Bluewater Quest

by Charles Dougherty

  25

  "Are you supposed to call this cave man?" Shellie asked, as they sat around the cockpit table after breakfast, drinking coffee with Dani and Liz.

  "Caveman," Rick said, laughing. "I like that."

  "Well?" Shellie asked, smiling. "I didn't even realize what I said. Are you?"

  "No, the way I left it with him, he's going to come by around nine this morning. He'll give us a ride ashore, and he's got a friend with a taxi who'll take us to the trailhead."

  "Are you going with us?" Shellie asked, turning to Dani and Liz.

  "You're welcome, if you'd like," Rick added, seeing the looks they exchanged. "I kind of assumed you knew that."

  "I have to go get us cleared in," Dani said. "That needs to be done before anybody goes ashore, technically." She glanced at her phone, checking the time. "They don't open until 8:30. If it's busy, I may not be back until after 9:00. Besides, I've got a few little maintenance projects to keep me occupied. I'll pass, if it's okay."

  "Sure," Rick said. "Whatever suits you. Liz?"

  "I'll stay here with Dani. Thanks, though. I want to try some sketches of the town from out here. Soufrière's one of the places that looks like what I imagine the Caribbean towns were like at the height of the colonial era."

  "It almost has the look of a movie set," Shellie said. "I'll look forward to seeing your sketches."

  "Excuse me, please," Dani said. "I'm going to go to the customs office; maybe I'll beat the rush. It looks like quite a few boats came in last night." She went below to gather up their papers.

  "It's hard for me to remember that we can sail four hours and be in a different country," Shellie said. "You must spend a lot of time clearing in and out with the authorities."

  Liz smiled. "You get used to it."

  "It's time consuming, though," Rick said. "Isn't it?"

  "Well, yes," Liz said. "It is, but it's just part of sailing down here. A lot of people find it frustrating."

  "I can understand that, I guess," Shellie said, picking up the carafe of coffee and refilling her mug. "Liz? Rick?"

  Both nodded.

  "Thanks," Liz said, as Shellie filled her mug.

  Shellie smiled. "About bareboat charters, do people have to reserve them in advance?"

  "Most people do," Liz said. "But if you're not picky about what kind of boat you get, sometimes you can just walk in and rent one. It's sort of like car rentals. In the busy places, you're less likely to find something on short notice. Why? Are you thinking about it?"

  "Well, yes. Do you have, like a driver's license for boats, or something? How do they know you won't wreck it?"

  Liz laughed. "There are all kinds of licenses and certificates; it varies from country to country. Dani and I each have a commercial captain's license. Hers is from the U.S.; mine is from Belgium. But you only need a commercial license if you're carrying passengers for hire or operating a commercial vessel. The bareboat companies accept all kinds of credentials, depending on their own rules. Some want to see a sailing résumé, some look for certificates from recognized courses. They also require damage deposits, most of them."

  "So, those people who rented Aquila, for example," Rick said. "What do you suppose they used? Anything that might tell us something about them?"

  "Good question," Liz said. "I don't know, but it may be that we can find out. I'll pass that along to Phillip and Marie in a little while."

  "I wanted to ask about Marie," Shellie said. "She comes across like a — "

  "Hello, Vengeance!" A man in a brightly painted 24-foot speed boat called, interrupting Shellie.

  He slowed his boat and hung fenders over the port side, then brought the boat in alongside Vengeance and handed Liz a bow line. As she tied it off to a midship cleat, he tied a stern line to one of the lifeline stanchions.

  "Good morning," he said. "I am Randolph. You are the captain?"

  "The mate," Liz said. "I'm Liz. The captain's at the customs office."

  "Ah. Okay. I am here for Mr. Everett and his wife, but I t'ink they mus' be below."

  Thinking they were in the cockpit, Liz glanced over her shoulder. She was just in time to see Rick climbing into the cockpit, backpack in hand.

  "Hi. I'm Rick Everett. My wife will be right up. We were gathering our stuff."

  "No problem, Mr. Everett. I am Randolph. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Soufrière. You have been to St. Lucia before?"

  "No, this is our first time. And just call me Rick."

