Seekers

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 captain strode the quarter deck of his

barquentine, glad to be back at sea again; the sails stretched
by a good wind at his back. As much of his life as he had
been at sea the mystery and wonder were still there for him.
He was not so pleased with the business of being the
captain of a trading vessel. Sometimes, in port, he felt
himself little more than a traveling merchant, loading and
unloading commodities up and down the coasts on both sides
of the Atlantic. But that was all part of the seafaring life. The
whole thing was a delicate balancing act.
The subtle beauty of the sea was contrasted against
the rude ugliness of shabby port towns. The tranquil, almost
boring rhythm of an ocean journey could be punctuated at
any time by the intense energy, sudden danger, and savagery
of a swift moving storm. The basic unpredictability of
Nature and Man was the essence of his job, he supposed.
Take this trip for instance. He had left New England
loaded with timber and picked up hemp and cotton along the
way from colonies that were on the verge of feuding. All was
bound for the mills of Europe. There was a ready market for
this cargo in the ports of France and England. Now, one
large hold was nearly filled for the return trip with the
proceeds of the company’s last few voyages. He carried
chests of silver and gold coins; enough to fuel the
burgeoning economies of the American Colonies, both North
and South, for some time.
The captain smiled in his thoughts; yesterday a
lumber merchant, today master of a treasure ship. Such were
the vagaries of the sea. The only problem with being master
of a treasure ship today was the small volume of his cargo.
Rich as it was, it occupied only part of the space in his
massive holds, and any empty space on a vessel crossing the
ocean was an abhorrence to the owners. Profit was the life
blood of commerce on both ends of any route. Trade ruled
the seas, and profit would dictate everything, almost.
 Southward, down the coast of Europe he moved, past
Gibraltar and bound for the coast of Africa and Dakar, then
to pick up the consistent Trade Winds that would carry his
ship home across the waves, through the Caribbean, to the
Southern Colonies then, with the help of God and the ever
compliant Gulf Stream, back up the coast of the New World
to his berth in Boston Harbor. But along the way he had
some unfinished business.
A small part of the trader’s money was to be
reinvested before he left this side of the Atlantic. The short
cargo he now carried was primarily cheap trade goods: glass
trinkets and baubles, finished cloth, mirrors, steel and flint,
some metal knives,and even a few firearms. The trade goods
were not bound for the Colonies. They would be exchanged
along the way for a far more valuable cargo: black gold from
the African shore.
“Oh Great Sea--bringer and Taker of all things--the
old man contemplated. He gazed deep into the magic flames
of his small fire and watched another place and time. Not so
very long ago he had been in this village when the sickness
was here. This is where he had learned to take the grass from
the sea and make a lifegiving broth. He looked around the
village and saw so many changes. No one would recognize
or hail him these days.
Only the children ran naked and carefree now. The
women wore bright colors of cloth and decorated their
bodies with beads of metal and glass; foreign things still
exotic to the people. The men sat apart, mesmerized by
glistening steel. All these new things. Shiny pans and metal
knives came from across the ocean in great winged ships
driven by bearded, coldhearted strangers.
The people of this village seemed to have been driven
crazy by their new possessions. Always a proud and fierce
people, now they directed their strength and new gained
weapons at other neighboring villages. The ancient rituals of
war and captivity had now an even more odious intent.
Instead of holding captives for the ransom of a goat, pig, or
even a cow, now there was a better value for the living
bodies of the vanquished. The strange men bearing gifts
from the great ships traded things; soft things, shiny things,
dangerous things, for the heart and flesh of any who would
yield to the spear.
The old man himself felt safe. He was a Shaman of
great power. He possessed the language of all creatures and
spoke even to the ancestors in the sea. He was protected by
his knowledge and his power, but he worried for his people.
He could see that a time of great change was to come. He
reached into the soft skin pouch always at his side to touch
the talisman of his people.
They lived only at the edge of the jungle and his tribe
were people of the sea. They knew that the greatest of beasts
was not the elephant or lion. The talisman of his people was
the likeness of a great male dolphin fashioned from pure sea
gold, with eyes of precious blue. The figure had been with
them through legend as far back as time, and was the
embodiment of their unity and spirit. Also it was a key to the
source of powerful magic. The symbol united the people and,
through the Shaman, allowed them to communicate with the
wisdom of the oceans.
The Shaman himself was blessed with a power to see
the hearts of men as well as hear the voice of Nature. Some
things he saw and heard frightened the man he was. His grip
on the golden talisman tightened.
The captain didn’t care for the slave trade, didn’t like
anything about it except, of course, for the profit. He disliked
trading with the shifty eyed Arabs and dark skinned natives
along the coast. He especially disliked carrying the human
cargo. His forward hold had been modified with spike and
chain to restrain the captives below. They would have to be
fed and watered like cattle. And at the end of the voyage
there would be a godawful job to clean the mess of the living
and the remains of the less fortunate.
This was no way to treat a proud ship, the captain
felt. And even though slaves were a common commodity of
the times, the trade was, to him at least, somehow out of
balance with the magnanimous freedom of the seas. But the
power of profit drove the engines of commerce, and he was
just a cog in the wheel.

***********
 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

The slightly disheveled young woman startled awake

when the engine power pulled back. Other passengers started
rustling around in their seats. The flight had been smooth
above a comforting layer of fluffy white clouds, but restless
for her. Now the muffled bong and a gentle voice advised
that it was time to buckle up and prepare for landing. As the
wheels and flaps whirred and clunked into position, the
standby passenger in seat 19A, just ahead of the wing,
looked out the window at the small green parcel of land in
the tranquil blue sea below.
The happy confusion of voices around her was
reassuring; confusion would be her friend; she could
disappear into this bubble of rampant tourism. The fast
moving customs line and busy terminal would hardly take
notice of a woman traveling alone in this crowd. Besides, it
was very doubtful anyone was even looking for her here, yet.
Planes and cruise ships landed on this Caribbean
island every day to disgorge their precious cargoes. The mix
and mingle was exciting. Vacationers reveled, merchants
plundered, and all enjoyed life under the tropical sun on
sandy beaches, in cooled casinos, and through the glittering
shops and straw bazaars. Happy resort life flowed on
endlessly, effortlessly, and anonymously.
But not everyone here was a tourist. The young
woman knew she would have to be very careful and keep her
senses alert. She would leave soon.
Some way. Some untraceable way, she would make
her way to someplace safe. Someplace she could start over
again. But first she had to find a place she could not be
found; a place she could stay for awhile, and rest, and think.
She joined a group climbing into a mini bus with a hotel logo
on the side.

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

The heat of the day was fading to tropical

comfortable as the sun lowered in its arc. Thankfully, Kimbi
thought, the steel band was winding down out in back by the
pool. How could people stand that tinny racket. She had been
listening to it most of her life, and she was tired of it. Kimbi
was a rock ‘n roll fan herself. But the tourists thought the
steel drums were exotic, and what the tourists wanted was all
that counted around here. But she wasn’t complaining. This
job was a whole lot better than shucking conch.
It looked as though it would be another easy night.
The season was winding down. The last Sun Flight would be
most of the action in the lounge this evening; dozens of
giggling young women from Canada. They had just come in
before her shift, but already there were a few small groups
scattered about the lounge and out on the deck admiring the
view of the harbor. A few of the early cocktail crowd from
the marina across the street were in place at the bar too. Later
on there would be more hotel guests, and the rest of the
sailing crowd usually came by to check the new arrivals.
She picked up her tray and wandered out onto the
deck to get some air and maybe sell a few drinks. It was a
pleasant surprise to see Captain Paul sitting alone, stretched
out in a wicker chair with his feet up on the railing. He
appeared to be watching a large motor sailor work her way
into a tricky slip.
Now there is one of the better ones, she thought.
Distracted, brooding, and drinking a lot lately, but still her
favorite from the semi permanent dock crowd. He was a
good looking guy, tall and slender, a swimmer’s build with
longish sun bleached hair and a seaman’s bluegrey eyes. One
of the island boys used to work for him. He had told Kimbi
that Paul was some kind of biologist. At first they dove
around the reefs looking for corals and sponges and small
reef fish and plants. Deebe had helped Paul collect
specimens and package them up for shipment back to the
5
States. Eventually they had stopped collecting the interesting
things. Then Deebe crewed for Paul when he took an
occasional charter on his small sailboat. Between the charters
they dove less and less often, but brought back only corals,
shells, and colorful reef plants to sell at the local shops or
just trade for drinks. She had not seen Deebe for some
months now, and wondered how Paul was getting along.
“How you Captain? You lookin’ mighty comfy out
here. Can I get you another drink?”
Paul tipped his eyes up and gave the girl a battered
smile. “Evenin’ Darlin’ , you’re looking pretty sharp and
sassy yourself. How about you and I taking a sail tonight in
the moonlight?”
“Lonely so early Cap’n? You know I’m just a poor
workin’ gal”. She couldn’t resist a laugh while pretending to
check his forehead for fever.
“I think you should save your energy, Cap’n. We got
a whole new bunch of tourist ladies in today. Maybe all your
problems will be solved tonight”.
He gave her a strange look and held out his empty
mug. “The way my luck has been running lately I’m afraid to
even wonder what that means. But in the meantime, if we
can’t run off together, I suppose you should at least bring me
another fistful of Courage. And a small rum. And keep them
coming for a while, okay Kimbi. I fear it’s going to be a long
night.”

***********

It was a very long night. It had begun like so many

others lately, but this time the girl was very different. He
could only vaguely remember bits and pieces. She was
jumpy, but at the same time assertive. Travel worn maybe.
There was something strange in her manner. Paul could
remember a sense about this woman even through his daze.
An odd remembrance of attraction, despite a feeling of
intimidation.

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...

Oh! Hell! Where is she?

8
 CHAPTER 4

Slamming, explosive thuds shook him painfully out

of his fuzzy reverie and into the crumpled, musty cabin nest.
Paul had to stifle his first reflex to jump and flee. That was
impossible. The boat was tied, all too securely, to the dock in
Nassau Harbor. The comfortable, and once luxurious,
fo’castle cabin of the little yacht was suddenly close and
confining; with no way out. A quick look up through the
heavy glass of the foredeck hatch only confirmed his fears.
Two round, black faces stared down, and they were not
smiling. Shuddering blows continued relentlessly on the
companionway hatch and it was only a matter of time before
the leeboards would be kicked through.
“Okay. Okay! Dammit. Wait a minute will ya” Jeez!
What’s the problem?”
“Ya knows damhn well what da problem ees,
asshole! Now open da fuckin’ hatch before I sink dis shit
bucket and waits fa you to float to da top.”
Paul knew instantly this was not good news. Not
good news at all.
Over the past couple of years he had burned through
all of his savings, and then some. His prolific diving and
occasional charters and other jobs had gone to support the
boat and his travels through the islands.
Paradise can be an expensive place to play. His
dream of an island charter business had run aground on the
many bars and shallow beds in a rum punch sea. Crews of
nubile vacationing nymphs under the warm and friendly
skies had come and gone. There was still a dream, but it was
rapidly losing ground to the excuse.
Borrowing money to support his profligate ways was
surprisingly easy. At first just a little that he could repay by
conch fishing, or diving for lobster. Then he began to borrow
more than his nocturnal lifestyle would ever allow him to
repay by merely diving for fish. He realized now, suddenly,
that he might not be doing any more diving again, ever; these
9
guys sounded really pissed off. He eased out of his cabin,
through the main salon, and opened the companionway
hatch. As he drew the leeboards, one by one, he couldn’t
help but notice that the guy standing in the cockpit was large.
In fact, he blocked the opening and eclipsed the sun. The
huge man swarmed down the companionway, instantly
filling the cabin. At least Paul thought the cabin was filled
until the other two visitors squeezed in behind him.
“Mr. Adam, he say we should come, have a talk.”
said the large fellow in a breathy voice. “Me name be
Bingo.”
“Yeah, we should talk to you,” said the next largest
of Bingo’s assistants, “den feed you to de fishes.”
The third fellow just smiled dully. This was not
shaping up well at all, Paul reflected, and he just nodded in
the affirmative.
“Mr. Adam need his moneys back today. Now!” the
giant demanded, grinning. “He say you become a bad risk,
boy. He got no time fo’ more stories. He say you don’ got da
money it sure be lucky you got dis boat to pay him wid.”
“Wait a minute!” Paul’s aching head tried desperately
to think. The boat was all he had. It was more than just his
home, it was his dream. Without the boat he had no idea
what he would, or even could, do. Everything would change.
He wouldn’t be able to stay in the islands, and he certainly
had no intention of returning to cold, small town New
England.
“Guys,” Paul said with his best smile stretched
painfully across his face, “there must be something we can
work out. Let’s talk to Mr. Adam. I’m sure there’s no real
problem here. We’ve always... his voice trailed off as the
unsmiling, massive head wagged from side to side.
“Too late fo’ dat Cap’n,” Bingo said. “Mr. Adam say
moneys now.”
“Listen. I’ve got some money coming in real soon;
from an old aunt back home. Until it comes I’m going out
fishing. In fact, I was planning to leave today. I’ll be back in
a week or two, and I’ll be able to pay Mr. Adam...”
10
 “No way, mon,” Bingo cut him off, “lookat dis boat!
She not ready to go no where. An’ you can’t ‘ave no more
aunties left. You last one died weeks ago, ‘member Cap’n?
An you had to borrow de moneys to sen’ home for de
burial?”
Yeah, he remembered all right. The aunt was a
figment and the cash was long gone, and not coming back.

11
 CHAPTER 5

“Hi guys,” she sang sweetly, swinging down the

companionway ladder, “what’s going on? Here honey, I
brought you some breakfast.” She squeezed through the
cramped cabin to stand beside Paul and hand him a wrapped
sandwich. “You must be starved after last night.” She smiled
coyly at the men as she watched carefully for any reactions.
No one spoke, and tension hung heavy as doom in the
small cabin.
“Who dis, mon?” asked Bingo’s merely medium
large assistant.
Paul was stuck. It was the woman from the hotel.
He’d spent the night with her, but he didn’t have a clue what
her name was. What the hell is wrong with me, Paul
wondered. He could barely remember anything beyond his
spinning head and throbbing eyes. This drunken debauchery
bit was going too far. This time, again he knew for sure that
it was time to change his ways.
She smiled sweetly, extended a pale hand, and said,
“I’m Dahlia Ivy, pleased to meet you. I’m Paul’s girlfriend
and the new first mate. By the way Paul, I stopped by the
bank and your aunt’s check came in. I thought you might
need some cash, so I brought you this.” She reached into her
bag and handed him five hundred dollars in Bahamian bills.
“Uh, thanks Dahlia.” Confused, but quick on the
uptake, Paul took the proffered money and put it directly into
the large paw that was already reaching his way. “Here, take
this money for Mr. Adam will you. And tell him I’ll get with
him next week some time, okay?” Paul was confused as hell.
He could only hope the Bahamian giant was losing track as
well.
“Got a bettah idea mon,” Bingo replied smiling, with
his fist full of money. Let’s all go to see Mr. Adam. He sure
be happy to hear ‘bout your auntie.”
It was a warm, glaring twenty minute walk from the
yacht basin to Mr. Adam’s office overlooking Bay Street.
12
The watchdogs followed behind, and Paul took the
opportunity to get acquainted with his ‘new girlfriend’.
“Listen Dahlia, thanks for the money and all, but you
didn’t need to do that. These guys are just fooling around. I
can straighten things out. Trust me. You don’t want to get
involved in this. I can handle it from here.”
“Sure, sure,” said Dahlia, “you’re doing just fine. I
was listening on the deck before I came down. You might
have walked away from there. Maybe. But without a boat.
Then you wouldn’t be able to take me sailing like you
promised. Remember last night?” she smiled and batted her
eyelashes. “It sounds to me like you’re in trouble lover boy.
Let’s just wait and see what happens.”
They stopped in front of a classic colonial style
building shouldering onto the busy sidewalk. Hot pink walls
and large blue lettering proclaimed the place to be The Club
Caribe. Mr. Adam owned the nightclub, and his office was
above. Paul turned and started up the cement stairway
squeezed between the pink wall and a more subtle pastel
building next door.
Once inside,the atmosphere changed. There was a
marked difference from the gay exterior. No more gaudy,
tourist trapping colors. Inside the office was a spacious and
modern looking affair. Employees in small groups were
working diligently in several areas. The professional and
efficient atmosphere gave the impression of a headquarters
operation.
The man himself sat at the end of the room behind a
glass wall, in a big chair at the middle of a teak conference
table. Paul and the young woman remained in the outer
office and the two associates took up positions on either side
of the doorway like black book ends. Bingo went into the
glass enclosure. Eventually he rapped briskly on the glass,
and one of the men opened the door and gestured the couple
inside.
“Well Mr. Sullivan,” greeted the somber Mr. Adam.
“how very nice to see you once again. And young lady, a

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

Back out in the street Paul didn’t feel much relief. An

enjoyable lunch was out of the question.
“Oh Shit’. Now what the HELL am I going to do?
Those bastards have me hemmed in every which way, and
they’re not going to let me go.
“I’ve got a bad feeling this is only the beginning of
another terrible enterprise. Illegal coral is not the worst of
Mr. Adam’s sins. I’ll be lucky to get out of this with my ass,
never mind the boat. Deep diving by myself will be nearly
committing suicide, and that’s supposing I can find the damn
stuff in the first place. I’m going to have to search half the
Caribbean. This could take forever,” he ranted in dejected
torment.
Through all this the troubled woman listened quietly
as she contemplated problems of her own.
“Hey mister, aren’t you forgetting something?” she
spoke up suddenly, breaking into Paul’s tirade. “It seems
your ass isn’t the only thing you’ve dragged into this mess.
Don’t you think you should talk to me instead of just cussing
to yourself and the sky?”
“Oh hell, sorry. Listen, don’t worry, okay. When I go
back to the office later I’ll talk to Mr. Adam and explain
things. You’ll be back on the beach tomorrow, no problem.
I’ll take care of it.”
“I don’t think so,” replied the young woman
thoughtfully, “I don’t think that’s what our friend Mr. Adam
has in mind, Paul. To tell you the truth, we’re both in trouble
here. This is not my lucky year. Why don’t we just get out of
here and find him his silly coral, or whatever, and be done
with it? You promised me some sailing and diving. I’m
ready to go any time, and I’ve already paid passage,
Remember? “
Paul looked hard at the lady. The morning’s gusts of
adrenaline were clearing his brain fog into scattered puffs.
He was nearly able to think, and he began to consider her
16
more carefully. Pushing dank hair back from his forehead he
felt the worried furrows above his brow. Paul realized he
probably wasn’t the best looking catch in the Bahamas. He
was beginning to wonder just what attraction might be
holding this strange woman to a guy who didn’t feel as
though he had impressed anybody.
Despite the tired eyes, and a rumpled, worn
appearance, she was a good looking woman. Five foot seven
or so, with high cheek bones and a pretty smile she was
trying to hold. Her dark shiny hair seemed somehow out of
place. Paul realized this woman was fatigued beyond the
mere need for sleep. Her wrinkled and travel weary
wardrobe, the only clothes he had seen, still hinted at a
healthy figure underneath. He wondered about her lack of
luggage. Usually when they were this enthusiastic they tried
to move everything they owned aboard the next morning.
She had an ample supply of money though, and had no
problem parting with it last night.
Still, Paul didn’t like dragging anyone else into his
problems. And there was something about this particular
woman. Something that gave him strange and different
feelings, even through his hangover.
She was so quiet most of the time, always watching
and smiling, as if she understood completely what was going
on or perhaps she was so preoccupied with her own distant
visions that she just didn’t care. She was almost spooky. On
the other hand, she already knew his situation with Mr.
Adam, and had handled it okay. She was only a tourist,
going home soon, and wouldn’t spread the story around.
Maybe he could still fix things up somehow. Paul couldn’t
figure why the lady wanted to help him out, but why look a
gift horse in the mouth? Whatever her reasons, she was a
generous source of money and seemed more than willing to
come along on this crazy trip. Mr. Adam was right; if he had
to do this thing he was going to need some help. If she would
come along, and bring her money, she could be his two
favorite kinds of crew: female and paying. Why not, he
thought. Some days you just can’t fight the inevitable.
17
 “Tell me, “Paul asked in a resigned but charming
voice, “just what do you know about deep diving and
seamanship? This may be an exciting voyage after all. Let’s
go back to the boat and talk it over.”
It was all too soon apparent that the woman Paul
considered to be his new crew was not a seasoned or a tactful
sailor. As they started back down the dock past some
polished sleek, and powerful looking cruisers, Paul’s small
sailboat could be seen from an unfortunate angle. She was a
worn and faded bauble on the long finger pier of jewels.
“Gee, “ the girl remarked in a weary voice, “yours
looks nice too. It does have a motor, doesn’t it? How fast can
it go?”
“How fast does it go?” Paul repeated in a hurt tone.
That is not an IT. SHE is a yawl; her name is The Crazy
Lady. She doesn’t go fast, because SHE is a sailboat.
Vintage wood sailboats are dignified. She has a small
auxiliary engine, but I only use it in crowded harbors or for
emergencies. We cruise under sail, and she’s one of the
sweetest sailing boats in the Caribbean; even if she’s not the
quickest,” Paul added defensively.
“Let’s talk about how much sailing you’ve done. And
while you’re at it perhaps there are some other things you
should talk about as well.”
Dahlia turned slightly to look back at him. As she
stepped from dock to deck a small wave nudged the boat.
She tripped on the cockpit rail, and awkwardly caught the
boom with both hands and her head. Then, when a second
wave rocked the boat again, she fell without grace, spinning
back towards the stern and nearly impaling herself on the
ship’s wheel
“00W! Why the Hell does this steering wheel have
spikes sticking out of it? And that stupid log hanging right in
the middle is a hazard. I’ve never seen a boat like this, she
growled, rubbing a bruised thigh. “This thing is a death
trap”.
Paul did his best to control a small smirk. The law of
the sea is just, he thought, and the retribution swift. “You’d
18
best get off your feet,” he motioned her below, “You need
some ice, and I’d still like to finish our little talk.”
Once seated at the small table he began again calmly.
“If we’re going sailing together, my friend, we should start
by being at least a little honest with one another. You’ve
already learned a lot about me. Now why don’t you start by
telling me something about yourself? For instance, how
come you’re so anxious to go for a working cruise on this
ugly ‘death trap’ of mine?”

19
 CHAPTER 7

The lanky, unkempt young captain and the woman

sat together in the small cabin staring at each other. The
muted sounds of harbour life came to them through the hull
and open ports. Distant laughter and the squeal of children
were among the predominant sounds.
“Paul,” she finally spoke, “there are things I want to
tell you, but some of it is a very long story. First of all, my
name is not Dahlia. It’s Meg. Megan Jacobs. I just made up
Dahlia. Who ever heard of a name like Dahlia Ivy anyway?”
she laughed. “It sounds like a house plant, not a person. It
just popped into my head when I was introducing myself to
your three charming friends. You’ve probably already
guessed that I have my reasons for not wanting to hang
around this island much longer, but what difference do my
reasons make right now? Let’s just say that I don’t find all
gentlemen as agreeable as you. This isn’t such a great place
for either one of us at the moment. I’ve already helped you
out once today, and I think you owe me a favor or two at
least,” she winked and smiled again. “Now why don’t we
just do whatever it is that has to be done to get this thing
going?”
Paul winced at the word “thing” in reference to his
yacht. But, as he looked around, he had to admit the decor
didn’t look too ship shape. The cabin resembled a disaster at
a tag sale.
“Okay Dahl... ah Meg. Let’s get to work and clean
this place up. But I hope you know something about boats.
This isn’t going to be a standard paradise adventure cruise,
you know. It can be complicated and dangerous for both of
us out there if you don’t know what you’re doing.
“Don’t worry about me big guy,” she told him,
forcing confidence into her voice.She was relieved that the
question of her status had been resolved so easily. She
thought to herself how lucky she was to be a quick study and

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?

***********

She had always been quick to adapt. All through her

early years little Meggy had learned to accustom herself to
life’s many changes. From the very beginning her life had
been confusing, and uncertain as she and her mother moved
with unexplained frequency from place to place and situation
to situation.
When Megan Jacobs was born in Palm Springs,
California, she was born without a father. Her mother,
Theresa, or Terri as she was commonly known, was
surviving professionally as a semi retired Las Vegas show
girl.Terri’s relocation to this desert community was with a
fast moving,quicker talking, former pit boss who promised to
set her up in ‘something good’. But he was gone and left her
behind before the year was out.
Soon after that she met a young lawyer and then
moved in with him; they thought they were in love. The
young man was head over heels. He tried very hard, while
working every day, to make a life for them together. He was
enraptured with Terri. She tried at first too, but somehow she
was just not ready for a life of tranquility and domestic bliss.
Fast music still played in her head. Bright lights dazzled her
mind, and the high life was in her blood. Terri was a party
girl and she was just not willing to change.
More and more often when the young man came
home late at night after a long, hard day at work, he would
find only a note that Terri had left behind. He went on this
way for a time, until the arguments and heartbreak were no
longer worth it.

