrug, “it’s
difficult to tell the righteous from the truly evil.
“Now these islands have progressed from harmless
pot smuggling. Things have escalated to crazy profits, guns,
and it’s dangerous out of all proportion. I try to stay out of it
as much as possible, but right and wrong isn’t necessarily
which team you’re on. Look where trying to do the right
thing has got me. There has to be a better way.”
“Do you think we might find a sunken treasure,
Paul?” Meg asked. “That would solve all of our problems.”
She liked this conversation; light and easy. It occupied their
thought and words with no difficulties or complications.
83
“There are all kinds of treasure, Meg,” Paul
responded, looking seriously into her eyes, “and it can be
anywhere. The secret is to recognize it when you’ve found
it.”
Very quickly he broke the spell again. “Now let’s
clean up and get some rest. It’s the master suite for you again
tonight,” he told her before she even had time to worry. “I’m
going to stay up here in the cockpit to keep a watch on the
anchors.”
“Sure,” Meg replied, with the barest relief evident in
her voice. She stepped over and gave him an appreciative
hug. “Thank you Paul. Thank you for everything.”
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control. Ray and Paul looked at each other. Doreen and
Bruno sat silently holding hands.
Certainly this woman was no killer. But she still had
a very serious problem. Maybe they all did.
“You know Uncle Sal?” Meg’s shock turned to
suspicion. “How could you know Sal?” she wondered aloud.
“How indeed?” Ray almost chuckled. You’d be
surprised how many people know your ‘Uncle Sal’. But
don’t worry; I am proud to say that I am not necessarily one
of his friends or admirers.
“A lifetime or so ago I decided to get involved in
local politics. I was living in Connecticut then. I was a
lawyer. I had a family and a nice little business. I was
teaching political science and history at a local college. I was
talked into accepting a nomination and I wound up as mayor.
I thought I’d try to contribute something to the community
when I entered the political arena. What an education I got.
“Anyway, along came a shore property rezoning
issue, a precursor to building a casino as it turns out, and
along with it came Big Sal d’Ambrosio. He was slick. He
caught me at a weak moment. My wife and I were having
our difficulties... Well, none of that really matters any more.
It was the beginning of many endings for me. I went along
with Sal and his business. My wife and I eventually divorced
anyway. When I finally didn’t go along with them, they saw
to it that I was ruined.
That’s when I built my boat and came down here to
get away from the whole rotten system; salvage what I could
and try to make a new life. But I did learn a few things along
the way.
“That man and his organization have more power
than you would believe. They collect politicians and cops
like other people collect butterflies. Now they’re at it again,
and I suspect it’s more than gambling at stake. The local
politicos are circling like a pack of jackals around my
brother’s boat yard in Old Saybrook and he’s afraid he might
lose everything. I guess it’s finally time for me to go back
north and clear a few things up. I’m already long overdue.”
91
I still have friends,” the gray haired captain
reminisced, and his blue eyes shone, “and we know a few
honest people. I’ll ask around. Maybe we can figure a way to
help you out.”
Captain Ray paused in thought for a while, then
continued, “I’ve already told Doreen and Bruno I might have
to cut the charter short. They say they don’t mind and have
agreed to wait in Marsh Harbour on the boat while I fly back
and at least talk to my lawyer in Florida.”
“Mind!” said Doreen definitely, “We’re looking
forward to it! If you’ve got to be abandoned on a desert isle
this is the way to go, huh Bruni. Besides, the Captain says
we can use the Zephyr. That sure is one fun little boat. Bruno
says he’s gonna teach me to water ski. And we don’t mind a
little privacy, all alone on that big, soft boat, do we honey?”
she let the long lashes of one eye fall in a huge wink to
Bruno. It was an experience to watch the big fellow blush.
Ray laughed, “You’re being good sports about this.
Thanks. I promise you we’ll make it up somehow. And I
assure you that I am not leaving you abandoned on a
deserted island. Marsh Harbour is a good sized island town
with plenty to do. I’ll set you up with a good bone fishing
guide I know before I leave. As for you folks,” he regarded
Megan and Paul, “I suggest you just sit right here. As far as I
know, Mr. Adam and Sal think you’re to the South. You
should be safe here for awhile. I don’t expect to be gone very
long.”
Paul and Meg sat side by side looking at one another.
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll be fine here
Ray,” Paul told him. “We’ve got some diving to do. I still
have my own problems to handle with Mr. Adam. I really
can’t afford to lose the Crazy Lady now.”
“Settled then,” Ray looked from one to the other
around the cockpit. “Let’s have another few drinks, we’ll
make it an early night. I want to leave at first light so I can
set these folks up and catch a flight to Florida tomorrow.
“Hey Paul, remember the last time we were out
here...?”
92
The friendly talk and laughter went on under the
bright stars far longer than they had intended. Bruno went
back to the catamaran and returned with a guitar.
Surprisingly, he played very well. He and Doreen entertained
the group with an almost professional repertoire. The rum
flowed freely; and everyone sang to the moon that night. In
the inescapable rhythm of island time, the serious aspects of
life found a balance in the lighthearted nature of the tropical
night.
When Captain Ray finally coaxed the happy
troubadours into Zephyr for the quick trip home, Paul and
Megan were standing in the cockpit, silhouetted by the
moon, holding hands.
“Don’t worry, my friends,” intoned the slightly tipsy
captain Ray, “these are the magic islands. Everything will
turn out just fine. See you in a few days.”
The powerful outboard fired and the launch cut a
green phosphorescent wake to the sleeping catamaran. The
couple watched the life dappled sea fade as the sound drifted
down the wind. Then they spoke softly of many things: fears,
disappointments, wishes, desires, and dreams. They spoke in
the special way two people do when everything is right.
Two damaged souls met, and found some part of that
which was missing. As the clear night stars grew brighter,
each felt healed, pure, and stronger.
Megan leaned her head against Paul’s chest and
sighed. She stood, still holding hands, and looked him in the
eye. “C’mon sailor,” she gave his arm a gentle tug and led
him below for the remainder of the night.
They came to know each other in the best of ways,
through tenderness and truth. Clean tropical breezes fanned
the power and fury of their suddenly released emotions.
Passion bloomed. Finally, peacefully, they slept; curled in a
human cocoon of tenderness and love.
When she dreamt that night the dreams had changed.
No more was she walking alone on the dry, twisted pathway
amongst tall, lonely trees and barren oaks with their naked
arms outstretched to a bleak and colorless winter sky. The
93
endless dry landscapes of her youth, marked only by the low,
unfriendly cactus stretching occasional boney fingers to
point at the unreachable mountains were finally gone.
The new dream was all in the warm and colorful
embrace of the sea, peopled with wise and friendly creatures
who wanted to help and protect her. One in particular, a
glittering entity, seemed to be beckoning from a shadow. He
wanted to tell her something she could not quite understand
yet, but it would come. Oh yes, everything was fine now and
it would come. Soon come.
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as the great equalizers that would erase his loneliness and
dejection and elevate him to the station he felt he deserved.
Along the way he was willing to use anything the
British were willing to give him. He had already assimilated
much of their culture, although some things, such as their
sense of “fair play” he considered with little more regard
than a bad joke. When it was his turn, he vowed, he would
take everything, and never lose his grip.
Long ago, young Adam had been told, his family was
royalty, leaders of a proud and powerful people. The legends
even claimed a relationship to ancestors from the sea itself,
although Adam hardly believed in such a far fetched myth.
Parts of the family had been a long line of great
Shamans; great spiritual leaders with legendary powers. His
own direct ancestors had been the hunters, warriors, and
chiefs. Even after the slavers had ravaged and scattered the
once powerful people the spirit and the legends lingered on.
One legend in particular told a tale of magic and hope
that still haunted the people. There was a story of a powerful
symbol. A blue eyed, mystical golden dolphin crafted by
ancient hands as a symbol of the people’s unity and power.
The legends called for this symbol to reappear
someday, and through its power the people would be
reunited and drawn together again into a powerful union with
nature, and their society would flourish for the benefit of all
man.
The boy Adam held little regard for such stories, but
as a man he learned to recognize the possibilities for power
over the ignorant people of his homeland. Since his family’s
disgraceful departure so many years ago, the islanders had
lived in blissful ignorance under the guidance of the Shaman.
More than the Old One himself, Adam resented the way he
allowed the people to live much as they had a hundred years
ago. It was time for a change, and he fully intended to be the
one to profit from it. He put all his energies to this end.
The international money set saw him as cultured and
educated. The locals regarded him as wise, and competent,
and powerful. And the revolutionaries, politicians, and big
98
time smugglers soon learned that he was clever, efficient,
and ruthless. Power was the game, and money was the best
way to keep score.
***********
99
In the event of an unforeseen occurrence or
emergency the important players would be able to hide in the
obscurity of political confusion while establishing
investigative committees and attending hearings concerned
with illegal activities.
Mr. Adam used craft and guile to protect his primary
agenda. He would take everything back, and make it more.
The Bahamas were but a stepping stone. What he desired
were the ultimate, princely powers he had been promised as
a child. That home island, Emerald Cay, was his by
inheritance and right of dominion. And some day. he knew,
it would be his again. He would regain the confidence and
control of his people. He would lead them where he chose.
And they would provide him, without question, all he
desired. The autonomous island nation of the Emerald Isle
was his goal, and he would settle for nothing less. All things
were possible, he felt, for a man who understood and was not
afraid to make use of the tools that fate provided.
Mr. Adam found it useful to employ, from time to
time, young North Americans, particularly those of the
semivagrant variety cruising the islands in small boats. He
considered these people expendable. They could be used as
red herrings and discarded without cost when unfortunate
circumstances demanded a sacrifice.
Mr. Adam had hoped to enlist Paul Sullivan as a
more substantial part of his organization. There was always
need for brains and truly competent seamen in the rapidly
expanding empire. But the young man’s independence and
recalcitrant attitude were not suitable. Paul had remained, so
far, unbendable to his wishes. So be it, the young fool could
work twice as hard to repay his debts. He would come
around sooner or later. If, in the meantime, it became
necessary to sacrifice the young American yachtsman to
further his ends, Mr. Adam was well prepared to let Paul
serve that purpose as well. Adam made a mental note to
himself to keep close tabs on the Crazy Lady; especially as
Sal seemed so interested in the girl now on board. He had to
admire the young Captain’s slick night departure while it
100
appeared they were still in the midst of provisioning. He
couldn’t help but wonder where they were right now and
what they were doing.
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today?” He opened one eye wide to watch her answer. She
didn’t let him down.
“I’m ready to go when you are, “she spoke
confidently, between bites of light fish stew and delicate
grilled banana. Even the coffee tasted particularly strong and
good. She took a swallow and looked him squarely in the
eye. “But before we go, why don’t you show me how to use
one of those spears, okay?”
“Sure,” Paul agreed, “no problem. But you have to
promise not to go attacking any poor defenseless sharks with
it. Right?”
A sudden terrific splash called their attention to a
small group of porpoise that suddenly appeared off the side
of the boat. The frisky creatures raced back and forth
demonstrating aquatic and aerial talents as if they meant to
draw the couples attention. It seemed to be a family group,
and the parents were teaching the youngster to play as well
as introduce him to the reactions of the humans. The large
male, as he danced on his tail, appeared to be staring right
into the boat and studying its occupants; it was almost eerie.
But then he flopped over backwards like a comic tumbler
and disappeared in a huge splash while his audience laughed
and applauded.
The other two mammals continued their frolics for
awhile then, as suddenly as they had appeared, they were
gone.
The pleased humans laughed, finished their breakfast,
and prepared for the dive. Paul taught Megan how to use the
Hawaiian sling, trailing it easily and safely at her side until
ready for use.
“Then,” he told her, “ the secret is a stealthy
approach. This thing is not a gun; more like a slingshot. You
have to be close to use it. And don’t try to spear anything too
big, or if you’re not sure of hitting it well. It might just swim
off with your spear if you make a bad shot. It takes some
practice, but you’ll get it. And remember, we only take what
we need for food. If we’re not greedy there’ll always be
more when we need it. Pretend you’re a dolphin: take what
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you need from the sea to survive and be comfortable. We
don’t kill indiscriminately and the sea provides what we
need. Sound fair?”
With a few pumps of new air the old rubber dinghy
was ready to carry them to the reef. They anchored, rolled
off, swam to the edge and sank down the outer wall.
The water was about eighty feet deep with lots of
overhangs near the bottom of the reef. Colorful yellow and
purple sea fans swept back and forth in a gentle current. Paul
went immediately to the bottom and disappeared under an
overhang. Meg floated about fifteen feet above him and
away from the reef watching Paul’s bubbles and his feet
poking occasionally in and out of the rocks. This was only a
one tank dive and not particularly deep, so she had no special
responsibilities.
It felt wonderful to be suspended in the cool, clear
water again. Free, she thought, this is free. I’m as free as any
fish in the sea. At the thought of fish she began to look
around apprehensively then, remembering the spear in her
hand, she felt brave and decided to go on the hunt. It was
about time she contributed something to the menu.
Kicking gently, and pausing between breaths as she
had seen Paul do, she moved along the reef wall stalking
prey. Schools of brightly colored reef fish flew in and out
through fissures and plants, but they all looked awfully small
and fast; nothing like she had seen Paul spear or cook. Then
a sea fan drifted to one side, and a grouper face was staring
out of a little cave watching her. Aha she thought, lunch.
Carefully and slowly Meg positioned the spear and
drew back the sling as she had been taught. So far easy
enough. Silently, scarcely daring to breath now, she moved
in for the kill. The grouper just watched complacently, as
though slightly confused. She released the spear in a
simultaneous rush of adrenaline and breath.
When the bubbles cleared the fish was just gone,
vanished, and the spear was bouncing down the side of the
reef cliff in slow motion, finally landing in a small puff of
sand at the bottom. Maybe this wasn’t so easy after all.
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Releasing a small burst of air from her vest she settled to the
bottom to retrieve the spear.
Through the swaying plants she could see underneath
the reef. But something was different, strange. One large
spot was not dark. Light was coming through a good sized
opening. A shadow appeared in the light, then emerged as a
large grey dolphin. The creature was even more magnificent
and graceful in his home element. It swam slowly, close
around the enthralled diver. Meg was surprised to feel no
fear. They regarded each other with cautious interest then,
again with a mighty flick of fin, he was gone.
Megan curiously parted the foliage and was almost
ready to enter. The floor of the cave was mostly dark, but
there was a wide, white stripe of sand running through the
rock leading into the reef. From the edge of the opening she
could feel the push and pulling surge of the current. Building
courage with each breath, she was almost ready to go further
when something clamped tight on her left ankle. She
screamed into the mouthpiece and tried to spin around, but
the spear tangled in plants.
Smiling from his eyes, gesturing to remain calm, Paul
released her ankle. He pointed to his watch and the surface,
Megan shook her head emphatically and indicated the
intriguing tunnel. Paul kicked back a few strokes and looked
around, fixing their position on the reef. He gave her a
thumbs up, then signaled to head for the surface. Now.
On the surface, back in the skiff, the excitement grew
as the words tumbled out.
“Paul, did you see that tunnel? It was fantastic. Like
something from a movie. I have this strong feeling. Intuition.
We’ve got to go in there and explore, there’s no telling what
we could find. One of the dolphins swam out. It was like he
was inviting me to swim inside for a reason.”
Paul had been inside a few caves in his diving career.
He usually found a consistent beauty, but not much else. The
caves of his experience were usually shallow and not worthy
of the anticipation. But he still remembered his own first
excitement at an underwater discovery all his own. It was a
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thrill no one could ever forget. He was pleased to see this
troubled lady in a happier place.
“Sure Meg, of course we’ll explore the tunnel. But I
think we should take a little break first and refill the tanks,
don’t you?” He gave her a reassuring squeeze and set about
the task.
“Paul, there was a current running through it, and a
wide strip of sand on the floor. What do you think we’ll
find?”
“Easy now girl. I don’t know if we’ll find anything.
It’s just a hole through a reef. On the other hand, that current
could have pulled anything through there. In any case, this
reef has been here a very long time and it will wait a few
more hours . I promise we’ll explore it thoroughly. Now
come up here and help me with these tanks.
***********
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The heavy jingle of antique coins was not the only
sound to startle curious sea birds that afternoon. Paul and
Megan reached, and touched, and learned the meaning of
what they had both so long lived without.
They shrieked their delights to the skies. Again the
couple experienced the amazing closeness that held them
apart from the world.
Alone together, they never heard the engines or saw
the sunlight glint from the aircraft flying high down wind.
And of course they were unaware that a pilot’s finger on an
electronic navigator had just marked the position of a lone
sailboat anchored by a reef.
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CHAPTER 26
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was left to her and his own thoughts and company. Paul
stalked below, alone.
He’d been alone before. Often. A special type of
loneliness was part of a sailor’s life; a part not always
comforting, but to be cherished all the same. It did not
require that one be by himself on the open sea. The sea is so
vast as to encompass and hold in its palm whole groups who,
together in the loneliness, sometimes forged strong human
bonds. But, as in any chemistry, the forging of bonds can
create tension and release sudden energy.
Megan sat on the gunwale, feet dangling over the
side, and looked out at the strangely tranquil sea, the reef,
and the nearby island. Everything was changing again. The
fullness and beauty of it all felt hollow now. A grave
depression seemed to fill the universe. Sparkle was gone
from the water. The inviting blue had turned to dusky grey.
The vivid greens of the casaurinas and palms on shore were
subdued, and even sounds were dulled.
She fought to control her feelings, but her emotional
reserves and strength were at the limit. She made no sound,
although hot tears rolled down her cheeks and fell between
her knees into the opaque water. She scanned around the
boat hoping to see the dolphins, they would lift her spirits,
but they were nowhere she could see.
In the cabin below, Paul sat at his tiny navigation
desk, a bottle of amber rum in one hand and a pen in the
other. The liquor tasted fiery and uncomfortable today, but
the smooth glass bottle in his hand was comforting all the
same. The pen moved slowly on the paper, but as it went his
torment eased slightly and perspective returned. He’d made
love to a lot of women, and cast them aside with barely a
fond remembrance. What right did he have to think this
would be anything different? Damn the girl. How could she
make him feel this way? It must have been that playing hard
to get act, and those soft sad eyes.
Then again, maybe he was just mad because she had
out hustled him. Wasn’t he just a pirate? Conquer, plunder,
and run; isn’t that what he’d been doing most of his life? But
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he had never intentionally hurt anyone, or even let anyone be
hurt. Well, he wasn’t about to start now, certainly not for
money.
Paul put the pen down and looked at what he had
been writing. A short poem. It was rough but he was on the
right track. It had been a long time since he had done any
writing; way back in college.
He remembered the words of a long ago professor,”
Everyone can dream, and dreams are limited only by the
extent of the imagination. A writer is special only in that he
can dream, remember, and type all at the same time.”
It felt good to get some of the feelings down on paper
and ease the pressure in his head. Why was it so difficult to
put true feelings into words?
His soul felt empty now, a vacuum in a small place
below his heart. He went on deck and knelt on the bench
behind Megan; put his hands tentatively on her shoulders.
She wanted so much to reach up and take his hands,
pull him tight around her. But NO, she thought. She knew
better than that now. There was no one to be trusted, and
closeness only brought pain. She did not need or depend on
anyone, how could she trust this overgrown sea scout. She
had learned the lessons of life all too well for that.
“Paul, let’s talk this over, okay?” She turned slightly
to give him a wan smile. He removed his hands and twisted
to sit on the bench expecting her to come and sit beside him.
Instead she stayed where she was, poised on the edge of the
boat and the water, looking out at the smooth topped waves.
Eventually she began to speak.
“I’m sorry Paul. I didn’t mean to offend you. You
know I care for you. I’m just so worried about well,
everything; you know I hope we’ll find enough to solve both
of our problems.”
“Would you prefer to solve them singly or together
Meg?” he asked her in a soft voice.
“Oh Paul, we don’t even know what the solutions are
yet. Some things just may not be possible. So many things I
thought would be good in my life have turned out
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disappointing and ugly. I’m frightened, but somehow I do
feel this is different.”
As she spoke, she began to surprise herself with her
own words.
“I feel as though I’ve been directed lately. It was like
a strong voice in my own mind telling me to go into that
cave. Two weeks ago that’s something I would never have
done. I feel as though that treasure was put there for a special
reason.” Now she was being foolish and saying too much. It
was time to change the topic. “How do you think it got in
there anyway?”
“I’ve been thinking about that too,” Paul replied, glad
to let the conversation move along. “One way I can think of
is that current and the sand channel on the floor. Things
might have been dragged through and trapped there for
centuries. Or maybe it was the reef itself. You know a reef is
made up of living things and it grows. Maybe, many years
ago, a ship struck the top of the reef when the holes up there
were bigger. It would have torn the bottom out, and any
heavy cargo would have fallen through into the cavern. Then
the coral could have grown up over, closing in the top like it
is today. That would explain why nobody has found this
place before. I don’t think there’s any kind of sensing
equipment that works through solid rock. If that’s the case,
we might find a lot more in the cavern. There’s no telling
what a treasure ship might have been carrying hundreds of
years ago. But don’t get your hopes too high. It’s also
possible that we’ve already found everything there is.”
But the dream was a powerful lure, especially with
the tangible evidence of the gold in their touch. The rest of
the day passed swiftly sorting, examining, and counting their
little pieces of treasure.
The piles of gold reflected their dreams for the future.
Paul resurrected his early dream of an island charter business
and they discussed it enthusiastically. She, too, was in love
with the dream, but still haunted by visions of a doomed
destiny. Angry flames of a former life still seared her mind.
Fear is a powerful foe. Almost against her own will she
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began to consider plans and make contingencies for her own
survival.