  "Thank you, and welcome to St. Lucia. Ah! You must be Mrs. Everett," Randolph reached for Rick's backpack and lowered it into the boat.

  "Yes, but call me Shellie, okay?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Come on aboard, both of you. And will you and the captain be joining us?" he smiled up at Liz.

  "Not today," she said.

  "Don' worry, then. I will take extra good care of your guests for you. We will be gone mos' of the day, I t'ink."

  "All right. We'll be here when you get back. Have a fine time, and good luck with your project, Rick." She cast off the bow line as Randolph untied the one from the stanchion. He put a hand on Vengeance's toe rail and shoved his boat away, giving Liz a wave as he shifted into forward gear and headed for town.

  Liz was still watching them when she saw Dani walk out onto the town dock and crouch to unlock their dinghy. She went back into the cockpit and retrieved her steaming coffee mug. Climbing out of the cockpit again, she stood on the side deck sipping coffee, watching Dani as she worked her way through the boats that were swinging on moorings in the harbor.

  "Did their guide show up?" Dani asked, bringing the dinghy alongside and tying it off.

  "Yes. You just missed them. I didn't notice where they went, once I spotted you. Are we legal now?"

  "Yes," Dani said, climbing aboard. "All set."

  "What are you going to tinker with today? Varnish?"

  Dani smiled and shook her head. "I thought I'd catch up on my reading. The idea of hiking two hours to get to some dank, dark cave didn't appeal."

  "Not to me, either," Liz said. "Besides, I really have wanted to try to capture the feel of Soufrière in a painting ever since the first time I came here."

  "Have you ever done any spelunking?" Dani asked.

  "No. Why?" Liz frowned. "Have you?"

  "Enough to know I don't like it. I didn't know the meaning of claustrophobia until I got stuck in a cave one time."

  "Where were you?"

  "In Jamaica, up in the mountains. It was one of those times I tagged along with Phillip when my folks thought I was at Mrs. Walker's."

  "And you got stuck?"

  "Not literally. But I've got to say the idea of that's almost enough to bring on a panic attack."

  "So how did you get stuck, if not literally?"

  "Some corrupt soldiers were chasing us, and we hid out in the cave, way back up in this chimney. We shimmied up it and wedged ourselves in. They came in looking for us but they didn't see the opening to the chimney."

  "So they left?"

  "Eventually. First, they gassed the place with CS."

  "What's CS?"

  "Tear gas. It was pretty awful, but we managed to wait them out without giving ourselves away."

  "They didn't hear you gagging or anything?"

  "Like I said, it wasn't fun."

  "What happened after they left?"

  "We followed them and ambushed them the next day. Made short work of them, too."

  "So that's why you didn't want to go today? The tear gas attack?"

  "No. The cave. Tear gas, I can handle, but I'm petrified by the idea of being in a cave. I never knew it until then, but caves spook me. So I didn't want to go. Besides, I was feeling the need for some downtime."

  "Me, too. I'm looking forward to idling the day away, for a change."

  "What did you do to him, anyway?" Leila asked Ashley.

  Ashley had brought Bert, semi-coherent and complaining of a hangover, back to Aquila as Leila and Ed were finishing lunch.
Bert had stumbled below and crawled into his berth, beginning to snore within a minute.

  "Drugged his drink, to start with. He's not going to remember what really happened, but he'll think we had a great time, given the hangover — and a few other things. He's going to have some soreness and bruises in interesting places to further the illusion." She laughed.

  "Did you learn anything?" Ed asked.

  "Nothing we didn't already know. He's dumber than dirt, but there's no sign he's working for anybody but us. He's okay, except for being stupid. We need to watch what we tell him, though. He could blow our cover without meaning to."

  Leila stared at Ed, but he wouldn't look her in the eye. After a few seconds, he said, "While you two babysit him, I'm going back to see our contact in Fort-de-France. He should have our weapons by now, and I'd rather Bert didn't know about them. Not just yet, anyway."

  "Weapons?" Ashley asked.

  "Leila can fill you in. I talked to Rahimi again; there's a new twist to our mission. If I hear from the consulate about the passports, I'll call you and you can meet me there. They've got my cellphone number."