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

Paul and Megan spent the rest of the day cleaning

and organizing the Crazy Lady. The boat was a mess. Paul’s
lifestyle ashore had become sloppy, to say the least. Megan’s
sense of order and tidiness was offended, but her need for
distraction was so great she launched enthusiastically into
the project. Paul thought she might be going a bit overboard
on the spic and span stuff, he didn’t think the boat was all
that messy. Things were looking a whole lot better though,
and he had to admire her energy.
The captain resigned himself to his new crew and, as
they worked, he patiently explained to her the logic,
symmetry, and philosophy required to prepare a vessel for an
extended cruise. The emphasis was on the practical.
Everything must be stowed properly so that it could be found
and retrieved quickly under any variety of conditions.
Emergency equipment was given a high priority.
They went for provisions in several installments.
Groceries were the first load; mostly non perishable staples.
Meg watched in awe as the boxes and bags were loaded onto
the cart, and wondered what they were really going to eat.
None of it looked particularly appetizing to her. She was
amazed when they bought a whole case of a particular
detergent.
“If you plan to have a lot of dinner parties I certainly
hope you’re not expecting me to do all the dishes,” she
looked at Paul with half amused question in her eyes.
“No, don’t worry,” Paul laughed. I use this for
cleaning everything. It lathers up great in salt water and it’s a
lot cheaper than the fancy stuff they sell at the Ship’s Store.
It also disperses safely, and it won’t hurt the fish.”
Meg was curious. “What do you mean about the
fish?” she had to ask. Any relationship between a choice of
dish washing products and fishing she could not imagine.
“We’ll be diving on coral reefs,” Paul explained
patiently. “Coral itself is a living organism, and its structure
23
supports a complex ecosystem. Despite the size and diversity
of the system it is very fragile. Too much careless damage
has already been done. If people don’t pay attention we can
easily kill the coral, and then the reef, the sea, everything.
Eventually the whole planet...,” he paused, then went on in a
slow, lower pitched voice. “Sorry, I tend to spout off on
some things when I’m sober.”
“Paul, I understand what you are saying. Don’t be
ashamed of caring. You seem to really know about this stuff.
How do you know what will hurt the coral?”
“Oh, I’ve studied some biology and marine science.
But that was a long time ago. I’ll tell you what really hurts
the coral.” He was looking now into her eyes, and she saw as
well as sensed a deep despair and regret. “I hurt the system;
me and my fellow men. We expect everything and offer
nothing in return.
“We dump our garbage in the deep and plunder the
shallows for more than we need. We drill, and chip, and tear
at the reefs and plants to decorate our walls and sell
souvenirs of paradise. Even those who don’t go in the ocean
can have a piece to take home with them, for a price.
Because guys like me will find it, break it off and bring it up,
and sell it for just enough money to float around out here in
this beautiful sea and drink enough rum to try and forget
what we are doing. But these days I try to do as little damage
as possible.
“There I go with the lectures again,” he laughed self
consciously. “Anyway, this soap will last a long time. And
we can even use it to clean each other.” Although his eyes
were still sad he grinned mischievously. Paul was getting
more used to the idea of Megan as a shipmate all the time.
She was a good listener He was also becoming used to her
money; it sure made shopping easy and a lot more fun. Paul
didn’t like to think about where money came from, but he
certainly enjoyed spending it.
They bought a minimum of perishable luxury items
for the galley’s small ice box.

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

By the time she started highschool, home life had

settled down a bit; though Terri still wasn’t home very much.
She spent a lot of time away “on business” with Uncle Sal.
Young Megan was a reserved but likable girl, and she
did very well in school. Overreacting to her mom’s party girl
life style, she kept to herself and held a close rein on her
social life. She quickly learned that her powers over men
were enhanced by her aloof charm and casual celibacy. She
could produce more profound effects with a smile and a
laugh than most girls could accomplish with the whole bag
of tricks. She had learned some lessons well at mother’s
knee.
During her freshman year she started her first real job
as a cashier with a national chain of low priced clothing
stores. Meg progressed rapidly and became an assistant
manager by the junior year; an unheard of accomplishment
for a part time high school age employee. Megan Jacobs was
hard working and diligent.
Inside, she was still just a lonely little girl. But her
powers, abilities, and desires were maturing, and she was
anxious to take them somewhere.
During her senior year the company sponsored a
scholarship contest for high school students in the areas
serviced by their stores. Their own employees and their
families were encouraged to enter. The field was large, but
Megan believed she had a chance.
By this point she was a stunning young woman with
much to her credit and a good idea of her abilities and self
worth. After several preliminary rounds of the contest she
found herself in the final elimination. The president of the
corporation himself was going to determine the winner after
a personal interview.
With some precious saved money Megan Jacobs
went to Los Angeles alone and rented a motel room for three
days. This contest meant everything to her now. She used the
28
time to gather her wits and prepare as best she could. On the
big day she dressed carefully to demonstrate her taste and
maturity. When she presented herself to the president’s
office on that beautiful spring afternoon she was the picture
of ripe young womanhood.
She acquitted herself well in every respect. The
President was duly impressed, and decided on the spot that
she was something special. During the interview he learned
how much the contest meant to Meg. His creative and
lascivious nature blossomed forth like his self proclaimed
professional eminence. Truly impressed with his own
importance and power, the President offered Meg an
ultimatum she had never expected from this quarter.
Meg didn’t have to consider for very long. Deep
inside she had always feared this was the way the world
really was, as mother had taught. Life is rarely gentle or fair.
The price of her virtue had been met. At least she’d
be getting something worthwhile for her efforts. Later that
night, in a drab motel room, she lost her innocence in more
ways than one. Surprisingly there were no tears,only a sad
resolve.
How easy it would be to just let go and take
advantage of situations as they came along. But this was not
a life her heart desired. Megan had learned early the price
could be too high. She promised herself that this one ugly
episode would not set the tone of her life. Throughout the
rest of the evening she thought frequently of her mother.

29
 CHAPTER 10

Gathering up the debris in the cabin, Meg was most

pleased to discover that the ominously large laundry bags
contained only mildly soiled sails. She decided not to wash
those. This job may be manageable after all, she thought.
She loaded the sagging hand truck and pushed off for
the washing machines with a determined smile. Despite the
gravity of her situation the even clunk and squeaking of the
cart down the dock seemed to make a happy sound under the
clear blue sky.
The laundry was a small, almost clean white room at
the side of the marina building. It contained several washers,
dryers, some rust spotted vending machines, and Doreen
Tucker.
“Hiya! Hiya!” Doreen nearly bounced with unbridled
vitality, my name’s Doreen. Howya? I’m from Toronto.
Canada, you know? Where are you from? Isn’t this place
great! I just love it here. Don’t you? I can hardly wait to get
cruising. We’re on a charter, heading down the islands; my
fiancee and me. We’re gonna get married soon. This is an
almost honeymoon. It’s gonna be so romantic! I can hardly
wait.” She flashed a tremendous smile, then glanced down,
and the corners of her mouth followed when she saw.
“Gee! That’s a lot of dirty laundry. You must have
been out for a long time.” Then the face turned up, and with
it came the smile again.
“What’s it like? Cruising I mean. It must be neat,
huh?
“Did you do a lot of diving? Hey! Why don’t you tell
me all about it. I’ll help you do your laundry. Looks like you
could use some help. I’ve got nothing to do for hours
anyway. The boys are off somewhere, doing something.
Okay?”
And before Meg could say a word, or blink, Doreen
was into the task; sorting, distributing, loading, twisting dials
and punching buttons. She appeared to be quite familiar with
30
the equipment. Meg didn’t know what to do or say, so she
just pitched in.She needn’t have worried about her side of
the conversation. Lively Doreen offered her little opportunity
to speak.
It turned out that Doreen and her boyfriend had been
planning their trip for two years. In her enthusiastic manner
she had thoroughly researched every aspect of the long
anticipated three week cruise. With only the most subtle
coaxing, Meg was easily able to tap this bubbling well of
information.
Doreen made the islands sound like a magical
paradise where nothing could go wrong. Hours later Doreen
was still on a roll, and tired Megan had heard everything
about cruising the islands that she could take for a while. But
her hasty decision and hopeful plans were confirmed. There
must be a place somewhere out there, where she could be
safe.
By the time the washing was done, Meg felt alive and
ready to carry on. She was thoroughly enchanted and ready
to begin her voyage.
“Doreen, I don’t know how to thank you.” Meg
looked fondly at the girl, and for a moment felt the pain of
her own situation and loneliness.
Meg sensed this giggling woman was no fool, and
wished they could be friends. Meg’s secret was burning in
her chest, and she didn’t know how much longer she could
contain it. An unfamiliar desire to open her heart and
unburden the spirit flickered briefly, then died. Fear kept the
secret locked tight.

31
 CHAPTER 11

She could never go home again. The past was gone

forever, and yet it would be with her always. Longing
thoughts for a life of domestic stability and assurance, all too
briefly glimpsed, drove her back into the memories she was
trying so hard to forget. “I almost made it,” she nearly
muttered aloud, “I think I almost had what I wanted.” But the
good things could never last for long.
It seemed so long ago. Smith College, in
Massachusetts, had been the start of a whole new wonderful
life, and young Megan had taken advantage of every minute.
The scholarship, so dearly won was her ticket to live a
different life; to be the someone else she had always wanted
to become. She was on the edge of a world now that she had
often seen, but never touched, across the arid desert sands.
Although she considered herself essentially a small
town girl, Palm Springs had provided a diverse cross section
of life for her observation and consideration while she was
growing up. From human dregs to the rich and famous, she
had seen them all in her small desert valley. But the people
and atmosphere of this New England college town were as
different from desert burnouts and twinkling country club
phonies as the stately graceful evergreens were from the
sharp barbed cactus of the Coachella Valley. Some days she
believed the life she had always dreamed about, beyond the
desert mountains, was finally hers.
Her first, short lived love affair with a young man
from Amherst was a late adolescent’s nightmare. Her mature
mind could not rationalize or understand the youthful broken
heart. She fell back on other dreams and became a very
promising student.
Buoyed by the cultural attitude and intellectual
independence fostered at the school, Meg regressed socially
and nurtured her cool control and distance where men were
concerned. Her infrequent dates now consisted mainly of
high toned intellectual conversations in public places. Meg’s
32
friends grew to accept her assumed ambivalence, and
allowed her to fade into the busy background of the college
community. But deep inside Megan a force, a desire, a
passion for life was growing and crying to be set free. The
tall, striking blonde girl of turtle neck sweaters, long wool
skirts, and high boots was once again ready to taste life.
In the Junior year her mother moved to New
England. Terri was still on the arm of an old friend, Meg’s
“Uncle Sal”. They had moved to Rhode Island to take up
Sal’s new position as administrative assistant of a local race
track. Meg was skeptical about the renewed relationship with
her disjointed “family”. She feared the old torments of her
former life following her to New England. But Terri was,
after all, her mother.
During a fancy cocktail party at their lavish beach
house Terri and Sal introduced Megan to a quiet, beautiful
young man. Vincent Tarrentino was studying law at Brown.
Meg understood him to be some distant relation of
Sal’s, but it didn’t matter. Within weeks she had fallen in
love. Vincent was everything she had ever dreamed of:
handsome, intelligent, romantic, and sensitive. Finally, for
the first time in her life, Megan felt relaxed and secure in a
relationship. Her inner dreams and desires were within reach.
Even Terri and Sal were inordinately pleased with the match.
Shortly after her graduation Vincent and Meg were
married at a huge ceremony in Providence. Everything was
nearly perfect. Only the honeymoon was a disappointment.
Beyond a certain point even Vinny’s sensitivity could
not support the essence of physical romance. At first Megan
pretended it was just a temporary condition. She told herself
it was the stress of a quick marriage and the exhausting
schedule of law school. She told herself the problem would
resolve itself somehow. Some day, when Vinny was ready,
he would get beyond his confusion and his frustration, and
that part of their life would be wonderful too.
Three years passed swiftly as Vincent finished law
school, passed the bar, and joined a large, prestigious law
firm. For Meg, most of her life was like living in a
33
dream.They had a pretty house with beautiful furniture and a
nice yard. Vincent came from a large family, and the young
couple was showered with expensive gifts. Meg took solace
in more than the affluence. A special bond of mutual trust
and respect grew with the young couple; each became
steadily more accustomed to, and dependent upon, the other.
Although her deepest desires and fantasies remained
unobtainable, much of the dream had come true. Life was
almost perfect. But the still remembered disappointments
and hollow hauntings of her past occasionally flew like dark
clouds across her bright expectations. She often remembered
an old adage learned at Terri’s pretty knee. “When things are
going better than you ever believed possible, you are
probably right.”
When things started to go bad,Vincent at first tried to
hide the troubles from his wife, but she was perceptive as
well as intelligent.
When she gently but firmly pried the story loose it
was obvious that there was big trouble coming. Unwittingly
at first,Vinny had been lured into the Family’s secrets, and
now he was in way over his head. The firm was now the
object of an FBI investigation. Money laundering, criminal
conspiracy, and organized crime were just a few of the
rumored charges floating around.
Meg determined to cling tenaciously to all she had,
and convinced herself that her caring and devotion to Vinny
would see them through.
Any thought of going to the authorities was only a
dangerous joke. The firm and the clients themselves were
extremely resourceful and powerful people. Megan and
Vinny were only pawns trapped in a dangerous place.There
was no place to turn for help and no one to trust. They had
only each other. They realized that they would not simply be
allowed to just continue on.The people and information they
both knew would make life very dangerous.
The couple agonized over their limited options.
Megan’s natural protectiveness toward Vinny prompted her
to react instinctively.If they could get quickly far enough
34
away, there was still a chance that they could still have the
peaceful and contented life they both desired. They finally
decided their best, and possibly only, choice at this point was
to swiftly accumulate as much cash as possible and get away
for a while.Maybe things would get better later.
Unfortunately, once again, things didn’t work out as planned.
Vincent took advantage of an opportunity one Friday
afternoon. He appropriated two suitcases containing several
million dollars in unrecorded funds from the firm’s vault and
decided it was time to run. He took a taxi home in a vague
effort to throw off pursuit. He was desperate and confused.
He changed cars twice, but finally raced home to his wife.
Realizing it was already too late for caution, they
hurriedly packed. Meg was just finishing up when Vinny
went to get Meg’s BMW out of the garage. He never made it
any farther.
A rocket launcher makes a ripping explosion. While
the car was still burning, Meg ran out the back door of her
house, across the yard, and kept going as fast as she could,
trying to outrun the horror and the fear. The house exploded
and caught fire behind her.
She knew Vinny’s colleagues, now her enemies,
would be looking for her as soon as they realized she was not
in the flaming wreckage with her husband.
Hectic and terrified days later she found herself far
away. In Canada she barely remembered how she had
traveled there, but knew she could only go on. The past was
gone forever. Alone once again in a hotel room with her
tears, the frightened woman assessed her situation.
Her husband was dead. She was being hunted. She
had the clothes on her back and some money. Their
emergency savings, twenty three thousand dollars in cash,
was in her purse. She had been ready to leave when Vinny,
the car, the suitcases, and her future exploded and burned.
She still had her pre marriage Jacobs identification which she
had never surrendered.

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

Meg looked out over the afternoon sunsoftened

harbour as she reflected on her past. All the good was gone,
leaving only the doubts, fears, and insecurities which had
been her gremlins since early childhood. She felt again the
pangs of early life with mother’s insecure and ambivalent
lifestyle. Shock and the memories made her feel weak, and
she trembled. There was only an uncertain future for her
now. All she knew for sure was that it lay somewhere over
the vast horizon.
“Hey, are you all right?” Doreen watched her new
friend’s skin suddenly pale and the bright eyes dull. It looked
like the girl was in pain. She was instantly concerned. “Do
you think you got too much sun or something? You look
kind of funny.”
“I’m fine Doreen.” Meg said as she snapped back
into time and place. “Just tired that’s all.” And Meg realized
that was the most honest she had been in days. “Let’s just get
out of here now. Throw your stuff on the cart and we can
wheel it back to your boat; it’s the least I can do.”
Back down the dock they went, laughing again and
talking about boats and ships and boys and men. Meg tried to
distract herself by focusing on the different vessels as they
strolled past, and Doreen kept up a running discourse. The
conversation remained light and meaningless until they
reached the very end of the dock. Meg just stared, amazed, at
the most incredible thing she had yet seen afloat.
It was huge, but somehow sleek, with dark yellow
hulls and a cream white deck. Taut and tightly coiled
multicolored lines hung on black spars and winches.
Everything looked so clean and neat and ready to go. Doreen
was watching Meg, and she began to laugh.
“Yes Darlin’, that’s my ship. For the next few weeks
anyway. It’s called a catamaran, and her name’s Second
Wind. Fiftyeight feet long, twentynine feet wide, and she’s

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

Meg turned down the dock to find Paul and Crazy

Lady ready to go. They too seemed anxious to leave the dock
behind. The long orange extension cord which provided the
only power to the cabin no longer ran in through the open
port hole. Likewise, the old green garden hose draping from
the dock for a crude makeshift shower and water supply was
disconnected and coiled on deck. The faded brown covers
had been removed and the furled white sails held a
luminescent glow in the lowering light. Paul jumped
impatiently out of the cockpit to help Meg move the laundry
below. In his haste he barely spoke. It must have been an
unpleasant meeting, Meg assumed. That was fine with her.
The sooner they were away from this island the safer she
would be.
The undocking procedure was a mystery to Meg. The
engine started with a wheezing grunt. She could no longer
clearly hear a thing Paul yelled at her, but finally he called
her close and firmly handed her a thin line.
“Just keep the dink and painter clear of the screw
when I’m backing down,” he tersely commanded, and
sprinted to the front where he began removing lines.
Meg had no idea what Paul was talking about, but she
was curious to see what was on the other end of the rope. As
the boat backed slowly out of the slip something began
tugging sharply at the other end from under the pier.
She nearly giggled with the idea that Paul had some
kind of seagoing pet attached and she was leading along. The
boat swung a clean curve away from the pier, shifted forward
with an ominous clunk, and slowly began picking up forward
speed. The line grew taut in Meg’s hand, and out from under
the dock bounded a small gray rubber boat.
She had seen these things skimming all over the
harbour, but none exactly like this one. It was patched and
faded, with a strange little motor on the back that looked like
pieces and spare parts stuck all together in an unlikely array.
42
To Meg the old British Seagull outboard had the look of
ancient bones attached to a barely floating carcass. The rope
was getting harder to hold by the second.
“Hey, you can let go of that line now,” Paul yelled.
Leaving the harbour, Meg looked back at the small
trailing boat. That is me, she thought, being dragged through
life. I’m off and heading over the horizon, and I don’t even
know where I’m going.
Standing at the helm, a foot up on the bench and
steering easily with one hand resting on the wheel, Paul
looked back to check the dink and saw that it was riding
properly. He thought it looked perfect back there, sitting on
the shimmering phosphorescent wake; following patiently
and waiting for its turn to come.
“Where are we going Paul?” Meg shouted into his ear
over the racket of the engine in the open cockpit.
He made a silly face and replied, “To the tip of the
tongue of the ocean, darlin’.
“t’s as good a place to start as any,” he told her. “It
might be a good idea for you to brush up on your diving if
it’s anything like your seamanship. I know just the place for
a good refresher course; old Mama Rhoda Rock. Why don’t
we get these sails up and we’ll talk about it. Now take the
wheel and hold her into the wind, just like this. I’ll get the
main halyard.”
Paul ran back and forth saying incomprehensible
things, pulling lines, and finally turning a crank on the mast.
The white sail flapped and slapped over her head. Paul ran
back to the cockpit, adjusted some lines, spun the wheel, and
killed the engine. Handing Meg another line with the short
command, “pull.” He turned a large winch on the side and,
like magic, a huge sail unfurled from the very front of the
boat and wrapped back to the cockpit. Paul took the line
from Meg’s hand and cinched it down, laughing.
With a small twist of the wheel Crazy Lady seemed
to bite the wind. All went quiet. She lay gently on her side in
the dark sea and began to fly. Megan felt a sudden sensation
of stability and peace.
43
 Paul said simply, “This is sailing. Are you ready to
talk about diving?”
The sensation of slipping quietly through the warm
,dark sea, lights of the island slipping smaller behind them
already, gave Meg a strange, light headed, giddy feeling. She
slumped into the leaning cockpit seat and braced herself with
her feet.
“Paul, I’m tired now, really tired.” Looking back for
a while she watched the island recede, a light speckled
silhouette against the rising moon.
“I think I’d better put the laundry away now.” It was
all she could think to say. Her senses were overloading and
her head was beginning to spin. “Okay Paul? We can talk
about diving later.”
“Sure later, good idea. Stow the laundry. Any place it
fits is fine for now. We won’t be needing a lot of clothes for
this cruise.”
Meg went below and crawled up onto the big forward
berth where the laundry bags were thrown. The gentle
sluicing noise of the hull cutting through the water was so
calming, she lay still for just a minute to listen. The rest of
her energy was expended in a few pulses of thought as she
rolled into a deep sleep.

***********

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

A warm, sweet-scented, almost textured breeze came

fluttering in bright colors through the open hatch. The
lapping of water against the hull was very soft. The colors in
the open hatch were yellow and red. She was confused at
first. Coming slowly awake, she thought it must be the sail.
She could have sworn they were white last night, but these
were vivid colors.
Most of the laundry was gone from the bed, with
only one large sack on either side of her. Her toes could feel
the rough canvas of the duffels and the soft cotton blanket
covering her. She quickly reached under the blanket,
relaxing instantly when she felt the rest of her clothing still
in place.
A trip to the tiny head with its frustrating pump and
valves was the first priority. Fortunately, directions for
operating the thing were on the wall.
She went up the companionway ladder to find Paul
reclining comfortably next to a fold down table in the middle
of the cockpit. The table held bowls of food, and Meg
realized that she was very, very hungry. From here she could
see the fluttering, colored wind scoop rigged to the front
hatch. The boat was at anchor.
“Welcome to brunch, lady. You must have been
exhausted, you’ve been sleeping for about twelve hours.”
“Oh no. Where are we? What day is this?” She
looked about her and saw a different world. Far different
even than the harbour at Nassau. They were alone in a quiet
cove, with a curving white sand beach. Low Casaurina Pines
and graceful palm trees dotted the small island, and surf
crashed methodically on the far shore. This was a picture of
tropical paradise that could exist in dreams.
She attacked the bowls of delicious food, although
some of the bowls held things she didn’t recognize. Meg
could feel the strength returning to her awakening mind and
body.

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.