The rest of the day and night floated on dreams of
reality and illusion quickened by fervor and softened by the
prospect of an earthly treasure. Enough money for a new
start was all they really hoped for. After all how many
people were ever lucky enough to get a second chance at
life? The only real question was what direction such a
second chance might take, and who it might take along with
it.
***********
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Paul was thinking fast despite the humorous scene.
The small boat sped around and around towing the large,
naked human.
“Meg, how well do you know these people? he asked
her suddenly.
“I haven’t known them much longer than you Paul,
but Doreen’s been really nice to me. I trust them, and I think
Ray does too. Why? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that they’re here already, and there’s
not much we can do about it. We could use some help with
this operation. I think I’d rather trust them than some of the
pirates I know back on the docks. Right now, neither one of
us can go back anyway. These guys are just tourists, they’re
invisible ashore; even Bruno if he puts on some clothes,” he
laughed. “They could help out with the salvage and then take
some of these coins ashore, find out what they’re worth, cash
them in, and bring us back some supplies and money while
we keep looking. What do you say partner?”
“Done,” she replied, “it sounds like the best
alternative to me. I’ll go along with it. And they’ve already
offered to help us,” she added.
Secretly, she figured this plan would also give her the
best possible chance and choices. Instinctively, Megan could
not help calculating for her own survival.
“Good, we’ll let them in on our secret then, and ask
them to help us,” Paul continued, “but let’s have some fun
first and make it a little surprise.”
The speeding boat slowed and Bruno sank, still
laughing. Doreen tossed him a pair of bright green swim
trunks as she coasted past. Then began retrieving the skis and
line within hailing distance of the bobbing sailboat.
“Welcome aboard,” Paul called out. Breakfast will be
served shortly. And for you, sir,” he laughed as Bruno
heaved himself up the boarding ladder, “the dress code is
optional.”
“Hey guys, what do you think of Bruno on water
skis, eh? Pretty good isn’t he? We finally found some
outdoor recreation we could share in the tropics that we both
117
enjoy. Isn’t that great?” Doreen paused for a quick breath
and Meg cut in quickly, although she was still laughing too.
“Yeah but who told you to ski without your pants
Bruno? Isn’t that sort of dangerous? The fish might think
you’re trolling or something.”
Bruno just shrugged and grinned in his shy way.
Doreen cut right back in, “Oh, that was Captain Sky’s
idea. He’s this crazy pilot we met one night in the Conch Out
Bar. He spends a lot of time in the islands and cruises around
in his neat little sea plane.
“He noticed Bruno didn’t seem to be having a very
good time and promised to show him how to have fun in the
islands. He says it’s all just a matter of adaptation to the
environment. The other day he had us both skiing across the
harbour behind his seaplane. What a rush. Anyway, he told
Bruno that waterskiing naked would free his libido and allow
him to align more directly with the essential forces of nature
and... Well, it worked I guess. Bruno has a new favorite sport
we can both enjoy.”
“Oh brother, now I’ve heard almost everything,” Meg
exclaimed with a soft smack to her own forehead. Everybody
down here must be some kind of crazy. No wonder we all fit
in so well.”
“By the way,” Paul added, “you two aren’t the only
ones who have found a new activity you can share. Meg and
I have one too. We’ve taken up interior yacht decoration.
We’ve been practicing below. Want to have a look?”
Bruno and Doreen exchanged a look, wondering if
perhaps their friends were more affected by stress or sun
than they had considered. Practicing interior yacht
decoration on a sailboat anchored off a reef in the midst of
deserted islands didn’t seem quite right at all. It was not a
direction they had expected the pair to take.
“Oh, it’s really lovely down below, Paul and I have
been collecting knick knacks. I do so hope you’ll like what
we’ve done,” Megan gushed, beckoning them down the
companionway with a flourish.
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They all stood in the narrow cabin of the yawl while
their eyes accustomed to the reduced light.
They were all used to the tidy order of sailboats, and
it wasn’t long before Bruno and Doreen noticed the
incongruity of shiny stacked sculptures and designs lying
about. The galley sink had a border of large golden disks. On
the chart table, positions and course lines were laid out in
small gold dots. Near the center of the table, a recently
collapsed pile of coins might have been a little fort, or maybe
a pyramid. Bruno picked up one of the coins to examine it
more closely.
“What is this?” he asked with a dubious expression.
“Some kind of pirate treasure?”
“But it’s our treasure now,” answered Megan. “A
little secret between us and the sea.”
“Holy sea shit,” exclaimed Bruno, examining the
coins more closely, “these are for real!”
Doreen, for once, didn’t have anything to say. She
just stood there with her mouth open.
“Guys, we’ve definitely found something,” Paul told
them, “but we have no idea just what or how much. It’s
going to take some time and hard work, but this could be a
very profitable adventure. Meg and I would like to invite you
in if you want to be a part of it. We need your help to recover
whatever we can. Also, as you know, we both have some
problems ashore right now. We need some friends we can
trust to deal with the coins and convert some to cash. Then
we can clear up our problems without the risk of getting this
treasure involved with the wrong people. What do you say?”
Doreen broke in with a fresh lungfull of air. “You
two really found something? A treasure I mean? Wow!
What’s it like? Are there old pirate bones around and stuff?
Wow! Where is it? Can we see it? Can we...
Doreen was nearing the point of hyperventilation.
Paul raised a hand to halt and calm her.
“We’ll tell you all about it,” he told her. “It’s in an
underwater cave that Megan found. But we haven’t had time
to explore it yet. We’ve only been there once, and this is all
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we found. We don’t know what else is down there, or if there
even is anything else. If we do find more, we’ll need some
partners. What do you say?” he repeated with a questioning
hand extended.
“Wow,” Doreen answered, still awed by the strange
turn of fortune. “This is fabulous. Of course you can count
on us. Right Bruno?”
The big guy reached around Doreen and clapped a
hand across Megan’s shoulders; his other paw engulfed
Paul’s outstretched hand and pumped vigorously.
“Now this is turning into a real major league
vacation,” he said enthusiastically. “Let’s make a plan, and
proceed to succeed.”
“Great,” Paul withdrew his arm and discreetly
massaged the elbow. “Let’s go to the rope locker Bruno, we
have to rig some arrangement to haul the goodies up from
the bottom.”
When they left, Doreen noticed that Meg was
suddenly, strangely silent. It seemed she was beginning to
withdraw again.
“Hey, what’s the matter honey?” she asked. “Aren’t
you happy to be getting rich?”
“Doreen, you don’t understand the kind of trouble
I’m in. I don’t think solving Paul’s money troubles is going
to help me. There are people looking for me right now and
I’m afraid they’re getting very close. If they catch me I’ll be
very, very dead, and nothing else. And it won’t help Paul
either. I need some cash too, and I need it now. I have to get
out of here. Maybe, in time, I can work something out.
Maybe even explain it to Paul. But right now it’s time to
leave. I’m afraid my time here has run out.”
Doreen pondered for a moment. “But Paul and
Captain Ray...”
“Doreen,” Meg interrupted her urgently, “Captain
Ray has been gone for four days now with not a word. These
people after me don’t fool around. Paul, I’m afraid, is more
concerned with saving himself and his precious boat than
anything else.”
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“I don’t know Meg. Paul said you found the cave. I
think he’s on your side.”
“Oh Doreen, I know. I know. Everybody wants to
help me out, and I appreciate it. But by the time everybody
takes care of their own problems first it might be too late for
me. And anyone around me. Don’t you see? I’ve just got to
buy more time. A share of this treasure is mine. I just need
my part now so I’ll have a chance. With me gone everyone
will be safer, and there’ll be plenty of time for you to recover
more coins. Someday, maybe, we’ll all be able to get
together and straighten this out, and I hope even laugh about
it. But right now I’ve just got to buy more time.”
“I don’t really know anyone here” Meg continued,
“I’m not even sure about Paul. But I feel I can trust you, and
I really need a friend right now. Will you help me?”
“Well, gee, I don’t know honey. You know I want to
help you all I can, but what can we do?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking Doreen,” Meg lowered her
voice to a conspiratorial level, “if you really want to help me,
I think it would be best for everybody if ...”
As they spoke softly in the cabin they could hear
Bruno and Paul slapping each other’s backs, laughing and
clomping about on deck while they prepared the diving
equipment and refilled the tanks. Soon everything was ready
for the next dive.
He and Meg would dive, Paul decided, while Doreen
and Bruno remained on the surface to haul up the retrieval
line from the skiff.
The morning’s work went well. With the help of
some small digging tools Paul had fashioned, and the hastily
rigged retrieval system, they were able to recover a rapidly
growing pile of coins. Paul and Megan took turns digging in
the white sand and hauling small loads of coin out to the
waiting sail bag. A few tugs on the line, and Bruno would
haul the weighted bag to the surface and into the waiting
skiff. Every few loads, Doreen would transfer the coins to
the cockpit of the Crazy Lady. The process was extremely
121
tiring. After the second dive it was early afternoon, and
everyone except Bruno was exhausted.
Over a quickly thrown together lunch, Paul, now the
imperious captain, informed them of the next step in his
plans. They had done much better recovering the coins than
he had anticipated. There was now a substantial pile of gold
growing in Crazy Lady’s cabin. There was more than
enough, he judged, for all their immediate needs. He and
Doreen would return to the catamaran in Marsh Harbour,
then catch the first available flight to Nassau or Freeport
with a bunch of the coins. He knew all the dealers,
collectors, and coin shops, he claimed, so it was necessary
for him to go along Doreen would do the actual transactions
and he would try to stay out of sight. He would hold the bulk
of the coins, and she could bring him the cash for
safekeeping after each stop. When they had enough he would
straighten up with Adam to get him out of the picture. Then
they could pick up some supplies and return. “I wish there
were some better way to sell these things,” he told them, “but
we’re pressed for time. I don’t want Mr. Adam and his crew
to come looking for us now.”
The plan was reasonable and efficient on the surface,
but Megan was as unhappy with it as she had known she
would be. She managed to wordlessly convey her concern to
Doreen. This was no time to protest or argue. Meg really
wanted to be part of the exuberance and dreams evolving
around her, but the bitter taste of fear was still there, still too
close to the surface. Angry flames of torment still seared her
mind. Fear and despair are powerful foes, and vicious
enemies. They were all tired, with a lot of work still to do,
and the overall mood was far too festive to destroy.
They all knew that Adam had seen Megan and Paul
together. And they knew that the men who hunted her were
in Nassau with Adam. Paul was throwing caution to the
wind, and Megan was afraid. But she decided to wait and
discuss things further after the next dive.
“Remember,” Paul was saying, “we can’t let anyone
else know where we are or what we’ve found down here. If
122
anyone asks, Doreen, just say that you bought these coins
from native boys down in the Exumas. We won’t show too
many at once. When the buyers show interest in the coins,
pretend to be surprised at how much they’re worth, then
offer to take cash for the whole lot you’re carrying. Think
you can handle it?”
“It sounds like a plan, Paul, “Doreen responded with
less than her usual enthusiasm. When do we start?”
“Right after the next dive,” Paul decided. “We’ve
still got half a day. We probably won’t be able to get a flight
out until tomorrow morning anyway. Just one more dive to
pick up what we can, then we’ll make up a list of supplies
and get back to Marsh around dark.”
“What about Ray?” Doreen asked. “Do you think
we’ll be able to find him?”
“Ray’s doing what he has to do,” Paul replied. “He’ll
find us when he’s ready. Hopefully he’ll have some good
news for Megan by then. Now let’s hit the water and find us
some treasure.”
The afternoon’s foray didn’t go so well. By the time
they got the boats positioned over the reef the sky was
cloudy and the water was getting choppy. Turbulence had
increased below, and the surge in the cave was difficult to
work in. They were working a new area of the cave floor and
had recovered very little. Finally Paul signaled that he was
taking what they had found so far out to the recovery basket.
Even in the gloomy cave his seaman’s sense was telling him
that all was not right on the surface.
Bruno and Doreen were waiting on the surface with
the two boats lashed together when the dolphins appeared.
Suddenly they were just there, three of them. They appeared
to be a family group; a large, observant male, a cautious
mother, and a frisky, show off youngster. The humans
couldn’t help but laugh at the small one’s antics, jumping,
flipping, and often as not splashing down awkwardly onto
his back or side. The show captured all their attention. Then,
again, suddenly the mammals all disappeared. After a short
time the large male rose beside the rubber boat and
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everything paused. He gazed into their eyes and held every
bit of their concentration for some moments. Then he
seemed to sigh, and settled below the waves.
Just as the dolphins had come they were suddenly
gone. But the large male left behind a curious spell. Bruno
and Doreen were sitting quietly, just looking at the water,
until the spell was broken by insistent tugging on the signal
line. As they pulled, a dark cloud skittered across the sky.
Megan was still working below on the floor of the
cave. Her digging tool caught sharply on something, and she
felt a snap. She dropped the tool, and carefully dug her hands
around the spot until she could finally see what she instantly
feared was bones. Through the clouded water she looked at
the sticklike, yellowish things in the beam of her dive light.
But these bones were in no natural order. She dug some
more until she held a fragile, rectangular cage in her hands. It
was made of the most delicate ivory bars, just barely intact.
As she pulled it to see what was inside the fragile staves
snapped, and released a long suffering prisoner.
She played her light over the smooth golden figurine
of a dolphin with enchanting blue eyes. Megan sensed a
powerful presence, and when she looked up there were live
dolphins watching her from just outside the silt cloud. They
nearly frightened her, but then she realized a great sense of
calm and peace. She wondered vaguely where Paul was, but
knew on her own that it was time to leave the cave now. She
zipped the statue of the blue eyed dolphin into the large
pocket on her flotation vest. When she zipped it shut the
emergency lanyard caught in the zipper, but the statue
couldn’t fall out, and she had no time to fool with it now.
At the mouth of the cave she ran into Paul and
signaled a return to the surface. He readily agreed. Some
deep seated instinct was causing him an uncomfortable
premonition as well.
The retrieval basket was already gone, so they
spiraled up the anchor line to their waiting zodiac. It was the
only one there. Bruno and Doreen and the Zephyr were gone.
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When Paul and Megan returned to the Crazy Lady they
found that all of their treasure was gone too.
Meg was just sitting in the cockpit, staring out to the
horizon, when Paul came back on deck after another hasty
search below.
“Well Meg,” he said with heavy sarcasm in his voice,
“I suppose this is all a real surprise to you too, huh?”
“Paul, please I...”
“Don’t even bother Meg. Don’t even bother. I really
don’t want to hear it right now, okay.”
He turned and went quickly below before his fury
took control of his better judgment. He sat at his nav station,
pulled down the journal, and wrote furiously for several
minutes, then just sat and began to think.
On deck, Meg could no longer see the horizon. Her
eyes held only the image of Paul’s hurt and angry visage.
This was not the way it was supposed to work. They weren’t
supposed to take everything. It was not the first time she had
seen disappointment, hurt, or even anger in a man, but this
was different. She felt the hurt too, and could not understand
or justify it this time. Perhaps the circle of her deceptions
had finally come too far.
Either through force of habit or instinct, Paul looked
up and focused on the ship’s meager instrumentation. The
compass was rock steady on 130 degrees with the boat held
in the vise of an ever increasing breeze, but the compass
appeared to tilt from side to side as the hull rocked
underneath the floating card. The barometer had dropped a
little since the last reading, but that was no big deal. The
weather was not nearly as serious as his mood right now.
The anchors were set well, and the holding ground was firm.
He reached up to click on the VHF. The radio just barely
began with, “... advisory. Tropical storm Alma ...”, then a
burst of static covered the rest. Paul tried to adjust the
squelch, but it was no use. The battery indicator told him the
power was low again. The VHF was near the edge of its
reception area, and he didn’t feel like wasting the last of his
power in a futile attempt to broadcast. There was no one out
125
there he wanted to talk to anyway. He shut the thing off in
disgust. A quick look through the hatch told him the sky was
darkening faster than the sun was falling, and the air had an
ominous tint. Perfect, he told himself. Just the perfect ending
to a great day. He dug under the galley sink for the large jug
of lamp oil. At least he wouldn’t have to sit down here in the
dark. Next to the oil was a full bottle of amber Mount Gay
rum. They could ride the storm out, Paul figured, it probably
wouldn’t amount to much. The barometer wasn’t all that
low. The thing would probably blow over during the night.
The large plow anchor would hold all right. Too damn bad if
the rocking made the girl uncomfortable or sick. He would
just drink some rum and try to forget the whole damn thing.
As he gathered the lamps from different parts of the
cabin to fill them with fuel, he took occasional pulls from the
reassuring bottle; trying in vain to pour a little light into
himself.
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CHAPTER 28
132
CHAPTER 29
137
“We can’t move the boat,” Doreen answered rapidly,
“we don’t know where to go, and we don’t even know how.
What would we do?”
Deebe smiled reassuringly, “Believe me Missy, we
gotta move de boat real quick like. Don’t worry, I watched
Paul and Cap’n Ray do this plenty times. Me an boats an the
ocean be old friends”.
Only minutes after they got on board, Deebe had the
twin diesels purring and the stunned but compliant crew
disconnecting the vessel from the dock. With gentle wrist
movements and a keen sea sense, Deebe walked the huge
boat gracefully away from the pilings and wheeled her about
into the harbour. Steadily increasing power, he weaved
through the moored traffic into the main channel. When they
looked behind them, the dock was in pandemonium.
Four swarthy men in gaudy printed shirts were
gesticulating wildly in every direction. She saw at least two
of them were holding guns. Most of the dock community had
turned out to offer commentaries and explanations. There
was a lot of pointing to the still drifting speedboat and its
unconscious cargo. Through binoculars, Doreen could see
that the scene hadn’t improved much before they left the
harbour.
“That was close. Thank you Deebe,” Doreen told him
sincerely. “But now where are we going? The weather looks
terrible out here.” Green waves were already crashing into
the bows, raising spray across the whole forward deck.
“The weather be worse than that,” he told her, and he
seemed to be listening to the wind. “Those fellas might still
be comin’, so we not be headin’ north to the big reef.” He
couldn’t help but grin at their looks of surprise. “I worked
many times with Captain Paul,” he told them with a great
wink, and reached behind his ear for a loose twisted smoke.
“We gonna try to keep everybody safe. We goin’ to shelter
in the south.”
Under a heavy clouded sky and beginning rain they
managed to raise a reefed mainsail and partially unfurled the
large genoa. When the engines shut down there was almost
138
no difference in speed. The sound of the diesel was merely
replaced by the wind. After rounding the headland, the
whistling through the rigging was loud enough to make
conversation difficult. Second Wind took on a slight heel and
tacked off past Hopetown light between the main island and
the inside of Elbow Cay. Even this semi protected body of
water was running five foot breaking seas now. The big cat
took them in stride, but Deebe knew the sea conditions and
fresh driving rain would make pursuit difficult.
“Where we goin’, Deebe?” Doreen yelled from a few
feet away.
The whole thing was somewhat frightening. She had
never imagined a huge sailboat moving like this. The yacht
fairly flew through the rain and spray, and the sound and feel
of the wind was life itself. Deebe motioned her over and had
her take the helm. The boat was tearing through the water at
close to twenty knots.
“Don’ know just yet Missy. You steer her good while
I’m thinkin’, okay.” He left her there, with more than ten
tons quivering in her hands.
Deebe, already barefoot, removed his sodden shirt
and climbed onto the windward deck. He walked forward
into the weather. When he reached the bow pulpit, Doreen
could see him only as a silhouette with long hair flowing. He
remained there only briefly, fully exposed to the storm, then
returned to the cockpit with a wide grin and water running
down his smooth skin.
“Where the Hell are they going!” shouted the leader
of the swarthy men on the dock. Although he was extremely
frustrated he put his gun away and signaled his men to do the
same. There was no one here it would do any good to shoot,
and on top of everything else they didn’t need a hassle with
the local cops.
“Get me a boat!” he screamed to his accomplices.
“Go find us a damn boat. Quick.”
The other three began scanning the dock
immediately. Between them they didn’t really even know
how to steal a boat, much less drive one. Everything looked
139
so complicated, except for one green and white, sturdy
looking unit tied up near the gas pumps. The enclosed
rectangular cabin had the comforting look of a shore based
vehicle.
Old Willy was forty two years old, and loved being
called Captain Willy. For many years he had ridden as deck
hand for his uncle on the Marsh Harbour ferry, the Nancy B.
Old Willy would never be much of a seaman, but his long
experience around the local islands and his uncle had earned
him the captain’s job by default. Willy had watched the
scene play out on the dock and decided this was his big
opportunity. He had a long standing dream to be very rich
one day, like that Mr. Adam fella over in Nassau town. Just
sittin around all day drinkin’, an playin’ with the girlies’, and
makin’ rich deals. He watched these guys running up and
down the dock looking at boats like they were space ships.
He didn’t know if they were dopers, or cops, or just crazy.
They all had guns and liked to wave them all about. But to
Willy that didn’t even really matter. He knew all those guys
had plenty of money to throw around.
“Hey fellas,” Captain Willy called up to the men on
the dock, “you be lookin’ for a good boat? Cap’n Willy
Peters an’ the ferry Nancy B is done for the day an’ available
for charters.”
Two of the guys climbed carefully down into the boat
while the third ran off to retrieve their leader.
“Can you catch that big sailboat that left a while
ago?” one asked.
Cap’n Willy looked down into the palm of his hand
and saw at least five, one hundred dollar American bills.
“Yes sir, this is a fast ferry. We can catch any sailboat; just
you get on board.” Willy was ecstatic. This was it. He knew
it. Probably the beginning of his fame and fortune.
An ugly crunching sound finally woke up Bingo. It
was the sound of fiberglass being ground to dust by tough
barnacles on the pilings of the old dock they had crashed
into. The once pretty little speedboat was now a mangled,
half swamped mess. Bingo hastily wrapped a bow line
140
around the nearest piece of structure and roused his cohorts.
They climbed onto the remains of the dock. They limped off
down the street in search of the nearest telephone.