  "What about the dinghy?" Leila asked.

  "What about it?"

  "Want me to run you ashore and bring it back? So Ashley and Bert and I will have it to get ashore if the consulate calls?"

  "No, that's okay. I don't need it," Ed said. "I asked the water taxi that brought Ash and Bert back to swing by and pick me up. I just now saw him leaving the town dock; he'll be here in a minute." Ed stepped onto the side deck, and the water taxi came alongside. "Keep your phones on," Ed said, as he stepped down into the boat.

  Once they were alone, Leila looked at Ashley and asked, "Are you sure about Bert?"

  "Yes. Why?"

  "Ed wants to get rid of him."

  "Get rid of him? You mean … " Ashley frowned. "But he's not spying on us."

  "Ed all but asked me to kill him anyway. He thought you'd go along, if he and I were in agreement."

  "Well, are you?" Ashley asked.

  "In agreement? No," Leila said. "I don't see a reason to kill Bert. So he's an idiot; he might still be useful."

  "Why did Ed think you should kill him?"

  "I'm not sure. I have some suspicions, but I don't want to gossip about Ed."

  "That's funny," Ashley said, frowning. "Bert said something about Ed when he was under."

  "What did he say?"

  "It was pretty garbled, and I didn't pursue it because I was focused on something else related to Bert. But he mumbled something about compromising photographs of Ed from 'before.' He was laughing about it."

  "Before? Before when?"

  "I don't know, Leila." She shook her head. "What's this about our mission changing?"

  Leila told her what Ed had learned about the ancient documents that Everett was hunting.

  "So that's why the weapons," Ashley said.

  "Yes. Are you okay with that?"

  "Yes," Ashley said. "It's a first for me, but I'm okay with it. You've done that kind of thing before, right?"

  Leila nodded.

  "What about Ed?" Ashley asked.

  Leila shook her head. "I don't think so. That mission I mentioned that we were on in the States?"

  "You and Ed?"

  Leila nodded.

  "What about it?"

  "It was pretty bloody; Ed lost it."

  "Lost it? How?"

  "Fainted. After he pissed his pants. So I figure that was his first time, and he wasn't even conscious once the shooting started."

  "Men," Ashley said, laughing.

  "Speaking of men, how long is Bert going to be out of it? If Ed calls about the consulate, we're going to have to rouse him. They won't give us his passport unless he's with us."

  "Yeah." Ashley glanced at her watch. "He's been under for about 12 hours. I'll go ahead and give him something that'll bring him around. He may say some strange things at first. Don't be surprised. Just let him ramble. He should be okay in 45 minutes or so."

  26

  "How was it?" Liz asked, passing glasses of dry white wine around the cockpit table. Rick and Shellie had been back from their hike long enough to get cleaned up for cocktails and dinner.

  "It was okay," Rick said. "Randolph's a good tour guide, but the cave was a disappointment."

  "That was predictable, though," Shellie said. "We knew it was a tourist spot to begin with."

  "Yeah. I didn't have much hope for it; it's too popular," Rick said. "Still, I thought maybe there'd be some hidden caverns. You know, off to the side, cut off by a collapsed tunnel or something. But no such luck."

  "How about other caves?" Dani asked. "Did he know of any?"

  "No. I don't think he's really knowledgeable about the geology of the island. He's a tour guide; he knows what to show people. The Brigands' Cave is just one of his attractions. He tells a good tale about it, but that's it."

  "What's your plan, now?" Dani asked.

  "We're here," Rick said. "I'd like to at least walk around the town a little, try to get a feel for what it might have been like before it was settled by the Europeans. I know, I know. It's probably futile, but you never know. The translations of the documents and the sketch map both seem to point here."

  "You can't wait for inspiration," Shellie said. "You have to run it down and grab it by the scruff of the neck."

  Liz laughed. "I like that, Shellie."

  "It's not original. Not the idea, anyway. But I like it, too," Shellie said.

  "Excuse, please," a soft, low-pitched voice interrupted.

  They all turned toward the source of the words, peering into the gathering dusk. A tall, thin man, his face devoid of expression, peered back at them. At first glance, he appeared to be standing on the glassy surface of the water, both hands on the starboard lifelines, just forward of the cockpit.