48
 CHAPTER 15

Encouraged by her leading questions and enrapturing

smile, Paul fell into a long relaxed summary of his life. On
the slow ride out to the dive site he told Meg about his youth,
and growing up in middle class Worcester, Massachusetts.
His father had been ill most of Paul’s life. He had a
bad heart. Mother spent most of her time working to pay the
family bills. All in all it was an uninspiring childhood. Paul
was an only child, and an average student.
“You know,” he joked, “the kid the teachers always
said wasn’t achieving his potential.”
A lot happened in high school. The relationship with
his parents seemed to cool. “There wasn’t’ much family life
anyway,” Paul explained. And his social schedule and
athletics took up most of the time. Paul’s relationship with
his parents became cordial, if not quite formal. It was as
though they no longer knew what to say, or how to act with
each other.
“I suppose that’s when I started to drift away,” he
reminisced.
His father died of a long expected heart attack in
Paul’s junior year. Mother clung to her Church for support.
Paul found himself virtually alone in the world.
Although he tried to console his mother, he could
find no comfort or solace for himself in the formal
presumptuous ministrations of The Church.
He had long recognized the presence and power of
divinity, but whether Divinity was represented as a Being or
Pure Energy was unimportant to him. It was enough to
understand that the Power was. One thing he could not
believe was that these money grubbing, inept people his
mother was involved with were really the chosen
representatives of The Creator of the Universe. The more
Paul saw of it, the more organized religion began to look like
some sort of shabby franchise.
As his mother became more entrenched in religious
49
dogma, and Paul more disenchanted, he drifted further away
from the remains of his family and into his own life.
His father’s insurance policy had left some money for
Paul’s college education. Although his grades were mediocre
his athletic abilities were above average and won him a
modest scholarship. Some clever and impressively inspired
responses during his admission interview earned him a place
in the freshman class at Northeastern University.
Paul began his studies in the Liberal Arts with no
specific goal. He soon discovered an affinity for the sciences,
and undergraduate social life. Despite the difficult challenge
some of the courses presented he was drawn to the study of
oceanography and marine biology. What he enjoyed most of
all though was the liberal aspect of his education.
Boston is a great city for a college student, and
Northeastern’s Huntington Avenue is a lively neighborhood.
Months of carefree adolescent academia passed pleasantly
for Paul.
The stimulating intellectual environment included all
of the avante garde drugs of the day and copious quantities
of more earthly beer, wine, and liquor. Imagination turned to
substance in this magical time, and dreams turned to reality.
Beautiful, near grown women helped acquaint him with
some of the more sophisticated pleasures of the flesh and
spirit; far beyond anything he had even anticipated in high
school. He learned that his attractiveness to these fair ladies
could take him far. Paul was introduced to a higher plane.
The pleasures and lore of a bohemian society liberated by
drugs and intellect became his life. It was simple, pure, and
good. His hedonistic proclivities, however, urged him always
to want more.
School vacations were spent skiing in the mountains
of Vermont and New Hampshire, or during the summers, at
the beach. Paul’s athletic popularity and an endearing
manner earned him invitations to many places he might
never have otherwise discovered. Insurance and scholarship
money helped pay for his schooling, but there was never
anything left over for expenses. Paul worked several part
50
time jobs to pay for his recreation and other necessities of
life. He learned to recognize and accept advantageous
opportunities when they came along. He spent several such
expense free vacations as the guest of a close school friend at
the family’s summer retreat on Martha’s Vineyard Island. It
was there he had his first real experiences with boats and the
sea.
Through his school buddy Charles, and his family’s
largesse, Paul had access to all the benefits of their wealthy
New England life style: beach and tennis, croquet and golf,
water skiing, fishing, clamming, and boats. Charles’ family
owned a small fleet, all kinds of beautiful boats, and Paul
became proficient in every one. He became the family’s
semi-official boat captain and expert on all things nautical.
Along with their summertime friends, Paul and
Charles took Scuba courses at the local beach club. Paul was
immediately enamored of the quiet power below the waves.
He swiftly became a more than competent diver in the cold,
Cape waters.
Charles’ father provided every material thing for the
family. But the man himself was rarely around. Demands of
his business occupied nearly all of his energies and time. He
was fond of telling his family that he was preparing for a
wonderful retirement.
Everyone in the family was fond of Paul. He became
almost one of them. He participated in their social events and
long, elegant dinners. In the evenings, Charles’ family and
their guests would often speak longingly of winter cruises
and adventures in the Caribbean. Paul fell in love with the
idea of a sailing life in the beautiful islands. The stories
became associated in his mind with a life of comfort and
belonging.
Paul was, by now, the master of many different water
craft, but the family’s eighteen foot sloop became his special
obsession.
The carefree guys spent many happy hours tacking,
reaching, and running in and out of Vineyard Haven Harbor.
Paul acquired knowledge and solved many of the mysteries
51
tradition required of a man of the sea. He knew this was the
life for him.
At the end of that last magic summer, on the annual
family Labor Day cruise, Paul was alone in the wheel house
of the family’s glossy, forty-eight foot motor yacht.
TEMPUS FUGIT was gliding effortlessly through Nantucket
Sound. A full swing cocktail party on the after-deck was
louder than the diesels’ exhaust. Charles’ father came in and
sat down beside Paul at the controls. The excited voice of his
brand new wife rose shrill above the din before he closed the
door.
At first Paul had tried to like the woman and reassure
his friend Charles. They finally decided to, at least, give her
the benefit of the doubt, but that was not enough. The doubts
became insurmountable. Privately, Charles and Paul called
her Bubbles. She was a plastic woman; a classic, living,
painted Barbie Doll model of a rich man’s toy.
The father had changed since the death of Charles’
mother a year ago. He had visibly aged, despite his valiant
efforts to demonstrate otherwise. This recent second
marriage was regarded by many in the family as a last gasp.
Paul had a great deal of love and respect for the man and
wanted, needed, very much to understand him. This captain
of industry was Paul’s tower of strength.
The old man had been cocktailing for awhile, and his
face looked more worn and worried than usual. He was a
winner and champion in the game of life, Paul thought, but
now he looked more beaten and tired than the loser. His sad
and introspective mood was a melancholy surprise. He
seemed far away as the yacht churned into the dusk.
“Do you know what I named this boat, Paul?” he
asked suddenly. Slightly confused, Paul answered,
“TEMPUS FUGIT, sir. Latin for ‘time flies’.
The old fellow nodded solemnly, then he almost
smiled. “It’s a joke son. A sad joke. To myself I’ve always
called her TEMPUS FUG IT. I’m sure you know what that
means in English.” He looked at Paul and sighed, “I envy
you boy. You have youth, and your health, and your whole
52
life ahead of you. Make the most of it while you can. Money
isn’t everything, believe me. Because one day, before you
know it - tempus fugit - the time is gone and the game is up.
If only... If only...
He leaned forward in the dim lights of the elaborate
instrument panel and raised a tall cocktail glass to roll
against his forehead. Glancing over, Paul couldn’t tell if the
glistening trickle on his cheek was condensation from the
glass, or a tear.
Three weeks later, back at school, Charles was called
away to attend his father’s funeral. The old man had taken
his own life. Exactly why, no one ever discussed.
Paul left school shortly after that. He took his meager
savings, what was left of his inheritance, and a small bequest
from the old man. He fled to Florida and bought himself a
boat.
The time he spent refurbishing and outfitting CRAZY
LADY at the huge marina in Coconut Grove was an
opportunity to lose himself. He dedicated his days to
transforming the time worn wooden boat into a classic
beauty. His nights were mostly spent in dockside bars.
From the other shore-bound sailors he heard a dream
and caught the fever. He desired to some day have a pleasant
and lucrative charter business in the islands. He learned
some important things about boats, and one very important
thing about the people who live on them. He realized that if
he stayed at the dock too long it would be a toss up as to
whether the booze and drugs killed him before he went
completely broke.
Paul took his ship, the little that was left of his
money, and the beginnings of his dreams to sea. He cruised
the Bahamas for a short while. But there, it seemed, the
wandering spirit that had infected his heart and psyche
slowly deserted him. The harder he searched for it the more
lost he became.
For a while he managed to get by okay, diving for
biological specimens that he sold to a company in Florida.
The company belonged to one of his former professors. He
53
enjoyed the challenge at first. Finding and procuring
specimens kept him at least vaguely in touch with the world
of science and research. It did not pay very well, but the
work was rewarding and interesting.
Over time the requests came less for specimens of
scientific interest and more for items better suited to
decorative purposes. The work never paid very well anyway,
and Paul came to hate the idea of tearing away pieces of
nature’s finest creations to please the silly tourists.
“I felt very noble for a while.” Paul explained. The
funny motor chugged along and the rubber boat flexed over
the waves on the way out to the dive site. “Then I realized I
was broke and still in debt.
“I had offers. I have a lot of friends in the business
out here. I’ve helped smuggle a few loads from time to time,
but that’s all changing now. Adam and his type have made it
a different game; more political and a lot more dangerous.
“Anyway, I thought I was lucky when all he asked
me to do was capture some dolphins for him. I thought
everything would be all right, but I couldn’t go through with
it. The truth is there was nothing noble about that either. A
young dolphin in the pen started crying and the sound just
broke my heart, that’s all. I didn’t feel right and I couldn’t
stand it. So I just swam in late one night and let them all out.
After that, sitting at the dock in Nassau amid the
tropical rush of women, wine, and song, Paul came to know
the second doubts of the lonely and the lost. He had no
regrets and nothing to go back to, but his future was still a
vast unknown.
Meg listened, and recognized a belated sense of
maturity creeping up on Paul, despite his resistance. It was a
reality she was coming to know herself. They were both
being chased by demons of the past and present. Time and
life swirled together in a dense formless cloud, but there was
little she could do about it except play the game and try to
survive from day to day. At least they were both safe and
free in the islands, for now.

54
 CHAPTER 16

Mamma Rhoda Rock lies like the fat belly of an

overturned freighter in the calm waters not far from Chub
Cay on the tip of the Tongue of the Ocean. Here the deep
water of the Atlantic cuts into the Bahaman Bank to lick the
shallow, prolific warmth of the islands. The Banks are alive
with more species of sea creatures than have possibly been
counted.
Surrounding the great supine rock the coral is dense
from the surface to about forty feet. It is a maze of canyons
that create an intricate haven and breeding ground. The reef
is a miniature undersea universe where nearly every species
of small, warm water fish and plant can live and flourish in
the colorful coral jungle. The water is clear and the diving
and fishing are superb. The larger specimens of marine life
occasionally swim in here also. They cruise in from the
nearby deep water tongue, looking for an easy meal like
tourists at an all you can eat buffet.
After a great deal of wiggling and jostling in the
small skiff, Meg finally managed to crawl into her
equipment. Much to her satisfaction she emerged with the
stuff strapped on just like Paul’s. He was watching her
closely.
He moved close, reached behind her, and turned on
the air with a sharp hiss. “Do you want to carry a spear?” he
asked.
“Of course,” Meg responded briskly. Wasn’t the
spear an important part of all this stuff? And there might be
things down there.
Paul passed her a Hawaiian sling; a five foot stainless
steel shaft running through a thick handle into a heavy
rubber loop. As Meg studied the slingshot-like weapon, Paul
simply rolled backwards off the side of the Zodiac into the
water. Oh well she thought. Monkey see - monkey do. She
swallowed a great breath and wriggled backwards on the
slippery pontoon, but it was not as easy as it looked. She lost
55
her balance. The spear flew to the bottom of the boat and lay
there as she grappled with the sky, fell backwards down the
side of the dingy, and started to sink upside down into the
ocean.
Paul reached out with a quick hand on her harness as
she floated by, and he got her straightened up. With a few
strong kicks he had them over to the anchor line where he
held on tight and watched closely until she started to breath.
The bubbles made a reassuring sound as they rose up to
blossom on the surface. Meg found both of her hands
gripping the thin line and her flippered feet trying to climb.
She could tell he was grinning even with the regulator in his
mouth. He flashed her the universal 0K sign and, without
waiting for a response, sank slowly away. After a moment of
watching carefully Meg followed, monitoring the sounds of
her own breathing.
This isn’t so bad. In fact it’s beautiful. The colors
surrounded her, and clouds of small fish played in the current
near the coral cliff. Paul is on the bottom now, watching her,
and she tries to remember everything he has recently told her
about diving.
The face mask has a couple of convenient
indentations for her thumb and fore finger. She pinched her
nose, blew gently, and rocked her head. The sudden release
of pressure cleared more than her ears though. Her whole
head, body, even her mind seemed to be functioning more
clearly now. It was as though the pressures of life were all
relieved with one great sinus squeezing, ear hissing pop.
Gingerly, she loosened her grip on the rope and slid gently
down to stand beside Paul on the white bottom of the ocean.
This is great!
Standing on the pure sand bottom, Meg looked up at
the coral canyon walls rising on both sides of her. It is a
deep, lush valley. Colorful cliffs rise vertically like tall
painted buildings on both sides of a narrow street. The gentle
bubbling sound of their breath is superimposed over a
steady, rhythmic pulse of the sea itself. Everything - plants,
fish, and people sway to the invisible tune of the tide. Meg
56
has never experienced such awesome power and peace. She
is weightless in body and spirit. Fear is nearly forgotten with
the wonders of the place.
Paul’s hand on her shoulder reminds her that there is
more to do. She turns slowly to see him floating at an angle
several feet off the ground behind her. He motions that he is
heading to one of the colorful walls and she should follow.
They swim slowly down the valley on a sightseeing trip
around corners and through a wonderful maze of color and
life. Schools of small, brightly colored fish sweep in and out
among the purple, yellow, white, and red sea plants. Larger
fish swim by with tolerant but guarded looks. Conch and
starfish carry on their stately affairs on the sandy bottom.
Meg took it all in with the wonder of observing eyes in a
new world.
Paul is in his element now, and as he approaches the
wall he stiffens, slows, and begins to stalk. Meg watches
carefully as he grips the handle of his Hawaiian sling with
one hand and draws back the spear with the other. A fluid
tuck and powerful kick shoot him under a ledge festooned
with swaying sea fans. Meg can see his powerful legs
maneuvering, but his bubbles have stopped. Paul’s upper
body is wedged into the rocks and now his legs are giving
only occasional light kicks. It seems the time has been
forever. There are still no bubbles, and Meg doesn’t know
what to do. She realizes that she is not breathing either and
takes a long, shuddering drag of air. Then a burst of silver
breath appears sliding up Paul’s back towards his feet and
the bubbles climb the canyon wall skyward as he pushes
himself back out of the cave with a large striped fish attached
to the spear.
Proudly displaying his catch, Paul gestures toward
the reef wall and indicates that Meg should try her hand. She
thinks about it for a moment, but this is all too much. The
fish looks huge, still shivering slightly on the silver shaft
passing high through the body behind the gills. She firmly
decides, and shakes her head to decline the offer of the spear.
Paul just nods, touches her on the arm, and leads her to the
57
anchor line again, and up.
The surface of the peaceful sea is a noisy place after
the tranquillity of the deep. Wind is blowing, waves
slapping, and the little rubber boat is flopping and popping
on its thin anchor line as they climb aboard. It is still the
same sunny beautiful day, but the surface seems so much
more hectic now.
Unbuckling harness and hissing air create an other
worldly chaos as they doff their equipment on the undulating
rubber floor. The exhilaration is fantastic.
What she has just seen and done in the wonders of
the deep sweeps over Meg in an irrepressible surge of
emotion. With one flipper off and one still on she flung
herself on Paul to hug him tightly, pressed against the soft
tube of the dinghy’s hull. She buried her head in his damp
neck and shoulder - and the world held still for a moment.
Surprise held them close for a moment longer.
“Well, I’ve never had QUITE that reaction before,”
Paul told her with a happy laugh. “I’m glad you like my
garden. This is a beautiful place, isn’t it?”
The cares and troubles of the world nearly passed,
but then they flowed back in again all too swiftly. Meg was
embarrassed by her own deep blush, and turned away to
straighten her bathing suit. As they separated she could not
help but notice the tightening response in Paul’s thin suit and
she involuntarily trembled, perhaps from the breeze. He
watched it all in her eyes and drew back.
“I know, you must be starving,” he said, still
laughing gently. “Let’s get back to the boat. You’re out of air
anyway. That was a good long dive, nearly an hour.”
An hour! Meg found it hard to believe; her whole life
was changing in, it seemed, just beats of her heart. So much
had happened so fast. She had to slow down and let herself
catch up.
Lunch was a quick but elegant affair. Paul brought
out a propane fueled hibachi that clamped to the life rail, and
while it was heating he deftly skinned and filleted the fish.
He put the thick, fresh steaks in a shallow pan with squeezed
58
lime juice and spices.
“If you will prepare a salad Ma’am, we shall shortly
dine on grouper supreme and whatever you create. Don’t
forget to chill the white wine. I’ll go forward and take care of
the equipment, it won’t take too long.” With that he was
gone.
Meg toweled her hair and put on one of Paul’s large
flowered shirts. Then she made a salad with a little fresh
produce and some things from the kitchen cabinet, oops...
galley locker. Surprisingly, it turned out looking very good.
She realized how hungry she was.
The fish sizzled on the grill and the smell was
delicious. Meg propped up the cockpit table, set out dishes,
utensils, and the salad, and went below again for the glasses
and wine. Paul was on the fore deck fooling with the
compressor and hooking up the tanks. She hoped he
wouldn’t start the motor until after lunch.
The meal was tremendous. Meg could feel the
strength and energy flowing through her body as she ate. The
wine was dry and cool from the ice box; not a good vintage,
perhaps only one step above a screw top. But Meg thought it
was some of the best she had ever tasted. Crazy Lady swung
on her anchor caressed by the gentle breeze. It was
impossible to feel less than content. Wind and waves sang
their magic song while the sated couple lay back on the
cockpit benches to rest and enjoy just being alive.
Eventually, Paul roused himself and took the dishes
to one side of the boat and shook off the scraps. He had to
laugh at Meg’s look of horror as she watched the defilement.
“No harm done,” he assured her, “come here and
watch.” Small food scraps littered the surface of the crystal
water and began to sink slowly toward the multi-colored
bottom. Nothing went very far. Schools of fish swarmed up
to intercept the swirling, falling particles.
“From the sea to the sea,” Paul said seriously, “and
everything stays in proportion. Balance is an important part
of nature.”
She could tell that this was a subject he had carefully
59
considered as he began to explain.
“In a balanced system nothing goes to waste. Those
little fish need to eat too, and it’s part of their job to be
scavengers. Rarely in nature does so much excess occur that
it can throw the environment out of whack. Unfortunately,
man has become one of those exceptions. We are capable of
producing more than we can even use or really want. So
much goes to waste that even nature has a hard time
swallowing it all. The sea does a good job providing for me,
and I’m very careful how I return the favor. I wouldn’t put
anything in the water that would do any damage. Even this
soap we use is biodegradable in salt water. The best place to
do the dishes, by the way,” he said with a grin, “is from the
dingy.”
Paul put the dishes in a large net diving bag. “If
you’ll handle this part, I’ll take care of refilling the tanks so
we can dive again before dinner.”

60
 CHAPTER 17

Early dinner on board the catamaran yacht Second

Wind was an island formal affair. Conch salad, baked
chicken, peas and rice, and the traditional rum punch were
laid out on the spacious salon dining table. Talk was about
their trip. The crew was excited and ready to leave first thing
in the morning. Doreen and Captain Ray chatted about the
places they where going and things they would do. Bruno ate
an enormous quantity, then sat quietly listening to the
conversation and watching his muscles ripple.
As Doreen was gregarious, outgoing, and quick,
Bruno was steady, quiet, and strong as a bull. As a former
defensive lineman on the University football team he had
totaled impressive statistics and earned a start with a semi-
pro ball club. He was on his way to a career in the N F L
before the inevitable injury. But it would take more than that
to get the big man down; he still had a lot going for him. His
education was in park and recreation administration. His
passions were sports, recreation, and parks. And he actually
knew a great deal about his subjects. He also loved Doreen
dearly, in his huge, shy, quiet way. In turn, Doreen
considered him the perfect guy.
“So Bruni honey, how went your day today?”
Bruno brightened and swung his head back and forth.
“I’ll tell ya Dori, these guys down here could sure use some
help with their parks and recreation stuff, you know. There
are hardly any parks, more like empty fields. And they don’t
have any sports teams at all.”
“About the only thing they have worth lookin’ at are
a couple of small golf courses. I sure hope there’s some more
interesting stuff to check out where we’re going.”
Doreen gave him her wide eyed smiling stare.
Captain Ray couldn’t help but smile himself. He had been
two days already trying to figure out this strange
relationship, but it seemed to work out happily for the both
of them.

61
 “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.”

64
 CHAPTER 18

The wild thudding frenzy of the Club Caribe pounded

through the floorboards like a pulse beat in Mr. Adam’s
sound proofed offices. Three men sat at the long, teak
conference table, and Bingo stood silently and to one side of
Mr. Adam at the table’s head. Seated next to him was a tall,
swarthy man with curly, dark, graying hair.
Not one of these islands, his olive skin and heavy jaw
proclaimed him a descendant of Mediterranean climes. At
the other end of the long conference table sat Deebe, a
separate part of their conversation. Outside the heavy, teak
door, two muscular young men in dark suits stood to either
side,like matched book ends, with their backs to the glass
wall. A private, hushed conversation had been going on
between the two men inside for some time while Deebe sat
waiting patiently. Finally Mr. Adam spoke to him.
“Deebe my friend, I am glad you have come. As you
know, your friend Paul Sullivan is doing a little work for me.
Soon now we should have a fine supply of that elusive black
coral. In the mean time it is, of course, important to keep an
eye on our equally elusive Captain Sullivan. Your
observation of him leaving to the South last night has been
very helpful. My colleague here is very interested in the
young woman who sailed with him.”
The heavy man slid a photograph of a long, blond
haired woman down the table. “Is this the broad who got on
that boat kid?”
Deebe looked steadily at the picture of the pretty
lady.
“Yes sir, dis de lady. Hair be short now and dark.
And she lookin’ older now, tired maybe. What she done?”
“Done? She done nothin’ kid. I’m just lookin’ for her
that’s all. She ran away and her mama’s worried sick, and
her friends are concerned. You know where she is? It’s
worth a lot of money to her friends if you know where she is
now.”
65
 Deebe only shrugged and looked helplessly to Mr.
Adam. “There be so many islands down that way you know.
I can’t know where he be now. Lots a boats goin’ out in da
mornin’ an maybe they see that yawl. You got a message for
de lady sir?” Deebe asked politely. He shifted his gaze to
look into the dark eyes and tremendous white smile of the
important visitor.
The man stared at Deebe and finally said, “Sure. Sure
I got a message kid. You tell her that everything’s okay and
she can come back now. You tell her that her Uncle Sal’s
come to take her home.”
Deebe nodded his acceptance. His existence right
now depended on his performance and appeasing these men.
But ‘Uncle Sal’ didn’t fool him for a minute. Deebe knew a
shark when he saw one.
“Do not worry Sal,” Mr. Adam told him confidently.
“My fishing boats and charter aircraft are all over these
islands. Wherever that yawl is, we’ll find her soon enough. I
will have everyone looking hard in the islands south of here
tomorrow.”
“Deebe, leave us now and return to business. We
have other pressing matters to discuss. You are to let me
know immediately if you have any further news of the Crazy
Lady or her crew.”
Dismissed, Deebe left the room with his own
thoughts. The street was busy, teeming with the evening flow
of a busy Caribbean town. Two new cruise ships were in that
afternoon and had recently unloaded. Gaily clad tourists
were bustling everywhere, taking in each other’s ambiance
and making the most of an exotic setting to escape from their
everyday regular lives.
Deebe watched the lost school of humanity, but had
no time now to ply his trade. Circumstances were bringing a
new seriousness to his life. He was concerned for his friend
Paul, and also his own future. He set off at a steady pace,
contemplating many things and formulating his own agenda.