Mr. Adam was not pleased to hear Bingo’s news, but
took it with civilized calm. He ordered Bingo to go
immediately over to a little harbour on the other side of the
town and call again when he got there. Adam switched lines
and called straight back to his man on Abaco with orders to
fuel and make one of the large ocean racers ready for sea.
His next call was to the airport for the latest reports
from his pilots. As he had hoped, a yawl they were
reasonably sure was the Crazy Lady had been spotted. She
was anchored between the barrier reef and some uninhabited
small islands northeast of Marsh Harbour.
This could be it, Mr. Adam confided to himself. He
was well aware of the legend of the golden dolphin and the
wreck it was drowned with. The brass cannon Captain Ray
and Paul had recovered years ago had fit the time period of
the wreck, and Adam had intuitively suspected that the men
had been on the wreck of the ill fated slaver. But they did not
have his knowledge, and now he planned to take the full
benefit. His man in the coin shop had confirmed from the
coins that there was a high likelihood they came from the ill
fated treasure so long sought. If the golden dolphin could be
recovered, he could proclaim himself the leader of the island
people, and lay claim to the land. With his contacts and
resources it would soon become the most prosperous resort
in the Caribbean. This was his number one priority and his
dream: an entire country of his own.
Having the fugitive girl in his possession would give
him another major bargaining chip with his new, powerful
allies in the States. Things could not be much better. He
stood and went to look out the small window toward the
harbour. White caps were building on the usually peaceful
water, and all the moored boats were rigidly fixed into the
wind and blowing rain. The weather was going to be an
obstacle he saw, but not that, nor anything else was going to
stand in the way of this, his greatest coup.
141
Adam’s princely reverie was interrupted by the
intercom’s buzz, and his secretary announced the arrival of
Mr. Sal d’Ambrosia to see him immediately. Mr. Adam was
in plain view through the glass walls of his office, so he
opened the door himself and warmly invited the other man
in. The flush of impending success was still warm, and he
did not restrain himself from sharing it with Big Sal.
“I think we have found our quarry, my friend,” he
began, then held up a hand for pause when the private
telephone line rang.
“Boss,” Bingo began from the other end of the line, “
we’re here, an’ da boat is ready. But everyone sayin’ there
gonna be a big blow, maybe a hurricane. The weather radio
sayin’ all kindsa warnins. I don’t think we wanna be goin out
dere right now.”
“Bingo, you listen to me,” Mr. Adam replied in his
most commanding tone. “You are my right arm, and we have
important business to take care of. Most important business.
The yawl has been located inside the reef just off Little Fish
Cays. That is not far from you. I want you to go there Bingo.
Now, at once. Take control of the situation, and mark the
exact position of the boat well. This is only a storm to
frighten tourists. You are a son of fishermen. Do this, and the
rewards for all of us will be great. Do you understand,
Bingo?”
Bingo and the others were indeed the sons of
fishermen. Almost every person living in the islands was
some kind of fisherman at one point or another in his life.
But one thing a wise fisherman learns very quickly, if he is
to survive, is the wisdom of heeding nature’s warnings.
Although they may have been the descendants of sometime
fishermen, Bingo’s crew were of a modern generation and
knew more than one master. Their respect for the sea was
now in conflict with fear of the other master: the power and
the wrath of Mr. Adam. They delayed their departure only
temporarily, telling themselves they needed just some time
for their immediate aches and bruises to subside. While
142
waiting, they studied the charts and watched the weather on
TV at the dockside bar.
Bingo was truly loyal, and it was inevitable that he
would do as he was bid. But even his massive strength was
hurt from the beating they had so recently been through. He
knew the others must be in even worse shape. Even against
orders, he really didn’t’t mind a short delay so that they
could catch their breath and recuperate a little before facing
an angry sea. But when the time was right, despite the rising
storm, he knew his loyalty, pride, and bruised ego would
compel him to action.
When Sal left Mr. Adam’s office he knew that he
must act. There was so much on his mind even the pouring
rain didn’t distract him as he walked and thought. The people
in New York were watching him too. He was well aware of
the significance of the guys from the home office being sent
along to help him out. Surely they would find out that Adam
had located the girl, so he had little choice. He would start
them on the trail himself. Hopefully, this thing could still be
worked out somehow.
Walking down the nearly deserted street, deep in
thought, he reflexively pulled the small cellular phone from
his pocket and autodialed a number.
Sal didn’t even think about what he was doing until
the distant ringing brought him back to reality. The phone
was actually working out here. No shit! He was still
surprised when the expected party answered.
“Where the hell are you guys?” Sal barked into the
phone.
“We’re on ‘em Sal,” the boss of the henchmen
responded. “We got a boat and we’re just leaving the
harbour. Jesus it’s rough out here. Adam’s guys got here
before us. One of the guys we’re after must be a wrestler or
something. The people on the dock say he went berserk and
beat the shit out of all of Adam’s guys including the big
mother when they messed with his girl. He knocked them
into a boat and sent it drifting down the bay with them all
sleeping on the floor. Then some skinny native kid joined up
143
with the bruiser and the dame, and they all took off in some
kinda boat that looks like a giant raft with sails on it. But
we’re gonna catch up to ‘em soon, don’t worry.”
A loud crackling from the handset broke the
connection momentarily, then the same voice, somewhat
diminished, returned.
“Jesus! That was some big wave. I aint never seen
nothin’ like this in New York,” the speaker proclaimed. “The
sky’s comin’ down and the ocean’s goin’ up out here, we
still can’t see that damn raft contraption yet.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Sal yelled into
the fading reception. “I don’t know anything about any big
guy or giant rafts. We’re looking for one small white sailboat
with two people on board, a man and a woman. And I know
where it is. You find that boat and bring the girl back to me
here. Is that clear?
“Now, go to a place called Little Fish Island. The
boat we’re looking for is anchored between the island and
the reef. I want the girl off the boat and brought back here to
me safe and quick. Can you guys handle that?”
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CHAPTER 30
They tied all the reefs into the main sail and resecured it to
the boom as best they could, making sure the halyards and
sheets were clear. Then they went to work on the soaking
146
foredeck. The bow was plunging now, tugging against the
anchor lines. They removed the large, furling genoa and
hanked on a small, rugged storm jib. Paul attached the sheets
and halyard, but kept the sail bagged and lashed on deck
ready to go. Back in the cockpit, they reefed and set the
small mizzen as a steadying sail. Both anchors were checked,
extra rode played out, and chafing gear set. Paul had never
had the misfortune to go through a major storm in such a
vulnerable place, but he knew the drill. The potential horror
of bad situations on lee shores was a vivid chapter in the lore
of the sea.
While Meg was below to secure everything that
could roll, fall, or fly, Paul finished on deck by reluctantly,
almost surreptitiously, pumping the inflatable hard full of air
and tying in what minimal cache of emergency supplies it
could carry. A sailor’s best weapon he knew, was sometimes
only another option.
The ferry boat was making a brave time of it, green
water cascading in a nearly steady stream over her bows after
each charge into the next sea. The ferry man was frightened,
but visions of money, power, and glory had obscured any
seaman’s sense he might have had. He could see only the
compass now as the boat plunged into watery valleys and
climbed ever growing mountains in a desperate search for
whatever refuge it could find. With no thoughts of anything
else he might do, the ferry man, not feeling so captain like
now, reached for his microphone. He had to talk. He had to
tell someone where he was. He needed advice. He needed
reassurance. He needed some kind of help.
The men from the city thought this was an excellent
plan. They all grabbed and scuffled for the radio link to
shore, as though voice contact alone could establish their
security. They received no reply; but they were heard and
identified by the men in the large ocean racer several miles
in their wake.
Finally, climbing a great wave and on the verge of
desperation, old Captain Willy, the valiant ferry boat driver,
147
saw salvation through the spray. Even better than salvation,
he saw a yawl anchored behind the reef.
“Hey mon! There’s your boat,” he called out proudly,
“Cap’n Willy’s found it for you.”
The others miraculously forgot their fear and mal de
mer as they galvanized into action. To old Willy’s trembling
dismay there was suddenly no longer any doubt as to his
passenger’s intent. From a large nylon bag the men pulled
and assembled vicious weapons, ramming home the loaded
clips with ominous slaps.
Paul was finishing up on deck, and none too soon he
thought. Hard, wind driven rain was biting like flung gravel,
and only with difficulty did he sweep his eyes around as was
his custom before going below. It took a moment to register
the shape of the ferry sliding down into a trough just beyond
the breaking reef. On its next rise he was even more
surprised to see a man stretch out of the cockpit and support
the upper half of his body on the cabin roof. He was pointing
something at the Crazy Lady. There was no identifiable
sound from the distance. But when a piece of his mast flew
into splinters, Paul guessed right away what was happening.
“Megan. Meg! Get up here quick. Take the helm!”
Paul scrambled forward as fast as he could go to free the
head sail. There was no choice now, he knew. They had to
move quickly before the rifleman’s aim got any better. Paul
cast loose immediately, and as the anchor lines spilled off the
bow he pulled the bag off the storm jib and sprinted back to
the mast to raise sail.
He was trapped inside the reef, but at least he could
make himself a difficult target. While Meg clutched the
wheel in white knuckled terror, Paul swung swiftly below
and tore into a hidden locker under the dining bench. He
emerged only moments later with his stainless steel mini
fourteen boat rifle. He had only used it before for plinking
targets and discouraging persistent sharks. In anger and
desperation now, he returned fire; and shots from both sides
of the reef flew wildly through the raging storm.
148
Out of the spray behind the ferry and into the range
of bullets the large ocean racer roared onto the scene. The
crew was hunched behind the screen. Bingo and his cohorts
wasted no time in adding their own ammunition to the fray.
Several shots struck the ferry. And Captain Willy fell over,
badly surprised. He couldn’t even scream properly through
the blood gurgling in his throat.
One of the gunmen grabbed the ferry helm barely in
time to prevent capsize. He screamed something and pointed
aft emphatically to the approaching speedboat. One of the
other men dove below and returned on deck with an ugly,
large barreled launcher and a bandoleer of grenades.
Quickly, spurred by fear and confusion, the thug loaded and
fired the devastating weapon again and again. In an instant,
even before the sound of the explosion could reach back to
the ferry, an orange ball billowed out of the once swift racer.
The fireball grew to fill a brilliant hole in the dark storm,
then blew away to be consumed by the wind. The more solid
remains of the speedboat were swallowed almost as quickly
by the sea. The men on the ferry were now free to focus their
full and deadly intentions back on the struggling sailboat.
The next sudden crack of the launcher made a white
hot ball of light like a hole through the dark wall of cloud,
rain, and spray. The sharp clap and roar drowned even the
storm for a moment, and shook the boat to the keel.
Crazy Lady was close. The wave of percussion
stunned the crew and pressed the sails hard enough to knock
the boat well onto her side. Paul reached reflexively and
snapped the main sheet free. Lady was so far over, the boom
and sail washed through the waves for long moments before
she could right herself.
Crazy Lady turned and flew down the wind, then
around into a hard tack. Megan was doing her terrified best
to read Paul’s signals and improvise on the helm. Working
with both hands to trim the sheet on the lee rail, Paul saw his
rifle wash overboard in a rush of angry water.
“Into your vest, Meg,” Paul yelled out while
struggling into his own. “We’re going to have to move fast
149
here, so don’t inflate these things except as a last resort.” He
took the wheel as she dashed below to prepare herself for
disaster.
Things were going from bad to worse now. The strain
on the old yawl’s rig was incredible, and Paul wondered how
much longer she could hold together. Breaking seas were
swamping the cockpit and washing into the cabin below.
With no electricity and no free hand for the manual pump,
the bilge was overflowing and the Lady was getting sluggish.
He was fighting the helm for all he was worth, and tiring.
Spray flew off the bow, and Crazy Lady charged the reef as
though making an escape. The ferry turned to intercept, and
the gunman on the roof took aim to finish the sailboat off
before she could get out through the reef. He got off a quick
shot with the grenade launcher. It flew in low and struck the
wall of water against the Lady’s windward flank, but the
grenade sank slightly before it detonated. A plume of white
water shot out next to the stern, and Paul felt the rudder go
bad in his hands.
The rain and spray were blinding as both vessels shot up and
down through mountainous swells toward a depression in the
wall of water that looked to be an opening through the reef.
Both boats screamed down the waves at the very limits of
control, bound for the one mistaken passage. The small
soldier on the ferry roof scrambled about and prepared to fire
again.
The air changed, turned heavy and darker with the
portent of malice and impending doom. Advancing fingers of
lost electrons arced from dark towers within the wall of
storm and screamed to earth, cleaving the very molecules of
air with searing light. Pungent wafts of ozone settled like
brimstone between the rising boulders of sea, and a cold rain
and the ever increasing wind pushed the waves forward and
higher. Everything was motion. Heavy waves rose and broke
everywhere, as though fleeing the wrath of the tormented
and ruptured sky. The storm itself was not so much a wind; it
was a rapid movement of the entire atmospheric mass.
Everything went in a gigantic, breathing, sucking shove that
150
seemed to have no end. A huge swell of cold green water
threw the ferry on her side. The gunman fell hard into the
cockpit and the weapon discharged. The missile flew
forward into the cabin. There were fuel tanks under the seats.
A sharp flash and the sound of a beginning explosion was the
last thing the men on the ferry ever knew.
Above it all a small shriek came from the wind, angry
at an obstacle still in its path. Wires and ropes, pieces of
cloth, and sticks of wood all trembled as the Crazy Lady
screamed for mercy and salvation, but the sound was
muffled by a shroud of rain and crashing surf.
The mainsail was gone, torn to ribbons still lashed to
the boom while the top corner spun like a possessed kite at
the end of a whipping halyard. The brass shackle took nasty
bites from the pale wood mast on every eccentric pass. The
small storm jib still held though, and pulled the failing hull
faster than it was ever meant to go toward its final and
inevitable destiny.
“On deck! On deck!” Paul screamed, and grabbed the
girl’s safety vest as she crawled up the companionway hatch.
He dragged them both past the jammed helm to the flying
stern and they were gone before the next wave came.
The small ship sailed bravely on, alone, but not for
long. Forced by the wind and thrown by the sea, she met her
final end against gnashing coral teeth. With the sound of a
snapping limb, her mast went, broken and jagged just above
the house. Then her old wooden spine severed as the keel
struck coral rock after sliding down one last angry wave. It
was like that. Crazy Lady was just gone.
Later, in different places, small pieces would surface
to join the flotsam of the sea, but now, under the
overburdened sky, there was no trace. The dangerous thrum
of the wind carried only the heavy breaking boulder sounds
of the dark and angry waves against a battered, jagged reef.
The sea slacked not at all in crushing and disposing
of every last remnant of all three vessels. Only the small
rubber dinghy remained afloat and adrift, pushed by the
savage gusts onshore to the flooded and deserted beach.
151
***********
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153
CHAPTER 31
154
“Excuse me,” he spoke up as he approached the
limousine, “but I’m looking for a flight out to Abaco as soon
as possible. It’s an emergency and...”
He was cut short with a curt wave of the pilot’s hand.
“Sorry. There’s just no way mister. This plane
belongs to an island company and is being returned to its
home base. I have a very important charter aboard. There is
no possible way you can get on without direct authorization
from the company, and so far headquarters has been out of
touch.”
“Now you just listen to me for a minute, “ Ray
continued in a stronger voice. “I’ve spent a good deal of my
life in those islands, probably a lot longer than you’ve been
flying airplanes, and that is not the way things are done.
Most people try to make an effort to help one another out. I
happen to know who owns this plane, and even though Mr.
Adam and I don’t always see eye to eye, I know he would
not deny me a lift on one of his airplanes during an
emergency.”
Ray was on the verge of using even more persuasive
arguments when the passenger spoke from within the limo.
“It’s been a long time, Ray. I see you still have a
temper. Come on, get in the car. We can discuss this while
they get the plane ready.”
The still familiar voice shot through him like a live
nerve pulled from the past. So very many years had gone by,
and she was the last person he had ever expected to hear
from again. To meet her here, now, like this, was a
disorienting jolt. He reached out and opened the door.
“But Mame ...,” the pilot began to protest.
“Your job is to provide me transportation, “she
snapped back to the pilot. “I Suggest you get to work
quickly. I am very unhappy when I have to wait or argue.”
“Yes Mame,” the pilot replied. He turned away and
strode off toward the plane and the waiting fuel truck.
Ray closed the door, and the dark tinted power
window hummed shut leaving the luxurious interior of the
car silent save for a whisper of air conditioning and the
155
muted sounds of gentle music in the background. Apparently
the driver on the other side of the closed partition was
familiar with her likes.
“Terry, you’re looking wonderful. How have you
been?” Ray almost stammered. “What are you doing here?”
“Well Ray, I guess you could say I’ve been a whole
lot worse off,” she answered with a funny smile. “I’m here to
get on that plane. Why is it so important that you come along
too?”
“I ... I’m a charter boat captain now Terri. I’ve got a
catamaran, and I run a business here and through the islands.
I left my boat and a charter party in Marsh Harbour before
the storm. I need to get back there as soon as possible.
“You know, this is a big surprise seeing you again,
Terri. What are you doing here anyway?”
Terri paused for a moment, smoothing an expensive
skirt over her long, shapely legs. Then she replied carefully,
“I have a daughter Ray. She’s twenty four years old now.”
Terri looked him directly in the eye, but he could see nothing
more.
“I think she’s down here someplace, and it’s
important that I find her. We; well, we haven’t always been
close. But she’s my daughter Ray, and now she’s in some big
trouble. I need to find her. Is there any way you can help?”
Ray’s mind was whirling like the storm so recently
past. Of course he offered his services, but did not let on that
he suspected a whole lot more about the prodigal daughter’s
whereabouts.
Air traffic was light in the area, and it wasn’t long
before the 421 lifted off runway 09 with two passengers in
the back and enough fuel for a round trip, just in case. They
kept the conversation light and casual, although it was still,
somehow, strangely intimate.
The plane swept in low and slow, and the pilot
carefully inspected the condition of the Marsh Harbour
runway. On the next pass, gear and flaps out, he touched
down for a short landing and taxied to the ramp. With a brief
farewell and promise to keep in touch, Ray disembarked.
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With a short salute he watched the plane continue on to
Nassau with the woman he used to know.
Ray said “Hello” to the guys at customs and passed
through to the parking lot. A pall of disaster hung over the
place. The men and women taxi drivers were gathered
around the little raised mound in the center of the lot like
mourners at the grave. Heads were low and swaying as they
bemoaned the loss of their little shade tree. The benches
were still there, but the spot looked worse than naked. The
endless domino game would just not be the same without the
shade of the cool green branches.
The harbour itself was even worse. The docks were a
shambles. Broken boats and pieces of yachting paraphernalia
and wreckage were strewn randomly. Ray could see at once
that Second Wind was not where he had left her, or
anywhere else on the surface of the now calm water. He
walked out to where his catamaran had been berthed at the
“T” end of the main dock. A large section had been torn
loose as if by an angry giant. The section dangled into the
water, and Ray could see it was still attached to small boats
that had taken his vacated berth for refuge and been dragged
to their doom.
Even the bar was damaged, but it would take more
than broken windows and wind scattered furniture and debris
to put it out of commission. The loyal barmaid was already
hard at work cleaning up the place.
“Sorry, Capt’n, we got no food today, but dere’s still
plenty of rum and the bar is open.” She smiled and
straightened up a stool for him.
She was more than eager to recount her tale of the
disaster, and tried to be helpful when he asked about his
boat.
“I wasn’t workin’ that day Capt’n,” she recounted
with her eyes alight, “but they tell me all kindsa hell was
breakin’ loose down here just when the storm was startin’.
Some big ole island boys got whopped good they say, right
out there on the dock. Then some crazy men, gangsters
maybe, or American drug cops like on TV, were runnin’
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aroun’ all over the place wavin’ pistols and yellin’. Sorry I
missed it,” she laughed, “it musta been quite a sight. And
that was just the beginnin’. Then the storm blew up big. You
can see for yourself what happen to this place Cap. If your
boat’s not here you may be lucky!”
Ray looked out through the shattered window. He
knew she was probably right. The best he could do was
assume the crew had sailed her to safety. But did they make
it, he asked himself? That was the question. He consoled
himself with a few more drinks and signed up for a room for
the night.
“We got plenty rooms available Capt’n,” she giggled,
“I think tourism is not gonna be so good for a while.”
Now that he had come this far, Ray really didn’t
know what else he could do. There were no planes or boats
available. Everyone was too busy putting their own lives
back together to help search for his boat right now. In a
pensive mood, he wandered back out onto the dock to take in
the night and look at the place where his boat might have
been. He still wasn’t sure if he was happy or sad that it was
gone. He more than hoped that his new friends had survived.
“You boat is okay, Cap’n. An the peoples is fine all
so.”
The voice came out of darkness, and Ray spun
around several times before he found the source. A hat is
what he noticed first. It was a knitted, brightly colored, beret
type affair pulled over the top of a large head. Incredibly
long dreadlocks cascaded down. He hadn’t seen the man at
first because his skinny legs were almost invisible against the
dark piling. The man was seated on top, comfortably perched
like a pelican surveying the area.
“What did you say?” Ray asked, not quite believing
his own ears. “Who are you?”
“I say you boat an de peoples on her is okay Cap’n.
An you know me. I be Deebe’s Granfather.”
There was something about the strange old man that
attracted Ray. Although quite certain that he had never seen
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the old fellow before, he was somehow familiar and
intriguing.
“Come closer Cap’n. Relax,” the Old Man said
through a gap toothed, friendly smile.
“What do you know about my boat? Where is she? Is
everyone all right? How can I get there?”
“I know many things Cap’n. She be not far. Every
ting be right as rain. You fly there soon mebbe,” he laughed,
“like a bird of the sea. Now come close, my friend, and listen
well,” the Old Man’s voice was now a melodious singsong.