  "Yes?" Dani said, vaulting to her feet and stepping onto the side deck. She dropped to one knee in front of the apparition, noticing that he stood on a beat-up surfboard.

  "Good evening, ma'am," he said, his voice just above a whisper. He ducked his head and tugged at his forelock in a deferential salute of sorts. "I am Gerald. So sorry to intrude, but I wish to welcome you to Soufrière."

  "Thank you," Dani said, conscious that Liz and the Everetts were watching in silence.

  "Yes," he said. "I am glad you come here. I been waiting for you, I t'ink."

  Dani took in his matte black skin, the surface dusted with fine crystals of salt. He was painfully thin, but looked strong and wiry. His muscles rippled under his skin like writhing snakes as he held steady against the slight movement of the surfboard under his feet. His tangled, salt-matted dreadlocks hung to his shoulders. Pop-tops and other small bits of metal were braided into his hair and reflected the ambient light.

  "Waiting for us?" she asked, looking into his fiery red eyes, noticing the pupils were dilated as she caught a whiff of ganja wafting from his hair.

  "I t'ink so, ma'am. Don' worry. I will not harm. I heard them talking. They said you be here soon." His voice was low. Dani strained to hear him.

  "They?" Dani asked. "They, who?"

  "The men. They say you look for the cave."

  "Look for the cave," she said. "Which cave?"

  "The cave." He looked past Dani, studying the varnished teak eyebrow along the edge of the coachroof. Then he spoke in a normal tone. "She is beautiful, your ship. Like in the old days. I don' like the new boats so much. A boat like this one, she make me want to go to sea an' not come back. Beautiful."

  Dani studied his hands, clutching the lifeline as he spoke. They were large, too big for the rest of him. His fingers were gnarled and scarred, ending in long, thick yellow nails. The nails were splintered, dirty. More like claws.

  "Thank you, Gerald," she said, when he stopped talking. "Tell me more about the men."

  He looked back at her, making eye contact, panic flickering in his eyes. He shook his head.

  "What men?" she asked. "They told
you we would look for the cave?"

  "I … " he shook his head again and coughed. "Ver' thirsty. Most sorry. Excuse, please." He released the lifeline and dropped into a crouch, about to paddle away.

  "Gerald?" Dani said.

  He froze and turned his shaggy head, looking up at her. "Yes, ma'am?"

  "I have some Guinness. Would you like to sit with us and have some?"

  He frowned, chewing his tongue. "Is all right for me to come on your beautiful yacht? I am … " he looked away, down at the water.

  "Yes, it is all right. You are welcome. Come and sit with us and drink a Guinness, please. It would be our pleasure to get to know you."

  "You are ver' kind, ma'am. Is okay wit' your frien's, you t'ink?"

  "Yes, I'm sure it is. You can tell us about Soufrière."

  "Well, all right then, you say so. Is ver' nice." He stood again, his balance unerring. He handed Dani a frayed, thin piece of twisted-fiber cord that looked as if he'd made it from coconut husks. "Tie, please?"

  Dani flipped a round turn and two half-hitches around the lower lifeline, noticing his look of approval at her marlinspike skill. He grasped the top lifeline with his oversized, scaly hands. With effortless grace, he came over the lifelines and stood waiting, his head bowed slightly.

  "Welcome aboard, Gerald," she said motioning for him to go ahead of her to the cockpit. "I'm Dani. Please, go ahead."

  He stepped into the cockpit's narrow footwell and waited for her to introduce him to the others. When he had met everyone, Liz said, "Please, have a seat, Gerald. Thank you for visiting us."

  "You are ver' nice people," he said. "I welcome you to Soufrière."

  "I'll get you that Guinness," Dani said, "Unless you'd like some wine."

  "Thank you, ma'am. Guinness be fine. I don' use alcohol — I am Rastafarian."

  Rick said, "But — "

  "You like your Guinness cold? Or not?" Dani interrupted, with a look at Rick and a shake of her head. "We have it whichever way you like."

  "I like cold bes', thank you, ma'am."

  "Tell us about yourself, Gerald," Liz said. "Is Soufrière your home?"