66
 CHAPTER 19

The steady thrumming of the air compressor finished

with a last sigh. Paul uncoupled the tanks, carried them aft,
and lowered them into the Zodiac. Meg was still stretched
full length, face down on the port cockpit bench. He casually
knelt, intending only to wake her, but caressed and then
kissed the warm neck gently below her ear.
Meg startled and jumped to a sitting position. Roused
from her own dreamland she was frightened. Her instincts
led her to a defensive attack.
“Hey. What the hell is going on?” her voice leapt out
before her brain could consider.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Paul responded, hurt
and confused. “What’s so different from the night I picked
you up in the bar?”
“Picked ME up in a bar? Who do you think you’re
kidding? I picked YOU up because you were easy picking
and I was in a hurry.” Meg was confused and furious. She
was torn between a reflexive chill and another, strange
sensation. She was beginning to feel the beginnings of what
she feared may be desire. She could handle Paul all right, but
she had to watch herself. This must be just a reaction to the
destruction of my life, she thought. I’ll be fine. I’ve got
enough problems without getting involved in all THAT too.
Meg looked back and could tell at a glance that she
had crushed his ego. She had to keep this guy on the line
awhile longer. And her sharp bark had made them both feel
terrible.
“Sorry Paul,” she uttered, nearly truly contrite. “I... I
didn’t mean that like it sounded. You’re a very sweet guy.
But we didn’t exactly sleep together that night. In fact,” she
couldn’t help but smile at the memory, “you passed out on
me, sailor. You went out cold as soon as we got back to the
boat and you jumped out of your clothes and flopped into
bed. I slept in the other cabin. I think you’re a wonderful
person, and I’m very happy to be out here with you. Let’s
67
just take that other part easy for a while okay. I need some
time. Let’s get to know each other. Please?”
Her natural charm and supplicating words soothed his
bruised feelings. Any anger turned to weak embarrassment.
“Okay lady. I guess this is your charter.” he said, and
turned away to try and restore his dignity.
Meg knew this would be a good time to distract his
thoughts.
“Paul, tell me some more about Captain Ray and
those brass cannon?” she asked.
“What is there to tell? Ray is a great old guy, but I
already had a father, you know. One was enough. We did
have some good times running those charters together. He
really has that boat fixed up right. It made things easy when
we found those cannon in the Abacos.”
“Too bad,” he reflected almost wistfully, “treasure
diving is such a sucker’s bet. People have spent lives and
fortunes searching these waters and most never even
discovered where they were or saw what they were really
missing. They found only frustration in paradise. That’s what
I call really missing the boat.
“Now if you’re ready,” he stretched and scanned the
horizon, “I’d like to get in one good dive on the wall before
we lose the light. We can pick up something for dinner and
scout for what we’re supposed to be looking for.”
Paul issued brief commands while they prepared to
get under way in the Zodiac for the deep dive on the reef
wall at the tip of the Tongue of the Ocean. Most of the way
out, Paul rode quietly, still in a mild sulk. Meg was reminded
of the succession of petulant boys in high school and college.
“Oh brother,” she thought to herself, “this is almost
ridiculous. I only meant to cool him off, not create a major
trauma”.
“The plan is to drop down to 100 feet,” Paul told her
in his commanding voice, “you’ll be holding the end of the
anchor line and the spare tanks. I’ll take it from there and go
deep looking for the coral.” He spoke tersely as they
approached the area in a mild chop. “Just be there when I
68
need another tank. If you lose sight of me, try to follow my
sounds and the bubbles. Whatever you do, don’t go back up
without me. We’ll be deep and we’ve already been down
once today. We’re going to have to decompress this time or
we’ll be asking for trouble.”
Paul killed the jangling little motor and they started
crawling into their gear. When Meg took off her floppy
canvas sun hat and wind breaker he was dismayed at how
lovely she looked in her yellow and black striped tank suit.
Colorful and flighty as a reef fish, he thought. It helped his
concentration considerably when she put on her buoyancy
vest and a face mask. This time she was first over the side,
and Paul passed over the extra tanks tied to the dinghy’s thin
nylon anchor line.
“Remember” he said very clearly, “be there when I
need those tanks. If you have any trouble, bang on the tanks
with your knife and I’ll come running.”
Down into the azure sea. They sank until the water
turned more dark than blue as the chill Atlantic slid under the
warm Caribbean Sea. Meg hung like a puppet on the end of
her string. Paul descended through the thermocline. In the
cold water, buoyancy turned more negative and he took off
down the reef wall.
At 165 feet he found a large overhang. This could be
it, he thought; if there is black coral around here anyplace
this is a likely looking spot. He switched on the powerful
light and swam under.
The cave didn’t go in very deep, and a quick look
showed no branching black coral, but the trip was not a
complete waste. The dive light’s bright beam picked out
dozens of lobsters. They were hanging from the roof and
bunching into the back of the shallow cave like alien subway
travelers squeezing into the last car.
Paul opened his net bag and, with gloved hands,
began scooping in the spiny shelled creatures.
Rang rang rang! Reverberated thickly through the
liquid atmosphere. The emergency signal of knife handle on
steel. What now? Paul thought. He had no idea what could
69
be wrong, but this depth was no place for idle speculation.
Quickly as possible he scooped a last lobster, hooked the bag
to his belt, and kicked back up toward the still clanging
signal.
The emergency was real and immediate. Three
dangerous and truly ugly hammerhead sharks were circling
slowly, with Meg in the middle of their chilling orbit. She
looked like a bait in her diagonally striped suit, dangling on
the end of the anchor line and revolving slowly trying to
keep all the sharks in sight. She was breathing so hard that
great clouds of bubbles were blowing out of her regulator
exhaust into a fragmented silvery stream that corkscrewed
out of sight toward the distant surface.
Paul drew his stainless steel dive knife from a leg
scabbard, reached into the net beg, and began gutting
lobsters, throwing pieces of them to the current in hopes of
distracting the sharks with easier prey. It worked for the
largest two. They peeled off and began swallowing the
morsels in huge bites of sea water. But the five foot
adolescent remained more interested in the shimmering
bubbles, and Megan. With few alternatives left he rose
between girl and beast twisting the heavy knife in his hand.
Sharks are nearly prehistoric creatures, well designed
for survival. Constantly on the move they have evolved into
nearly perfect eating machines. There is little they are afraid
of until they learn it can hurt them. Basically they are more
curious than bold. Sleek aerodynamic design and powerful
muscles ease them quickly through the water. A tough,
leathery, abrasive hide protects their bodies. The brain is not
used for consideration, and is even too small to make an
adequate target. In the hierarchy of the sea, sharks are nearly
invulnerable.
These beasts are guided by centuries of instinct and
long, lateral multisensory nerves which run down the sides
of the body and join at the head. This joining of the nerve
occurs at the tip of the snout, right on the end of the
monster’s nose. It is a weak point. One thing with a
hammerhead though, is that it doesn’t have a nose to speak
70
of. Its body ends in grotesque hammerlike protrusions which
prompt the name, and the huge mouth is slung beneath. Dim
witted eyes adorn the ends of the hammers. The islanders
call it the devil fish.
Paul raised his knife in a last ditch, desperate effort.
The plan was to frighten the shark off by striking it on the
blunt nose with the butt of the knife and hoping to hit the
nerve ganglion. It was the only chance. Trying to stab the
thing was out of the question. Even if he could pierce the
tough hide, a small knife wound would only enrage the
shark; and blood would bring the others with renewed
interest.
The water suddenly exploded. Massive gray forms
were spinning and thrashing all around, and swirling currents
tore Paul’s facemask loose. He could see almost nothing.
And while he grappled for his mask he nearly panicked
waiting for a flesh tearing tug on one of his arms or legs.
By the time he got his mask back on and cleared, the
sharks were gone. There were only gray shapes lurking in the
distance, but there seemed to be more of them. The girl had a
vice grip on his arm. He tried to silently reassure her and
motioned her to be calm. Several of the gray shapes were
turning in again.
With an audible sigh of relief Paul saw that it was
dolphins approaching; a large male with his mate and
youngster. Dolphins are one of the few inhabitants of the sea
that have no fear of sharks. Their courage and loyalty to their
own, and especially their young, is legendary. So is their
affinity and protectiveness to men in distress in the sea. The
sharks stayed a safe distance off to reconsider these bubbling
things from the other world. Despite his fear, Paul never felt
so safe and at home in the sea.
Paul wasted no time. He grabbed Meg by the harness,
injected a shot of air into his vest, and began a slow, steady
rise, switching to a full tank on the move. She was small and
helpless. Wrapped in the cumbersome equipment, Meg
floated with her eyes wide open, completely rigid, at the end
of his fist.
71
 The dolphins stayed with them, circling protectively
while they waited through the short decompression stops that
seemed to take forever.
Later, much later, back in the skiff, Meg realized that
she was alive and awake, but still so terrified and tired that
she could barely control herself. Her jaw would not unclench
and she was still shivering inside. On top of everything else,
she expected to feel the brunt of Paul’s scorn at any moment.
He didn’t have much to say on the way back to the
Crazy Lady. He wasn’t feeling so chipper himself. The cold
touch of mortal fear takes time to thaw even in the tropical
sun. On board he immediately became the concerned
skipper, draping the silent girl with a light cotton blanket and
propping her feet on the cockpit bench. For himself, he went
below to retrieve a nearly full bottle of amber rum. They sat
out in the silvery soft, early evening light; Paul sipping
occasionally at his bottle, Meg just looking out to sea.
Paul spoke after a while to reassure the girl, as
though speech would drive away the demonic specter.
“That was really something out there today Meg. I’m
proud of you,” he spoke in a calm, sincere tone. “I don’t
know of many other divers who could have hung in there
with three hammerheads circling. Hell, I don’t know if I
could have done it. I’m still scared half to death just thinking
about it. As far as I’m concerned you can dive with me any
place and any time.”
His gentle, reassuring voice pulled Meg back from
the dark abyss. Now she felt ashamed that she was so scared.
And Paul was being so nice. “Paul, I want to thank...”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Lady, if you hadn’t hung
in there with the anchor line and the air bottles I’d be shark
soup now.”
Meg warmed and nearly glowed with the compliment
despite the grisly imagery.
“Thank you,” Paul continued. “Now I’ll tell you
what. I think we’ve both had enough diving for a little while.
We both had a good scare and a fast ascent. We should stay
on top of the water for a couple of days. To tell you the truth
72
I just don’t feel like hanging around here. Why don’t we take
it easy, rest up, and sail somewhere else for a couple of
days? How does that sound to you, partner?”
Meg thought it sounded like a wonderful idea. She
wasn’t sure she was going in the water ever again. She
smiled a little and just nodded her head. Paul had already
guessed her opinion.
“I’ve been thinking about that barrier reef up in the
Abacos,” he went on with a touch of optimism in his voice,
“There’s a good chance we can get our coral up there. What
do you think?”
Climbing out of shock is like feeling your thoughts
and emotions awakening one piece at a time. Pins and
needles of the mind. A strange tingling fluttered through
Meg. She was afraid she might throw herself on this man,
hold him tight, and begin to cry.
Right now she couldn’t have cared less where they
were going or what they were doing. Deeper needs were
pulling on her frightened heart. But still there was that deep
fear learned long ago. Fear of what might not be. The kind of
fear that starts young and can chase and clutch at a soul for a
lifetime. It becomes a fear of life itself. At the moment her
tortured memories cried out run. Run! And Meg could hear
no other voice.
“Let’s go Paul. Right now,“ she said in a thick
whisper. She stood and gripped the rail, watching the sky
melt into the sea. Briefly she considered the significance of
returning to the north; the danger that pursued her. She knew
that she must stay on the run, but what difference could a
direction make. Alone on the sea, in this boat, any place she
might be could as easily be the most remote corner of the
world, she thought. She needed more time to think. Time to
sort things out. Time to regain control of herself.
Despite his fatigue, and the extra caution required to
navigate at night, Paul decided to concede to Meg’s wish. He
understood the simple power of motion. The ability it had to
wash and dim the past and ease the way for a brighter
tomorrow.
73
 Paul performed his sailor’s dance and once again,
like magic in the evening twilight, the sails rose, anchors
weighed, and the Crazy Lady slid out into the night. The
ocean’s fates had dictated they should fly to the north and
unknown sanctuary, for now.
Once under way someone had to clear the gear
cluttered decks and check the charts. Paul knew that his
passenger had need of an absorbing distraction.
“Meg,” he called, “I need a hand. Come here and take
the wheel, please.”
Reluctantly she stood at the helm with Paul right
behind her. Calm, and speaking slowly, he let her get
comfortable with the feel of the ship. She was a natural he
realized, as some people are, and had the boat well in control
in a very short time. They were standing close, nearly
touching. But both now felt cautious and shy; confused about
the closeness, or the meaning of a touch.
“Paul...,” she began softly, ready to say something
she was still uncertain of.
“Yea, well you’ve got the feel of her now,” he
acknowledged, stepping back. “Just hold steady on this
course. I need to go below and do some navigating.”
There is nothing like the feel of a fine old sailboat
under way, especially at night with a fair wind. Crazy Lady
was alive and responsive to the touch of her hand on the
helm. She could feel and control every puff of breeze and the
ship’s motion on the waves. The magic of the sea and and a
tropical night invaded her soul. The warm winds did their
best to soften her frozen heart. The remembrance of Paul’s
strong arms around her and the clean salty smell of him close
gave her a happy, safe feeling. Maybe. She allowed the
thought. Maybe if only...
Paul returned from the cabin satisfied that their
course would keep them in safe water for some time. He
showed Meg how to lash the wheel.
“We can’t leave her alone for long like this,” he
explained, “but until the wind or currents shift she’ll hold

74
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.

75
 CHAPTER 20

Second Wind left her berth at the dock’s ‘T’ end,

raised sails, and slipped out of Nassau Harbour on the early
morning tide. She is a beautiful sight, especially under sail,
stable and graceful. Her angular main sail and billowing blue
and white stripe genoa pulled her smoothly along. Water
foamed in frothy bow waves from the dark golden hulls.
Despite her stately bulk, the high tech catamaran could move
at twice the speed of ordinary sailboats her size.
Captain Ray stood in the large center cockpit
clutching the wheel. After the controlled frenzy of leaving
the dock and raising sails, he was obviously still suffering
from his night on the town.
“Many questions in many crowded bars and noisy
nightclubs,” he groaned in answer to Doreen and Bruno ‘s
inquiries. “Maybe I’m getting too old for this island life;
certainly for the night life part. But I found out what I needed
to know.” The crew perked up, anxious to hear the news.
“I ran into a guy named Deebe,”the captain told
them, “A friend of Paul’s, I think, and a real clever fella.
He’s connected to everyone and everything that goes on
around here. I think he’s even working with Mr. Adam
lately. Adam’s a big business guy around town.
Paul’s worked for this Adam off and on a few times.
The last time was a dolphin collecting project that was bad
news. Even Paul finally figured it out. When the dolphins
mysteriously dissappeared from a guarded pen one night,
Adam went ballistic. Everyone suspected Paul. I think he did
it too; the lad’s got a solid sense of decency in him.
“But Adam and Paul have been on the outs ever
since. Adam feels that Paul owes him big. And this Adam is
a dangerous guy. They say Adam controls a major piece of
every illegal activity in these islands. Anyway, Deebe told
me that this guy Adam is very interested in Paul, and Megan
too.

76
 “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.”

79
 CHAPTER 21

“When we found those old cannon,” Paul was telling

Meg as they cruised comfortably north, “Ray and I were
diving on a particularly nasty section of the reef. When
storms come in from the Atlantic things can get really wild,
and it’s a dangerous shore. The current and wind can whip
up waves that make it almost impossible to see the openings
in the reef. Of course, in that kind of weather anyone out in a
boat is being blown onto the reef and wants to get through it
safely between the islands into the lee for protection. We
figured a lot of the old Spanish sailing ships just didn’t make
it. It’s tricky, and that reef shows a lot of false holes in a
storm. Anyway, he explained, “we named that place
Balboa’s Bar, after the explorers and sailors who probably
stayed on the reef forever.
“There’s some good diving there. We may even be
able to find some black coral on the ocean side of the reef.
Second Wind knows where we’re going now and they’ll
probably catch up with us soon. In the meantime all we can
do is wait. Maybe,” he said with a large wink, “we should
even look for treasure.”
Meg gave him a playful punch in the arm that
actually hurt.
With the wind behind them and the white sails
billowing out to port, Crazy Lady made good time toward
the barrier reef protecting the long string of Abaco islands
from the force, and sometimes fury, of the open Atlantic.
Strategically located about two hundred miles off the
coast of Florida, on the edge of the trade Winds and the Gulf
stream, the Abaco out islands are jewels in the Bahaman
chain. They are blessed with the deep, clear Atlantic on one
side and the shallow, prolific waters of The Sea of Abaco on
the other. The strategic location of the island group provides
an easy access to the New World.
These islands have always been a stopping place for
sailors, explorers, conquerors, sackers, pirates, smugglers,
80
and seekers of many things. Untold riches from the Americas
and Europe have crossed this point going in different
directions over the course of time. The islands and the sea
itself, as often happens in such places, lay claim to a portion
of allbooty as fair toll; adding the glitter of gold to the
bounty of nature’s beauty.
To the people who love and live in these islands, all
of this history is understood as well as known. The glittering
treasures are few and far between. Time and the sea have
hidden most of them well. But it is known, and very well
undersrood by the seekers and searchers and inhabitants of
these islands, that the sea has taken far more treasure than
will ever be told. And, as her capricious whim can dictate,
she may surrender some at any time.

***********

Just before dusk on the second day’s sail, they closed

on a small island. Paul carefully aligned the Crazy Lady’s
course with a rocky outcropping on the beach and a tall
prominent Casaurina tree behind. The range markers passed
the Lady cleanly through a breach in the outer reef. Inside
the reef they found a good anchorage between the beach and
the surf, just a short dinghy ride from the coral wall.
“We’ll be okay here as long as this weather holds,”
Paul explained during the anchoring ritual. If it starts to
blow, we’ll have to scoot back out and around to the bay on
the other side of the island.”
“Fine by me,” Meg agreed, “This is lovely.”
The boat swung easy on her anchors, dipping
rhythmically in the gentle swells flowing over the reef. With
a palm studded island behind the long, pink sand beach on
one side, and the surf breaking into spray against the reef to
seaward, a more picturesque and inspiring tropical tableau is
hard to imagine.
Paul rigged a couple of light fishing lines off the
stern and set about preparing the dive gear for the morning.

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.
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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.”

84
 CHAPTER 22

Deebe left the inter-island ferry dock, crossed the

sleepy harbour town, and began climbing a winding trail into
the hills of his island home. He’d been away for a long time
now.
Emerald Cay is different from the other islands in the
Caribbean. It is something of a dark pearl in the chain.
Relatively high hills give the island a denser, more jungle
like look. The back side falls away to expansive marls,
marshy mangrove swamps that stretch to the edge of the sea.
The dark hills are reputed to be the home of
Chicharnes; small, puck like, perhaps mythical beings with
magic powers, who spend most of their time intent on
mischief and often mayhem. Their existence is still a strong
belief among the island people.
The natives themselves are a quiet people, descended
from the peaceful Arawak and sharp toothed Caribe tribes.
Over many decades the original inhabitants strongly
interbred with black Africans, escapees from the slave trade
to the States. In the Island’s society, elder members are still
honored, respected, and even held in reverence. The old
traditions die hard.
The glamour and cash of busy Nassau Town are a
strong magnet for the island’s young. Many leave home
never to return, drawn forever into the bustle of modern life.
But other powers were still at work. Deebe returned home
with a strong compulsion he felt more than understood.
The path was long and steep, but his bare feet
remembered every turn and twist of the way. By day’s end
he finally could hear the evening songs of his home village.
It had been a long climb. Although his tired feet were
no longer used to the rough trail, but the years he had been
gone became a brief moment. It was as if time had stood still
and waited for him.
The old man sat in his magic circle with a thousand
beams reflecting fire light from the low wall of diligently
85
stacked bottles all around him. Malta, Heineken, Kulik,
Budweiser, pale tints of island rums, emerald green from
imported scotch all made up the amazing tiffany wall. It was
a history and United Nations of recycled glass at the Center
of The Universe. Particularly bright stars shot out from the
clear Beck’s bottle bottoms.
Sharp splashes of campfire light also reflected on a
wrinkled mahogany face and illuminated magnificent
dreadlocks hanging to the ground. Sparkles shone from the
Old Man’s eyes as he recognized the visitor, and Deebe
removed his cap, shaking his own tresses free.
The old man sat here always, contemplating and
available for consultation. Some said he had traveled far, and
had been here forever.
“I need some talk and your wisdom Grandfather,”
Deebe called out in greeting from the darkness surrounding
the fire lit circle.
Ripples of light ran up and down the Old Man’s face.
“Come Boy, Sit Smoke Think and talk,” the Old Man
invited, gesturing to a box turned over on the bare earth
before him, “Come there are many things we have each to
tell.”
Deebe sat, and extended his hand for the smoldering
sacrament. In time the sounds glazed and became muted in
the world outside their magic circle.
“You been gone a longtime boy. We worry for you.
De busy island be dangerous an a vicious place. Tell me of
your life there, and ask me your question,” the Old Man’s
voice came through the night in a low but powerful singsong.
“Grandfather, it is as you say. Peoples there swim
like barracudatake sharp bites of every thing. Da tourists
come to play wid de barracuda, and most are disappointed if
de fish do not bite them. It is strange an difficult to
understand.”
“So these things have been for a long time. This I
know Grandfather. But da game changes now. It be more
dangerous, an much of de pleasures be gone.” Deebe passed
back the smouldering pipe.
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 The old man drew deeply, and nodded solemnly to
the fire. “The Chicharnes love their dance,” he spoke softly,
almost to himself, “Now da Devil comes to take his chance.
Da powers in de worl’ have always been, boy. You
de one what’s changin’. You gettin’ older. An you eyes is
seein’ more an bettah. Time maybe, you be decidin’ which
way you gonna go. You got de powers boy. You know you
got de powers. Now you must be decidin’ what you gonna
do wid them. Dis decision can be for only you. You alone
boy. May be, de makin’ of it will show you da understandin’
of a man.”
Deebe considered the words that he’d expected to
hear. But there was more he needed from the grandfather.
“Granfather, there be a special trouble happenin’
now. Frens, people of good feelins, confused white people,
dey are in big troubles now. I think they be needin’ our help.
A powerful man holds them. He will use them and hurt them
I think. Captain Paul has always been kind and fair to me. He
is the one who freed the dolphins. And the new lady has wise
but frightened eyes. I do not wish them harm.”
“I see a dark shark circling de bright reef fish, boy,”
the Old Man spoke through the rising embers. “De law of
nature must have its way. But we are the people of nature.
And we can communicate. Come with me, and I shall teach
you how.”
“Without moving a muscle the two men, young and
old, pupil and master, departed on a long journey to realms
known, but seldom explored and little understood. The
powers of life, the powers of knowledge and understanding,
passed and exchanged that night in the magic circle of the
mind.

87
 CHAPTER 23

Another day in paradise. A good day, Paul felt, for a

day of rest. Perhaps he had been pushing the girl too hard. It
was fairly obvious that her previous diving experience was
limited, probably to a swimming pool, and her sailing had
been in a body of water not much larger. He had already
subjected her to more underwater trauma than most
recreational divers would see in a lifetime. But she was
determined and quick to learn. All in all a more than
tolerable crew mate, considering what he had put her through
so far. Maybe today was a good day for them both to rest,
recuperate, and get to know each other a little better while
they waited for Captain Ray to show up. With a little luck
and imagination, Paul thought, he might even be able to
squeeze in some subtle instruction.
He remembered with wry humor and admiration how
she had tried to coax information out of him sideways.
Today he would just relax, cooperate, and let her have her
way. He still couldn’t figure why this beautiful woman was
so intent to be on his boat in the middle of nowhere. It
apparently had nothing to do with his personal charms. He
was almost ready to give up those illusions. He decided the
special affection he thought he had felt for her was probably
due to this crazy situation working out so well for him.
Thanks to her, it was a lot more pleasant floating around out
here with plenty of groceries and a well stocked bar. Maybe
he would eventually figure out just what she was looking for.
He would help if he could. In the meantime there was little to
do but relax and enjoy.
They spent most of the morning going over the boat.
Paul explaining in detail the various lines and tackle while
they performed routine maintenance and inspection, which is
a never ending task on any boat. Frequent care and attention
is always necessary to keep things operating in the otherwise
pleasant environment of salt water and strong sunlight. When
they got to the diving equipment, Paul eased into a few
88
creative and interesting stories to illustrate particularly
important underwater techniques and precautions. There was
a lot to talk about, and Meg interrupted only occasionally to
ask a few intelligent questions.
By mid day, as they were finishing a light lunch and
discussing signals they would use on the dive, a striped blue
and white sail appeared in the distance. Within a few hours
the sleek twin hulls of Second Wind were riding at anchor
beside them in the gentle swell.
Amid much ‘hallooing’ and ‘how ya doins’ from his
vociferous crew, Captain Ray launched the hard bottomed
inflatable and they all motored over to the Crazy Lady for a
conference and cocktails.
After initial greetings and libations, deciding the time
for subtlety was past, Ray simply produced his newspaper
and spread it on the deck. The pencil sketch over Megan’s
photograph directed everyone’s attention to the article. It was
as good a way as any to let the discussion begin.
At first Megan felt like a creature cornered with no
place to flee. Then, gradually, she came to realize that these
strangers, now friends, were on her side. They were giving
her a chance to explain, and might even want to help. She
needed to talk to someone, and she owed them at least an
explanation.
“It’s all true,” she told them, then began.
Meg tried to stay as much as possible within the
facts, glossing over the personal anguish and her unfulfilled
life. But from her tale the others understood that Vincent was
not a strong husband, or even an assertive person. They may
have guessed his sexual proclivities. They certainly realized
that it was a lopsided relationship.
She told them, “Vinny brought all of his troubles to
me, and to Uncle Sal. He thought Sal could fix anything for
him. This time I’m afraid we both let him down. This
problem was even too much for Sal d’Ambrosio.”
Meg told them of the last months and events leading
up to the lethal, whistling projectiles, and Vincent’s death in
the blasted, flaming wreckage. As she described the horror
89
and sudden shock of those moments, her skin paled and
dampened, and her lips quivered with the memories.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she said quietly.
“And now I’m here, and they’ll find me, and I’ve dragged all
of you into this mess too. I thought Vinny and I could just
run and be safe, but these people are vicious. And they’re
very powerful. Even Uncle Sal couldn’t help. They killed
Vinny and now they’ve turned me into the fugitive.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong Megan,” Captain Ray
told her. “You may have been party to an error in judgment
but your intentions were good, and you really didn’t have
any choices. Believe me, people with more options than you
have made worse mistakes.”
“I don’t know,” Meg said, and even her voice was
uncertain. “I keep thinking that I should have gone straight to
the police.”
Ray let out a bitter laugh. “Somehow I don’t think
that would have done much good,” he told her. “Justice and
the law have very little to do with right or wrong, or even
common sense, in the U.S. these days. American Justice is at
a peak of hysteria and subtle, self righteous corruption. If
we’re talking about the people I think we are,” the captain
went on, “we’re talking about crime and politics at a high
level. Those people own the police.”
They were all surprised at Captain Ray’s speech, but
Meg was incredulous.
“You know these people?” she asked. “How do you
know the people I’m talking about? I’ve got to get out of
here somehow. I just don’t know where...”
They could hear the rising hint of panic grow in her
voice. Megan shot a glance around the small boat, but finally
rested her sight out at the edge of the vast, empty ocean.
There was nowhere to go.
Paul put an arm around the strong but flagging
woman to reassure her, and she let herself lean on him for a
moment. The wear and tear, frustration and terror caught up
to her all at once. She was dangerously close to losing

90
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.

94
 CHAPTER 24

It was hot in Nassau, but a comfortable sea breeze

came in across the patios and around the pool to cool the
afternoon shade beneath a large, colorful table umbrella. A
classic figure of wealth and ease reposed, supine in a
comfortably padded deck chair in that shade.
Perfumes from the tropical gardens around the
property added a pleasant accent to the breeze.
The serving girl was conscious of her sandals tapping
on the tile stones. She did not want to disturb the man. She
couldn’t see the features of his face in the shadow, but his
limbs were not moving at all. She paused briefly to consider
her employer.
He had grown a little heavier over the years. But
whatever he had lost in physical strength and beauty he had
more than regained in power and wealth. He was still a fine
specimen. She had known him since her youth. He was
sophisticated but ruthless. Over the years she had learned to
fear his dark side. He was like no other man she knew, a
product of some different environment, and it showed in
many ways.
Her eyes took in the soft white leather loafers resting
heels down on the pool deck, and her gaze continued up the
sharp crease of tan trousers accentuating long, athletic legs.
The open vee of an expensive sport shirt framed a heavy, flat
gold chain and a gaudy bauble lying on his hairless
mahogany chest. She pulled her gaze away from the
direction of the vee and took in the dignified black man’s
features and his clean shaven skull.
She approached silently, into the shadow. When she
was close, a long, jewel fingered hand snaked out suddenly;
came up high under her short skirt to tightly grasp her bare
buttock and pull her close. She tried to relax and stand
perfectly still where he positioned her. She stood with her
feet apart and flat on the ground as she had been taught. She
carefully set down the small cocktail tray.
95
 His eyes took in every inch of her as his hand roved
around. He hesitated for a moment, then laughed curtly and
dismissed her with a light shove against her belly. He
reached for the tall, cool cocktail glass instead. The girl
barely interested him anymore. Other, more intriguing
projects were on his mind. Soon there would be time for any
distractions he desired. Soon, life would be even better, Mr.
Adam reflected.
Things were not always so. He remembered well his
early youth in the lower Caribbean. His father was a
powerful man, respected and feared. A businessman and
leader with the virtual powers of royalty. Then the ungrateful
people had changed his life like a political whim.
On one horrible night he would never forget or
forgive, they were forced to flee the country and leave
behind all their possessions and position. His mother and
sister had to be sacrificed. Papa and he barely escaped with
just their lives.
Life was sometimes so unfair. The Bahamas had
provided them a new home, but his station in life was no
longer what it was. He had to learn to take advantage of
every opportunity and grasp what he wanted when he could.
Even as a boy he determined, some day, to reclaim the place
that he regarded as his rightful destiny.
His father had become a servant in Government
House just as the British Empire began closing up shop in
the Bahamas, leaving the little colony to its own half
reluctant independence. His father worked for the British
Governor of the Bahamas now, but under the new plan,
formerly powerful Queen’s Governors themselves were
reduced to little more than ceremonial standing. Their
underlings were even less.
Nassau’s Governor recognized the inevitable end of
his political career, but saw no reason why his financial
future should be destroyed as well. He was a far sighted and
clever man. He understood the many political and economic
advantages an emerging, independent young nation might
have to offer a man of his experience and resources.
96
 Especially a nation so strategically close to the shores
of the great United States.
Under the Governor’s tutelage, Adams, the former
entrepreneur now reduced to butler and provider of illicit
delights, became an official liaison to the newly formed
independent government. It wasn’t long before the role
proved itself far more profitable than either the Governor or
his former butler had ever anticipated.
Those were the crazy times accompanying the
evolution of any new autonomous nation. International
wheeling and dealings flew through the Bahamas with the
reckless abandon of an old neighborhood on top of a newly
discovered gold mine. Fast fortunes came and went, but were
held only by the quick and prudent. Life and times changed
rapidly for the island, and the great financial floods to be
brought by international tourism and drug smuggling were
just over the horizon.
Neither Adam the former butler, nor his partner the
governor, were fools. They quickly recognized the most
lucrative aspects of the vast potential the future had to offer.
It was not long before they were profitably involved in
multiple enterprises under the auspices of several
government agencies. It was no surprise to the Governor that
the most dubious and brazen schemes involved little known
agencies of the U.S. government. Business increased rapidly
to the point where the partners had to diversify their efforts.
The Governor established an office base back in London
from which he toured the world establishing contacts and
scouting opportunities. Adams stayed home to manage the
island end of the growing businesses.
To seal their partnership, Adam’s young son, then
fourteen, was sent off to school in England under the
Governor’s sponsorship.
School life in cold, dreary England was difficult and
lonely for the boy, but he persevered and learned his lessons
well. Someday soon he knew, he would return to his islands
triumphant; the heir to power and wealth. He regarded these

97
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.