“There be much we shall discuss.”
Ray woke up on the bed in his rented room with all
of his clothes still on and a memory in his head. The dream
was so vivid he could remember every detail. It was almost
real.
“Jeez Ray! Get hold of yourself,” he said out loud. “It
must have been the booze on an empty stomach. Too many
shocks in one day make Ray a strange boy.”
He showered and changed and headed back to the
dockside Conch Out Bar in search of breakfast. Belinda the
giggling barmaid was still on duty, and the place looked
remarkably better.
“Good mornin Cap’n,” she greeted him, with only a
hint of giggle. “Kitchen not workin’, but I got some fine
conch salad this mornin’.”
Bahamian conch salad is a delicacy little known to
the average tourist, but a staple to the hearty islanders.
Although the recipe is subject to change slightly from island
to island, it is basically raw chopped conch marinated in
lemon juice with onion and local hot peppers. It’s a cousin to
South American ceviche. It was one of the Captain’s
favorites, and he particularly liked the way Belinda fixed it.
Just finishing his breakfast and enjoying a tall glass
of fresh squeezed orange juice, he heard a buzz and looked
out through the still empty window frame.
Out over the bay a small seaplane circled around, and
finally touched the water, skipped once, and slid in for a
smooth landing. It skimmed the surface like a graceful
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speeding bird with wings outstretched, then slowed and
squatted less gracefully into the water as it approached the
small beach next to the dock.
In close the long gear lowered into the water and,
with a surge of power, the strange but pretty red and white
amphibian waddled its way up onto the hard packed sand;
then swung around to rest in the shade of a few remaining
palm trees.
“Whew!” the pilot exclaimed when he opened the
cockpit and jumped out shaking his head, “this place is a
wreck. Bar still open?”
“My, My, My,” the barmaid giggled, “it Capt’n Sky.
Sure, come on in Sky Man. Drinks is on the house today.”
She nearly convulsed with the giggles as she reached through
the destroyed back bar for a still good bottle of friendly rum.
Not your typical pilot, Ray noticed as the fellow
walked into the room. Unruly hair hung like he just stepped
out of the ocean. Large, dark lenses covered part of his face
like a raccoon’s mask, and a gaudy tropical shirt and cut off
jeans were all he wore except for a pair of old worn rubber
sandals that were obviously an afterthought and probably
just a reluctant concession to the broken glass still strewn
about. But when he removed the glasses, Ray could see
competence and understanding in the smiling face. Captain
Ray had no problem with unconventional people.
He had seen the plane from time to time, but Ray
never had the pleasure of meeting this man before.
Obviously they had things in common. It wasn’t long before
the pilot confessed to knowing the Second Wind and her
crew.
“She’s a beautiful craft, and I like your crew. That’s
one big, powerful guy you’ve got on board,” he told the
captain, “and his girl Doreen is a honey. Old Bruno seemed
to be havin’ some problems adjustin’ to the rhythm of the
waves, so I tried to help ‘em out. How are they doin’
anyhow?”
“That’s just the problem,” Ray explained slowly. “I
don’t know where they are, or even if they survived the
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storm. They probably tried to save the boat and took her out
of the harbor looking for sea room. They could be out there
anywhere.”
The pilot put down his rum coffee and asked Belinda
for a large cola instead. He sipped, and thought for a
moment.
“Well, that doesn’t sound like a good situation at all.
What do you think Captain, isn’t it about time we go
looking?”
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like this waiting for the next big breaker to come along and
wash them back to sea.
Not far away the beach turned to low bushes and
fallen palms. Moving as carefully as he could, Paul slid
Megan up the beach toward dubious shelter, dragging her by
the harness. He moved them both into relative safety under a
few fallen tree trunks. Any port in a storm, he thought wryly.
It wasn’t much, but it was the best he could do for a while.
Something had to be done about his shoulder. Sitting
under the dripping canopy, he took a strap from the
buoyancy vest and tied a loop around his right wrist, then
passed the strap a turn around a fallen tree above him and
held the end tight with his left hand down low. He took a
couple of deep breaths, closed his eyes, and allowed his
upper body to just fall back to the soft sand. The lights went
out.
He awoke hungry and cold to find the storm abated.
It was replaced by a lucid tranquillity of both mind and
nature. He had slept heavily despite the damp shelter
exposed to all the elements. He removed the strap from his
wrist. The shoulder must have popped back in. He was
pleased to find his arm working better already.
Surprisingly, his mind was still filled with his recent,
haunting dreams: so much of the past flitting by so quickly.
And even more strange, light flickering images like pieces
from a puzzle that he felt certain was the future. But this was
no time for dreams or recollections. Survival must come
first.
Megan looked better now, but she was still not
awake. Paul gathered himself together as much as possible
by tying his injured arm into what remained of his shirt. The
shoulder was back in place, but still painful. He got to his
feet and staggered to the bushes to relieve himself, then
searched the beach for any useful remains the storm might
have left behind.
The surf was gone and the water was relatively calm
and quiet out to the reef and beyond with only a gentle swell.
It was difficult to envision the wild maelstrom it had been
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such a short time ago. Now, all the way to the horizon,
nothing moved. Almost nothing.
There was a disturbance on the surface just inside the
reef; a combination of grey and fins. At first Paul thought it
was sharks toying with bodies from the other boats, but as he
watched in fascinated horror, and the fins came closer to
shore, he could see that they were moving something that
was not a body, and the fins belonged not to sharks but
dolphins. Paul could now clearly see them surface and blow,
bouncing the half submerged remains of the inflatable
forward like it was an underwater soccer game.
The boat must have tangled with the reef; some of the
air chambers were slashed open. But as the playful creatures
pushed it closer to the beach, Paul could see that the small
boat was still mostly in one piece and the emergency
supplies were still lashed to it. Ten yards out the sea
creatures retreated, and Paul waded in to retrieve all that
remained of his once floating home. He hauled the small
boat carcass onto the beach and quickly inventoried what
was left. Immediately his spirits lifted. It appeared they
would be able to survive for at least a few more days.
By early evening a small camp was arranged. There
was not much left of the faithful raft, but it still served them
well. Strung between the trees as a canopy, it would afford
them some protection from weather and the tropical sun.
And, hopefully, if it rained, the rubber fabric would capture
some drinking water which would be otherwise soon in short
supply.
Megan lay on a quilted aluminum emergency blanket
under the makeshift shelter. Paul had examined her closely.
There seemed to be nothing broken or out of joint; only the
nasty wound on her forehead. He stopped the bleeding and
applied antiseptic and a bandage from the small first aid kit.
He had a small fire going and water was heating in a metal
cup, although he wasn’t sure why. It just seemed like a thing
to do. There was a heavy dive knife on the raft, and it came
in handy to open some of the coconuts that had flown like
hail in the windstorm and now lay littering the area all
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around them. Paul had satisfied his immediate need for food
and drink and tried to get Megan to take some coconut milk,
but she was still unresponsive. He was beginning to worry
about her condition.
There was nothing else left to do. Paul sat down,
hunched his back against a tree, took one of Megan’s cool
hands in both of his. Darkness deepened and the firelight
flickered. Strange. He had lost everything in the world that
he possessed, he was injured and his friend was unconscious,
but somehow he felt more confident, sitting here on this
deserted island, than he had been for a long time. Memories
brought him back to earlier times, and he began to speak to
the unconscious girl as if she were awake.
“Megan, honey can you hear me? I’m sorry, I just
don’t know what else I can do to help you. They say that it’s
good to talk to someone who’s unconscious. Maybe it will
help you come back. Besides, how can I resist an opportunity
to have a long talk with you when you can’t interrupt,” he
added to lighten the tone.
“Now let’s see I was born a very, very long time ago.
Not so long in years perhaps, but still a long time ago. When
I was young, even in college, the whole world was a bright
tomorrow. I had hopes and dreams, and there was no reason I
could imagine that they wouldn’t come true. Then, slowly it
seems, I just got bogged down in the sticky stuff of living.
I’m not sure what happened exactly, there was no specific
moment or anything, things just seemed to come to a
standstill. I began to feel that I was doomed; doomed to a
fate worse than living: a life of mediocrity.
“Do you ever wonder, Megan, why we’re even here
on this planet?” He looked down at the woman’s quiet
features. Was her color better? Pulse still steady. But she
showed no further signs of waking, so he continued.
“There must be more to life than some accidental
birth, breathing, drinking, eating, a few meaningless laughs,
and then back to organic dust again. There must be more to
life than that. That’s why I came down to these islands to
search. But all I found was more of the same stuff that I left
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behind, just dressed up prettier. Nothing had a purpose, or
meaning; life just never seemed real.
“I was beginning to think that I was all alone on the
edge of the world. Sure, there were always plenty of people
around to drink with, sail with, you know, but most of them
are all alone too. It’s just hard for some people to get close I
suppose. Maybe that’s why we all float out here on the edge,
halfway between earth and the sea. Maybe it’s hereditary, I
don’t even think my parents were close. Even Ray, he’s one
of the best and brightest guys I’ve ever known, and he’s like
a ship without an anchor. He’s got a little something going,
but mostly he just drifts around down here like a lost puppy
dog.
“Now Deebe, you remember him don’t you? Of
course you do. Well, you didn’t see him at his very best, but
that guy is deep; intuitive you know. He has a mind like an
octopus, always reaching out in every direction. I’ve never
seen a guy who can learn stuff so fast. But even he doesn’t
know what direction to take. He’s just another one of us lost
souls, drifting through the stream of time, not even sure what
he’s looking for.
“That’s the key to it all, Meg. Most people never
even get to know what it is they’re seeking. We start out on
the quest, but it’s so easy to get distracted and sidetracked. I
think most people just eventually take the nothingness for
granted, or reach out blindly for anything at all to call reality.
“Well, that’s the way I was, Meg. Almost everyone
I’ve ever known was that way, and it was too empty; almost
too sad to bear. Some of the best don’t make it,” he added
with sad recollection. “I think I may have been headed down
that path myself.
“But things have changed. Since we met, everything
has been different. It’s like the sun finally came out. God
knows our short time together hasn’t been easy, sometimes
not even pleasant, but at least I knew I was alive. There’s
something special between us, Meg, some kind of real
magic. I can feel it and I think you can too. I think we’ve
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both changed for the better since we met. I know I have,
even if I didn’t want to admit it.
“I don’t know where we’ll go from here. I don’t have
a lot of experience with relationships that last more than a
few months. But I’m ready to try. We’re both close to
something here, Lady. I think it’s important that we find out
what it is. We owe that much to ourselves and to each other.
I need you Meg. I need you with me.”
He pressed the girl’s hand tenderly and looked at her
face in rest. It was an emotion far from lust or even passion
that affected him; more like something from a story, perhaps
the legend of Snow White, or Cinderella. He bent down and
kissed her sleeping lips.
“Come back to me, Megan. Please my dear, come
back.”
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“That’s only the radio stack,” Sky answered him with
a broad grin, “and out here I’m not in the habit of doin’
much with it anyway.”
“Trust me,” he assured Ray, “I’m keeping a real
careful watch on everything I need to see all the time. This is
where we are right now.” His tanned forefinger tapped a spot
on the mostly blue chart.
They were two hours out of Marsh Harbour, and had
already covered the coast of the main island to the South.
Now they were crossing to the outer islets to continue the
search for Second Wind and her crew. There was a lot of
debris in the water that might have been wreckage, but so far
nothing identifiable.
“They couldn’t have come much further than this,
Ray. Not even with a hurricane pushing them,” Sky’s voice
came clear and confident through the headset. “ There are a
million little islands and anchorages in this outside chain.
Don’t worry, we’ll find them.”
Ray just nodded his head and returned a determined
gaze to the expanse outside the canopy. He knew all too well
that his boat could easily have been reduced to one of the
floating piles of scrap they had passed over.
Even more horrible was the realization that he might
never see again the people that he had left alone to fend for
themselves in a situation they were not prepared to deal with.
“Sky, I really want to thank you for all this. You
know, I don’t even know your name.”
“Not many people do, Captain. Who’d ever believe a
pilot named Wilbur Wright?” at which Sky broke into an
easy, infectious chuckle that Ray could not resist. Ray had to
smile.
As bad as everything might be, at least he was able to
be up here looking; at least trying. It was just as important to
maintain perspective, and a sense of humor.
“Well, I’ll just keep calling you Sky then. But I do
want you to know that I appreciate your help. If it weren’t
for you and this fabulous flying machine I’d be crazy on the
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beach about now, and my crew wouldn’t have any chance at
all.”
“Easy now Captain. There’s a real good chance they
made it to one of these places up ahead. We’re turning in
now. I’m going to take us down to about five hundred feet
and fly up the inside of those islands. I’ll be checking ahead
and out to the water on my side. You’re looking over and
between these sand piles and out to sea beyond. Okay? Here
we go.”
Ray let his practiced eyes do most of the work. Years
at sea had taught him to thoroughly scan an area sector by
sector. It was the only way to spot something in an expanse
as vast as the sea or sky. He was able to search efficiently
like this while his mind entertained other, less than hopeful,
thoughts.
Despite the worries and fears plaguing him over his
boat and crew, one intriguing thought kept interjecting itself.
A half-lucid remembrance of a wizened rasta man perched
on a piling at the end of the dock. The vision never
completely left his thoughts. The strange apparition had told
him he would seen be flying like a sea bird through the
islands. It had seemed a fanciful illusion the next morning,
but here he was, poised in the sky and searching below.
Could it be possible that some of the other predictions might
come to pass as well, or was the whole thing a dream and
just a ridiculous flight of fancy? He had to smile at the
thoughts. This was, after all, the land of dreams, where food
grew everywhere by itself, fish leapt from the ocean, and for
many, dreams did come true.
“Hey Ray! Three islands up at about one o’clock. Do
you see what I think I see?” the excitement in Sky’s voice
was tangible.
Looking ahead Ray saw a dark mast rising straight
through the low trees on an empty island; a black anodized
mast that looked very familiar. The plane swooped into the
island and dipped a wing to circle around the catamaran. She
was lying in a shallow lagoon between two small islets
almost connected along their beaches by sand bars. The boat
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was too steady, apparently aground. She must have been
swept in over the bar during the storm, and now sat like a
centerpiece in her own little pond.
The boat looked to be remarkably unscathed. The
sails were gone. The main halyard hung with only tatters at
the end, and a section of life rail was broken and dangling
over the side, but these were only minor things.
Then Doreen jumped up on deck waving and
gesticulating wildly. Bruno and Deebe followed close behind
her, both obviously excited, but not even trying to compete
with Doreen. Even without the sound, both men in the plane
could easily imagine her nonstop, breathless exclamations. It
was a good thing to see, and Ray felt a heavy burden lift
away and clear his mind.
“Can you put us down here, Sky?” the need to be
close, on his deck, to see, touch, and speak to his friends was
nearly unbearable.
“Still too much chop outside”, the pilot considered, “
and that’s a kinda small puddle the boat’s sittin’ in. This
won’t be a pretty landing, but I think we’ll give it a try.”
He circled carefully a few more times to satisfy
himself that the water below was safe for landing and to get
a feel for the wind. Then, a long line up to his touch down
point, the amphibian pilot’s litany, “this is a water landing
the gear is UP”. Visual check inside: instruments, switches,
seatbelts. Outside: gear position, flaps down, water
condition, glide path. Throttle back, trim nose up.
To Ray, as the aircraft skimmed across the waves and
then over the sand bar, the lagoon rapidly began to look
smaller and smaller. All he could do now was cinch his
shoulder belt tighter and hold on as best he could with his
hands well away from any controls. Sky looked reasonably
relaxed, one hand on the yoke, the other on the throttle.
Power back, back slowly. Gently nose up into a shallow stall.
The stall warning horn went off in a shocking blare
when the plane was just feet above the surface, Sky kept the
nose coming up, and suddenly they just stopped flying. In a
landing very much reminiscent of a pelican’s controlled
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crash, the aircraft simply squatted down into a cloud of spray
and sudden quiet. With a few deft movements, Sky dropped
the water rudder and opened the cockpit. They were now a
very wide, high powered canoe, gliding gracefully through
the water toward the shallows and Second Wind. Finally,
Sky cut the engine and closed the last gap with the silent
power of his trusty wooden paddle.
On deck; stories, greetings, salutations, and
congratulations spilled everywhere. The boat was safe, and
still a pair of solid hulls in the water. They had lost one of
the rudders coming across the bar, and possibly damaged a
prop, but Ray considered the damage a reasonable loss
compared to what might have happened. He thanked Deebe
profusely for his wisdom in taking the boat off the dock and
for his seamanship in getting her to a safe haven. That’s
when they told him about the confrontation on the dock and
the other reason for their hasty departure.
While Doreen and Bruno regaled Captain Sky with
their own versions of the islands’ latest sea story, Ray and
Deebe examined the boat and discussed the situation. Deebe
assured him that with some new parts he, Bruno, and Doreen
could easily fix the rudder, prop, and broken rigging. They
had already decided they wanted to stay and make the
repairs.
“The moon be full in about ten days Cap’n, an de
flood tide will float us outa here,” Deebe reasoned. “In de
meantime you got plenty other things to do. You an de sky
cap’n can be bringin’ us the parts an supplies we needin
while you lookin’ for Crazy Lady. Paul an the girl have big
troubles now, Cap’n. Those be bad an’ dangerous men after
‘em. They need some helpin’ real soon.”
Ray found no flaw with the islander’s reasoning.
After all that had happened he felt he could certainly trust
these people with his boat. Deebe had proven himself to be a
more than competent sailor so far, and the lives of his friends
were still at stake.
Sky readily agreed to contribute to the cause, and
casually waved away Ray’s promises of cash compensation.
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“Hey Captain,” he exclaimed, “from what I see and
hear, you’ve done your share for folks in these islands.
Maybe we’re both out here for some of the same reasons.
We’ll work out what we need to later. Right now it’s just my
turn to lend a hand. Okay?”
The departure in the seaplane was another example of
the pilot’s art and experience. After he drifted the plane out
toward the center of the lagoon, Sky started the engine and
checked his systems while putting her up on the step,
speeding at close to sixty knots in a circle small enough to
stay within the boundaries of the sandy shoals. At the
downwind end of one loop he kicked the rudder hard, opened
the throttle, and tweaked the turbo charger control for a little
extra boost. The plane, already skimming like a giant metal
water ski, surged ahead, skipped once, and bounded into the
sky.
They circled one time, made their last farewells, and
climbed to five thousand feet on course for the best place to
take on fuel, supplies, and make plans. Nassau was less than
two hours away.
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“Is she in bad trouble Sal? I’m afraid the sins of the
mother have found the daughter, and she doesn’t deserve
that, she really doesn’t. Tell me the truth, Sal, please. I’ve
got a right to know.”
Subtle confrontation was not among Sal’s repertoire
of skills. He handled most problems straight on and hard,
although he disliked confrontations, and there had been too
many in his life already. The only approach he had ever
understood was a direct, crushing assault, but that would not
work for him in this situation. Rapidly considering the
options open to him, he realized he would have to resort to
the truth.
In his heart, Sal was mellowing with age, and many
aspects of his occupation no longer appealed to him.
Although there was technically no obligation between him
and the girl, he had known her for many years and watched
her grow up. And there was, certainly, at least an affinity and
understanding between the mother and himself. Maybe, if it
was possible, this was the time to find a way out; some
graceful way that would allow him to retire in the luxury he
had become accustomed to. Perhaps the wisest course would
be to try, before he was forced to battle and possible defeat
by the younger wolves. But he also knew in his heart that
plans for the future would be incomplete and unacceptable
without Terri. He needed his woman.
He knew her pain and regrets, and he knew there was
no way they would remain happy together if harm came to
the daughter. The conflict between his own emotions and a
lifelong career of learned loyalties had been gnawing away at
him since the whole, foolish business began. In truth, she
was his most trusted and reliable advisor. Now, more than
ever, he needed her counsel. Perhaps truth was the best
refuge.
They talked for many hours as the day passed to pale
hues beyond the broad glass wall. It turned into the kind of
talk most couples would be lucky to have even once in a
relationship. It seemed that with much of their lives behind
them, the future could be more clear.
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Terri knew that her girl was in trouble, bad trouble.
But she also knew that Sal was a powerful man, and he was
on her side now and would do whatever he could to help.
“The problem is, Baby,” he told her, “I don’t know
what happened during that damn storm. I can’t reach my
guys, and even the island boss man knows nothing. I got no
other contacts down here. I don’t know what else to do but
wait.
“I got a bad feelin’ though, Honey,” He warned her.
“With the odds stacked against ‘em the way they are, I’m
afraid Megan and her boyfriend can’t be doin’ too good.”
“It’s okay Sal, I trust you. As long as you’re with me
I just know that things will be all right. I know that Megan is
still alive. And we have more friends than you know about,”
she hesitated only a second, but he questioned her with a
stern look.
“Her father’s here, Sal. He doesn’t know that yet. He
doesn’t know he’s her father. At least he can’t be sure. But
he knows these islands, and he’s out there looking for her. I
asked him to, and I know he’ll find her soon. But what
happens after that, Sal? What can we do.? How can we save
my daughter’s life?”
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There was a startling crash to seaward. Water broke
between the beach and encircling arm of the reef. Green
phosphorescence scattered and faded like fireworks
sparkling on the dark sea. The splashes occurred over and
over again. There appeared to be dozens of large leaping
creatures in the water just off the beach.
“Oh,” Meg breathed softly. The magic and the beauty
of the moment, the spectacle, was more than amazing.
“The dolphins, Paul. Have you ever seen them do
anything like this before?”
Paul replied after a moment, “No. Never. This is
something very special, Meg.”
The display went on like a fabulous parade that
eventually ended with a final splash.
Paul squeezed Megan’s hand gently. “I wonder,” he
said softly, “what the poor people are doing tonight.”
***********
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Ray joined right in, “Absolutely. I forgot to tell you,
Deebe, we ran into your grandfather in Lauderdale. How
does that guy get around anyway?”
Deebe did not at all seem surprised. He answered
simply, “The Old One travels easy Capt’n. He goes any
place, any time. No problem.”
“Yeah. Well, he was acting pretty strange when we
saw him. I must say, all things considered, he was in a very
good mood. He said to tell you that ‘the time has come’.
Whatever that means. And he also told us that Paul and
Megan were fine, although not ready to be rescued just yet.
He was actually laughing about it. Some sense of humor.
How old is he now, Deebe?”
Now it was Deebe’s turn to chuckle. “He be older
than you be believin’, Cap’n. But he wise in his ways and his
travels. If he say so, you can be expectin’ to find those folks
real soon.”
“I be thinkin’. Maybe I should help with the lookin’.
I sailed plenty with the Crazy Lady. I know these islands
good, and I know most all the Captain’s divin’ places.”
“I had planned on searching tomorrow,” Captain Ray
spoke up. “There’s only so much room in the plane. If we
find them, we have to carry them back too.”
“This I know Captain. We all concerned for our
friends. But this be your boat. You built her, and you be the
best man to fix her too.”
Ray couldn’t deny the logic. He had a responsibility
to his boat and his crew too. Deebe was right. He was the
one best qualified to make the repairs, and it was his boat. It
was important to get this job done right, and float her out of
here soon.
“Okay Deebe, you’re right. Your eyes are probably
sharper than mine anyway. Find them as quick as you can,
and be careful. There may still be trouble out there. With a
little help from my friends here, we’ll be ready to sail on the
next moon tide.”
Everyone had ample accommodations below,
comfortable and private. They drifted off and soon found
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their rest. All except Deebe. The simple message from the
Old One meant so much. Could the teachings and prophecies
of his people, learned from childhood, really be coming true?
He would know soon enough, but already he had a strange
intuition. Energy, like the sea’s phosphorescent tide, coursed
through his mind and body. He sat in the bow netting,
regarding the night sky and waiting for the morning.
“Okay, D man. Buckle up tight and hang on. It’s a
great morning for flying.” Sky was rested and resplendent in
a clean, bright, tropical shirt, white sail cloth shorts, dark
glasses, and his long hair slicked back. They taxied once
around the lagoon while Sky checked and set his instruments
and the oil temperature came up. Then he latched the canopy,
set the flaps, turned into the wind and opened the throttle.
Deebe sat back in his seat and felt the small plane push to the
water’s surface and begin to accelerate in a roar. They were
skipping over the water now, and the sand bar between them
and the open sea was coming up fast. With a delicate
movement of wrist, Sky separated the plane from the surface.
They skimmed just feet above the sand and crossed it in
seconds.
“Hey, I knew we could make it.” He grinned, and
dipped his wing into a steep bank, cranking the plane around
to a northerly heading. “So, where to first Deebe?”
Deebe opened his eyes slowly. He supposed he
would get better used to it if he looked. He wished he could
travel as the Grandfather did, but that might be a long time
coming. In the meantime, this would have to do.
“They be by the deep reef, mon. Out beyond
ManOWar Cay.”
“On the way. We’ve got about two hours left, we’ll
stop and refuel at Marsh Harbour when we get low.”
Those hours went fast. The regular airport landing
and takeoff after refueling were so tame, Deebe almost
wanted to land the plane in the water again.
Sky picked the chart off his knee and threw it into the
cabin over his shoulder. “Damn it, Deebe. All these little
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coral and scrub cays are starting to look the same to me.
How are you doing? Any ideas?”
“You doin fine Capt’n. We be close. Try over there,
other side of that big one.”
They crossed over a channel with a strong swell
running, came up on a rocky bluff, and turned to circle
around the other side of an uninhabited island.
“Now that, I suppose, is what the well dressed
castaway is wearing these days,” Sky remarked. Paul and
Megan were standing on the beach, holding hands and
waving. They were wearing woven, palm frond hats, and
below that only tatters of what once was clothing. From the
plane they could see that Paul’s hand holding arm was
strapped to his side. Megan’s hat sat on top of a crude head
bandage.
“Okay Deebe, we found ‘em. Now how we gonna get
‘em?”
They looked down at the water near the beach. It was
fairly choppy, but still they could see the shapes of reef
pieces and coral heads everyplace.
Two more passes and Sky said, “Well, you ready for
a tricky one? It’s too rough and dangerous for the water,
we’d probably end up sunk ourselves. But that beach doesn’t
look so bad. It’s pretty level, and if we can avoid the rocks,
the sand should be solid enough below the high water mark.”
The beach doesn’t look so bad? The sand should be
able to hold the plane? Deebe looked out the window again
with grave misgivings. The beach might be long enough for
a runway, but it surely wasn’t level and clear like even a
decent road should be. The strip of white fringe between the
trees and water was broken up by random outcroppings of
coral rock and pieces of storm washed debris. Although part
of his mind was screaming ‘don’t do this’, Deebe felt deeper
and more compelling reasons to land.
“You the Sky Captain, Mon. If you can go there and
fly away again, I be ready.”
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“Okay,” Sky replied, pulling the plane into a tight
bank and lining up on the beach, “slide your seat way back,
and cinch up tight.”
Deebe was doing his best to control anxiety. The
island seemed to float up toward the windshield, and the strip
of beach was only a very small part of the view. He watched
carefully as the pilot’s hands moved delicately around the
controls, but he still jumped involuntarily when a hydraulic
motor whirred and lights on the instrument panel flashed and
changed colors. He looked quickly out the side windows and
watched the long, storklike landing gear fold down from the
wings.
“Oh Boy,” he whispered out loud, and wished this
part was over. But his eyes remained wide open in
fascination, or perhaps terror. Now the beach filled the
windshield, and rocky fingers of coral were everywhere.
At the end, it wasn’t so bad. By the time the plane
finally touched down on the main gear, nose high, it was
going so slow that it hardly seemed to roll at all. Deebe
noticed that Sky had put it down just beyond a rocky out
crop, and the beach was reasonably clear of obstructions for
a departure ahead.
The engine switched off almost immediately. Paul
and Megan were suddenly standing next to the cockpit
smiling and cheering. The two men unbuckled and climbed
out of the plane, and everybody was trying to talk at once.
Sky held up his hands for a pause and said, “First
things first, guys. You both look pretty good considering the
last few days. Can I assume you’re injuries aren’t too
serious?”
Paul spoke first, “Thanks Sky. Megan was out for
quite a while. My shoulder was dislocated, but I’m pretty
sure it’s back now. Basically, I think we’re both okay, but a
hot shower and a good meal would sure help. We’re really
glad to see you. How did you find us anyway?”
Sky looked to Deebe.
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“We sail togetha many times Paul,” Deebe answered
with a large grin. “An besides that, the friends be watchin’
over you lately, an they tell us many things.”
Paul and Megan exchanged dubious glances. “What
are you talking about Deebe?” Meg asked him.
“I come from a very old people, my friend. There be
some things that be hard to explain, and some even that I do
not understand. But you hold the symbol,” he told Megan
earnestly, “and I think some of the knowledge also.”
A strange look came over Megan’s face. “You’re
talking about the dolphins, aren’t you? I remember... I think
there’s something you want to see.”
They all walked back up to the improvised campsite.
Under the feeble shelter of the rubber boat, on a rock draped
with a dive vest, was the figure of the golden dolphin. It sat
upon the natural altar and shone with a power greater than
just the reflected light.
“What is this, Deebe?” Megan asked softly.
The islander stood quietly, reverently, just steps away
from something he had heard about, and wondered about, for
most of his life. Finally he spoke, “That is the soul and spirit
of my people, Megan. It is the symbol of a great power.”
Megan picked the golden dolphin up and looked at it
closely. It felt cool and smooth in her hands. The small, blue
eyes were warm, as though they were really connected to
something more than just fashioned metal. She held out the
image to Deebe. “Here, this is yours.”
The dark head and dreadlocks nodded slowly but his
hands stayed at his sides. “Someday yes. But it must be
given me by another.” Then he broke into a broad grin.
“Have you ever met my granfather?”
“Well people,” Sky spoke up,” I think it’s time we all
went visiting. Despite the old Rasta Man’s predictions, some
people are still more than a little concerned about you two.
There are some folks on a stuck catamaran who are looking
forward to seeing you two again.
Paul was surprised for a minute, only just suddenly
remembering Bruno and Doreen and all that had transpired.
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It seemed his time alone on this island with Megan, the last
few days caring for each other, had made everything else so
much less important.
“Is Ray all right? Did the cat make it through the
storm? Are Bruno and Doreen still around?” Paul asked
quickly and with true concern.
“Everyone’s okay,” Sky answered, “but why don’t
we talk about it in the plane. We’ve got some flying to do,
and I don’t want to even think about landing in that lagoon
after dark.” The others, especially Deebe, readily agreed.
Megan carefully replaced the golden dolphin in the
torn buoyancy vest. They packed up what little else there
was to salvage, and left the rest of the camp neat and ready
for the next castaways.
Paul and Megan sat on cushions in the back of the
plane holding hands and knees touching. They had the
headsets on, but their hearts and smiles were all they needed
to communicate with each other. The intercom remained
silent while the engine started, dials and lights flickered to
life and, finally, Sky said, “everyone hang on,” and they
started to roll.
The plane left the small islet behind, once again
deserted. But bright eyes from the water’s surface, just
beyond the reef, watched them go.
***********
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They circled lower for landing, and the solitary figure
waved up at them as they passed over. Deebe laughed and
waved back. “Oh well,” he chuckled, “I guess we just missed
Granfather again.”
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quality. Ray sat quietly alone, thoughtful in a corner of the
cockpit for a while before he spoke.
“Deebe, your grandfather was here.”
“Yeah. We saw someone sailing away in a small boat
when we came in,” Sky observed.
Deebe just sat, not surprised, and continued to roll
one of his special smokes.
“He told me some fantastic things, Deebe. Are they
true?”
Deebe prepared his smoke and looked around for a
match.
“Old Grandfather got some fantastic stories,” he
admitted, “but he a truthful man. Which ones he be tellin you
Cap’n?”
“Well, let’s start with something easy,” Ray
chuckled. “For one thing, he told me that he controls the
Emerald Cays. How can that be right? What about the US
Navy Autec base there?”
“Those islands have been the home to our people for
many long generations Cap’n,” Deebe answered. “The
Grandfather is the leader of the people. The Navy made
some improvements to the island and pays lease money for a
small time only. The lease be finished soon. Then it will be
time for the great change.”
“Yes. Tell us more about this great change,” Ray
asked.
The beautiful Emerald Cays are mostly undeveloped,
lush island hills and long stretches of fine, pink sandy
beaches. The cays are surrounded by some of the finest coral
reefs in the world. More than once, schemers and would be
real estate merchants had tried to change the peaceful islands
and drag the inhabitants into the screaming modern century,
but they had, so far, not quite succeeded. For one reason or
another, all attempts to popularize and promote the small
group of islands had failed. Sometimes, opportune quirks of
nature would intervene to disrupt well planned sales
promotions. At other times, the mischievous and relentless
Chicharnes would send groups of tourists scurrying home
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with woeful tales of the vacation from hell. Most developers
gave up quickly, and moved on to find their money
elsewhere.
Mr. Adam did not give up so easily. He was
descended from the leaders of these people, and by far the
most financially successful representative of their group. He
considered the potential wealth of the islands to be his by
right of dominance. His education and sophistication
promised him that the beliefs of the simple island people
were childish things. But, simple or not, most of the people
still resisted him.
They continued to be lured by the crazy Shaman who
told them stories of a sign to come from the ancient ones. It
was to signal the beginning of a great change and a long time
of prosperity and peace for the people.
The people of the home island believed that all
beings were descended from common ancestors, and the
Shaman still retained the ability to communicate with the
great creatures of the jungle and the sea.
“The old stories say,” Deebe told them, “when the
giant wooden ships were torn apart by the reefs in a terrible
storm, the people of the ocean come. They rescued the
survivors, and carried them to the islands that became our
home. Grandfather tells us the people of the ocean are the
great mammals, the dolphins that still live around our
islands. It is one of their special places in all the seas, and we
must help them to care for it.”
As with any other group, there were dissenters among
the people of the Cays. The Old One was the official and
spiritual leader, and had been for a very long time. But many
were becoming impatient and seeking out new and easy
ways. The temptations of the modern world were very
strong. They believed they could no longer exist as an
autonomous group, and the old customs and ways were
obsolete. In this, the Shaman admitted, they were probably
right. This group wanted to sell their land, and their
birthright. This, the Shaman declared, they must not do. The
sign would come soon, he promised them. And with the sign
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would come guidance from their ancestors and cousins in the
sea.
Mr. Adam, of course, argued that this was all
nonsense. He knew that once he had amassed enough money
to buy a piece of the land and begin a massive project, time
and greed would be his natural allies, and most of the
islanders would follow him.
“The time comes soon, “Deebe told them, “when
Grandfather must reveal the future to the people, and the
time of great change will begin.”
“The gold dolphin we found is the sign, isn’t it
Deebe?” Megan said.
“It is the sign,” he answered. “It is exactly as the
legend describes it. In the hand of the Shaman, the gold
dolphin possesses much power. When the people see it, they
will do as he asks.”
“But what will he ask them for? What does he have
in mind?” Doreen’s questions filled the night.
“I think I might know the answer to that,” Ray
replied.”A lot of the stuff that old man told me is starting to
make sense now. He told me you would be able to explain
more, Paul. Do you know what’s going on here?”
When they all looked at him, Paul had a mysterious
smile. You know,” he told them,” there have been a lot of
dolphins in my life lately. I’ve even been having dreams
about them. It’s hard to believe it, but it sounds like some of
those dreams may be real and actually coming true.”
Megan squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring
smile. “Megan and I both have some strange ideas, Ray,
“Paul continued. “But we’ve never met the old guy in
person. Why don’t you tell us what he told you?”
The Shaman had told Ray about a plan. A plan to
develop the Emerald Cays in such a way so as to provide
certain employment and security for the people and still
retain as much of their independence and values as possible.
He realized they would need help and expertise beyond his
own for the plan to work. He invited Ray to participate.
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“He even mentioned a book I wrote from my thesis a
long time ago,” Ray remarked, shaking his head with a
distant, sad, nostalgic smile. “Those were the naive old days,
when I thought everyone had hope and believed in the future.
“I still can’t understand how that old guy knows so
much about me. That part of my life was a very long time
ago. I stepped down from an ivory tower, and got myself
persuaded into real politics because I actually believed it was
possible for one man to make a real, positive difference.” He
uttered a short, bitter laugh.
“At least it didn’t take all that long for the clear,
bright lights of reality to come on.
“Anyway, Deebe’s grandfather, whoever the guy is,
now offers me a chance to do something important that I
used to dream of doing. I know it can be done, and done
right. It’s a great opportunity,” Ray conceded, “if it’s on the
up and up. I’m almost tempted to go for it.”
“What did you tell him,” Paul asked.
“I still wonder if the whole thing was a hallucination.
I thanked him. Then told him that I was too old and tired for
a big project like that, but he just laughed at me. He said,
from his point of view, I was barely into the prime of my
life. He also told me it would take wisdom and cunning to
start the changes in the proper direction; the youth and
energy to carry it through would come later. That’s when he
mentioned you, Paul.”
“It sounds like you guys are getting into something
really big,” Sky observed. “It would be refreshing to see
some of these islands run by people who care about more
than tourist quotas and profit margins.”
“Maybe,” Ray continued. “It’s hard not to be
interested. But I also told him a project like he had in mind
would take a great deal of money just to get it started.” Ray
chuckled at the memory, “That little old fellow just nodded
his head and said something like, ‘No problem mon. Goin’ to
fix it up soon”.
“Then he jumped into his little boat, waved good bye,
and just sculled away over the sand bars. You know, when
199
he first floated in here, I wondered where he came from;
figured there must be a bigger fishing boat nearby. But the
radar doesn’t show anybody else around. Where do you
think he’s going, Deebe?”
Deebe shrugged and answered quite simply, “He be
goin’ to find you de big business moneys, Cap’n.”
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He turned up onto Bay Street then, and walked a
ways more. Some of the old buildings were still
recognizable, but most reconfigured for the growing tourist
trade. Today there was not much business. Even the Club
Caribe was relatively quiet. He knew where he was going,
and why. The dark green Jaguar sedan parked at the curb
only confirmed that a long awaited confrontation was about
to take place. The shiny motor toy emphasized the changed
priorities of island life.
This man Adam was descended from a strong line of
his people. They had been powerful warriors and chiefs.
Without the guidance of a Shaman, however, the line had
gone astray; become more self appeasing and brutal than
wisdom called for. But this man Adam still deserved a
chance. Some degree of balance was always necessary. Even
good and wisdom could not prevail without the image from
the other side of the mirror.
The winds and other messengers had not carried
favorable reports of this man. Perhaps he was gone too far.
But his bloodlines were close to the people, and perhaps he
could be made to see. The Old One climbed the stairway on
the side of the pink, stone edifice. He knew only that,
somehow, answers were inside and soon to be known.
He entered quietly into a large room.
Most of the little cubicles were unoccupied, but a thin
black man sat hunched over a radio console in the corner. An
attractive woman approached, and appraised him carefully.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked, politely.
“No, but I will wait.” the old man answered in kind.
He gave her a mysterious smile, and sat in a soft chair in
front of one of the desks. He looked over the extravagant
furniture, and seemed to be amused.
The woman wasn’t sure what to do. The man looked
like an aged street urchin, or something from the hills. His
clothes were simple and old, dreadlocks hung nearly to his
feet, and he wore no shoes. But there was an aura of power
and dignity about him. Adam had all kinds come through
202
here, she thought, who knew what sort of scheme he might
be up to now. She decided to let the man wait.
Through the glass wall, he could see Adam and
another man in the big office at the end. He did not have to
hear their discussion to understand that it was not going well.
“My friend, we are doing all that can be done under
these conditions, Mr. Adam tried to explain calmly, but he
was on his feet and pacing.
“Bullshit!” Sal exploded in his face. “My pansy
nephew coulda done a better job than this. All I ask you for
is to find one girl on a sailboat you say belongs to one of
your people. Now you tell me a storm’s why you can’t do
nothin. The storm’s over Adam. Christ! Even my old lady
could manage to get out here. Now, what in Hell’s the
problem?”
Adam mentally cringed, but held his tongue. He still
needed these people, for now. But who was this swine to be
yelling at him. He silently vowed that Bingo would not go
unpunished for this outrage.
“Sal, my friend, calm yourself. It is a very big sea,
and the storm was severe. It is possible that the boat and your
girl have met some misfortune. If they can be found, my
people will find them soon. There is still so much difficulty
from the weather that we have temporarily lost radio contact.
Why don’t you return to your hotel? I will telephone you
there as soon as we have word.”
“You listen to me Adam,” Big Sal came back in a
voice that rolled right through the walls, “I’m down here for
some important people to cut a big deal with you. We
thought you ran this place, but now I’m not so sure. You
show me somethin’ soon, or our business is over.” He
stepped to Adam’s door, turned and opened it, and added
over his shoulder, “Do you understand me?” Then he strode
across the office, past the Rasta man, and left.
Adam scrambled out after him, face clouded with the
rage of frustration. But Sal was gone, and Adam had nothing
that would call him back.
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“What the hell are you doing?” Adam snarled at the
rumpled little man smiling at him from one of the office
chairs. “Who let you in here?”
“I travel where I please,” the frail man answered
calmly, swiveling slowly back and forth in the large chair. “I
wish to speak with you. We have things important to
discuss.”
“Well, I have no reason to speak with you! Crazy
charlatan! Get your filthy self out of my office.
“You two!” he called to his office staff. “Throw this
bum out of here!”
The Old One rose to his feet with a quiet dignity. His
mere glance stopped the office workers in their tracks. At
this point, Mr. Adam saw only the fury of his own impotent
delusions. He grabbed the old man by the front of his coarse
shirt and dragged him bodily, unprotesting, to the outer door,
opened it with one hand and, with a sharp twist shoved the
old fellow backwards out onto the stairway.
The old man fell in a thudding tangle of hair and
limbs all the way down to the street. Every cement stair left a
painful bruise he would not soon forget. The magic of
balance and knowledge saved his body from being badly
damaged by the dangerous battering, but it was not enough
to shield his spirit from the rage and humiliation he felt deep
inside.
Adam stood at the top of the stairs, pleasantly
surprised by the violence of his own outburst and loss of
control. He turned back inside without another word.
The old one picked himself up carefully from the
sidewalk. The few passersby saw only an old, skinny, native
man thrown out of a nightclub in the middle of the afternoon.
He was probably drunk, or stoned on weed, or both. The old
fellow took a stumbling step then stopped to compose
himself. He rested both hands, for just a moment, on the
hood of the shiny Jaguar sedan, then continued down the
sidewalk trailing his long, dusty hair and bruised dignity.
The meeting had been necessary, the Shaman
consoled himself. He had found what he was seeking, and
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now the future could proceed. This man Adam was not the
one; the darkness was too profound and beyond control. A
mischievous smile crossed his face for a moment as he
wondered if Adam would ever understand the message.
Nearly an hour later Mr. Adam left his office. He had
enough for one day. His main desire right now was to return
to his villa and the luxury and comforts he so much
deserved. He felt better already when he looked at his car.
The sleek green symbol of power and wealth had never
failed to please him. He slid into the pale leather interior. It
was uncomfortably warm, but the air conditioner would soon
take care of that. Perhaps a fast drive along the Cable Beach
road. Yes. That would be just the thing for his frayed nerves.
He turned the key anticipating the satisfying growl of power,
but nothing happened. Absolutely nothing.