***********

This latest opportunity would very likely turn out to

be his most profitable yet. Perhaps enough to finally
establish him for the next step in his dream of ultimate power
and glory. Over the years his South American connections
had become very strong. Of course, their most valuable
commodities were the illicit pleasure drugs much craved by
the rest of the world.
Twelve years of the George Bush regime had done
more than anything else to popularize and increase the lust
for drugs in the United States. It was undoubtedly the
greatest and most profitable market in the world.
Bush’s CIA inspired paranoia and greed made a
cause celebre of drug use, and added a revolutionary appeal.
The billions of tax payer dollars squandered on futile
suppression and interdiction only fueled the desires and
curiosity of the masses. General knowledge of CIA and other
government agency involvement in drug running, and even
worse nefarious activities, somehow took the sting out of the
hollow gestures and threats.
Mr. Adam had his sources of supply. And now,
through Sal d’ Ambrosio, he was ready to connect with one
of the largest and best established distribution networks in
the States. Big Sal’s “family” was well connected; politically
powerful, and influential. Both ends of the business would be
well taken care of. The Colombians had already made an
attractive offer that included generous credit terms.
Mr. Adam’s only obligation, aside from a generous
cut of the profits, would be to maneuver some product and
cash through the islands as part of the customary
razzledazzle that was necessary to provide a safe ground for
everyone to work.

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 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.

101
 CHAPTER 25

The great golden orb rose on a clear and windless

dawn. Crimson and pale streaks marked the only line
between heaven and the sea. Megan awoke to the low rumble
of twin diesels and the clatter of anchor chain. She made a
lazy stretch, naked between the sheets, and looked up. The
colorful wind scoop hung still above the open hatch, pointing
like a brilliant wrinkled finger at the new day. She stood up
on the bed, up through the hatch, to watch the sun climb. The
sleek cat was already clearing the reef and turning for the run
to Marsh Harbour. When she peeked around the scoop, Paul
was in the cockpit, at the grill again, with pans sizzling and
coffee steaming.
Meg dropped back onto the bed, wriggled into a
comfortable one piece red stretch swim suit, and came back
on deck with a smile on her face. Paul looked at her and
couldn’t help but feel even better about the day.
“Hey Lady,” he called out, “breakfast is waitin’. You
ready? Today’s choice is authentic fish stew, fried bananas,
and coffee.”
“Smells wonderful,” she responded politely in a
sincere and formal manner, “I’ll have to recommend this
cruise for all my friends. The chef is particularly talented,”
she quipped, then laughed happily and gave Paul an
affectionate nip on the shoulder before helping herself to
healthy portions from the savory pans. “WOW! This is
delicious,” she exclaimed with the first taste, “Where DID
you learn to cook, Paul?”
“This stew is an old island specialty,” he told her,
“served in fishermen’s homes and the finest breakfast hour
bars. You won’t find it on many fancy buffets though, too
nourishing and zesty for the average tourist pallet. They
prefer eggs boiled in butter and Belgian waffles with sticky
syrup. I find this food works better for me when I have a
long day ahead in the water. How do you feel about diving

102
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
105
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.

***********

Treasure diving is, at best, an uncertain enterprise.

Throughout the course of history, legend and research have
combined with hope driven energy to search the seas for
easy riches. Seldom is life so easy.
In modern times hightech equipment like side scan
sonar, magnetometers, high resolution video, and hydraulic
dredges are routinely employed for as long as an optimistic
treasure hunter can afford. Aside from the dubious benefits
of the adventure, results are usually meager, or no results at
all. No matter how much research, planning, and human
energy is invested, when a find is made, in all the vastness of
the oceans, it is usually luck, more than anything else, that
has made the final determination. Luck, and maybe some
other unknown element of fate, some barely controllable
power that reaps the bounty of the sea and occasionally
magnanimously, releases a prize.
This natural karmic flow is part of the way of life for
those who have lived simply and close to the sea for
generations. Most people have lost touch with the basic
rhythms. How many today still feel and heed the primal call
106
of the inner spirit? Perhaps only crazy old men who gaze into
fires, and still illusioned young men who’s hearts still
believe in the old ways can still feel, and maybe direct, the
cosmic tidal pulse.
The next dive went straight to the opening at the floor
of the reef. Paul checked carefully with a powerful dive light
and determined the opening was large enough for safe entry
as far as he could see. He motioned for Megan to enter first.
His intent was more than a gesture of chivalry. If she
somehow got hung up he would still be free and in a position
to help her. After the first turns the passageway was still lit
and seemed to be getting brighter as they swam along. To
Paul’s surprise the tunnel remained large enough to swim
through easily.
The walls were colorfully decorated with plant life
and soft sponges. Schools of small, electric hued reef fish
darted from place to place on errands of their own. The white
sand trail did not lead directly through the reef as Paul had
thought. They emerged into a strangely lit cavern instead; an
underwater cathedral deep inside the reef. Light sprinkled in
through cracks and openings in the roof. The path became a
large white scar like a lightening flash across the floor of the
vault.
Meg let herself settle to the bottom to lie on her back
and watch the sunlight filter into the cavern from so far
away. Her fingers raked through the silky white sand. The
current pulsed constantly and her fingers dug deeper for
stability. The brush of her fingers across a smooth, hard
object in the flourlike sand was such a surprise she simply
took hold and pulled it free, floating to her knees to take a
look. The coin was worn smooth, possibly misshapen, but
with the heavy constant glimmer and feel of real gold.
As she knelt in the low, sandy cloud, examining her
prize in the flat light, Paul swam over and flashed his beam
into her hands. They passed the coin back and forth in silent
surprise for awhile, then began to sift the bottom with their
bare hands. There were more. Scattered across the cavern
floor, everywhere in the white sand flash, were coins singly
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or in clusters. Anxious fingers found some worn smooth;
others, found in bunches, still bore recognizable images and
inscriptions. They collected all they could carry, and Paul
ushered Megan back through the tunnel and, with the help of
their buoyancy vests, up to the surface.
After an awkward scramble she flopped into the low
rubber boat. With her vest inflated, Meg looked like a puffy,
orange blowfish as she kicked and spluttered and splashed on
the soft floor.
Finally she threw out her mouthpiece. “Paul! What
did I tell you? This is fantastic!” She flopped onto her back
on the dinghy’s wet floor. Thrashing and tugging at the
bottom of her bathing suit released a cascade of golden coins
and sand.
Still hanging in the water, arms across the grey
pontoon, faceplate pushed high on his forehead and regulator
hanging loose on his chest, Paul had a broad grin on his face.
“You know, when I was a small boy,” he told the squirming
girl, “my mother used to tuck things for safe keeping into the
top of her dress. I always wondered where that stuff went.”
Megan was not too excited to blush a little bit. Free
of her equipment, she knelt and released the last of her coins
to the growing pile on the floor. “You’re just jealous because
I have a bigger bathing suit,” she laughed,” Come on, get in
here.”
Paul kicked up and rolled gracefully over the side.
His dark tank suit was distended in every direction. In the
middle of the front was a particularly large packet that
shifted and bulged grotesquely while he shrugged out of his
diving gear.
“My man!” shouted Meg in mock arousal, and fell
upon him, knocking him over on the floating floor and
grabbing at his suit, releasing more clanking coins. They
giggled and laughed and rolled and played together for a
time. The game of mock arousal turned very real. They were
both excited: in love with life, the day, and for the moment,
each other.

108
 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

Back aboard Crazy Lady, Meg’s excitement was

nearly out of control. She bubbled over with plans, dreams,
and ideas. Paul had to nearly forcibly restrain her from going
back into the water.
“I’ve always thought I was the most impulsive guy in
the world,” he told her with a strong, steady hand on her
shoulder, “ and now I’ve finally met someone else so
headstrong I have to calm her down for her own good.
We’ve had enough diving and exertion for one day. I think
we should spend some time now thinking seriously about
what we’re going to do next.”
“Dammit Paul! For a guy who’s always ready to rush
for anything that attracts him you sure do get slow and
methodical when it comes to somebody else’s good fortune.
This money could make the difference between life and
death to me. Don’t you understand that? This could get me
away from here and away from those guys who are after
me.”
After a shocked minute, Paul replied. “Sure Meg, I
understand. Perfectly! I guess I’ve just been a convenient
ride out of town. You bullshit your way onto my boat, put
my ass in a worse situation than I was in before, and now
that you think you’ve struck it rich you’re ready to bail out
and leave me hanging. Well no such luck, lady. For one
thing, what makes you think it’s your treasure? In the first
place, this is my boat, and I brought us here to a site I’ve
been to before.
“I vote that whatever we find down there belongs to
me!” The sharp words flew like volleys over the deck, and
they left in their wake the sullen and lingering scent of defeat
for all. Angry now, they turned away and fought their own
frustrations. Anywhere else they would have stormed off to
find support, each for his own cause. But on the boat there
was nowhere else to go, and no one else to rally with. Each

110
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
111
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
112
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
113
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.

***********

On a different island, worlds away, but not so far by sea,

another pair lifted their eyes expectedly, and threw fuel on
the glowing embers of their sacred fire.
“It has begun,” spoke the awed disciple.
“It has begun,” answered the content old man. “Now
the tide will turn. Soon the seekers will finders be,” he
nodded and returned his gaze to the flowering coals, “and the
injured will become the healers.”
“How will it all come to pass Grandfather?” Deebe
asked in an awed and reverent voice.
The tired old man answered carefully in a voice much
younger than his years, “Things in motion must continue to
be cared for. There will be a sign Boy. A great sign. But
there is also much to be done still. You have seen the way
now follow it. Leave here. Go back to those you can trust in
de other world. A time comes soon when de peoples all join.
You must be ready my son.”
“When I be see’in ‘you again Grandfather?” Deebe
was hesitant to leave, uncertain as yet what was to come.
The old man smiled mischievously, “I be doin some
travelin’ also Boy,” he simply said. “Now go.”
When Deebe had left the village the old man looked
all around him. He stooped down to clutch his medicine
pouch and hang it carefully around his neck. Then, the old
one left his magic circle and walked carefully out of the
114
village. He was noticed, and his people were surprised, but
no one said a word as he passed by.
By dawn the center of the village was different. No
one could remember the Old One being gone from the magic
circle for so long. But they did not worry or search for him.
All knew he traveled in his own time and mysterious ways.
He was at the edge of the sea where the coral rock
jutted out to greet the ever breaking waves. His feet swung
free in the surf, and he was singing a strange, but happy tune
in an unknown tongue. Not far away the dolphins played,
adding their own song and dance to the celebration.
Deebe caught the midday mail boat back to Nassau.
By the time it was a speck on the horizon the old man was
watching it from the rocks at the edge of the sea. When the
boat finally disappeared he sat comfortably down. It was
time now to smoke, and wait.

115
 CHAPTER 27

Morning broke unusually heavy and still for the

islands. The ever reliable Trade Winds were apparently
taking a vacation in the sultry sky. Paul and Meg lay
wrapped in lazy sheets of warm morning sloth. They slept
fitfully, side by side in the large forward berth. But each was
enveloped in a private, vulnerable bubble of self distrust. The
sweet perfume of riches gave them each the scent of
freedom, but the putrid wind of greed left a lonely chill and
distance between them.
They were still half dreaming, thinking, and
preparing slowly for the day when suddenly the shrill,
leaping cat shriek of a powerful outboard accompanied a
blood curdling scream that shattered their personal reveries
like a jagged fist of cold water.
The port hole framed a remarkable sight. Coming fast
on toward the starboard bow was the sixteen foot
hardbottomed inflatable they recognized with relief as the
Zephyr. Doreen was steering with one hand on the wheel,
hair flying. The boat sped past the narrow window and they
could see that it towed a thin plastic line attached to a jetting
plume of spray.
Around the anchored yawl the small craft flew,
setting up concentric waves that rocked the Crazy Lady and
brought her crew on deck laughing hysterically. At the end
of the tow rope, Bruno wore only a huge grin and looked like
a naked bear on water skis.
Pleased as they were to see their happy friends,
Megan and Paul simultaneously thought about the treasure
coins displayed in artistic piles about the cabin. Each knew
immediately what the other was thinking.
“What are we going to do Paul?” Megan asked, We
can’t very well tell them to go away. Should we try to hide
everything?”

116
 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
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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
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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
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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.

126
 CHAPTER 28

It was a long, rough ride in the open boat back to

Marsh Harbour. Although the radio reports anticipated an
approaching tropical storm, and the weather had certainly
deteriorated from the severe clear so common in the islands,
when they got back to Second Wind she was still stable and
comfortable, tied to the dock well within the protected
harbor. The only real storm the crew had weathered so far
was the one within themselves.
The weather was still marginal the next morning
when they flew out in a twelve passenger Cessna for Nassau.
It was the first flight of the day, but Bruno and Doreen had
no trouble making it; they had a very restless night.
“Bruni, Honey,” Doreen was trying to explain for the
umpteenth time, “this is really the best way. I just know it is.
The situation between Meg and Paul was getting too
uncomfortable. I wasn’t really sure about Meg’s plan to cash
in some coins for her, then come back and scoot her away in
Zephyr. And I wasn’t too crazy about wandering around
Nassau with Paul while all those people are looking for
everybody either. I didn’t know what to do. Then, when that
big dolphin was just looking at us, I spooked. I knew we had
to get out of there right away; Something’s going on that
we’re not a part of yet.
“Takin’ all this stuff with us, at least they can’t fight
over it any more, and maybe we can sell it all for enough
money to make everybody happy and nobody will have to
risk getting caught or hurt.”
“Gee Dori,” Bruno sounded contrite, and was
obviously unhappy, “I don’t think we shoulda just left with
them underwater like that. I hope they don’t think we’re
stealing or anything.”
Doreen wasn’t entirely sure herself why they had
done it. All she could remember was an elusive,
overpowering urge to flee. The next thing she knew, the gold
was loaded into the skiff and Crazy Lady was a speck in
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their wake as they crashed through the waves back to Marsh
Harbour and the big catamaran. Strange, she thought, Bruno
hadn’t made one word of protest until late that night back on
board the Second Wind.
Now they were both feeling guilty, but still
committed to the new plan. She looked through the airplane
window at the choppy seas below. There was nothing there
but water. She reached across the narrow aircraft armrests to
take one of the big guys hands in both of her own.
“Bruno, trust me Honey. I don’t know why, but
somehow I just know we’re doing the right thing. We’ve got
to help Paul and Meg in spite of themselves, and keep the
coins safe until they’re ready for them. You do trust me,
don’t you?”
He turned slightly and gave her a gentle hug. “Of
course I trust you Dori. Don’t I always?”
“Good.” She smiled back at him. “Then all we have
to think about for right now is the nice room I rented for us
in The Casino on Paradise Island. Paul and Meg offered us a
part of the loot, and this is still our sort of honeymoon. I told
the man and he said he’d give us a great room, and it’s the
best hotel on the island. Let’s go straight there and hop into
bed. I’m exhausted, and I know you will be too.” She gave
him a furtive and flirty wink.
“There’ll be plenty of time after a nap to go out and
try to cash some of these coins.”
The luxurious hotel and casino really was a most
splendid affair. It stands on acres of its own manicured
grounds. The several buildings of the complex rise in stately
splendor through the well tended junglelike surroundings at
the edge of one of the world’s best known Caribbean
beaches. Paradise Island stretches parallel to the main island
and the water in between is Nassau Harbour. A high bridge
over the harbour connects the island to busy Nassau town on
the main island of New Providence. Paradise island has
always been truly dedicated to the wellheeled tourist trade
with every emphasis on quiet luxury, relaxation, and money.
For years this has been a favorite playground for the rich and
128
hopeful. Only recently, since the United States decided to
impose its absurd regulations on the rest of the world and
began flexing its righteous muscles in the Caribbean, has the
place become a backdrop for sinister activity. But even this
could not deter the typical ambiance.
Doreen and Bruno’s expensive room was lovely,
large and airy with glass doors that opened out onto a
balcony that overlooked the pool area below and the
immaculate beach and open ocean beyond. The
accommodations were impressive. The bird’s eye view went
far out over the curved expanse of sea under a darkening and
ominous sky.
Nice as their room was, it was a Spartan and basic
accommodation compared to the opulence of the penthouse
above, But the sole inhabitant of that suite was not enjoying
the view. He looked out over the water too, but his mind saw
other things.
Sal d’Ambrosio was born in Brooklyn. Although his
family often spoke fondly of the old country and the little
fishing village, there was no real evidence that any one of
them cared at all for fishing, villages, or even Sicily.
Power was their game. Power, money, and respect.
Even Sal’s own mother, a paragon of virtue and tradition,
was a force to be reckoned with. Subtly, but with an iron will
and determination, she had controlled the family’s destiny.
Poppa was a big man on the street, but at home Momma
always laid down the law. And no one dared argue. She was
an indomitable force, and she was always right. In many
ways she was much like the woman he had to call right now.
When Sal first met Terri Jacobs he was out in Vegas,
and he basically inherited her. She was with a guy on the
move up, and Terri was just a part of the price he had to pay.
She was something special; a real looker and a sharp kid who
had some tough knocks in life but still refused to give up.
She even had a kid she didn’t talk about much, but tried her
best to take care of. Terri was strong, she knew who she was,
but she never forgot her place. It wasn’t long before she was
one of Big Sal’s most prized possessions. But that was a long
129
time ago, and they both knew that things had changed. He
probably couldn’t get along without her now. He realized
this as he went back inside to pick up the phone. Although he
had always been a traveling type guy, his separations from
Terri had become less frequent and shorter over the years.
He had only been away from her a week this time, and
already he missed her with most of his Mediterranean soul.
Business was business, and loyalty to that Family
always came first, but even in this impossible situation he
had to call and at least talk to her. Things weren’t right. He
needed her help, or blessing.
Direct dialing was too easy and quick; he waited with
trepidation as the phone rang back in New York. He flicked
the TV silently on with the remote. Perhaps she wouldn’t
answer, maybe she was out shopping or something. But the
fourth ring cut off as she lifted the receiver.
“Hi Baby, how are you?” his voice sounded hollow
even at his end of the long distance connection.
“Sally? Hi honey, it’s good to hear your voice. How
are you? I hope you’re not having too much fun down there
in the sun with all those beautiful native girls.”
“Hell, Babe, you know I miss you. This is business,
Terri. I gotta be here.”
“I know Sal. Sally, did you find her? Is Megan
there?”
“Jees Baby. Look, this is business, I gotta be
careful...”
“I don’t care Sal. She’s my daughter and I want to
know. Please tell me Sally, is she there?”
Sal thought for only a moment before he replied.
“We don’t know for sure,” he nearly sighed. “The big
chief island guy here thinks he knows where she is, but
we’re not certain it’s even her. I got a lot of guys out lookin’,
and we’re watching the island guy close. But we don’t really
know for sure that it’s her. Honest Babe. I’ll let you know if
we find her.”
Sal could feel the sweat breaking out above his brow,
and knew he shouldn’t trust his voice much longer.
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 “Who’s down there with you Sal?” Terri asked him
anxiously.
“Well, Frankie a course, and just some guys from the
main office. I told you Baby, it’s all business.”
“Well, all business makes Sally an unhappy boy,” she
breathed into the phone, “maybe I should just come down
there and cheer you up.”
“You don’t need to do that, Baby. I told you this is
just business. We need to talk to her is all. Everything will be
okay. Besides, I’m lookin at the TV, and there’s a big mother
storm comin’ this way. It might be dangerous down here,
Babe. Just stay where you are for now. I’ll let you know if
it’s time to come down,” Sal spoke as forcefully as he could
to her. As much as he wanted her beside him, he knew it
could be difficult; she had a power over him, and affected his
decisions. Things were difficult enough already. He could
smell trouble in the air with some of the new boys.
“Oh Sally,” Terri continued undaunted, I don’t want
to be in your way, but I’m worried and lonely here all alone.
How about if I go down to the Palm Beach condo, that way
I’ll be close if you need me. Wouldn’t that be a lot better?”
“Sure Babe,” he answered, relieved at the sudden
compromise. Maybe he could zip over to see her in a couple
of days, and she’d still be out of his hair if the business went
bad. Damn the business; this was a bad job all the way. He’d
been around long enough to know when things weren’t right.
He didn’t like the new guys he had to work with. There
seemed to be a definite lack of respect for his authority.
He’d be glad when this business was done and over
with, he was getting too old for this shit. Maybe it was time
he cleaned up his act and went more legit.
He hung up the phone with a sigh. He would talk to
her again tomorrow night when she got to the condo. In the
meantime, there was a lot to do. He turned up the TV volume
to listen to the commentator.
A big tropical storm was getting star rating today. It
was building out over the sea, approaching hurricane
strength, and appeared to be heading for the islands. As if he
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didn’t have enough problems already, thought Big Sal
d’Ambrosia. How bad was this gonna get?
He needed to find the little broad, and quick. He
couldn’t help but smile to himself. That Megan was a pretty
clever kid. She’d always been smart. He’d hoped some of it
would rub off on his fagola nephew Vincent. He breathed a
great sigh of relief the day Vinny and Megan were married.
But the kid was born to be a loser, and now his ass was dead.
He privately hoped the girl would make out better, but he
was worried. Those boys they sent down from the front
office were snarling and gnashing their teeth like junk yard
dogs ready for a kill. It was time for him to give their leashes
a tug and show ‘em who was boss; at least for awhile.
He looked out over the water. It was no longer a
tranquil tropical vista. Dark angry clouds raced shoreward,
pushing a turbulent sea hard against the land.