This machine had never failed him before. Was he
suddenly cursed? He kept trying the key and searching for a
reason. It seemed his life would never be right until the
smooth motor car purred to life. It was a shame really,
because that car would never work again.
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tide. All was as ready as it could be by mid afternoon, when
Sky decided to bid them all farewell.
“It seems you’ve got everything under control now,”
he told them. “I guess it’s time for me to hit the sky while
there’s still enough daylight to make it back to Nassau. Don’t
you folks worry about a thing; I’m sure you’ll bust outta here
tonight. I’ll be swinging by again real soon to check, just in
case you don’t.” “If we don’t get out of here in the next
couple of days, we’re seriously screwed,” Ray said.
“Not necessarily,” Sky told him. “There’s always a
plan B. If we have to, we can always plant a little plastic
magic and put a big hole in that sand bar.”
“Well, let’s hope that won’t be necessary. I’m pretty
sure we’ll be floating out tonight,” Ray told him, surprised,
and maybe even a little shocked at the extent of Sky’s
resources. “Hopefully, we’ll be seeing you again real soon
under better conditions. I owe you plenty for all your help.”
“Sure thing, Ray,” Sky continued. “The only airstrip
on Emerald Cay belongs to the Navy, and it’s closed to
regular traffic. Not many private boats stop in there, so aside
from the mail boat, my amphibian is one of the few ways to
get in there. I fly folks in to the dive lodges from time to
time. You’ll be seeing me before too long. I figure you owe
me a good lobster dinner; I’ll bring the wine. See you all
soon.”
The crew stood together on the foredeck and watched
their friend in his metal bird lift off from the lagoon for
probably the last time. It cast a strangely solemn mood over
the group.
Paul finally broke the silence, “Don’t worry guys,
something tells me that we won’t be missing him for too
long.
“For now, we’d best all chow down and get some
rest. We’ve got a big night ahead of us.”
About midnight the tide hit three feet with half an
hour left to go. Winching on the kedge lines turned the big
boat around and slid her steadily toward the low point on the
bar, and finally over into deepening water. They hoisted the
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main and unfurled the huge genoa in the mild breeze. The
big cat leaned gently into the sea and accelerated like a
thoroughbred racing for home.
Their destination was several hundred miles away,
but with luck and a fair wind they would arrive in about
thirty-six hours so they could enter the harbour in daylight.
“So, what’s this place like?” Bruno asked.
“I’m not really sure” Ray told him, “It’s a place
tourists don’t go very often. Paul’s been there more often
than I have.”
Paul told them about the island’s clouded history, and
the mysterious legends of the mischievous chicharnes. He
gave rave reviews about the diving and the extensive coral
reefs and sea life around the island group.
“The barrier reef is one of the most prolific and
unspoiled in the world,” he told them. “I’ve only been there a
few times, myself. Great diving, but I never spent much time
ashore. I’m glad we’ve been invited. I expect Deebe plans to
give us a guided tour.”
Deebe was standing by the life lines on the windward
rail. “You betcha,”he grinned and told them all, “I gonna
show you plenty. De home island is a most beautiful place.
An don’t worry about no chicharnes; they be personal friends
of mine, an they not be botherin’ you at all.
“I been waitin’ a long time myself to come home.”
He pointed to the horizon off the bow and shouted across the
wide cockpit, “Next stop, THE EMERALD ISLES!”
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service to Emerald Cay. Perhaps you should try to arrange a
boat.”
“Lady, we’ve been all around this harbor twice, and
this is the last stop! There must be some way to get to that
island, and I want to get there fast and dry!” Sal’s bulk
moved up against the counter, and the attendant shrank back
a step as his fist slammed down on the surface.
“Stop it Sal.” Terri spoke softly, but Sal responded
immediately. “Let’s just rest and think for a minute, Sal.
We’ll think of something.”
A hum outside grew to a roar and pulled their
attention to the lobby windows. A small, strange looking
aircraft was waddling its way up the ramp toward them.
The girl behind the counter breathed a short sigh of
relief.
“That be Captain Sky, folks. A charter pilot. Perhaps
he can help you.”
A tall, young man climbed out of the cockpit. Sal
thought he looked like a refugee from a surfer movie with his
long hair and extremely casual wardrobe.
The guy walked through the door with a curious
smile and a self assured air like he owned the place.
“Hi Sharon. Hope you don’t mind my pulling up
here, it’s a little messy over at the airport. I figured you
wouldn’t be too busy today. What’s the chance of my getting
some fuel?”
“No problem, Captain. I’ll call the fuel truck right
now, he’ll be here quick.
“These folks are trying to find a way to Emerald
Cay,” she introduced them as she hurried down to her
telephone.
“So, Emerald is it? A tricky place to land, but I’ve
been there a few times. What is it you’d like to do on the
mysterious island?”
Sal exploded out of frustrated reflex, “None a your
damn business what we...”
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Terri stepped in front of Sal, and her eyes captured
the pilot’s attention. “It’s very important that we go there as
soon as possible. Can you help us, please?”
“Well, since you ask nicely, I suppose I could.” He
glared from the man to the woman. “But my back seats are
missing at the moment, I’m not really set up for carrying
passengers.”
“This is very Important,” Terri pleaded. Her look
showed him a hint of desperation. “There must be some
way.”
***********
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Paul turned up into the wind once again, and the fluttering
genoa furled out of the way onto the headstay. As the big
boat lost momentum, Bruno released the anchor and the
rattling chain echoed over the quiet bay.
The yacht hung at the end of a ribbon of white, three
quarter inch anchor line in absolutely crystal clear water. The
crew hustled about setting up a huge deck awning over the
boom, readying to launch the Zephyr from the stern davits,
and otherwise preparing the yacht for anchorage. But as they
worked, they peered frequently over the side. They could
easily see starfish spread out, and large conch making lazy
trails through the forest of sparse grass below. Large schools
of quick, si1ver fish hovered near, and flashed away.
Although the bottom was more than ten meters down,
everything was as clear as if they were floating in air.
Meg carried her well used dive vest when she
descended the transom steps to join the others in the waiting
zodiac. It was only minutes before the powerful Zephyr ran
them up onto the beach beside the island boat.
They all stood around as if they had just discovered
land until Deebe led them up to the old man by his campfire.
The sun was in the Western sky by now, almost ready to set,
and the low light cast entrancing shadows through the
junglelike fringe at the edge of the beach.
“Welcome,” the old man greeted them all with a
great and sincere smile, and casually gestured that they
should make themselves comfortable around his circle. “Sit,
smoke, we have much to discuss.”
Although only sand and a circle of smooth stones
surrounded the campfire, there was a sense of hospitality and
ease as they all found comfortable places.
The old man handed a smoking clay pipe first to
Deebe who closed his eyes and drew a deep breath and then
passed it along, around the circle; each drawing to his desire.
All could sense they were in a different world and a special
place; it seemed only common courtesy to share the old
man’s customary offering.
221
They sat peacefully for a short time speaking
inconsequentially of little things, and pondering the recent
events and emotions that had brought them to this place and
the many questions that they hoped would soon be answered.
Doreen breathed out a languorous puff of the
mystical smoke, and finally had to ask, “Why are we all
here? I mean. I’m really glad to be here, and it all feels so...
right. But what’s really going on?”
Paul and Megan stood together and stepped around
the fire to the Old Man sittinq cross legged and quietly
watching them. She knelt, carefully removed the golden
figurine from the remains of the dive vest, and offered it in
outstretched hands. “This is yours.”
The golden dolphin passed over, and even in the
evening light, as it touched his eager, upturned finger tips,
the golden body glowed and the blue eyes flashed. It must
have been a trick of the firelight that flickered like a tear on
the old man’s cheek.
Finally he spoke, “Since a longtime, old legends and
promises only have held our people together. But these
things of the past have kept us from the future also.
“You have all come far and well,” he spoke in a
melodious, happy voice, “and this is good. All peoples have
a destiny, and fortunate ones find the special time and place
to make it so. I hope you find your place here. You bring
hope and guidance.”
He set the golden statuette reverently on a flat rock
by his side. The firelight shown upon both of them, and
reflected back, sparkling, from both bright sets of eyes.
The old one spread his hands in a simple gesture,
“The past be finished now. And the next turn of time must
begin.”
Shadows deepened and turned inside out from the
firelight; the night closed in. They all listened in rapt
attention while the old man told his vision of the future. It
included them all, and he offered each something which they
most desired. His very words brought a sense of inner peace.
He offered an opportunity to do good and live well in
222
harmony with nature, in a place they could finally call home.
His offer had the strength and force of their own, deep
individual desires.
“Great powers rest in this land and the sea beyond,”
he told them, “an all this be ready to come now to the
world.”
Untouchable dreams, unreachable goals, all now told
and put within the grasp of earthly travelers; seekers who, by
fate, fortune, or some other great design now came to find
themselves on the brink of a destiny and opportunity. Within
their reach was a chance to help build and be part of a special
place in a very special world.
“You’re talking about turning all of this into a land
and sea refuge supported by a resort complex,” Paul tried to
sum everything up. “I can’t think of a better idea. Too much
of what these islands really are is gone already. From what
Deebe has told us, and what we have seen already, this may
well be one of the finest spots in the Caribbean. Developing
it carefully and properly may be the only way to save it.”
“There’s no doubt about that,” Ray agreed with the
strategy, “but like I told you before, what you have in mind
is a very complicated and expensive proposition.”
“For what we need, we reach far,” the old man
answered, “no complications are beyond the power of spirit
and understanding. All tings come in good time, mon.
“As you see, you are here already,” he offered them
this irrefutable logic with a broad grin and a nod to each. “As
for the great monies, be patient, Capt’n. All things must
abide by nature’s laws. Soon come morning, an every thing
be more clear.”
The Old One stood easily and stepped slowly around
the dancing fire, taking each of the seated crew in turn by
hand, gazing deep within through the windows of their eyes.
When he came to Megan, he had a special smile. “We have
all waited long for what you have brought. It be a special
gift, but only a beginning.”
He carefully picked the golden dolphin up with both
hands and raised it to the firelight like a promise. “Tomorrow
223
you go to the village.” He turned to Deebe, “The people wait
for you.”
He started whistling; a strange, haunting, happy tune.
Then he simply walked away into the jungle night.
The others were surprised, the way he just walked
suddenly away like that, but Deebe laughed and explained,
“That be only the Grandfather’s way. He has now much to
do, and many to tell. We will find him again tomorrow.”
The rest of the hours of night passed swiftly.
Discussion, ideas, dreams and expectations passed around
the comfortable cockpit of Second Wind until the sun was
nearly ready to rise again.
The project and prospects for the future promised
direction and purpose which were accepted in the spirit they
were offered. The crew were energized. Each of them was
excited and ready to commit to a meaningful and most
worthwhile project. The magic of the islands was running
strong, and the omens were all good. Deebe said little, but
listened well. He was very pleased.
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middle of a dump. Why suddenly, he asked himself,was his
life so cursed?
His time with the British had taught him optimism in
the face of any adversity, however, and he still saw one thing
working in his favor. As he looked around at the ruin and
damage to his estate, he happily imagined the chaos in the
primitive villages of Emerald Cay. Now was the time to use
his power and his wealth. The fools would be ready to grant
him anything for a box full of cheap groceries and a few
dollars. He was not quite so ready as he had hoped to be for
this phase of his plan, but the land should be a bargain now.
Why not use the storm to his advantage as well. Frightened
and helpless people were always the easiest to deal with.
Besides, it would help to take his mind off other, less
pleasant things, and back onto a positive track.
Several more drinks and his mind was made up. He
tried to call one of his boat captains, but now the phones
were not working. No matter, he would be able to find the
man in the morning, probably at home lying about and still
sniveling with his family. It couldn’t take long, and they
should be underway by mid day at the latest.
He could be in Emerald Cay in a couple of days, even
if they had to take one of the old supply boats. Hardly
enough time for the peasants to recover. He would reach
them when they were most vulnerable. For little money,
cheap presents, and worthless promises, he would be able to
procure possibly the most valuable undeveloped real estate
in the islands.
Once the land was finally in his grasp there would be
no problem getting whatever partners and money he wanted
to help develop it. The island and its ignorant villagers were
ripe for exploitation, and he was ready to pick the fruit.
All he had to do now was go to Emerald Cay and
begin his lifelong dream. It would be strange traveling
without Bingo at his side, but no matter. His own time was
far too valuable to waste worrying about a probably dead
former employee, no matter how useful he may have been.
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Adam poured himself a large cognac and went inside
to pack. Early tomorrow he would leave for Emerald Cay,
and the great beginning of his most prosperous venture.
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Megan stood still and unsure, then spoke once again,
but said only, “Mother?”
“Honey please,” Terri pleaded, “everything will be
all right. We’re here to help. Really.”
At a silent signal from Paul, Ray recovered and
reverted to his most charming, charter captain demeanor.
“Well, you folks look as though you’ve had a rough
trip. I’ve spent some time in that bird myself. I know it can
be a little exhausting.
“Doreen, would you please show our guests below.
The forward, starboard stateroom should be fine. I’m sure
they’d like to freshen up.
“You folks take all the time you need now. There’s
plenty of water, so feel free to shower, change. Let us get a
few things done up here. How about an hour or so? Then
we’ll all sit down to a nice meal.”
To Paul and Megan: “Why don’t you guys give me a
hand aft unloading the plane? Maybe Sky’s brought us
something special to cook for dinner.”
After Doreen had led the new arrivals below, Sky
spoke first.
“Is this a bad situation? Hey, I’m sorry. That woman
is very persuasive. I was convinced this would all be okay.”
“Take it easy, Sky,” Paul answered, “there’s no way
you could have known. Whatever happens, it’s not your
fault. I’ve got a feeling this meeting was inevitable anyway.”
Paul turned to the trembling woman facing out to sea.
“Megan? Talk to me Honey.”
Megan drifted slowly back to the world of reality.
“I... I’m okay. I guess. It’s just a bad surprise. How did they
find me? So soon? My mother? And Uncle Sal, I..., I was
afraid Uncle Sal might be one of those people looking for
me.”
“Don’t worry, Megan,” Paul reassured her. “No one’s
going to hurt you here.” He reached out, and she took his
hand.
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“No. It must be okay, Paul. She wouldn’t have
brought Sal here if it wasn’t okay. But why are they here at
all?”
A low chuckle from the side made them all turn to
look at Deebe. He just held up his hands and said, “Hey, I do
not know the reason for many things. But this I do know:
most things do not just happen here, on this island, without
the Granfather’s knowledge.”
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It was more than just sympathy for Ray. The girl’s
senseless death was seen as an ill omen of change. A price
far too high to pay. Sentiment swung hard, and Sal’s group
was all but driven from the area.
The success was a shallow victory for Ray. The
shock of the tragedy finished what remained of his marriage,
and killed a part of him deep inside. That’s what had driven
him away, out to the healing sea and into these islands,
looking for rest and peace.
The years had been kind and healing, and now,
remembering this, Ray realized that he had at last found his
place, if not yet his peace. Perhaps he was ready to move on
again at last.
“You should know, Ray, about your daughter,” Sal’s
heavy voice broke into the solemn reverie,” I always felt real
bad. I don’t know what you mighta thought, but I swear it
was nothin’ but an accident. Those two guys, we had to get
‘em off for business reasons. Appearances, you know. But
they didn’t go far.
“They’re both workin’ permanently in Jersey at a fish
fertilizer factory. That was my doing, and I expect they’ll
stay there until they’re too old for anything else.
“I recommended that we pull out of there after that.
You were kicking our ass anyway,” he shook his head at the
memory. “I always kinda hoped we’d cross paths and have a
chance to talk.” Sal put out a hand, and Ray took it.
“You know, Ray told him, “I think there may be an
opportunity for us to work together here. On the same team, I
do believe we’d be unbeatable.”
The two men looked each other in the eye, and with
only the slightest nod both acknowledged that they were
ready to go where destiny led.
Terri and Megan sat together in the bows, feet
dangling, looking at the moonlit shore. They had their own
conversation.
“I’m sorry about the way I acted before,” Megan said
quietly, “but I’ve been so frightened. I thought this place was
so far away from everything. And then you were just here,
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with Sal. It was like I was right back again, in the middle of
all that...How did you find me anyway?”
“Sal was in Nassau on business; someone recognized
you. He’s supposed to try to find you. You’re in big trouble,
Honey. But don’t worry, we’ve talked it over. We’re here to
help work something out. Sal is on our side.”
“Our side?” Megan asked tentatively.
“Yours and mine, Megan. I know things have been
rough for you; we don’t always see eye to eye. I know I
probably haven’t been the perfect mother you thought I
should be. But it was hard for me too, Megan. Sometimes
life just turns out that way.” Terri heard her own defensive
tone and softened immediately. “I had a lot of growing up to
do myself, and I guess you had to grow up too fast. I hope
you can understand some of what I’m saying now. Despite
everything, you’ve changed a lot from the old soul you
always were; I can see it in your eyes. Life’s lessons can be
hard, but trust me Darling, it doesn’t have to be for nothing.”
“I spent so much of my life frightened,” Megan
almost whispered. “I always had to be the strong one, the
responsible one. But inside I felt as though I was walking on
the edge of a dark cliff, always afraid to slip and fall.” Her
voice was small, and a swirl of thoughts ran through her
mind. Childhood thoughts, lonely and unhappy. But a soft
splash from not far away brought her back to the present.
“Sometimes it takes hard times to show us what life
is really worth,” Terri answered. “It’s never too late for the
future.
“It’s okay, Kiddo,” Terri reassured her, “you’re going
to survive. You come from very tough stock, believe me.”
Megan smiled a little. “Since I’ve been down here, so
much has happened. You’re right; I’ve changed. I feel like
another person in a different life. No, that’s not right, I feel
as though I’ve finally found my real life.”
Terri appraised her daughter knowingly. “I can see at
least one big change. You’ve met a very important young
man, haven’t you?” Terri was amused but pleased to see her
daughter’s expression.
236
“Oh, I approve. You’ve done well for yourself,
Megan. And if you don’t mind my saying so, it’s about
time.”
If there had been more light, Terri might have seen
her daughter blush.
“It’s more than that,” Megan said urgently. “Paul and
I have been through a lot together. He’s stuck by me through
everything. And there’s more, a lot more. I don’t know how
to explain this, but we’ve both seen a future. It involves the
sea, and this island, and the dolphins, and we’re in it
together.”
Megan watched the expression on Terri’s face
change. “No, Mother. This is not a crazy dream. It’s very
real. But I know; it sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”
“Not to me, Honey.” Terri pointed out to the calm,
night water. “I hear them too. Since Nassau. Sal and I are not
here by accident. I know we’re all a part of something, and I
feel in my heart that it’s important and right.
“It may be even more complicated than you think,
Megan. You’ve already done more than you know. There’s
something I have to tell you.”
Megan waited anxiously with no idea what her
mother had to say. Finally, Terri spoke again. “A long time
ago, Megan, Ray Baker and I knew each other. Megan,
somehow, some way, you’ve found your father.”
“Ray is my father? My father!”
Back again to little girl lost and wondering. At the
same time knowing, now, that the wish will come true.
She remembered that first meeting: he touched her
sunburnt cheek with a soothing hand and a magic plant, and
took the sting away. Had she known then? Would she have
recognized the moment if she hadn’t been so distracted?
What did he think...?
“Mother, does he know?”
Terri shook her head. “I never told him. He never
even knew I was pregnant. Until just recently, I hadn’t seen
Ray for nearly twentyfive years.
237
“I think he should know,” Terri continued, “but I’m
going to leave that up to you, Megan”
“I’ll tell him,” Meg decided easily. “But not right
now. I have to think about this, get used to it myself. How do
you tell someone he’s your father?”
Terri put an arm around her daughter and hugged her
close. “You’ll find a way. And I’m sure you’ll find just the
right way to tell him too.”
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It didn’t take long to see the situation in the village
was bad and rapidly getting worse. Severe injuries were
treated only with rudimentary first aid. Even minor injuries
were infected, and the whole place was suffused with an air
of sickness and decay.
The crew were seemingly unnoticed, almost ignored,
as they passed through the village taking in the damage and
considering the dangerous implications of what was to come.
Deebe separated himself to talk with villagers alone or in
small groups. His frustration increased with every
conversation. He learned that the mountain stream was
running mud, and most of the cisterns were destroyed or
contaminated. Misery and suffering was everywhere, and
there was no end in sight.
When he rejoined the rest of the crew they were
standing in front of what was once the community clinic.
The windows were blown out, and the roof was mostly gone.
What supplies remained were scattered and ruined in dirty
puddles on the ground.
“This clinic is the only one we have,” Deebe told
them. “The mon who works here is injured bad. A doctor
comes sometimes once a month, but who knows when he
will come by again. The radio tower is down, and the
telephone lines do not work.”
“I’m a nurse,” Doreen spoke up, “and I’ll try to do
what I can. But we need medicine and supplies.”
“What about the Navy base?” Sal asked. “They could
send plenty of help.”
“A man was sent,” Deebe answered, anguish in his
voice. “He was not allowed past the gatehouse. He spoke on
the telephone to the commander’s office inside. They told
him only that they can not help.”
Three children huddled against the wall of a hut
nearby. An older girl, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, was
trying to care for two younger boys. One had his arm in a
shirt sling, and was trying not to whimper. The other one was
moaning and obviously ill. The girl was pressing a rag
240
soaked in rain water to his face. Megan and Doreen went
over. When they came back, the girls were upset.
“That kid’s burning up with fever,” Doreen said. The
girl’s coming down with it too; possibly influenza, maybe
even cholera. It could spread through here like wildfire.”
Deebe looked around, almost bewildered. As though
expecting something that did not happen. “The Old One is
not here,” he murmured.
“We’ve got to do something, and very soon,” Megan
said.