132
 CHAPTER 29

They woke up in the large bedroom and noticed right

away that it wasn’t moving. Strange how quickly they had
become accustomed to living on the catamaran. Already life
ashore had a vaguely foreign feel. But they were both well
rested now, showered, dressed, and ready for the evening in
busy Nassau Town.
Bruno and Doreen had brought with them what they
thought they could carry safely and discreetly, about fifty
coins each in their pockets and carefully wrapped in the
luggage. The coins represented the several different types
they had found in the cave. The bulk of the treasure was still
carefully hidden back aboard the catamaran. They hated
leaving it unguarded, but there was little choice. Besides, no
one knew what was on the boat, and she was securely tied to
the dock under the watchful eyes of the dockmaster and the
yachting neighbors.
The couple had slept and relaxed for only a few hours
and it was still afternoon, but the sky was already darkening
with an odd, moist feel to the air. When they came down into
the main lobby of the hotel the place was abuzz with talk of
the approaching storm. With typical tourist disregard for
reality several “hurricane parties” were already underway
with no lack of enthusiasm due to being premature. The state
of excitement was high.
Out by the beach beyond the bordering palms just the
opposite was true. The sea and shore birds were gone,
leaving an eerie quiet with their conspicuous absence. Even
the small, half tame curly tailed lizards were nowhere to be
seen. The casino, stores, and shops, however, were still open
in defiance, disdain, or perhaps just disbelief of nature’s
course. The motivation of profit had become a prime instinct
of resort town man.
The first two shops were delighted with the young
couple’s antique coins. The coins were valuable, some even
rare, and the shopkeepers were pleased to make a quick
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transaction and a potentially easy profit, but they hinted at a
shortage of cash and possible currency regulations involved
with exchanging too many coins for cash. The third
shopkeeper was more relaxed. He spoke at length about
coins, shipwrecks, and the lure of famous treasures. He had,
by far, the largest coin shop, in a busy arcade not far from
the hotel. He seemed most knowledgeable and willing to
help. Unlike his fellow entrepreneurs, he hinted that ready
cash and regulations were not a problem for a man with his
connections. He bought all of the remaining coins and
promised to seriously consider whatever else they could
bring him. This was a man who could solve problems.
Bruno and Doreen, smiling now and carrying more
cash in their pockets than they ever had before, walked hand
in hand down the street making plans. They were not gone
from the shop five minutes before the clerk was on the phone
reporting the transactions to his boss, Mr. Adam.
This was not an unusual happening. All of Mr.
Adam’s managers worked under explicit orders to report any
unusual activities immediately. It was all part of an early
warning and information system that had so far served him
very well on many occasions.
Information was an important key to security,
success, and profit. Mr. Adam was a great believer in this.
He used sealed and secret video cameras in his more
prosperous shops to monitor the staff as well as the clientele.
He had even been known to test employees in tempting
situations; an insidious trick he picked up from U.S. justice
and law enforcement agencies. By this device it was a simple
matter to indict anyone who displeased him or was
susceptible to temptation. Like the larger power, Mr. Adam
was ruthless and swift to destroy any who failed to heed the
master’s rule. Adam’s top managers were very obedient
survivors.
In this case, Mr. Adam sent Bingo immediately to
retrieve the camera tapes from the coin shop. Good fortune
was suddenly all around him, and Adam intended to scoop
up every crumb. The thought of treasure coins in the hands
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of naive tourists was an opportunity too good for him to pass
up, no matter how pressing his other concerns. When Bingo
recognized the couple on the tape as Captain Ray’s charter,
and reported that they had spent some time with “Sal’s girl”,
Mr. Adam became almost ecstatic with greed.
“So,” he exclaimed, “all of our fish are gathering into
one pot. How convenient for us. Bingo, you are to find these
two treasure seekers, and then do not let them out of your
sight.
“Take what help you need,” Adam told his minion. “I
believe they will soon lead you to Mr. Sullivan and the girl;
perhaps even some golden treasure as well. It would be about
time our hard diving young captain found something useful
in the depths. Unfortunately for him, his fortune is ours, and
it appears that we shall profit doubly. Find him Bingo, and
bring them both here.”
Bingo nodded silently and left the room. He gathered
his two assistants and they were out of the building and in
pursuit within ten minutes. The island was small, and there
was little doubt they would pick up the trail shortly.
Bruno and Doreen returned to their hotel room
excited and satisfied that they had accomplished their task.
The coins had been converted to more cash than they had
even imagined, and they had a ready market for the rest.
They spent the remainder of the night in the room, ordering
an excellent room service meal and a bottle of French wine
to celebrate their success. The ominous rain spattering and
wind howling outside did nothing to dampen their spirits.
Although the storm continued to grow, by morning it
was still not of an intensity to impede commerce. The couple
caught the early morning flight to Marsh Harbour. Not far
behind their flight, a twin engine charter plane followed and
landed shortly behind the commuter.
The taxi drivers broke up the endless domino game
under the baobab tree when the passenger flight landed.
Through the arrival confusion they called their customer’s
destinations back and forth in hopes of expediting the
process and attracting as many riders as possible. Bruno and
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Doreen found room in a VW bus with five other people
heading for the harbour.
The private car waiting for Bingo and his cohorts
delivered the men to the dock directly and they were waiting
and watching the catamaran before the couple even arrived.
Bruno and Doreen unloaded from the mini bus with
all the happy travelers and all their luggage. They were
pulled, as if by magnetism, into the dockside bar with the
rest.
They were both relieved to see the tall mast of their
boat rising at the end of the dock. All looked normal,
although the dock was a little busier than usual. There were
several groups of tourists strolling about, looking at the
boats.
Bruno and Doreen partook of the almost obligatory
welcoming rum punch. Just as soon as they could politely
and gracefully get away from the festive group Doreen
started down the dock, and Bruno followed a minute later
carrying the luggage. As she got closer, she approached
several particularly large Bahamian men standing on the
dock in front of Second Wind.
Bruno was watching Doreen, and regarded the group
at the end of the dock with mild curiosity until one large,
black fellow spoke and reached out to put a heavy paw on
Doreen’s shoulder. He saw her grimace with fear and
displeasure more than pain, but that was enough. With a
snort and the bellow of a wounded young bull, Bruno’s
powerful legs snapped distance from the planks under his
feet. He was in motion before his luggage hit the dock.
Onlookers were amazed to watch this big, slow moving,
smiling human drop his head and energize into a thick, fast
moving blur. Bruno thundered up the dock. The three
Bahamians separated themselves from their captive and
turned to face the swiftly charging onslaught.
Bruno’s first heavy right forearm caught Bingo under
the chin on a powerful up step. The sound was like a thick
oak bat cracking cement, and the huge Bahamian went down
hard. The second oppressor, ducking too late to avoid a
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blow, caught the power of a dense muscled shoulder driving
a left forearm right across his eyebrows.
The man’s head appeared to remain stationary as his
feet and lower body shot out underneath him and he went
down flat on his back with a dull thud. The third antagonist,
quick of instinct, decided to leave the field, but it was too
late. The momentum of Bruno’s wrath was not yet cooled.
Straightening swiftly, Bruno’s hip caught the fleeing
gangster. The man stumbled and began to spin, but he didn’t
get a chance to fall right away. A seasoned, hard elbow
caught him just behind and below the left ear. It was
apparent to the spectators, even several boats away, that the
guy’s lights just went out. The perfectly still body floated for
a second in space, then hit the deck with a sharp slap.
Bruno stood, turned, and calmly appraised the scene.
Before the misty red light faded completely from his gaze, he
gathered the whimpering, groaning bodies and dumped them
unceremoniously off the dock into an upholstered speedboat
tied behind the yacht, then freed the whole mess to the
whimsy of the wind and tide.
A polite rattle of applause broke out around the dock
when Bruno stepped up to Doreen and wrapped a protective
arm around her shoulders. In the midst of the touching scene
a thin black fellow with amazing dreadlock hair came up
carrying the dropped luggage.
“Good fighten, big fella,” Deebe told him, “but no
time for huggin’ yet. More bad fellas are comin’. With guns I
bet. We gotta go. Let’s get on da boat quick.”
Doreen was startled, but glad to see Deebe. Although
she knew him to be Ray’s friend, she was hesitant to do
anything at the moment. She was afraid he was talking about
moving the huge catamaran without her captain aboard.
Things were happening too fast now.
“Come quick, Miss,” his dark eyes bored deeply into
hers, “there be much danger comin’ here. Cap’n Ray, he
know I’m watchin’ out for you. Four big city fellas comin’
now with guns. We best go.”

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 “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
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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
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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
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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.
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 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
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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?”

Sal overheard questions and orders being yelled back

and forth at the other end of the phone connection. Then,
finally, the command for the boat to head for Little Fish
Island. Moments later there was a chilling scream buried in a
sound like a giant bucket of water dumped into a small basin
then the cell phone went dead. Sal felt a mean smile pull at
his lips. It might be a long time before the home office sent
their boys to help in his territory again.
Sal knew Adam’s men were heading for the sailboat.
Now, perhaps, his guys were too. It didn’t really matter to
him who got there first. Either way the chances were pretty
good that he would get the girl back unharmed because
Adam’s witnesses would be on the scene. And he really
wouldn’t owe Adam very much for picking her up if his own
team was there anyway.
“Sally boy, you still got it,” he told himself as he put
the phone away and spotted a parked taxi. When the driver
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pulled away and headed for the big hotel over on Paradise
Island, Sal was in the back seat dripping rainwater, but
smiling like an enraptured tourist.

145
 CHAPTER 30

The storm was coming on swiftly now. The cyclic

eye was the only window to the sky for many dark miles
around. The heavy, swirling cloud mass fed off the warm sea
as it grew and moved inexorably northwest with an insatiable
hunger. It was of such a size already as to be unhampered by
any minor land mass.
In the last few hours the barometer had fallen
drastically, and the wind was increasing. Paul wished now
that he could get a weather report, but the ship’s batteries
were irrevocably dead and he couldn’t get the cantankerous
engine started with the hand crank. Reluctantly, he decided
to tell Megan that they might have a problem. Crazy Lady
was beginning to pitch and roll heavily. Storm driven swells
and crashing spray were obscuring any passage through the
reef.
“Okay,” he hollered, coming on deck, “let’s make
like sailor boys and girls. Get everything battened down
tight. Nothing loose on deck or in the cabin. Looks like we
might be in for a little blow.”
“Paul, why don’t we get out of here? Isn’t this
dangerous? Didn’t you say we should go to a harbor if the
weather got bad? This is getting bad Paul.” She could see
that he was concerned now, although not frightened. She
could also sense that he was still quite angry.
“What’s the matter.” he said, “is the bad weather
spoiling your vacation? I wish we could get out of here, but
I’ve been trying for awhile; the engine won’t start. Trying to
make it through that surf line under sail would be crazy even
if I could see where the channel was. We’d best hunker
down here for now and make ready in case this thing gets
any worse. C’mon, we’ve got some work to do.”

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
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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
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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
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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.
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 ***********

The mounting storm had raged for hours now. It was

as bad as the islands had seen for many years, and it
continued to worsen. The inexperienced crew on board
Second Wind were exhausted. Any crew would have been.
This was the kind of storm that killed ships.
The sail furling mechanism on the catamaran was
jammed, and the boat was screaming through the wind. Her
twin hulls broke free at the crest of each sea and she leaped
free, surfing off the backs of the monstrous rollers. Every
line, cleat, and block was on the brink of failure.
“We got to cut loose de sails mon,” Deebe screamed
from the helm he could barely control, “quick before dis
whole raft come to pieces.”
Bruno dashed below and came back on deck with a
short, nasty looking machete. He slashed and hacked at the
sheet lines until they separated with a crack, and the
unhampered sails blew out to shreds and dissolved in the
wind. At the same time, Deebe got both diesels running and
fought for control. The huge cat shuddered as it pounded into
the next wall of sea, but broke free and came out riding fast
on top.
“There only one ting for it now mon,” Deebe yelled
above the wind, “hold tightly!” With wild hair flying he
aimed where the surf was crashing over a sand spit between
two islets, and jammed the throttles to the stops.

***********

There was no up or down, just a twirling, one

colored, crushing roar. Paul hung on to Megan’s vest as
though both of their lives depended on it. He groped blindly
with his free hand until he reached the emergency lanyard
near his shoulder and gave it a sharp tug. The vest inflated
with a long, low whistle, and it felt as though a large and
powerful hand was dragging him up. He tried to find
152
Megan’s emergency cord, but it was jammed somehow. He
wound his hand through her harness so that they could not
become separated. They were both pulled along together,
falling from the tops of waves and crashing down into the
dark gray valleys under an avalanche of angry ocean. There
was a sudden backswell, and somehow Paul knew what was
happening. The wave they were in was about to break over
jagged reef. If they hit the rocks they would be smashed
dead. He reached out with his free hand to fend off, blinded
by the exploding water and deafened from the thunderous
seas.
What he felt was not rock, but something smooth and
clean, and powerful in its own right. Whatever it was, he
hung on tight as he thought he was told to. It somehow had
hold of him too. But the thought was only a moment, and the
seas grabbed him and twisted around, then pushed him down
with the girl still tied to his wrist. He had wound his arm
through her vest so he would not lose her even after the
feeling in his limbs was gone. They were pushed down,
spinning, through a long, dark tunnel, down farther down.
Finally, a long time away, there was a small light at the end,
but it went out before he got there.

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 CHAPTER 31

The storm raged for three days and wrought

extensive damage throughout its path. Low lying areas were
flooded and high standing structures were knocked low.
Graceful trees were uprooted and flung like so many
feathered pick up sticks. Power and other services of
civilization were temporarily disconnected and the wheels of
progress ground agonizingly slow through the rubble and
muck.
But with the resilience of a species of survivors, the
systems and networks of commerce quickly recovered. The
day the storm ended, Captain Ray Brown was one of the first
people at the Fort Lauderdale airport looking for a ride out to
the islands. Reports so far were scattered and few. It was
feared and suspected that the storm had unleashed the worst
of its fury over the peaceful islands. In his desperation, Ray
tried everyplace on the field. Amid the wreckage and the
cleanup no one was ready to fly. Nearly at the limit of
frustration after his seventh stop he finally saw a plane
undamaged, preparing for flight on the ramp of Sun Island
Aviation. A shining twin engine Cessna 421 was being rolled
out of the hangar and a fuel truck was standing by. An
anxious young pilot was in earnest conversation through the
window of a white Lincoln Continental limousine. The
incredible power of wealth, he thought with a smile, almost
matched the impertinence of nature herself.
Ray left his taxi and walked across the puddled
tarmac. In the wake of such calamity, airport security was
surprisingly lax. He knew he had to talk to the pilot and
somehow wangle a ride back to the island to check on his
charter party and his boat. Phone lines and radio antennas
would be out of commission for some time, and he feared the
worst. The reports said that the storm had devastated the
islands, and he had left his boat and crew right in the path of
the worst destruction.

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.
156
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’
157
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

158
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
159
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
160
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?”

161
 CHAPTER 32

The pain was mostly in his shoulder; dull, almost

distant, but it woke him. Water hitting his face was annoying
and he tried to wipe it away, but his right arm was pinned
and it wouldn’t move. A bolt of pain shot through him and
his eyes squeezed shut, but it opened his mind. Now it hurt
everywhere.
Moving his head as little as possible, Paul used his
eyes to search around him. He followed his arm, no feeling
in it after the pain, all the way to the crumpled bundle at his
fist. Something moved. She was still alive. Thank God!.
With small, careful, delicate movements he twisted his knees
around under him. The left arm seemed to be okay, the
fingers all worked. He used the left to gingerly free the right
from the webbing of Meg’s safety harness and limp
buoyancy vest. His right arm hung dead like a piece of
driftwood.
He checked Meg over quickly. Nothing appeared to
be broken or badly damaged, but she was pale, and bruised.
And her breathing was shallow. An ugly gash was leaking
blood slowly from above her hairline. She must have struck
something when they went off the back of the boat. For the
first time in a very long time, Paul concentrated very hard,
and said a little prayer.
It was difficult to move. His own inflated vest was
constricting and bulky. He eased carefully out of the fabric
balloon and used it to prop the girl’s head and shoulders. She
began to breathe easier, but her eyelids didn’t even flutter.
It looked and felt as if they had been recklessly
tossed out of a passing wave. Megan was just crumpled like
any other flotsam on the broken beach. The savage, wind
blown rain stung, and murderous surf broke on the washed
out sand sending occasional floods up and around them.
He was afraid to move her too much, and didn’t have
a lot of his own strength left, but they couldn’t stay exposed

162
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
164
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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 CHAPTER 33

“So what do you think, Ray? Is this the way to see

the islands, or what?”
The little amphibian cruised at better than a hundred
knots through calm air above the clear blue sea. The
aircraft’s shadow raced through the water ahead of them and
over the bottom terrain with an incredible perception of
speed. From a thousand feet above, the horizon stretched
enough to see the outlines of small islands far ahead. They
were still low enough for a careful examination of the water
below.
It was a strange looking aircraft, but practical for its
purpose. A motor mounted on top above the cabin kept
important parts as dry as possible when the plane was
floating on the water. Long, heavy, shoulder height wings
assured anyone familiar with basic aerodynamics that this
machine would never go fast, especially with the sponsons
attached like little barrels out near the ends. She might look
ungainly, but Ray could tell she was sturdy and stable.
Relatively slow she may be, for an airplane, but he could not
imagine a more perfect conveyance for the task at hand. The
pusher prop configuration made more noise than most, but
direct prop blast over the large tail control surfaces was well
worth the trade, the pilot assured him. Besides, good
headsets muffled most of the outside sound and made
cockpit communication over the voice activated intercom a
simple matter. With the motor above and wings behind, the
mostly Plexiglas canopy afforded excellent visibility in all
directions.
Both men were directing their scan between the
outside and a chart clipped to the center of the instrument
panel. At first Ray was a little concerned that the pilot
couldn’t see all the illuminated numbers and little switches
under the chart.

168
 “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

169
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
170
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
171
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.
172
 “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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 CHAPTER 34

Most routes through the Bahamas cross the hub at

New Providence Island. This speck in the ocean holds one of
the island’s busiest and most important cities. Bristling with
international banks, offshore corporations, and businesses
small and large of every description, Nassau is easily
perceived as the head and brain center in this part of the
Caribbean.
Paradise Island nestles in against Nassau Town like a
vital organ. It connects across the long and busy harbour by a
single, graceful, high-arched span of concrete roadway
running with a constant stream of tourism and commerce.
The combination provides a steady economic pulse in the
warm blue sea. In many ways, Paradise Island is the beating
heart of the entity. Here is the picture postcard setting of neat
pastel chairs well placed on hand raked, white sand beaches.
The scene is usually framed and accented by healthy palm
trees and back dropped with a world class luxury hotel.
Paradise Island is where the colonizing British established
their most expensive pleasures. The economic spark of
gambling built a garden of earthly delights around the
casinos and brought the world, in time, to this exotic spot.
The wealthy came to play and relax, and the masses stopped
by to look and dream.
This busy island center pumps tourism, fame, and
dollars into the Bahamian Commonwealth economy. As with
any viable enterprise, especially one situated in a strategic
commercial crossroads, excitement, adventure, and intrigue
seem to be manufactured in the place. Unfortunately, as
sometimes happens with life, even when the heart and brain
are closely allied, the spirit can sometimes be left behind; too
often the soul is sold short for more tangible gains.
Evidence of the storm’s passing was visible
throughout the islands, even in this bastion of prosperity. The
expensive chaise lounges were twisted into pink and
turquoise piles of plastic junk, some still chained to the
174
occasional standing tree. Concession stands up and down the
beach were tossed and cracked like eggs spewing their
colorful recreational effluvia across the sand and into the
gentle lapping waves. Picturesque little cocktail huts were
mostly stripped bare of palm frond roofs, and the stick
skeletons were now exposed for all to see in the geometric
shadows projected against sand and sky. They looked like
giant, ruined umbrellas.
Power and money have their perks though, and
sometimes even nature does not erase them all. In a
penthouse suite, high above sea level, at the top of the
elevator ride in Paradise Island’s foremost Casino Hotel, life
continued on, nearly oblivious to the storm’s passage.
Cool draughts of air conditioning blended deliciously
with the warm breeze coming in from the sea through wide
open French doors. Sal and Terri lay naked and still on
hastily thrown back satin sheets. Their reunion, as always,
was energetic. But now they were in the comfortable
afterglow of long companionship. ‘Terri’s finger mixed
delicately with the hair around Sal’s ear.
“Sally, I’m worried,” she confided in a soft, low
voice.
Attention flooded his senses, and Sal turned to look
at his beautiful woman. Immediate concern was evident in
his demeanor.
“What’s the matter, Baby? There’s nothin’ you got to
trouble your head over. Tell me what it is. You know Sally
will take care of your problems.”
She rolled and hugged him tight, and spoke with her
mouth against his neck. “I’m worried about a lot of things,
Sal.” She turned onto her back, pulled the sheet up, and
continued.
“Do you ever wonder where we are in life, Sal? Why
some things come to be?
“I’m worried about Megan. I know this must sound
awful, but for the first time in my life I’m really worried
about her.

175
 “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.
176
 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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 CHAPTER 35

He was examining her head wound and changing the

dressing when she woke. It was a worried moment, but then
she smiled and squeezed his hand. It was going to be all
right.
“Just lie easy,” he told her gently. “You’re okay, but
you’ve had a nasty knock on the head. How do you feel?”
“Dizzy. Paul, where are we? What happened?
Where’s the boat? What about those guys with guns?”
“Whoa darlin’! First of all, just relax. Let me finish
with this dressing, then let’s take one thing at a time. Don’t
worry about the bad guys, we’re safe; they’re gone, and
won’t be bothering anybody any more.” Her eyes opened
wide with question. When he finished with the bandage, he
helped her to sit up slowly.
“What do you mean, ‘gone’?” she asked, looking out
to the empty starlit sea.
“Really gone. Forever, Meg. At the end there was an
explosion. Either their own guns or all that gasoline finished
them off. The other boat hit the reef. It’s a miracle that we
survived the storm. It’s not possible that anyone from the
other boats did.”
“Where’s our boat, Paul? Where’s the Crazy Lady?”
“She’s gone too, Honey. This,” he pointed to the
deflated, stretched out rubber skiff above them, “is all we
have left. I’m afraid we won’t be doing any sailing again real
soon,” he told her with a sad smile.
He helped her to her feet, and supported her while
they walked slowly to the water’s edge to just stand and look
out.
“I’m so sorry,” she said at last. “Paul, it’s my fault. I
didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“Megan, it’s not all your fault, you know. I helped
plenty getting us both into this mess. Don’t worry, we’ll
make out okay somehow. We’re really quite a team you
know. I don’t think anything can beat us now.”
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 Megan felt awful. Besides a splitting headache, she
was now suffering tortuous pangs of guilt. The boat was
gone; and with it perhaps that last chance she had hoped for.
A chance to disappear into a far away world of fantasy and
light where the harsh realities of life and the real world could
not follow. Well, follow her they had. And now, along with
the end of her last chance, she had brought the destruction of
Paul’s dream. The boat, she knew, had been more than an
illusion for him. It had been his real home, and the source of
his income, besides being the embodiment of a lifestyle and
a dream.
She had been cruel and thoughtless to use him in this
way. And now, to make it worse, he was trying to make her
feel better. Instead of blaming her, he was consoling her. The
longer she knew this man, the more there was to him. He
was infinitely more gentle, and kind, and sensitive than most
would guess. And he was probably a far better friend than
she deserved.
She felt an overpowering urge to just lower the
facade, finally and forever. More than want, she needed this
man, this friend. But the deceit must end. Now.
“Paul. I have to tell you something, about the gold.”
“Yeah.” He stopped her with an upheld hand, and
threw some stones at the waves. “I think I guessed already
Megan. Bruno and Doreen didn’t strike me as the runaway
robber types. I sort of figured you had a hand in that
somehow. Although now, I must admit, I wonder if either
one of us will ever see them or the gold again. Strange
though, it doesn’t seem all that important, does it. Maybe I
was never meant to have money anyway,” he laughed and
shrugged, “some days it’s good just to be alive.”
They sat close together on the ground, at the edge of
the sea, under starlight, with legs drawn up and nearly
touching. He placed his hands on her knees and looked into
her eyes. She could tell the words were coming from his
heart.
“Riches are more than money, Meg. You’ve helped
me to remember that. You’ve helped me to remember to feel
179
a lot of things Megan, I... I hope you understand what I’m
trying to say.”
She reached out, slid close, and put her arms around
to hold him tight. Warm tears ran down her cheeks.
“I’ve been such a damn fool. I almost missed the
most important thing, something that gold could never, ever
buy. Can you forgive me Paul?”
He put his good arm around her and held tight to
comfort them both. Paul deeply felt the loss of his home, the
physical manifestation of his life, his ship. But he knew that
Crazy Lady had died valiantly; sacrificed to fulfill an
ultimate purpose and destiny. The ship had died, but her
crew had survived.
Paul held the fantastic woman against him. For all he
had lost, he had gained so much. The sea takes, and the sea
gives back. The rule of the sea was survival, and survive they
would, somehow, together, forever. The bond they had
formed in such a short time was already stronger than
anything else he had ever known; far beyond a flirt and a
smile, a warm body in the night. Soulmates had found one
another, and a destiny was sealed. The night rejoiced.
“You’re more than forgiven, Megan. I understand.”
He pulled her up off the sand and put her on her feet after a
gentle, halfturn. “I want us to be together, Megan, forever,
whatever happens. That is,” and his devilish smile glowed,”
if you can stand being with a dead broke sailor who doesn’t
even have a boat anymore.”
“We don’t need a boat, Paul; not tonight. We have a
whole island. And we’ll have lots of time for whatever else
we need. And besides, we’re not really even poor; I just
remembered something. Look at this.” She walked up the
beach, halfway to the campfire, and came back with her
deflated buoyancy vest. Paul had to help her with the
jammed pocket zipper. When they finally had it freed and
open, she withdrew the golden dolphin figurine and handed
it to him. He held it in his hands and felt more than the
weight of gold.

180
 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.”

***********

Back on Nassau the island was recovering nicely

from the storm, but Mr. Adam was not. He felt gripped by
dark and gloomy premonition. The simplest things were
going wrong. He should have been able to locate Sullivan
and the boat, and that damn girl, by now. He was not making
a very impressive showing for his new friends. Bingo had
never failed him before and he could not understand why
there was still no report. He paced out into the main office
and scowled at a young man at the radio console, but there
was still no contact.
He needed the cooperation of these American
‘businessmen’ now. The timing was perfect. The storm had
likely devastated most of the ramshackle villages on Emerald
Cay. The people of the home island would be in disarray and
needy. This would be a perfect opportunity for him to wrest
control of the land from the crazy old headman who thought
he knew the people so well.
The land they occupied was too valuable an asset for
a peasant village. Those beautiful hills overlooking the beach
181
and harbor should be his. What a perfect location for a great
resort and the largest Casino in the Caribbean.
The people had listened to the old man’s stories and
promises for a long time now. Even they were becoming too
sophisticated to believe in the fantasies much longer. Much
to his satisfaction, some had already begun to grumble. How
could any people in this day and age still possibly believe
what the old one taught? Imagine believing, and waiting for
some sign, some symbol, that would reconnect a people to
their ancestors and origins in the sea?
All the pieces were finally in place, the culmination
of years of his work and planning. Adam was determined
that now was the time to act. It was frustrating that he had
temporarily lost touch with his minions, but the thought of a
mere storm putting a halt to his plans was absurd. Nearly as
absurd as that witch doctor’s promise. The Golden Dolphin
this, the Golden Dolphin that. The legendary golden, blue-
eyed dolphin, ancient relic, would reappear and help to guide
the people to their next destiny. Crazy thoughts for an
ignorant people. He would show them their destiny. He
would teach them the meaning of power. His power. And he
would reward himself with all that he deserved.
With these thoughts the frustration faded. The delay
was only very temporary. The storm had put everyone’s
schedule behind a few days, but he was still in control.
In the meantime, he knew Sal was well occupied. The
pilot had reported delivering the woman. Quite attractive he
was told. Good to know that his future partners believed in
providing themselves with pleasures, he certainly intended
to. From the pilot’s description, he was pretty sure the extra
passenger had been Ray Baker. He had no idea what the
independent Captain Ray had to do with the woman; maybe
he was just hitching a ride. In any case, a man whose life was
tied up in a one boat charter operation would have his hands
full after a hurricane, at least that was one unknown entity he
wouldn’t have to worry about right now.