“What can we do alone?” Deebe asked, deep despair
clear in his voice and manner. “To get medicine here soon
would be magic. This is very bad trouble.”
“Maybe it’s time we made some magic of our own,”
Paul decided.
“Doreen, you’re the nurse. What can we do to help
these people? What do you need?”
“We need a lot, Paul: splints, bandages, medicines,
antibiotics, tetanus. Oh gee, it doesn’t even look like there’s
any good food left,and we’ve got to have clean water. That’s
probably how this disease is spreading.
“We can set up a place, and I’ll try to do whatever I
can, but we’ve got to get supplies and medicines here soon.
It will be a lot of stuff, Paul. How are you going to do that?”
“First of all, we need to get in touch with the
mainland to set this up.”
“That part’s easy,” Ray told them. “I’ve got satellite
communications on board. We should be able to just call
through to anyone. And I’ve got a doctor friend in Miami
who can order the medical stuff for us. But it will all be
expensive. And then how would we get a load of supplies
out here in a hurry?”
Paul and Megan looked at each other, and they didn’t
need to speak to make their decision.
Paul looked knowingly at the pilot, “And I think we
have a transportation specialist right here in our midst.
241
“As far as money goes, we’ve got a pile of gold coins
just sitting on Second Wind. There must be some quick and
easy way to turn that into whatever we need.”
“Well, my plane’s obviously too small for this job,
but there are other ways. Don’t worry too much about being
stuck with gold coins. I’ve got a few friends who aren’t
overly concerned about currency regulations. They’ll gladly
trade gold for cash, they have plenty. Trust me, with a little
help from friends, we can move anything anyplace, “Sky
added with a smile and a wink.”No problem.”
“Okay then,” Paul was ready to go, “sounds like most
of our pieces are in place. Let’s do it.
“First we’ll get back to the boat and start making
calls. Doreen, put everything on that list you can think of;
don’t worry about what it costs.”
“Megan and I will have to stay here. Ray, can you fly
back with Sky and help take care of that end?”
“Fine with me, but I still don’t see how you’re going
to get everything out here. Do you think the Navy’s going to
let you use their strip?”
Paul and Sky exchanged a look and a smile, then Paul
answered, “To tell you the truth, Ray, I wasn’t even planning
to ask.”
Back aboard, Ray activated the InmarSat system and
they left Sky in private to make his calls first.
“We’re in luck,” he told them when he was finished
only half an hour later, “I reached a few people who are
available and even anxious to help. The Navy may not be
willing to help us, but this place has good kharma in better
circles.”
Ray called in Doreen’s list for emergency supplies
and was told everything would be ready to go the next day.
Luck was favoring them, but it would still be a close race.
There were probably three hundred people, Deebe
figured, injured, sick, and isolated. Many of them were only
children, and they were all in need of help as soon as
possible.
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Through the afternoon the crew trekked back up
through the jungle afternoon carrying what they could. It was
hot and heavy work. Everything was stuffed into large sail
bags. The crew wound up strung out all along the trail.
“What’s the matter, Deebe?” they were taking a well
deserved break, and Paul couldn’t help notice that his friend
was troubled.
“I don’t think I am ready for this.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve never seen you
worry about anything before.”
“Paul, you are my friend, but you do not understand.
The Old One has never been away like this before. In times
of trouble, he is the spirit of the people and now he is gone.
He has shown me a time of change will come, but I am not
yet ready. The time is too soon, and everything moves too
fast. Many talk now of leaving this place. If that happens
there will be no returning.”
Paul sat pensively regarding his friend. “I know the
feeling Deebe. Believe me. But one of the things I’ve learned
recently is that changes are going to happen whether we’re
ready for them or not. Fortunately, changes can be for the
better. I believe that’s what’s happening now.
“I’ve been feeling things too. Megan and I have been
seeing the same things. I don’t pretend to understand, but
there are things I just know. Trust me.You’re not alone here.
“There is a plan, Deebe. You know that as well as I.
Megan and I have agreed to be part of it, and it looks as
though we’ve picked up a few other friends besides. Maybe
the point here is that it’s time for us all to stand our ground
and start working together. We will make an unbeatable
team. The Old One knows this, and we know it.
This is all part of some design. With him here or not,
we have to look ahead.”
It was Deebe’s turn to contemplate. They lifted packs
and started up again.
“The cousins have chosen wisely, Paul. Your
reasoning is true. There be no questions that have not been
asked before. Now is our turn to make the answers.”
243
Farther back along the trail another pair stopped to
rest.
“What are they going to do, Sal?” Terri asked with
concern and a little confusion. “There are so many people
sick and hurt. How do Paul and Megan plan to get
everything they need out to this island?”
“I don’t know, he answered pensively. “I’m
beginning to believe almost anything can happen out here.
Terri, I’m not much good with this first aid stuff; I think it
would be better if I went back in the plane. Just in case
something goes wrong at that end, maybe I can help. Will
you be okay out here?”
“Sure, Sal. Go. Do what you can. These people need
all the help we can get. Do you really think there’s a chance
Paul and Megan can make this work?”
“I don’t know”, he answered, “But so far, I’m
seriously impressed.”
On the next trip back to the catamaran, Ray, Sal, Sky,
and a large bag of coins from a long sunk sailing ship in an
underwater grotto took flight for the mainland. The rest
gathered what else they could use and carry from the yacht
and started the trek back to the village. They could only hope
that the supplies and medicines so urgently needed would
somehow find a way to the island in time.
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Working under the twisting, bobbing, drifting hull
took all of his energy and most of his concentration. He did
notice though, during short breaks, other sections of net
suspended in the sea around him. It was almost as though he
had driven into a mine field.
Occasionally he glimpsed swift flashes of movement
nearby, and worried about sharks. Then he saw, not far
away, a large dolphin staring back at him. Strange, he
thought, for a clever mammal to be hanging around in
turbulent water with all these floating nets.
Fishing nets, broken loose or cut away for any
number of reasons, were a nemesis to all the larger
swimming creatures of the sea, especially the mammals who
had to surface for air. Sections of net, sometimes miles long
and drifting free, trapped and held sea creatures as
effectively as they were designed to do. Large game fish,
seals, turtles, whatever, can become ensnared in these things
and drift for days just beneath the surface, suffocating, or
even more slowly starving to death. Even the strong dolphin,
one of the most agile creatures in the sea, lived in fear of
these nearly invisible, fatal, floating shrouds.
Yet this dolphin seemed aware of the nets,
maneuvered through them easily without problems, watching
the human diver under the crazy bucking hull, hacking away
to clear his propeller shaft. For a moment the diver imagined
the great mammal was talking to him; telling him to take his
time and be careful, and not to be afraid.
It took three separate dives and several hours. The
skipper was exhausted, could hardly use his arms, and the
knife blade was so dull it was almost useless. But finally the
job was done and he hauled himself back aboard trailing
safety line and air hose; thankful that he had not had to count
on Adam’s help.
“This has taken a very long time. We must get under
way as soon as possible.” Adam’s sympathy vastly
underwhelmed the skipper, yet he got to his feet and climbed
to the wheel house; got the vessel under way.
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“You must do whatever you can to get us to Emerald
Cay as soon as possible,” Adam ordered from behind.
Still dripping wet, the skipper checked his position
and replotted as best he could. Then he went to the helm and
carefully adjusted the autopilot to a comfortable heading that
he calculated was at least ten degrees off course. He would
get to Emerald Cay all right, but not now in any great hurry.
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All of their efforts had helped a lot to stabilize the
situation, but the troubles were far from over. The crew came
together at the fireplace where three women cooked and
other villagers kept coming and going with bowls of food.
“The fever is spreading.” Megan was dejected,
frightened, and on the verge of exhaustion as they all were.
“I know,” Doreen answered, frustrated. “There’s just
nothing more we can do until the supplies get here.”
“That better be soon,” Terri told them. “These people
are in a bad way; the old and the young children especially.
I’m afraid some of them might not make another day.”
“They’re coming,” Paul told everyone, trying to put
as much confidence into his voice as possible. He knew they
were coming, of course, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it
would be too little too late. He had faith, but suspected the
pilot had more experience delivering relatively small and
valuable packages than the awkward bulk they would need
quickly to save and sustain these people. In the meantime, it
was necessary that everyone stay focused and not dwell on
the dangers of their predicament.
They were all exhausted beyond the limits of
reasonable endurance. Terri was even starting to show her
age.
Paul worried about his crew too, and what would
happen if the fever spread to them as well.
“I’ll tell you what,” Paul decided. “Terri, Deebe, and
I will head back to the boat. We’ll rummage through her
again and see what else we can find. We left the engines and
the de-sal units running, so at least there’ll be some good
water.
“Deebe, see if you can round up somebody to help us
lug stuff back up here. In the meantime, Bruno, you stay here
with Megan and Doreen. When the supplies get here they
won’t be much good unless we’re able to use them, and
there’ll be plenty of work for everybody who can stand. So
you guys try to get some rest.”
There wasn't much left in the boat. Paul was able to
get Terri to go to her cabin and rest. Fortunately, the water
250
takns were nearly refilled, and the two teenage bays that
Deebe had brought along were a big help moving the water
to the beach.
They were nearly finished with the process of
refilling the containers and tranferring them to shore when
the familiar sound of an aircraft engine preceded it across the
harbour.
The amphibian banked and came in low into the wind
from behind the catamarn; skimming gracefully, and finally
settling down to coast and bump gently against the stern.
Paul kept waiting, but there were no more planes to see or
hear. Ray climbed out, and a stranger followed.
“Paul Sullivan, Ralph Sanders,” Ray introduced the
two men just as Deebe came up from below with water jug
and set it down.
“This is my friend, Deebe,” Paul told the stranger,
although he was still confused and had no idea who the
stranger was.
“Doctor Ralph Sanders,” the man said, and stepped
forward to shake hands. “When Ray told me what was going
on out here, I figured you might need more than just
supplies. There are plenty of doctors in Miami,” he shrugged
and smiled, “so Ray convinced me I should lend a hand out
here.”
“Well, we’re glad to have you,” Paul told him, “we
need all the help we can get. But where are the supplies?”
“Worry not,” Sky climbed up from the floating plane.
“They’re not far behind. I took off while they were still
loading to get the doc out here as soon as possible. I can
bring ‘em in with this.” Sky showed them a small transceiver
he was carrying. “The problem’s going to be moving all this
stuff up to the village.”
How much could you get?” Paul asked.
“Those coins of yours are pretty valuable,” Sky
answered. “My friends were mightily impressed that you
were cashing them in this way and figured a good cause
always deserves a helping hand. There are fifteen planes in
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this first flight, and they're ready to go again if we need some
more.”
“Fifteen planes!” Paul and Deebe looked at each
other. They were amazed and relieved.
“Then Deebe stepped over to catch the line from the
returning speed boat. “Take the rest of this water and the
Doctor mon back to the village,” he commanded the two
boys, “then bring every person who can help carry down
here to the beach.”
Terri came up on deck puffy eyed and still looking
tired. But she smiled when she saw Ray, Sky, and the
seaplane.
“Everything’s okay,” Paul reassured her, “Ray even
brought a doctor back, and all the supplies are on the way.”
She looked around and watched Zephyr unload on
the beach, “Where’s Sal?”
Ray looked a little sheepish, “When we landed we
were pretty busy running around. Sal said he had to make
some phone calls. When it was time to take off, well, he just
wasn’t there. I don’t know where he is Terri.”
“In sight seven out,” the voice crackled out of Sky’s
radio. “Light it up Sky man.”
Sky made an adjustment on the top of his radio, then
held in the transmit key for about thirty seconds. He tuned
the radio back, and keyed the mic again, “How’s it lookin’
Ace?”
“On the beam. Commin’ in”.
Out across the broad bay, over the headland, glints of
sunlight appeared. Soon the sound of multiple aero engines
trembled across the water. They came in a loose formation:
light colored planes that almost matched the sky, but no two
were alike. The strange squadron thundered over the small
island and the catamaran at about five hundred feet. Some of
them were wagging their wings. They fanned out over the
beach and spread across the jungle hills checking the whole
place out.
One plane, a small twin engine piper, came back in
from bow to stern over the cat. Flying slow with gear and
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flaps out, it dropped the left wing until it was up on its side.
Small, blue plastic barrels tumbled out of the rear door
sending shots of bay water splashing high into the air. Then
the craft straightened its wings, retracted gear and flaps, and
climbed away back out to sea. The whole thing was over in a
minute, but then the next plane came. One after another they
came, different sizes and shapes of aircraft, but each one
flown with precision and skill.
Now there were some people assembled on the beach
and they watched in absolute amazement. Air drops were not
unknown in this part of the world, but no one had ever seen
or even heard of anything like this. It was a massive,
clandestine air drop on a scale unknown in the civilian
world.
The native boys were back in Zephyr, zooming
around, retrieving the floating packages and piling them on
the beach.
Sky spoke occasionally into the handset, directing
traffic. At the same time, with more than a little pride in his
voice, he explained to the others on the boat, “There’s really
a trick to this, and these guys are all damn good. The
packages are water tight and as impact resistant as possible,
but they still have to be dropped carefully. It’s scary enough
flying this low and slow, but these guys are right on the edge
of a stall. I think some of them only keep flying because
they’re losing weight at the last minute.”
Sky spoke softly into the radio, and they watched as a
larger twin came in. It looked a lot like the air taxi he and
Terri had flown in, Ray thought. The aircraft executed a
beautiful maneuver farther out over the bay, and gray boxes
about two feet square sprinkled out the door before it lifted
its legs and sped away.
Zephyr was herding containers as fast as possible,
and the metal angels kept dropping their precious cargoes
farther out into the bay.
“Here comes the last one,” Sky told them. “We call
this plane The Flying Boxcar. Watch this.”
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The largest craft so far lumbered in over their heads.
It looked like a big, square cargo container with high, stubby
wings and a small motor on each side. The back of the box
was tapered up into the tail. As they watched, the plane
dropped very low, straight and level out over the bay. Under
the tail a large door opened and a small parachute popped
out. The parachute caught air and tugged, and dragged out of
the back of the plane a succession of sturdy, four foot, heavy
plastic crates lashed together with yellow line. They hit the
water like a string of depth charges going off. The splashes
rose almost as high as the open door. When the eruptions
stopped, the plane climbed slightly and just kept on going.
“Boxcar clear,” came a female voice over the radio.
“Thanks everybody. Have a safe flight,” Sky signed
off. The planes were all headed back to Florida.
“You know,” he told the others on the boat with a
laugh, “this might be the first time those planes have ever
flown in that direction empty.”
A hundred miles out, still flying low enough to be
lost in any radar’s ground clutter, the loose assemblage of
planes passed over and around an eighty foot steel vessel
carrying a lot of deck cargo and heading for the islands.
Two days later, on the afternoon of her third day at
sea, Island Rose bumped the dock in the main commercial
harbour of Emerald Cay. The captain was exhausted, and
Adam was furious.
Adam asked around the docks, but people were busy,
and his general attitude did not encourage cooperation. No
one knew much about the village on the other side of the
island anyway. The storm damage still had much of the town
closed down, but he finally managed to find a small hotel
that was partially open and booked himself a room. The sight
of cash made the manager amenable, and loosened his
tongue.
“A mon from the village stopped by here a few days
ago. Drank a little rum. Said he had to go up to the Navy
base an was not lookin’ forward to it. He was askin’ for help
for the village. Said there was big troubles up there.”
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Good, Mr. Adam thought, the more trouble the better
for my purposes. But what if the Navy stepped in to help?
That was hardly likely. The base on this island was only a
small part of a whole expensive, foolish system that only
looked the other way even when they were aware of what
was going on. But to be safe, he could make sure with a
phone call.
Adam put through a call directly to the base
commander’s office. Whoever answered put him on hold,
obviously in conference with someone on another line. Mr.
Adam remembered the strange air traffic of the other day,
and recognized that it was no coincidence. The planes were
not on his payroll, and he could only wonder if The U.S.
agencies had cut a new deal with someone else. That would
be like them. It was one more thing to ruin his day.
When the voice came back it was brisk and serious.
The Commander was not available, and would not be
available any time in the near future. There was no need to
call back; the Commander had the message.
So did Adam: he was on his own. Undaunted though,
he knew the power of perseverance. Whatever was the
problem, he would fix it later. He had the manager send
word to the village. He would arrive there soon bearing gifts,
and offers of prosperity, and salvation for the people.
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they were on the mend. In the minds of the villagers they had
been saved by nothing less than benevolent fate and magic.
But along with salvation was a final message of
vulnerability; a sense that a new day was upon them, and
there was no way of going back or even standing still. They
had thanks to give for their survival so far, but many
questions about what was to happen next. The future is a
sometimes frightening, but inevitable unknown.
The villagers hobbled in and gathered in the central
area between the new medical tent and the old, stone cooking
area. Pots of savory stew now simmered on the fire, and
children roasted cashew nuts from branches blown down by
the storm. Folks milled about in a nearly festive mood.
Survival is always good cause for celebration.
Thanks were effusive as the crew circulated through
the crowd. The doctor and Doreen stopped frequently to
check on their patients and offer a few words of
encouragement. Everyone had a story to tell.
Deebe climbed onto the wide edge of the cooking pit
and raised his hands. The people quieted and turned to hear
him speak. They knew he was the Shaman’s disciple, but
such changes never come easily.
“Once again our people survive great troubles,”
Deebe began. “An we have much help to be thankful for.”
He indicated the crew and the doctor standing together in the
crowd, and there was touching, quiet applause, and a general
murmuring of thanks.
“But there be more,” he continued. “We be a people
of patience and understanding. The Cousins saved our people
and guided them long ago to this island. Here we have lived
for many years in safety and peace. The Old One has told us
of the time of change. Every mon here be directed by fate
and de Granfather’s vision. The waiting has been long and
hard. Many have already left this place.
“The changes will take time, but certain the time of
change is begun! It is the wish and plan of the Old One that
our new friends be here with us. They will guide and show
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us the way. It is the Old One’s hope to follow our road, and
still to join the world.”
“Where is the Shaman?” an old woman cried out.
“Where is the Old One now? where is he when we
need him?” another voice called from the crowd.
Auto horns blared from the track road on the other
side of the village, and the distraction became a commotion.
In a cloud of dust, Mr. Adam and his boxes of tourist store
treasures arrived in a convoy of six battered pickup trucks.
The crowd divided, and the caravan drew to a halt as the dust
cloud settled.
Mr. Adam emerged from the lead truck. He stepped
casually around and climbed onto the back. All eyes were on
him now. He was sharply turned out in soft leather shoes,
still pressed light tan slacks, and an open neck blue silk shirt
that displayed the heavy gold chain and medallion on his
mahogany chest. He was an impressive, sartorial image of
success among the battered and ill people of the wrecked
village.
“Many of you know me,” he shouted out to the
crowd, “I am one of you. In this time of great trouble and
need, I am here to help you. There are fine clothes and other
goods here, now, for my friends. I am here to help you all. I
have brought money, and a chance for you to live a better
life.” A murmur ran through the crowd.
“You have all been held here too long by crazy
legends and vague promises.” he continued in a loud voice.
“Now you see what happens. Look at the damage and
destruction in this place. Where are your promises now?
How will you live?
“Your homes are gone and your land is worthless.
How are you going to survive? But I am here to help you. I
make an offer no sane man can refuse.
“I will give each and every family in this village
money. I will give you a chance to start a new life in a better
place. I have some money here with me now.”
He opened a big metal briefcase and showed bundles
of currency stacked and banded inside. The crowd squeezed
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closer. No one in the village had ever seen this much money
in one place before.
“I will still buy your property as I have offered to do
before, and provide you money to start a new life. But there
is more. I, personally, want to help each and every one of
you. I have jobs to offer. And, in my shops all throughout the
islands,I will offer you credit to buy whatever you shall
want. This is your opportunity to leave this wretched place
and find prosperity.”
A hundred conversations began at once. Voices rose
in a tangible, vibrating mass to fill the air with a rolling buzz.
On Adam’s signal, the truck drivers began opening
the boxes on the back of their trucks and passing things to
the crowd. Women held delicate, pretty things. Men admired
bright caps, sunglasses, and colorful shirts. Children ran
around showing everyone picture postcards of happy people
in beautiful places. Some of the men began talking to Adam,
and many more were crowding around to listen and watch
intently as he displayed his briefcase full of money. He was
explaining about the easy documents he had ready to sign.
“Wait!” Deebe called from the other side of the
crowd. Some turned to look his way, but most were lost in
the slick words, fancy presents, and wistful short term
dreams of cash and the easy life.
“You must listen to my words!” This time Deebe
spoke calmly, but his voice rang clear and strong with an
authority that could not be denied. This time they gave him
all of their attention.
“This village be more than just houses and the ground
they sit on. This place be our destiny. And we are not alone.
What of our cousins in the sea? These waters are sacred to
them, where their young are born, and we be the protectors
of this place. What of them if we sell the village and abandon
the island? What then of the trust we have held so long?
“I myself have left this village. I know the times been
hard. But I have seen these other places. Peoples there they
do not live so well. There be many things, but little
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happiness. The balance is lost. For many years our people
have waited. We must not sell the future now.”
“Where is the Shaman?” shouted a man in the crowd.
He was leaning on a stick crutch, and his arm was in a sling.
“If we be Nature’s people,” called out another, “then
why has de storm destroyed us?”
“Where is the Grandfather when we need him?”
“Your Old One is a sad joke,” Adam answered the
crowd. “He was only an old fool who would have you follow
his foolish ways.”
“You be a liar and a fraud!” Deebe hollered back,
agitated now, “I seen your ways. They be not the ways of
this people. You help only yourself.
“Do not believe this mon,” Deebe spoke out to the
people. “He will lead you nowhere and leave you lost. Let us
stay together, and with the help of our friends we will soon
find the future. This is the wish of the Old One and our
cousin’s in the sea. We must follow our promise.”
The crowd was swayed, but still torn between the
powerful words and the pretty gifts they held in their hands.
The promise of quick riches from Mr. Adam’s aluminum
briefcase still held many in the crowd.
“These words are only the repeated nonsense of a
crazy old man,” Adam hollered out. “Why would you listen
to him?” Where is he now?”
“I be here,” the gentle voice was heard clearly by
every person in the village. With the silent power of
electricity it found its way to every ear.
The smoldering embers inside the circle of glass
flared up and made light dance from all the bottles. He stood
straight within his magic circle, much thinner now than
anyone remembered. Loose clothing hung from his body,
and the long dreadlocks reached to the ground. But,
wraithlike, he was supported by an aura of power and
beauty. Truth and wisdom shown from his eyes, and in his
hands he held the blue eyed, golden figurine. It glowed with
the light of a tropical sun.
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The crowd fell to a reverent hush. The prophecy of
the golden dolphin was true, and they awaited the Old One’s
words.
Deebe crossed slowly to the low wall of glass, and
the Old One handed the golden image over. A warm smile
passed between the two. There was not a sound anywhere.
The dolphin shimmered with energy. Blue eyes flashed and
the visible aura of power expanded out over the magic circle.
Deebe turned and held the figure for all to see.
“Our cousins have counseled us long and wisely.
Now is the time when the promise of our people become
true.”
They saw and understood. Hands opened, and
Adam’s trivial objects fell to the ground. En masse the crowd
turned and closed in on the trucks.
The drivers knew a bad thing when they saw one, and
clambered into their cabs and started the engines. Still
standing in the back of a truck with his briefcase open, Adam
finally realized that there was nothing else he could do or
say. He slammed the case shut. Reluctantly he waved a
signal, and the trucks began to roll. The villagers watched
the vehicles fade back into the jungle like whores
disappearing in the daylight.
Quietly watching from the sidelines, Paul looked
back to the magic circle and saw that much had changed. The
fantastic wall of bottles no longer sparkled with light from
within. It was just dull glass. He nudged Ray and they went
over to look inside. The circle was empty now, and the fire
was dead; there wasn’t even a hint of smoke. They looked at
each other for a moment, then started quickly down the path
to the beach.
“Where do you suppose he went, Ray?” the old man
had been there one minute and gone the next.
“He had to come this way,” Ray answered as they
hurried along the path.
Second Wind sat calmly at anchor; the seaplane and
Zodiac tied out behind. Terri, Bruno, Sky, and the doctor
were aboard, but they must have been below sleeping
261
soundly not to hear the splashing. The bay was alive with
dolphins leaping everywhere. They were in a wild frenzy,
dashing back and forth, leaping and turning and crashing
back into the warm water. The bay resounded with their
spirit.
The old man’s brightly painted boat was still up on
the beach and securely tied to a tree. Between the beach and
the forest, at the old stone circle where they had first come
ashore, a familiar, colorful knitted cap rested inside. From
there a solitary line of footsteps crossed the beach and the
smooth, wet sand. The footsteps just faded away into the
water line.
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“Anyway, you guys were so busy rushing around and
trying to take care of business back in Florida, I figured it
was time for me to get a little business done too.” He looked
at Terri and gave her a secret, reassuring wink. “I called my,
ah, office, and fixed a few things.”
There were nervous looks around the table for a
minute, then Sal laughed out loud. “Don’t worry nobody,” he
told them, “everything’s working out beautiful.”
It turned out that after the reports of the storm, and
then their own soldiers lost during the chase, it was assumed
by the bosses in New York that the quarry was also dead. Sal
did nothing to dissuade them. He really didn’t even have to
lie. He just didn’t bother to argue.
The bosses were disappointed when Sal told them
that the Nassau operation wasn’t going to work out and the
island boss man, Adam, wasn’t the guy they hoped he’d be.
But they cheered right up again when he told them he had
found a much better place. His mission had been to find a
casino site, and he assured them that he had an option on the
best. It was just going to take a little bit of arranging.
A few well placed phone calls, clandestine
luncheons, and neat little bundles of cash and promises later,
Sal’s people had come to a mutually beneficial arrangement
with certain important representatives of the United States
government.
“The Navy base is ours,” Sal told his friends on the
island, “for the rest of the lease. The Navy was getting ready
to move off anyway. In the meantime, we got their full
cooperation, use of the base and the airport. They even flew
me over here in a jet and gave me a sailor to drive me
around.”
“What about after the lease?” Ray asked him.
“That’s the really interesting part. I’m here to
negotiate. Do I presume correctly that I’m talking to the right
people?”
Deebe nodded somberly, and there were smiles of
encouragement all around the table.
265
“Good. Then here’s what we’re willin’ to do,” Sal
continued. “We’ll keep the airport open, no matter what it
takes. The buildings and stuff on the base we can use for
warehouses for the stuff that needs to come in.”
“There be livin’ places at the base?” Deebe
questioned.
“Sure, for the workers. When the Navy goes, your
guys can have the jobs and the houses. That’s what this is all
about, right. This whole deal is gonna be your show; you’re
gonna run it.
“I told them the people here already have a plan for
the place, an a real sharp American lawyer.” He nodded to
Ray. “They agreed, a nice clean operation. All the help you
want, no interference as long as everything’s running
smooth. We’re talking about bringing in a lot of cash so you
can fix the place up nice: golf course, resort, whatever. You
lease us the casino operation; that’s my job. All they want is
a safe place to park their money and the lion’s cut of the
casino ‘till it’s paid back, then we split the take.
“This place is beautiful. We fix it up right, we make a
lot of money, and everybody wins. Whaddaya think?”
The others were all looking at Sal strangely.
“Hey, what’s the matter? I’m trying to make things
work here.”
“Nothing’s the matter, Sal,” Ray reassured him. “You
did great. But it’s really up to Deebe.”
Deebe looked around the table. It was clear they were
all in this together now. The relieved and happy faces he saw
were answer enough. This was all part of the plan. A
prophesy come true.
“We in business, mon. No problem here.” Then he
broke into a broad grin. “Things be movin’ along much
faster this time. Granfather must be workin’ very hard.” He
almost laughed with joy, but composed himself.
Then he put on a more serious face. “Ray will make
the papers, and I will sign for the people of Emerald Cay.”
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He turned to Paul and Megan. “Our cousins in the sea
have chosen wisely, and chosen you. Part of this plan will be
yours.”
“No problem with that,” Paul answered for them
both. “We’ve thought about this for awhile. There will be a
great sea park all around this end of the island. These reefs
are perfect. The plants and fish can be protected and the
dolphins can prosper, hunting and living in peace. People
will come to visit and interact, but this will always be the
cousin’s home. I’ll see to that.
“What we need is someone to be in charge of the land
activities and recreation. What do you think about that,
Bruno?”
“You mean live here? Superb! Doree?”
“Bruno, baby, I think we’ve found home, sweet
home. This is going to be a fantastic project. Way better than
the vacation so far. Although that’s been the best. But now it
can last forever. This is better than a dream. Let’s get
started!”
“There are so many plans and ideas running around
in my head,” Megan explained happily. “I don’t know where
they’re all coming from, but I can see them as realities.”
“It’s the magic,” Paul told them all. “The magic of
the sea, the magic Megan and I have found, and the magic of
all of us together in this place and this time. We can make it
happen.”
Sal saw a whole new future opening up before him.
The morning’s meeting had finished with a most satisfactory
conclusion, and he was feeling quite proud of himself.
He was anxious to take Terri back to the base where
they could be alone. He desperately needed to talk to her. He
knew she would be pleased with the fine waterfront home
the base commander had provided for their temporary
lodging. If she liked it enough it could become their new
permanent home.
It was amazing how things were working out to an
almost perfect solution. He only hoped that Terri approved
of everything so far, and was as excited as he was about the
267
future. Their dreams were coming true. He was being
elevated above the seamier side of his occupation into the
world of executive offices and professional respectability.
The physical distance from New York would make him
reasonably autonomous, and the nature of the deal itself
promised an eventual independence as much as such a thing
could ever be.
The magic he felt about this place assured him that
the operation would be a great financial success. There was
little doubt of that. There would be plenty of profit for
everybody, and his associates always preferred to remain in
the background as much as possible. He would be left alone
and protected.
Best of all, he and Terri could be together all the time
now. Together they could dream, and comfortably build the
rest of their lives. They would be free and content. Things
were perfect, almost. There was just one, last disturbing
detail that he had yet to explain.
***********
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Ray looked up and gave her a strange smile, took the
shell, then looked away. There was too much written on his
face for her to understand in that brief second, but he had not
just been sitting in idle contemplation.
“Are you okay, Ray?”
“Just thinking and dreaming,” he answered softly,
“old dreams. About precious things that we can never forget.
Things that are impossible to replace.”
“This is about your daughter, isn’t it?”
Ray lifted his head, “ Have you always been so intuitive?”
“Not always,” she told him honestly. “But there have
been a lot of changes going around.”
“That’s the truth,” he conceded with a shallow laugh.
She held his gaze until he started to speak again.
“My daughter’s been gone a long time,” he finally
told her. “I resigned myself to her death many years ago. We
shared ideas and dreams. I thought those things were dead
too. I still miss her, but this is something more.
“Maybe I’m just bemoaning my own mortality, but I
wonder if I even have the strength and energy to go through
with all of this. Here we are on the brink of the dream of a
lifetime; an opportunity to make changes that count. We can
build something, structure a society that will roll on into the
future for generations. It’s something I used to dream about,”
he continued.
“I know it could work. Already things are happening.
But for me there will always be something missing. Part of
my dream was to build a better world, a special place, for my
own children. A spark that would carry my own mortality
into the future. Is that asking too much?”
He sighed, “Destiny has not been so kind. That part
of the dream won’t be coming true even here on the magic
island.”
Megan felt Ray’s words as much as heard them. She
had never known the feelings from exactly his perspective,
but she was all too familiar with them just the same.
Visions of a sad little girl alone and wondering.
Where was her daddy? Didn’t he love her? Why was she
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here? The empty winter wind once again blew through her
soul. The dark, shadowy limbs of long frozen trees still
touched places near her heart, but the shadows were
brightening.
Of all the reasons she had invented over the years, of
all the explanations she had pretended to hear, none was so
compelling as the simple, basic truth. He had never known. It
wasn’t his fault; he didn’t even know. She had to tell him
now, somehow, for both of their sakes.
“There is more magic here than you can imagine,”
she whispered so softly that he could barely hear her.
“I grew up without a father,” she had to tell him.
“Sometimes I hated him for not being there. Sometimes I
hated myself. I was so lonely sometimes that it hurt. But
always, deep inside, I knew that he would be kind, and
gentle, and I would find him some day. If that dream can
come true, then everything else can too.”
Ray couldn’t take his eyes off her now, She held his
full attention.
“Remember when you touched me? You said I was
sunburnt, and you put aloe on my face. That was the first
gentle touch in a long time. I think I might have known
then.”
“You mean? How...?”
“Terri just told me the other day. I’ve been waiting. For the
right time....Is it okay?”
“I never knew,” he began. “Yes.” he carefully traced
her features with his finger tips. There had been something
about her from the beginning. Some incomprehensible
connection. He looked at her differently now, and he could
see what he had not recognized before. He was looking into
his daughter’s eyes.
She put her head against his chest, and he held her
there when everything began to blur through the tears.
In her mind, Megan finally came out from beneath
the frozen, gray skies and frightening trees. The cold limbs
couldn’t reach her anymore. Now she was safe and warm,
protected, and surrounded by beautiful flowers and lush
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greenery at the edge of a sparkling sea. Just beyond the
rippling shoreline, brilliant images of waving sea fans and
warm coral waters beckoned. Now, at last, she was truly free
to live there.
Ray was at a loss for words, his heart and mind so
full of emotion he felt he might burst. But he had to say
something. It all seemed so clear now. Everything was
possible.
“This is the beginning,” he told her, steadily and
surely. “Just like the Old One said it would be. This is the
beginning of everything.”
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CHAPTER 51
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“I intend to.” She heard the wistful tone in his voice.
“Life is moving very fast, isn’t it?”
Ray sighed, “I just found out I have a daughter, and
now I’m losing you already.”
“That’s not going to happen.” She squeezed his hand
tenderly. “Think of it as your family growing. None of us
will ever be alone again.”
“I know that,” Ray told her. “But all the same, I’m
going to have a talk with the lad and make sure that he takes
proper care of you.”
“We’ll take care of each other,” Megan assured him.
“But you can tell Paul anything you want. He wants to talk to
you too. Let’s just wait right here for him. He’s on his way
now.”
The silver moon lit the crescent of beach like an
amphitheater with all the stars shining bright overhead, and
Ray realized he was as happy again as he ever thought he
could be. There was a loud splash out in the bay, and
somehow the night seemed complete.
All the village looked forward to the upcoming
celebration and the great feast they had planned. Everyone
felt a festival was well deserved, the reasons were abundant.
The time of change was under way. The old buildings
of the village were battered and ruined, many beyond repair,
but that remained only temporary. There was a new plan and
the beginnings were already under way. The village was to
be rebuilt with a traditional appearance and atmosphere, but
with all the possible conveniences and benefits of modern
life. Preliminary projects necessary for the welfare and
economic success of the people and the plan were already
begun.
Water and power systems were being installed. A
school and a new clinic building were under construction.
Airlifted supplies were coming in steadily on cargo flights to
the Navy base, and the roadway out to the village was being
widened and improved to accommodate the traffic of food,
supplies, and eventually tourists.
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The new access allowed the doctor to visit regularly
to check up on his patients and new friends. He often
brought along colleagues who were intrigued and lured by
his stories. Now the village had almost constant medical help
available on a rotating basis. Most of the villagers were
healing well from the storm’s devastating legacy. Injuries
and illness were mending, and they would all soon be
recovered. The disaster and after effects of the storm’s
passage were rapidly fading into history.
Many of the people were already at work on the
several improvement projects under way, and future
employment was assured. Optimism was running high, and
all foresaw prosperity just around the corner. The promise of
commitment and resources was already a reality. The spirit
of the people was restored. Their faith in Deebe was
confirmed. His words had proven wise and true.
One morning, in the early light of dawn, some
fishermen spotted Deebe in the bay. He was standing chest
deep facing out to sea. A large dolphin surfaced directly in
front of him, only a few feet away, and they appeared to
converse silently for a long while. This story convinced even
the skeptics that Deebe was, indeed, legitimate heir to the
line of wise and powerful shamans who communed with
nature and spoke directly to the cousins in the sea.
Deebe declared the feast, and the people were
excited. They knew this officially marked the beginning of a
great new era. Also, it was an opportunity once again to
thank their good fortune and honor the people who had
brought it. Megan, Paul, Ray, Bruno, and Doreen were all to
be officially declared members of the village, and a part of
the people, forever.
There were rumors, too, of a special ceremony. It was
no secret to anyone who knew them that Paul and Megan
shared a private world between them. Those who knew them
better understood there was something even deeper than the
usual love, trust, and admiration that binds two people
together. These were a pair selected and chosen to find the
golden dolphin and all the incredible powers and treasure it
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possessed. But it was their own special human kindness and
understanding that amplified and gave everything back to the
people.
Together they had found all that anyone could ever
need or hope for, and they had it, simply, in each other.
Deebe was very much looking forward to the
privilege of his new position. As spiritual leader he would
preside over the ceremony that formally bound Paul and
Megan together in the spirit of their own promises and
devotion. Deebe was happy for his friends, but also, he knew
that their journey was far from over.
Sal and Terri drove into the village on the morning of
the celebration with mixed feelings. They went immediately
to find Ray and Deebe, because there was some unpleasant
news they had to discuss. Sal’s hopes for total non
intervention from up North were a little premature. Two
lawyers were on their way down to assist Sal in preparing the
many documents necessary for the undertaking. They were
from the same firm that had employed Megan’s former
husband. Both men might possibly recognize her. It was a
chance that could not be taken.
“These guys will be here, off and on, maybe for a
year,” Sal told them regretfully. “If I say anything now it
might look suspicious. Nobody’s even lookin’ for anybody,
but it’s too soon to take chances. In a year, maybe two,
nobody will even think about this thing any more.
“Right now we still gotta be careful. They don’t have
to be exactly on the run, but they can’t be right here every
day either. They gotta lay low. What are we gonna do?”
Ray could see that Terri and Sal were worried. The
churning taste of disappointment and fear rose like bile in his
own gut and paralyzed him. He could think of nothing to do.
They had all come so far, and were now so close. Could this
be the end before it really began?
“Worry not. There is still more to be done,” Deebe
reassured them. “Megan and Paul are not meant to be in this
place for this part of the journey. They have been chosen to
help bring together the people, an that job is not yet done.”
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Despite the questions he would elaborate no more. He only
told them, “This is another journey they must take alone, but
we all must help.”
The festivities began in earnest just before noon.
Music was playing, people were dancing and laughing, and
the delicious aromas of many foods blended in the air.
Everyone was there. Sky flew in early from Nassau and
brought Kimba, their friend and the manager of the Pilot
House restaurant with him. She spent some time talking with
Deebe, and they both seemed pleased.
Up on a low stage with a palm frond roof, Deebe
made his speech, and to much happy applause and cheering
the people welcomed their friends fondly into their
community and their lives.
Then the drums began. The beat was soft and slow,
rising in tempo as Paul and Megan were ushered to the
covered platform where Deebe waited.
He took one of their hands in each of his, and began
to chant.
“Brother and Sister come together,” he pressed their
hands together, and each felt the reassuring love and trust
flowing from the other. “Now be one, here in this place, and
as far as the waters shall reach and the moon and the stars
can see. This thing is meant to be. Now it is done.”
Paul and Megan happily embraced while the people
cheered, hugged each other, and danced around to the now
wildly beating drums. Then Deebe raised his arms high, and
there was silence in a moment.
“Our friends have done much for us, and now they
are a part of us and share our home. But the work they do is
not yet done. Their journey is not yet finished.”
Now Paul and Megan looked at each other in
surprise. What was this all about? They had no plans to go
anywhere.
“Our people be scattered far through these islands,”
Deebe continued. “This one knows.” He reached out, and
Kimba climbed up from behind the platform to join Deebe.
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“She is the first to return. She makes us stronger. There be
more, an we wait for them with hope.
The message must be sent. The people found and
told. The cousins know where each one is, and they will
guide these two with silent voices wherever they must go.
When they return, we will be complete. Then we will rejoice
even more.”
The people began to cheer once again, but Paul was
not so immediately enthusiastic. “Deebe, what are you
talking about? Even if we had some way to go searching
through the islands, what makes you think anyone would
listen to us?”
“Because you will carry with you the symbol of the
power that makes our people one,” Deebe told him. Then,
from a colorful woven bag he carried on his side, hung from
a shoulder, Deebe removed a package of yellow silk and
handed it to Megan. When she unfolded it, she held the
golden dolphin in her hands.
“Let the power guide you as it has drawn you
before,” Deebe told them, “and all will be well.”
“I have something to offer too,” Ray spoke up.
“Second Wind is yours, with my blessing. My home is here
now, and she can be your home until you return to stay with
us. You and my ship are my family and my life. Take care of
her, and she will take care of you.”
Through the feast and the rest of the celebration, Paul
and Megan slowly contemplated their new circumstances,
their mission, and their good fortune.
“What a fantastic honeymoon you’re gonna have,”
Doreen congratulated them in one excited, bubbling breath.
“You’ll be together, sailing alone everywhere on that
fantastic boat. It will be a floating palace for two. It’s so
romantic. And we’ll all be here when you come back, you’ll
see, everything will be great.
By tradition the party lasted through the night. Dawn
found a small group standing on the beach where Second
Wind was anchored. The yacht had been prepared for sea
during the night, and she sat elegantly on the water, tugging
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gently at the anchor rode as though impatient to be under
way.
“Are you sure about this?” Paul had to ask. He knew
what the boat meant to Ray, and how any skipper would
would feel to see his ship leaving without him.
“I built her with my own hands and a lot of love,”
Ray answered” Now I’m sure this is just what I built her for.
You’ve sailed with me enough, Paul.You know all her
secrets. Now get going so you can clear that reef with the
tide.”
“Everything’s aboard that you’ll need to get started,”
Terri told them.
“And don’t worry about money,” Sal chimed in.
“That’s our wedding present. There’s cash in the chart table,
and more when you need it.”
There were handshakes and hugs and fond farewells
all around.
Terri brushed away tears of joy.
Deebe embraced them both once again.”Our hopes
and thoughts be with you.”
They finally launched Zephyr from the beach and
climbed aboard. Sky went with them, as he still had his
airplane moored behind the catamaran, and he could give
them a hand getting started.
On the way out he told them, “They’ve offered me a
job setting up an air route and doing some legitimate flying
out here. I’m gonna take it.”
“Congratulations,” Paul laughed. “Enjoy your new
career.”
“Yeah. But some of the old habits are gonna stick for
a while. The communication channels are going to stay open.
You remember the codes?”
Paul smiled, “That’s not something either one of us is
ever likely to forget. There’s enough equipment on the cat to
reach you from anywhere in the world. Don’t worry, we’ll
keep in touch. Keep an eye on our friends while we’re
gone?”
“Deal.”
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They watched from the beach as Zephyr was hoisted
and secured in the davits. The sails billowed, luffing in the
wind, and the engines fired. They heard the rattle as the
anchor chain came aboard. Then the boat turned, sails filled
in the gentle breeze, and she headed out across the bay.
The seaplane cast loose and started. Sky taxied
alongside for a time, then leaped into the air and flew lazy
circles around the yacht, watching a pod of dolphins guide
them out through the reef.
“Worry not,” Deebe told the emotional group on the
shore.
“There be much to do and learn, but they come back
soon. This island be home. And this be where the heart is.”
THE END
and
THE BEGINNING
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