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 CHAPTER 36

They were coming back across the Gulf Stream at

three hundred feet on the return from Florida. They had
picked up parts and supplies needed to repair the boat. The
back seats were out of the plane now, and the amphibian was
heavily loaded.
This was a view of the sea that Ray was having some
trouble getting used to; at better than a hundred knots, and
only a second from the wave tops, it commanded his full
attention. Sky looked relaxed and natural with one hand
resting light on the yoke.
The flight to Florida had been similar, except they
had dropped down even lower, and hadn’t bothered to check
with any custom’s officials when they touched down at a
small private field inland between Miami and Ft. Lauderdale.
Sky mentioned something about not having time to fool with
senseless details. He borrowed a station wagon from
someone he knew at the hangar, and they drove around to do
their shopping. Most of what they needed was readily
available from the many supply houses and marinas on the
busy South Florida coast. Only the new rudder had to be
fabricated, and they found a place in Pompano that promised
to have it ready in less than a week.
Reconfiguring the aircraft for cargo took only a short
time. A very simple task. The seats were held in place with
wing nuts, and Sky had tie down loops that threaded right
onto the studs. By the time they got back from shopping, the
aircraft was already refueled, and the back seats just went up
on a shelf in the hangar.
They took off loaded, mid morning of the next day, and
cleared out of the States with about the same formality they
used to come in. Ray was trying to take everything in stride,
and, so far, doing all right. But this high speed, low level
cross between flying and boating was a whole new kind of
experience he was having trouble getting used to. He
couldn’t help frequent, surreptitious glances from the sea
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flashing outside the window down to the instruments. All of
the dials looked painted in place, or moved only the tiniest
degrees. Especially, the needle on the radar altimeter
remained rock steady.
“Relax Captain,” Sky spoke into the intercom
without even glancing over, “this is normal cruising altitude
for me; there’s nothing to worry about. Just like to keep in
shape, you know. And this is a very good way to practice.
You’ve got the hang of flying pretty well already. Why don’t
you try this for a bit. It’s just like flying way up there straight
and level, only there’s a little more incentive to the
challenge. Just don’t get much lower, or you’ll have to watch
out for flying fish.” He laughed, and moved his seat back a
few clicks as Ray somewhat nervously took the controls,
never one to refuse a challenge.
“Now, you can’t concentrate too hard, or this
becomes a real chore,” Sky continued. “Relax. Keep your
eyes moving from the horizon, to the surface, to the
instruments. Very gentle on the yoke. You’re doing good.
“Let’s talk a little. Why don’t you tell me about that
crazy little island man who walked up to you at the marina
where we bought the rigging wire?
“That was strange, the way the guy just walked in off
the dock with that goofy grin, and you wandered away with
him for more than half an hour.”
It was more than strange, Ray remembered. It was the
same crazy guy from the dock in Nassau who said he was
Deebe’s grandfather. He hadn’t asked any questions. Instead,
he seemed to know that they had found Deebe and the boat,
and all was relatively well. He simply wanted Ray to pass
along some seemingly meaningless messages to Deebe. He
even had things he wanted to say to Paul and Megan. Ray
told the old fellow they didn’t know where the couple was,
and he was just getting ready to begin the search for them.
The old man paused for a few seconds, then broke into a gap
toothed grin.
“Don’ fine ‘em too soon now fellas,” he cackled with
a mischievous gleam in his eye. “They a mite busy right
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now. Awful busy.” The old man’s eyes were glittering like
he was watching a titillating movie. “But they be real happy
to see you pretty soon Cap’n. You be sure an tell ‘em from
me dey done a fine job so far.”
The old one spoke at length with Ray about “his part”
in the plan. The guy was so enthusiastic, and Ray already
preoccupied, that it didn’t seem to make any difference that
he had no idea what “plan” they were talking about. Finally,
the dignified Rasta man simply turned, and towed his
impressive dreadlocks away down the dock to the south. His
hard, bare feet barely brushed the planks as he vanished from
the docks into a crowd.
It took a while for Ray to explain, as best he could,
the disjointed story of the Rasta man. Sky listened politely,
lounging back in his seat, all the time with part of his
attention on the flight instruments and the racing water
below.
“So, this old guy is from Emerald Cay. Well, that
figures. Emerald Cay is one strange and spooky island, Ray.
I’ve been there a few times. Back in the hills it’s like time
stopped a hundred years ago. You ever wonder why nobody
goes there? Even with the U.S. Navy base there, most of the
island is still passed over by technology and civilization.
Except for a couple of small dive resorts, they don’t really
have tourism.”
“Now that you mention it,” Ray added, “I’ve been
sailing these waters for years, and I’ve never been there. I
don’t know why. It’s one of the bigger islands, and not so far
away. I’ve often seen the hills from a distance when we sail
past. It still looks undeveloped. It does seem strange that the
sweep of economic development and tourism in these islands
skipped right over that big one, and touched so many little
ones farther out.”
“Well, You’ve probably heard some of the stories,
Ray. I’ve been told the people of that island are some
different race, descended from medicine men or something.
Supposedly, their magic protects the island. They say the
place is inhabited by conjured up little creatures like elves, or
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leprechauns. The legends say these Chicharnes can be
viscious and really cruel.
“Chicharnes. Supposedly, they drive away anyone
who would harm the islanders, or anyone they don’t want
around. So far, I guess, they’ve done a pretty good job. The
island’s still mostly natural and unspoiled. About the only
exception is the Navy base, but when it comes to spoiling,
rude, aggressive, and intrusive, Uncle Sam is a pretty big
legend in his own right.”
“I’ve been told they’re going to close that base down
soon. They do their spy work mostly with satellites now,”
Ray remembered. “The island is going to miss their money,
at least. There will have to be some kind of economic
replacement if the people want to survive in the twenty first
century.
Sky continued, “It’s a prime location for tourism.
That island has the potential to become something really
special. They’ve got it all: beaches, harbors, reefs offshore,
jungles, hills, and even a couple of small rivers. I only hope
the people get the opportunity to do it right and not spoil
everything.”
They flew on, low over the water, skimming between
mostly deserted islands. They passed by a beautiful, white,
halfmoon bay. There was a broken hull washed up on the
beach. Sky took back the controls and made a series of
circles over the area. There was no sign of any survivors. It
was a grim reminder of the possible fate of their friends.
They turned back on course to the catamaran and flew the
rest of the way mostly in silence.
The plane slipped easily from the air to the still
surface of the now familiar lagoon. They spent the rest of the
day unloading, moving supplies, and preparing to start boat
repairs in the morning.
For most of the time, strenuous activity kept
conversation to a minimum. It was a laborious task as they
balanced and struggled to transfer from the anchored sea
plane, to the bobbing skiff, up onto the grounded catamaran.
The hot sun and wind did not help. Only Bruno seemed
186
unaffected, lugging the heaviest items, and lifting like a
hydraulic crane.
Work done, day’s end, and finally its due rewards.
Dinner was a most welcome extravagance. A large cooler
they’d flown in was packed with steak, chicken, vegetables,
and other delicacies from the mainland. There was enough to
restock the ship’s refrigerator and feed the crew for several
days. They would be far too busy to go fishing. Ray and
Doreen prepared an arrangement of exotic shish kabobs. The
crew all turned out on deck with cocktails while the skewers
sputtered on the grill. It was time to relax, and contemplate
the ending of the day.
A red plate sun dipped below the earth’s edge and
spread its last rays in golden red fingers all the way across
the sea. All was quiet except for the lapping of little
wavelets. The inflatable and the seaplane moored off the
stern tugged gently on their leashes like pups reliving the
day’s adventures.
“I’m worried about Paul and Megan,” Doreen finally
voiced. “We have to find them tomorrow.”
“We start again at first light,” Sky agreed. “We
already know a lot of places where they’re not. We’ll start
tomorrow back at the reef where they were before the storm.
They shouldn’t be too far from there. There are a lot of little
islands around that area. With just a bit of luck it shouldn’t
be much longer.
Bruno sat hunched in a corner of the upholstered
cockpit. It was strange being on a grounded vessel; no
movement at all. Doreen was absentmindedly massaging his
arm, and even though she was used to his habitual quiet, she
could sense that he was brooding.
“I hope they’re all right,” he said softly. “I feel awful
bad about the way things turned out. If we don’t find them
soon it may be too late.”
“Hey,” Sky interjected to lighten up the conversation,
They’re both just fine. We have that on good authority, don’t
we Ray?”

187
 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
188
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

189
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.”

190
 “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.

191
 “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.

***********

They came in high over the lagoon just before dusk.

Paul and Megan were pretty well caught up on the current
state of affairs with the Second Wind and her crew. Still,
they were happy and reassured to see her sitting intact and
peaceful below.
“Hey look,” Sky pointed out a small, open, wooden
boat sculling away from the lagoon. “It looks like our friends
have had some company.”
“But where’s he going like that?” Paul asked.
“There’s nothing around here for a whole lot of miles.”

193
 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.”

194
 CHAPTER 37

The acrid smell of curing resin hung heavy in the still

warm, late afternoon air. Fiberglass work made a god awful
mess, but the results were satisfying and turning out well.
Next trip to a boat yard, Second Wind could use some
cosmetic touch up to her gel coal, but in the meantime she
was sound, tight, and nearly ready to go.
The triumphant return of the seaplane with Paul and
Megan was like a final brush stroke to cover the damage
from the storm. It lifted the last cloud of despair from the
crew’s spirits.
Doreen was relieved to see that Megan and Paul were
no longer at odds; far from it in fact. All through the telling
of their story about the attackers, and the storm, and the
violence and death all around them they sat close together
communicating with their eyes. Speaking softly in turns,
their story came as though from one mind.
As soon as they had seen their friends, Bruno and
Doreen rushed to explain and reassure that the money and
gold were aboard and waiting for them below. Although Paul
and Megan were obviously pleased, they seemed strangely
unaffected by the news; as though they had much more
important matters to consider. Probably, the rest of the crew
figured, their friends were just exhausted.
Fortunately, the yacht’s desalination units provided
plenty of fresh water. The marooned refugees spent a long,
luxurious time in a hot shower. When they finally emerged
from their cabin, they were refreshed and remarkably well
recovered from their ordeal.
The tropical sun was well below the horizon by the
time they were all assembled in the spacious center cockpit
waiting for the sizzling steaks to be done.
Bruno sat on the cabin roof, next to the mast, playing
his guitar. He was strumming a made up tune he had put
together in the islands. It had a strange, lilting, enchanting

195
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
196
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.

198
 “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
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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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 CHAPTER 38

The old man walked the Nassau streets and took in

everything around him. How much it had all changed. The
beautiful bits of paradise were all divided up now and
partitioned off. Gates and bars, security signs, barking dogs
and angry warnings. Advertisements everywhere. Everyone
in such a rush to go nowhere. These people have forgotten
how to live, he thought, or maybe I have just lived too long.
But change is the work of time, and the best that can be done
is to guide it well along a proper course.
It was definitely time for another step in the action of
the universe, he knew. The next step would begin a new era
for his people. The very thought of it all almost made him
weary. But destiny is inevitable, and time moves only
forward. Besides, the message was clear, the hands of fate
were already in motion and there was no stopping now.
He walked along the old harbour’s edge. In the
aftermath of the storm the quay was washed clean, and it was
nearly deserted. The large new docks for the sleek cruise
ships were all empty, but that would soon change.
He walked to the place where the fishermen and
farmers had tied their boats for generations. This
marketplace was a great center of island trade and society.
Products grown, caught, and made by hand were sold and
traded daily. Even in this day of container ships and fast air
cargo, small boats from all through the islands still came
here with their lobsters, and snapper, bananas and coconuts,
sharks and limes, and the inevitable conch, all to feed the
traditional local market. He walked and took it all in. The
cobblestones were smooth under the old man’s feet.
He looked out in the harbour to the place where they
had thrown the conch shells for generations. The broken pink
and white remains formed their own island now, a
monument to the bounty of the sea and man’s relentless
exploitation. Balance. Balance was the key.

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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

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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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 CHAPTER 39

The bright daytime colors of the hotel garden

softened in the waning light. As the sun lowered, the tropical
hues seemed to take on a more pastel quality. Spicy smells
from fruit and cinnamon trees, and the scent of hibiscus, wild
rose, and a hundred other tropical plants flooded the senses
with sweet, exotic perfume. Terri and Sal walked side by
side, holding hands, along the quiet path. Even his city
hardened thoughts were calmed by the soft surroundings.
They had walked this way before, through the tame
jungle grove that surrounded the beach front hotel. At least
once each day since she had arrived in Nassau they had
strolled these shaded walks, and the peaceful tropical aura
never failed to soothe his Mediterranean soul. She knew her
man. Especially today, he needed help to calm his raging
temper.
The paths rambled through the garden. Some went to
the beach, others to hotels and restaurants, some crossed the
narrow strip of island to the harbour side where a small canal
ran in and ended in a gated pool. The hotel used the pool as a
natural aquarium. The low gate allowed relatively easy
access for the nimble and curious sea mammals who
sometimes came by to visit and delight and entertain the
guests.
Terri knew he would be easier to talk to after they sat
for a little while in their favorite place beside the pool.
Hopefully, they could splash the water and call, and the
wonderful creatures would appear. Sometimes it was as
though they had a special rapport, and the dolphins would
roll, and play, and communicate just for them. She led Sal
toward the pool without saying a word, letting his troubles of
the day dissolve slowly into the deliciously warm night air.
The pool was deserted when they got there, and the
water was still. They sat on the carved stone bench. Here
there were no hurried traffic noises and sirens. Instead, the
quiet sounds of nature were interrupted only by the signals of
206
graceful boats on the harbor beyond. Busy Nassau town was
barely a buzz in the distance.
“I can’t find her Terri,” Sal said at last. “Hell, I don’t
know what happened. My own guys are missing. Even the
island boss man lost contact and doesn’t know where his
own men are.”
Terri moved to sit on the low sea wall and removed
her shoes to let her feet dangle in the warm water. A gentle
splash and the whistle of breath announced the presence of
dolphins in the pool. They were just barely visible out there
in the tame lagoon, floating quietly with their chins resting
on the surface. One pair of eyes was particularly bright. The
presence of the mammals made the night not so empty, but
still private.
“I love you Sal,” Terri told him, “and I know you’re
doing everything you can.”
“I’m sorry Terri,” Sal apologized again, “but we’re in
big trouble here. I know it’s not Megan’s fault. I blame
myself, and that asshole Vinnie most of all. But she’s in deep
now. The big boys back in the city are really worried. In the
meantime, there’s no way I can call off those soldiers. I was
hopin’ the business we were settin’ up here would distract
‘em for a while, but now I’m not even sure that’s gonna
work out. It’s gonna take a miracle to fix all this.”
In her heart, Terri knew that Sal was right. Although
they were both tiring of it, this was a high stakes game you
couldn’t leave until it was ready to let you go. And now her
daughter was in it as well.
She believed that she would somehow know if any
harm had come to Megan, and so far there were no such
feelings, despite the future looking bleak. Still she had been
in desperate and dangerous places before. One thing she had
learned to believe is that miracles can, indeed, happen.
“You girl be fine Miss. More bettah even than that,”
the lilting voice spoke from a shadow near the water.
They had not heard anyone approach. Sal sprang to
his feet with a speed and motion that was surprising for a
man of his build. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
207
 A small, dark man in a colorful knitted hat stepped
into the circle of illumination from one of the garden lights.
He was barefoot, they noticed, and long coils of hair hung
nearly to the ground. But there was an overwhelming
presence of dignity about him, and clearly no hostile intent.
“I am only I. One who has traveled far and seen
much,” the old man replied. “I bring you news and maybe
more also. Perhaps there is much we should discuss.”
Terri or Sal had never met a man like this before. His
physical appearance and speech were not of their world, but
his message was clear in their hearts and minds. They spoke
together beside the lagoon for what could have been minutes
or hours. His story was fantastic. But if it was real, Terri
hoped, it might be the beginning of the miracle she dared to
hope for.
“You say this guy Ray sent you?” Sal asked
suspiciously.
“No man sends me,” the Old One answered. “The
captain Ray is a part of the plan. I seek you out as another. It
all be part of nature’s balance,” he smiled and spread his
hands. “ I welcome you, and hope you will reason wisely.”
“I’ll check it out and get back to you,” Sal told him.
“How do I get in touch with you?”
“I shall be passing by from time to time,” the Shaman
answered casually. “Most you must discuss with Captain and
those aboard his vessel.
“Many pieces yet must come together,” the Old One
explained. He suggested they might want to visit the
Emerald Cays soon themselves. It was as likely a place as
any, he supposed, to find the catamaran and her crew.
“Will my daughter be there?” Terri asked anxiously.
The Shaman looked to the sky and the fullness of the
moon. “They be on the way very soon now. Your girl be
waitin’ to talk with you.”
“How do we get there?” Terri asked.
“There be many ways,” the Old One chuckled his
answer, “but you must find your own.” Then he turned, and
was gone.
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 CHAPTER 40

Looking up from the deck of the catamaran the

glimmering celestial lights did not seem so far away. The
moon and stars bathed the surface of the still lagoon and
covered it like snow on the winter fields back in New
England. Paul and Ray were alone on deck waiting, watching
the moon and tide. Only two more days for the flood tide,
and the marked pole they had set was showing less than two
feet of water over the bar. The cat had a three foot draft, and
it was going to be tight getting her out, but Ray was
concerned about more than that.
“You okay Paul?” he asked. “You’ve been pretty
quiet. It’s been rough hasn’t it?”
“It’s not good to lose your boat Ray. It’s been about
as rough as it gets so far.” Then Paul turned and actually
smiled. “But you know, somehow I have this crazy feeling it
might have all been worth it. I’ve lost a lot, but I’ve gained a
whole lot more. Does that make any sense?”
Ray gripped his shoulder and looked at Paul with
understanding. “She is a good woman Paul. I can feel it too.
Perhaps you’ve finally found what you’ve been looking for.”
“I’ve learned a lot Ray. Everything feels different
now. For the first time in a long time, I’m actually looking
forward to the future.”
They sat in silence for awhile, and watched large,
lazy clouds pass under the full, white moon.
You know, Paul,” Ray began quietly, “there was a
time when my whole world came crashing down. I thought
my life was over then. Somehow, time passed. Life never
really has been the same since, but I survived, and eventually
got strong again. Hopefully even a little wiser. I guess what
I’m trying to tell you is that the future is all we have to live
for, but it’s all we need, and it’s always worth it. I’m glad to
see you’ve come through the other side of the dark place.
Take what you have, everything you’ve learned, and use it to
make the very best of tomorrow.”
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 They sat quietly again and watched the water rise
slowly on the tide pole; two and a half feet now.
“What are we going to do about Emerald Cay and the
Grandfather?” Paul finally asked. “ This whole thing is like a
crazy vision running through my head.”
“I know what you mean,” Ray told him. “Ever since I
met that guy there are all kinds of things I can’t get out of
my mind. I must admit I’m a little bewildered, and intrigued
at the same time. Maybe I’ve just had enough of the good
life and it’s time to get back to some kind of serious work.”
He laughed easily. “I suppose we should at least go there and
take a look, don’t you? We need someplace quiet and out of
the way to regroup and decide what we’re all going to do
next. For now, Emerald Cays seems as good a place as any.”
“Look at the tide pole,” Paul pointed to the water still
rising on the stick. “It sounds like a good idea to me, and I
think we should be out of here tomorrow night.”
“I’ve had about enough deserted island paradise for a
while myself,” Ray agreed. “But first we’d better figure a
way out of this bloody lagoon. What if the tide doesn’t come
in another foot?”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too,” Paul told
him. “With your shallow draft you probably haven’t run into
this problem before. Cruising around in Crazy Lady with a
six foot keel, I’ve picked up a few tricks.”
The shallow lagoon offered no room to maneuver
under sail, and they didn’t want to risk damaging the props
again or sucking debris into the engines; they might need
them to clear the island as soon as they crossed over the bar
into deeper water. It was decided they would have to kedge
out.
The next day, Second Wind was made ready to,
hopefully, float again. Everything below decks and above
was stored, checked, and secured for sea. The new mainsail
was uncovered and ready to be hoisted. Two large kedge
anchors were hauled out in the skiff and set beyond what
they hoped would be the opening in the sand bar at the next

210
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
211
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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 CHAPTER 41

A dozen phone calls and almost as many taxi trips

into the afternoon taught Sal and Terri that getting to
Emerald Cay was not a simple proposition. The only regular
ferry transport was the weekly mail boat, and the storm had
that delayed indefinitely. Most charter boats were out of
commission for awhile and none of the captains seemed too
anxious to travel in that direction anyway. Sal would not
even consider asking Mr. Adam for assistance.
In a quest for more “professional” services, their
inquiries led them to the small terminal of one of the world’s
oldest airlines. Chalk’s flying service had been operating
flying boats around Florida and the Caribbean for nearly fifty
years. They were still flying World War II vintage Albatross
and PBY aircraft, but with a safety record that was the envy
of the industry. Long before other airlines, and even before
many airports were established, Chalk’s flying boats formed
a vital link in the islands’ transportation network.
Chalk’s air terminals are designed to be simple and
quick to build. A wide concrete ramp from the water and a
pad large enough to turn and park a few airplanes were the
most expensive parts. A hut or small building with a ticket
counter usually adorned the busier sites. Nassau harbour
boasted a real waiting room.
Sal stood at the counter; hot, exhausted, and
frustrated. Terri sat splay legged, fanning herself, in one of
the long rack of empty chairs.
The smiling clerk was trying her best to maintain a
professionally cheery attitude, but there was really nothing
she could do.
“I am sorry, sir. Service has been suspended for
several days due to the storm. There are no aircraft, as you
can see. We cannot land in the harbour again until our area
has been checked and we know that it is clear and safe. In
any case, even when we do begin again, we do not offer any

213
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...”

214
 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.”

***********

“There is always a way,” Sky smiled. “If you don’t

mind strapping in on the back floor, sir, we can be on the
way as soon as I’m fueled and you’re ready to go.”
“How much is this gonna cost,” Sal grumbled,
looking out at the small, odd airplane.
“Well, let’s see; that would be two passengers first
class to Emerald Cay. Would that be one way or round trip,
sir?”
“Damnit, I suppose we’re gonna have to get back
here sometime. I don’t know when.”
“Hmm, I think that a thousand dollars U.S. should
cover it then. Don’t worry about the return, we’ll work
something out.”
Sal glowered, but Terri squeezed his arm. He pulled
out his wallet and counted ten hundred dollar bills onto the
desk. Sky simply nodded acceptance.
Terri led Sal gingerly to the door, “Honey, you’re so
much better with these taxis and things. I’ve packed us both
traveling bags in the closet at the hotel. Can you go back and
get them? I’ll wait here, I’m exhausted.”
Sure baby. I gotta make a couple a calls first anyway.
But keep a close eye on this guy. Make sure he’s here and
ready to go when I get back.”
They all watched Sal drive away in the still waiting
cab.
215
 “You can just call me Sky,” the pilot introduced
himself as he stepped toward her and extended his hand.
“Hi, I’m Terri. Terri Jacobs.” she returned his
handshake politely. “I’m glad you came along. We’ve had a
frustrating day so far.”
“Well, the Emerald Cays are a little off the usual
tour. You and your friend don’t appear to be serious divers
or bird watchers, and those are about the only types who go
out there. Are you sure you’re going to the right place?” All
the while, Sky was watching her closely. He couldn’t help
but notice she was a very attractive woman, and there was
something about her eyes, the shape of her face, that was
recently familiar.
“You know, it’s not a real tourist oriented place over
there,” he told her, “and quite frankly, it’s not the sort of
place you want to start any trouble.”
“Don’t worry about Sal,” she said and smiled
sweetly, “he’ll be good. I promise.”
“Well, I’m just the charter pilot,” Sky spoke softly,
holding Terri’s attention with his gaze, “but if you’re looking
for something in particular it wouldn’t hurt to ask. I’m very
familiar with these islands, and most folks think of me as a
friend.”
Terri recognized a helping hand when it was offered,
but at the same time she had to be very careful. She followed
the young man across the empty lobby to the large windows
looking out on the concrete apron, and his strange aircraft,
and the blue harbour beyond.
“Do you know Ray Baker, perhaps?” she asked
casually. “He’s an old friend.”
Sky chuckled. “Funny thing,” he answered, “I’ve
been with Ray for the last few days. We’ve been trying to get
his catamaran repaired. This storm caused all kinds of havoc
out there. We even had to fly a rescue mission. We picked up
a couple whose sailboat was wrecked and they were stranded
on a small island. Ray’s got quite a crew with him now.”
Terri contemplated for a moment, excited despite
herself, then dug into her purse. She opened a small zippered
216
compartment, removed a well worn photograph, and handed
it to Sky.
“This is my daughter. I’ve come a long way, and it’s
very important that I find her soon.”
“What makes you think she might be on Emerald
Cay?” Sky questioned, while studying the proffered
photograph.
Terri told him, “An old island man told me he’d seen
her, and he suggested we go to there. Please, can you help
me?”
Sky looked at the photograph very carefully, then at
Terri.
“I wish I could say I’ve been running into good
looking blondes lately,” he replied easily, “but it’s been a
rough week. If someone told you she’s on the island, she
should be easy enough to find when you get there. You’re
lucky you found a charter flight. We should be ready to go
real soon.
“Hey Sharon” he called over to the girl “where’s that
fuel truck?”
“Comin’ up any time now,” she called back.
Sky walked over to the pile of money on the counter,
slid some bills off the top and put them in his shorts’ pocket.
He left the rest on the counter and told Sharon, “Thanks
Darlin’. Take out for the gas, and the rest is for you. Spend it
wisely now.” He gave her a friendly wink, and the girl
giggled happily.

217
 CHAPTER 42

In the pale morning light, the Emerald Cays showed

as a lovely, gentle green apparition rising from the sea ahead.
Lacy mists shrouded the higher peaks, and the low length of
the island reflected soft light from endless beaches and low,
lush tropical vegetation. Stately palms stood majestic rank
around the border.
Second Wind slipped through deep water under sail
only. She was quiet, and her crew, all awake now, passed
binoculars back and forth examining the shoreline. Ray had a
chart open on the cockpit table. It showed the main island, its
seven little cousins, the depths of the waters all around, and
not much else.
“That be the home island,” Deebe told them, some
pride evident in his voice.
Although little could actually be seen from their
vantage point at sea, Deebe pointed out features of the
islands. There was a place high on the shoulder of the central
mountain where, he said, his home village was, and the
principle circle of his people’s power. A clear river ran
down, he marked the route in the air with his finger tip, and
emptied into a deep blue bay. As a child, he and his friends
would build small rafts and float down from the village over
mild, splashing rapids, through fragrant jungle, to swim and
play in the quiet water below.
“Is that the place we’re going to now?” Doreen
asked. “That would be fantastic! It sounds beautiful. Is it
near here?”
Deebe just kept on speaking, wrapped now in his
own nostalgic tour.
“Goat Cay there,” he pointed to a rocky, scrub
covered islet. “is for the goats only. The children come to
tend them and get the milk.”
He explained that all of the smaller cays were uninhabited by
people on a full time basis, but several were used to graze
animals or grow hardy vegetables and grains.
218
 For the most part, this whole end of the main island
was only sparsely inhabited. It belonged entirely to his
people and was as yet undeveloped. The island’s small, main
town and seaport was around the curve of the shore from
their position, and the Navy base, with its own small harbor
and large airstrip was several miles along the coast from the
town.
As they sailed outside the protective reef they could
see a long sweep of curved white beach bordering a high
headland.
“That be the turtlin’ grounds,” Deebe told them.
“Each year come many turtles, hundreds, to leave their eggs
in the sand. At hatchin’ time, it be a fabulous sight.”
“What else?” asked Bruno, caught up in the charm of
the place.
As if in answer, a reception committee of dolphins
appeared suddenly and surfaced around the vessel, so close
that they added their breath to the spray that flung from the
hulls. They dashed from the wake to the bows, and formed a
line out ahead. It seemed they just kept coming by in turn to
play and welcome the people on board.
Paul and Megan looked at each other and beamed. It
was the happy reality of a dream coming true. A feeling like
finally returning home unscathed after an arduous journey.
Deebe stood on the gunwale and offered a greeting
salute as the mammals streaked in from behind and played in
the pressure waves alongside the boat for a moment before
shooting on ahead.
“Follow them, Cap’n,” Deebe called out, “they won’t
steer you wrong. They know real good where they goin’.”
Paul turned the large wheel, and the cat nodded
slightly to port. The line of dolphins marched endlessly past
them, guiding the way through never marked channels into
the security of the island’s embrace.
The sleek yellow hulls swung unerringly through the
coral barriers, ever closer to the island. Now, they could see
they were headed directly for a high promontory cliff, but the
dolphins led them forward, and they followed in agreement
219
with no hesitation. Paul handled the helm expertly, with
Megan at his side. Ray was busy taking bearings and making
notations on the chart, and keeping a close eye on the depth
sounder. Deebe was forward in the port bow pulpit keeping
watch and reveling in this seaward homecoming. Bruno and
Doreen stood in the starboard pulpit experiencing the
adventure and a thrill of discovery. So far, there were no
signs of habitation, and they might have been the first people
ever to discover this fantastic domain.
A deep, wide channel carried them in close, past the
headland, and they could see, tucked in behind, a broad, well
protected bay.
Ray called for some help, and the crew scrambled to
the lines and winches. Paul put the boat up into the wind, and
in moments the large mainsail was down and secured. The
helm swung back over, and Second Wind ghosted into the
bay with only the striped genoa pulling her along.
The dolphins gathered in the bay now, hundreds of
them, all across the broad expanse, leaping and cavorting as
if to welcome and entertain the ship and her crew with their
antics and soft sighs. They led the newcomers deep into the
protected waters. There was a small islet at the end of the
bay, and as they passed, moving slowly now with the wind,
the dolphins thinned out, dispersed, and were finally gone.
“Look,” Bruno called out, pointing from the bow.
As more of the shoreline slid into view behind the
little cay they could see a brightly painted island boat drawn
up on the beach with its single sail furled.
“Hieee, Grandfather!,” Deebe shouted from his
forward perch.
A small campfire flickered on the beach at the edge
of the jungle, and light smoke drifted up from the round
clearing in the tall coconut palms. Inside a ring of stones, the
old man sat comfortably, smoking and looking out, as if he
had been waiting and watching and expected them to appear
at just this time.
“Ready by the hook, Bruno,” Ray called out.

220
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.

224
 CHAPTER 43

Mr. Adam paced the high porch of his villa an

unhappy man. He was frustrated and angry. It seemed the
whole world was falling apart.
Bingo must be gone. It was hard to believe the fool
had let himself be killed off by a storm, but it must be so.
Bingo had never been out of touch this long before. His loss
would be a serious blow to many of Adam’s operations.
Paul Sullivan and the girl were still unaccounted for,
and Adam could only hope that they were sunk and lost also.
Now even Sal d’Ambrosia and his girlfriend were missing
from the hotel; probably scared off by the storm. But it was
disturbing that they left no trace of their departure. Even
Sal’s henchmen assistants were all missing. It was as though
the whole deal was suddenly blown, decimated by the wind
and washed away by the angry waves. How could a simple
storm have caused him so much trouble?
Even the little things in life were going badly. Since
the afternoon he threw the old medicine man out of the office
the Jaguar had refused to run. The men even had trouble
towing it away. And the damnable storm was still hampering
his communications network. Radio antennas and phone
lines were down all over the place. Even the boats and his
commuter planes were not back on schedule yet. Power was
only intermittent at the house, the ice machine wasn’t
working. He was drinking warm rum, and he hadn’t had a
decent meal in three days. He didn’t even know where the
damn girl was half the time anymore.
The rest of his staff was completely missing in
action, pretending to be consumed by their own petty affairs
and troubles brought on by the damnable storm.
Adam paced furiously back and forth. He looked out
over his wrecked yard. Broken lawn furniture, drowned
bushes, and general debris were cluttered everywhere. There
was so much junk in the pool it looked like a puddle in the

225
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.

226
 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.

227
 CHAPTER 44

It was mostly a peaceful flight from Nassau to

Emerald Cay, and little was said. Sal grumbled some about
being stuffed in the back of the cabin with the luggage and
cargo. At first Terri offered the front seat, but the pilot
insisted Sal had to be in the back to distribute the weight
properly. He sat back there on his own small suitcase on the
floor with his back against an igloo cooler and some lashed
down boxes. Sky told him it would be unsafe to remove his
seat belt during the flight. Although Sal was a large man,
seated as he was almost on the cabin floor he could barely
see out the side windows, and his legs were cramped up in
front of him. Sky never offered a headset, so not only was
Sal out of any conversation, but subjected to the constant
racket of the engine as well. His face was a serious pout, and
he looked like a large, rumpled, unhappy boy in the back.
Sky pretended not to notice his passenger’s
discomfort or the occasional curses, audible even through the
headphones. Terri thought she caught the pilot smiling once
or twice and almost grinned herself. Despite her loyalty to
Sal, she recognized that he had a tendency too often to be
rude and overbearing. She had to admire the young pilot’s
skill in controlling Sal his own way. She couldn’t help
wonder if it was done so that they might continue their
private conversation. But so far, Sky had concerned himself
only with flying the plane and an occasional word over the
intercom to warn of possible turbulence ahead so she could
turn and tell Sal to make sure he was buckled up tight.
For a long while, gliding peacefully between the
tropical sky and the pale blue water, Terri was nearly alone
with her thoughts. Snapshots of her past life popped up and
flashed away, but for the most part she was occupied with
possibilities for the future. Strangely, since just coming to
this small part of the world, she found herself experiencing
an overwhelming sense of contentment. She was just
beginning to wonder about the next step of the journey when
228
the Emerald Cays appeared out ahead and began to grow on
the horizon.
“Tell me about this place,” she spoke softly into the
headset microphone.
“This is one of those places most people don’t know
too much about.” Sky answered. “But how about this? I
usually land passengers at the town dock, but today we’re
carrying supplies for boats that may have pulled in here after
the storm. I need to look around for them anyway. If you’d
like, we can circle the island before we land.”
“Do you think my daughter is on one of those boats?”
Terri’s voice was almost a plea as she looked anxiously
through the windshield.
“Look Terri,” Sky asked her carefully, unsure himself
just what to do, “are you sure you really want to find your
daughter right now? Are you sure she even wants to be
found?”
Terri just looked at him for a moment. “You know
about her trouble don’t you? Well, despite whatever else has
happened, Megan is my daughter, and I hope it’s not too late
for me to be a mother. Believe me, please. Sal and I are both
on Megan’s side and we’re here to help. Do you know where
she is?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure.” the pilot replied, reaching
for the controls and finally making his decision. “I think
she’s with Ray, and he may be here somewhere. We’ll know
pretty soon.”
He pulled the power back and set the plane into a
long, shallow dive. The island closed in fast, and they started
a wide circle over the shore. Terri stared intently through the
wind screen watching for anything. Forgotten in the back,
Sal sat hunched in a ball and continued to sulk.
He was not at all pleased being strapped down in the
back of the plane like cargo. The thought occurred to him
that he might have been seated this way for more than one
reason. He had no idea where they were. All he could see
looking up through the windows was an occasional puffy
white cloud in a sky of endless blue. Just as he thought about
229
loosening his seat belt to take a look outside, the pilot turned
and signaled him to cinch up tight. Damn, thought Sal, I hate
this flight.
The plane swept around the northeast corner of the
island and came across a broad, deserted bay protected by a
high ridge to seaward and surrounded inland by lots of
empty tropical jungle.
A small islet sat in one corner of the bay, and Sky’s
practiced scan spotted the tall, dark mast rising behind a
grove of palms. He banked steeply and dropped down even
lower toward the little island. Second Wind sat there
peacefully at anchor.
The amphibian leveled off and buzzed in low over
the boat to say hello. Then they swept up and around in a
steep, graceful turn and lined up for another pass.
This time the crew was on deck waving while the
plane zoomed by. Sky watched carefully for Terri’s reaction
when she saw Megan. He also kept a corner of one eye on
the back of the cabin.
“It’s her!” Terri shouted, and started to laugh. “Oh
God, what’s she done to her hair? But it’s her. I’m positive.
“Sal!” she turned and shouted, excited to get his
attention in the back. “Megan’s down there on that boat.
She’s all right!”
An honest look of relief came over Sal’s face. The
big thug held Terri’s hand and he actually beamed. Sky
couldn’t expect any better proof that these people were on
the right team.
“Okay Terri. You guys buckle up tight,” Sky
announced. “I feel a family reunion coming on.”
The plane swung out around the harbour. Flaps
dropped as it dipped lower, and in moments they were
skimming across the bay towards the catamaran.
Beautiful, Sal thought to himself with bitter sarcasm;
this flight’s finally coming to an end, and now we’re going
to land in the water.
Paul stood on the boarding steps with a line ready for
the seaplane. There were two faces in the canopy as the plane
230
slipped by,and he was more than curious to see who Sky had
brought to visit.
When he took the woman’s hand to help her out of
the plane, Paul recognized almost immediately a kindred
spirit. Her gentle smile and familiar approach signaled a
common force, almost a kinship between them. He sensed
only good intentions from her.
The rough looking male passenger in the back did not
inspire any such confidence. He was another matter
altogether.
The very first moments on board charged the
atmosphere. Deebe immediately recognized Big Sal as the
shark from Mr. Adam’s office. Only a native disposition and
his faith in the Old One’s knowledge kept him from crying
out a warning, but his uneasiness was noticeable. Ray also
tensed at the sight of the visitors.
Paul crossed the cockpit to stand next to Megan. She
was wide eyed, and looked like a terrified doe. All she said
out loud was, “Terri?”
Paul stood ready for anything. He was glad to see
Bruno with Doreen on the cabin deck next to the mast. The
big guy was looking down into the cockpit and watching the
scene carefully.
Terri’s companion had obviously suffered a bad trip
in the small plane. He was sweaty, rumpled, and cramped.
But he stood large on the other side of the cockpit trying to
stretch himself back out He exuded all the presence of a
formidable thug.
Sky finally came up from securing his aircraft. It was
a strange reunion indeed. He glanced from one side of the
cockpit to the other and wondered if he had made a huge
mistake.
Terri stood in Sal’s shadow on one side of the wide
space. Her eyes were on her daughter, and she seemed to be
silently pleading. Paul and Megan stood on the other side.
The girl was rigid. Paul took one protective step forward and
his hands were ready by his sides. Bad energy crackled.

231
 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.

232
 “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.”

233
 CHAPTER 45

Dinner was civil, and night brought an almost relaxed

intimacy aboard ship. Ray and Sal reminisced, sparring
verbally at first, but finally both came to see that failings and
frustrations of the past held no weight in this time and place.
Although once adversaries, these men each had reason to
respect one another.
Ray remembered well the struggle. Trying to do what
he thought best for his community. In his naiveté, actually
trying to stop the advance of time and progress. Sal the
opponent, wielding incredible resources of power and money
to bring sanctioned gambling into the quiet, seacoast town;
trying to build a profitable resort. A conflict of priorities. A
political struggle ensued.
With long hours and hard work, Ray had done well;
better than holding his own against heavy odds. He might
have won anyway, even if it wasn’t for the accident that had
claimed his daughter’s life.
She was just a teenager on the verge of being an
adult, trying to accustom herself to a new place in life. She’d
gone to a political rally one evening to support her father,
and hopefully find some time to speak with him alone. There
never seemed to be time for that anymore. Ray knew she
needed some of his time, but it was one of those things that
would have to wait. She finally left late, while the assembly
was still unraveling, to drive home alone and disappointed.
It was just a stupid accident at an intersection really,
but that’s all it takes. Two of Sal’s men and their women out
on the town, partying, drunk, ran the heavy Cadillac through
a stop sign and hit the small car broadside so hard that the
girl driving was mangled. She died a horrible death.
In his frustration, guilt, and rage, Ray lashed back
with all he had. In speeches and interviews he painted such a
picture of constant midnight mayhem that the referendum
vote was only a formality.

234
 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,
235
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.”

238
 CHAPTER 46

The morning rose clear and steady with quiet fingers

of strong tropical sun reaching into the broad bay to touch
and warm the golden hulls. The seaplane and small boat
floating off the catamaran’s stern seemed still asleep with the
calm wind. Gentle ripples crossing the surface were the only
sign of the watchers who had stood vigil through the night.
The crew all assembled in the cockpit, well rested
and now strangely content. They prepared to go ashore and
discover the island under Deebe’s direction.
The easy climb through the morning started out
beautiful. Jungle flowers unfolded and loosed their fragrance
while the small creatures of night and day scurried about
changing shifts. Along the way the path was blocked several
times by evidence of the storm’s harsh passing. By the time
they reached the village it was clear nature had been less
than benevolent. There was no welcoming party.
The main buildings and many of the houses were
roofless and ravaged. The damage was everywhere. A large
tree had come down like a sword through the middle of the
small schoolhouse. The naked trunk lay crushing the small
desks in front of a framed chalkboard marked with smudged
arithmetic. A metal globe was crumpled and distorted near
the teacher’s desk.
The few people wandering about the village appeared
listless and dazed. From temporary shelters and tacked up
leantos came mostly sounds of moaning, sickness, and
misery.
A bad storm is an awesome thing, often frightening
and violent. But the powerful energy of the storm ends
relatively soon. The aftermath can be the worst; no power or
light, loss of communications; injuries linger and insidious
illness begins. Without immediate resources or assistance the
legacy of a disaster, although anticlimactic, can be far more
damaging than the storm itself.

239
 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.

242
 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.

244
 CHAPTER 47

The eighty foot party fishing vessel, Island Rose, was

having a bad time of it. She was designed and fitted out for
day fishing trips in good weather. What the tourists call deep
sea fishing. Usually ten miles from the dock would be a long
trip. She was used to spending most of her sea time lying at
anchor in relatively shallow water while sunblock covered
fishermen roamed her decks drinking beer and playing with
the rods and reels.
The skipper was a competent man, but his heart
belonged more to commerce and promotion than the sea. He
knew his limitations and was not now where he wanted to
be. Adam had rousted him out of bed with orders of urgent
necessity. On short notice, the skipper couldn’t even find a
crew. So, mostly alone, he had prepared the boat for a
hurried and unexpected trip while Adam busied himself with
other things. Several vans showed up from different island
shops and unloaded boxes of junk merchandise all over the
decks. Now the big diesel had been throbbing steadily for
nearly nine hours. The skipper checked his old charts
nervously.
“How much longer?” Adam demanded.
“Checking, sir.”
The skipper knew, of course, about such things as
variation, and current set, and windage correction, but he had
never been to the Emerald Cays before, and these chopped
up seas were not making things easy. The boat was rolling
and pitching, and the spray was high enough to leave salty
streaks on the pilothouse windows. The skipper pointed a
manicured finger at the course line.
“About here now, boss. This far more to go.”
“I asked you how much longer...!”
The whole boat shuddered and there was a screech
from somewhere below. The skipper quickly pulled the
throttle back to idle and shifted the vessel out of gear. The
engine was still running, thankfully, but as the boat slowed it
245
pitched and tossed even more perilously in the unsettled
seas.
“Somethin’ fouled on the propeller, boss.” The
skipper tried reverse then forward again, but it didn’t help.
“Fix it. Quickly,” Adam ordered.
There was only one thing for it now. He kept a small
diving rig aboard. A small gasoline compressor and about
thirty feet of high pressure hose to a regulator. A lot of his
enthusiastic fishermen couldn’t wait for the boat to stop
before putting lines and lures into the water. More than once
he had even backed over his own anchor line. It would not be
the first time he had gone over the side to clear the long shaft
and propeller, but never before under these conditions. The
boat was beam to in the seas now, and rolling heavily. It
would be difficult and dangerous work, maybe even
impossible.
On the other hand, no option remained except to
stand before Adam’s insistent wrath.
The skipper was no fool when it came to risking his
life, but then his life was barely his own. Mr. Adam owned
the greatest percentage of this boat and the business that it
represented. Adam held the mortgage on the pretty little
house where he and his family lived.
Adam didn’t need to remind the skipper of these
things in so many words. Adam’s reputation was well
known.
This was no fancy diving trip. The skipper donned
his weight belt and regulator harness right over tee shirt and
jeans, secured himself with a sturdy safety line around his
waist, tied a sharp knife to his right wrist, and climbed
backwards over the stern down the welded pipe ladder to the
sea. Beneath the waves the pounding was at least a little
more gentle, but the hull was thrashing in every direction.
It didn’t take long to see the problem. The prop and
shaft were tightly wound in a long section of fishing net. The
dark net was made of strong synthetic fibers, and it was
going to take a long time to cut through.

246
 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.

247
 “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.

248
 CHAPTER 48

Lean-tos, water boiled over open fires, sheets for

bandages; the operation was crude, but somehow they were
getting the job done. Under Doreen’s tireless direction, and
with Deebe’s frequent intervention and help, they had at
least been able to set up a triage center. The most serious
patients were classified and grouped together where they
could get the most attention. The crew by now had been in
contact with almost all of the villagers, and the villagers in
turn, were coming to trust and appreciate those making an
effort on their behalf.
Megan and Terri did their best to comfort and
reassure while administering whatever aid they could. They
were especially good with the children. Paul worked with
Bruno, physically moving supplies and improving and
securing the structures. They had to carefully relocate
patients for their own safety and so they could be treated
more efficiently. A lot of the ambulatory villagers were
temporarily patched up and organized to help care for the
less fortunate.
The villagers had been immobilized at first by the
scope of the tragedy and injuries, then the sickness had set
in. This place was a far cry from most of the twentieth
century: no ambulances, no hospitals, and little of the
technology that was taken for granted by so much of the
world. Nature had offered up another great test, but his time,
without additional strength and support, the village would
not survive. The battle was still unsure.
Large pots simmered over an open, stone fire pit
located near the center of the village. The concoctions were
not the usual village fare, but the savory aroma and warm
food served in communal shifts were restoring moral, as well
as strength. The islander’s food supplies were mostly
destroyed by the storm, and now they were at the end of
nearly everything Second Wind carried aboard.

249
 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

251
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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 CHAPTER 49

An open sided medical tent sat where it had been

quickly set up in the middle of the village. It had been a
scene of frantic activity for over forty eight hours. The
exhausted doctor looked around at the aftermath of a
continuous, nonstop struggle. Packing crates were now
recycled trash containers overflowing with debris from the
battle. Used hypos, bandage boxes, and medicine vials were
piled high.
Now, most of the patients had come and gone. Only a
handful were still too ill to move,they remained on cots
behind a blanket petition at the closed end of the tent. Paul,
Megan, and Doreen sat slumped on boxes in the examining
area and looked back at the doctor.
“It was a close one,” he told them grimly. Another
day or two and most of these people wouldn’t have made it.
We caught the fever just in time”. Then he smiled. “You all
did a great job. The injuries in this place rivaled Miami on a
busy Saturday night.
“I can’t imagine how you happened to be in this
village in the first place, or how you pulled all this off, but
there’s no doubt you saved these people.”
“We all helped, Doctor,” Doreen responded, rubbing
her temples, “thank you. And how we came here is..., well,
its a long story.
“Stick around,” Megan told him, “ we’re not done
yet.”
“Ladies”, Paul suggested, “why don’t you take the
doctor down to the boat. I’ll take the first watch here; we’ve
got to start getting some rest or we’ll be our own worst
patients.”
Two days passed, and the people, of common accord,
came together in the center of the village to discuss their
plight. Many were still bandaged and limping, and most still
showed the ravages of illness and disaster; but on the whole

256
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

257
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

259
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.

260
 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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 CHAPTER 50

A day later, early on the morning of a beautiful,

tropical typical day; they met at the center of the village. All
was fairly quiet still, but in the corners of the hastily repaired
and makeshift shelters the buzz of normal daily life was
starting up.
They pulled up seats around a low bench that was the
best approximation of a conference table they could find.
Megan and Paul sat together on one side, Bruno and Doreen
on the other. Deebe was smiling and serene at one end; Ray,
just a little frazzled and perturbed at the other. Terri sat down
on a cot nearby. She was mostly watching Megan and Paul
together.
“Things seem to have worked out well so far,” Ray
began, “but I can’t help but wonder where we go from here.
“The Old One left us with a big responsibility and some
great concepts, but we still haven’t figured out how to make
any of it work. We’ve got to come up with a solid plan soon.
Any ideas?”
“Trust,” Deebe answered, thinking of the golden
figure. “Trust is the way of our people. It be only a matter of
time.”
“There’s plenty left to do,” Bruno spoke up. The big
guy had worked tirelessly through the crisis, lifting and
moving everything from equipment to people. When he
wasn’t doing that, he was helping to repair the shelters as
much as possible. Only now, after the first rest in several
days, was there time to consider beyond one day into the
future.
“What are we going to do without supplies?”
“Before the doctor flew back with Sky,” Paul told
them, “he was talking about trying to get some regular
medical help and maybe even some money from his doctor
friends in Miami.”
“Yeah, but I’m afraid we have to consider that a long
shot,” Ray answered. “I’ve considered applying for aid and
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grants from the U.S. and British governments too, but the
process takes forever, and by the time it’s over you usually
discover that you’ve sold the independence you were trying
to accomplish in the first place. We don’t have the time for
any long range negotiations here, we need...”
The foreign sound of an auto engine interrupted him.
It broke the morning like a harsh reality. No one had
considered that Adam would return again, certainly not so
soon. But vehicle traffic in the village was so rare there was
no idea who else it might be. Dogs and children scampered
out of wherever they come from to see. Many adult eyes
watched cautiously.
This time it was a single vehicle, an open military
jeep. Something most of the villagers had never seen before.
Sitting in the driver’s seat was a neat, young sailor in pressed
denims. Next to him, in a wild tropical shirt and golf pants,
was Big Sal d’Ambrosio. He stepped out of the jeep like it
was his limo, and walked over to Terri for a big welcoming
hug.
“Damm. Whatta place this is,” he exclaimed. “The
driver didn’t even know how to get here. Had to keep
stoppin’ for directions. There’s no signs. There’s not even a
regular road !”
“Where’d you disappear to?” Ray wanted to know.
“And how’d you get back here in a Navy jeep?”
“Well,” Sal answered, shaking Ray’s hand and
actually giving him a wink, “that’s a real interesting
question. Let’s sit down somewhere out of the sun and I’ll
tell you about it.”
Back around the make shift conference table, Sal
began to explain.
“First of all, I decided I had about enough flying
around in that little canoe with the wings on it for one
lifetime. I think that crazy kid pilot was starting to like me
enough to even let me have a seat, but those little planes are
just not my style.” Sal’s mood was so light that everyone in
the tent laughed a little.

264
 “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.”

266
 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.

***********

Megan found Ray sitting alone on the beach. He

appeared to be watching the cool disk of the sun balance on
the edge of the sea. Strange, she thought, with all that’s
happened and how well everything is turning out that he
should look so lonely and sad. Ray sat by himself on a
driftwood log half buried in the sand with is chin in his
hands and elbows resting on his knees. It looked like he had
been that way for a while. The dark, worn Greek fisherman’s
cap was pulled low,. She couldn’t see his face, but sensed
something profound that made her reluctant to approach.
Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself sharply, I’m just
reading my own emotions into this. It’s too late to chicken
out now. She reached down for a flash of silver in the sand
by her feet, then went to sit on the log beside him.
“A seashell for your thoughts,” she said gently, and
held out a perfect little shell in the palm of her hand.

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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

“Is there anything else a father should know today?”

he asked the question with a trace of his old humor returning
to his voice. They were sitting side by side on the sand,
leaning back against the half buried log and looking out on
the dark sea together. They had been saying all of those
things which each had yearned to say for so long. There was
no real past between them, but something stronger was
growing that would bind them together in the future, forever.
“Well, I guess you should know I have a boyfriend,”
she answered coyly, and they both laughed easily and
happily together.
Paul’s a good man,” Ray responded without
hesitation. He’s capable and he’s smart, and I trust him more
than anyone I’ve known in a long time. He’s seen some
rough times, and he’s come through with colors flying. He’s
tough.”
“He’s also sensitive and kind. A lot like you.” she
smiled happily in the pale light. “I feel like we’re a part of
each other’s life forever now.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” he could
only be the concerned father now.
Paul and I have been through so much together
already” Megan tried to explain,”that I feel like I’ve known
him forever. But it’s more than that, much more. It’s like we
were missing from each other all of our lives until we met.
We speak together in our minds now all the time. It’s
like we’ve been joined in a very deep and special way. I’m a
part of him, and he’s a part of me. Am I making any sense?”
Delicate night scents drifted from the jungle and the
sea. Waves of sweet hibiscus perfume, the spice of vanilla
and wild orchid joined the gentle, salty ripples from the bay.
The best kind of sense,” he answered sincerely. “It
sounds like you’ve found something very rare and valuable.
Hold onto it.”

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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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