Mystery in the Moonlight

by Lynn Patrick

  A short time later Caitlin had to admit that she felt a little uncomfortable in the Caribbee Longhouse. As Basil had predicted, she was the only guest seated in the dining room. Picking at her shrimp and vegetable dish as she read a book, Caitlin wished she had Babs to talk to. It was eerie being alone for hours, and although the waitress was friendly, she didn’t seem to want to chat like Basil.

  But Caitlin’s lonely mood was more likely the result of her disappointment over Bryce. In spite of trying to be nonchalant, she hadn’t been able to resist checking the pier for his arrival from time to time all day and evening. Sighing and pushing her plate away, she knew she had to face the disagreeable fact that he might never show up.

  Pulling the plate back in a few seconds, however, she decided she was being much too negative. Bryce might still show up tomorrow. In the meantime she could enjoy herself by retiring early tonight to read. After taking a few last bites of her food Caitlin left the Longhouse for the bungalow.

  On the way down the path she walked slowly, gazing up appreciatively at the sparkling vault of stars overhead. A luminous moon had risen and was flooding the sea with silvery light. Intent on admiring it, Caitlin was startled when she opened the bungalow door. A lamp had been turned on, and a bottle of champagne had been left in an ice-filled wine cooler on the dresser.

  What was this? As the island’s sole guest at the moment, was she being treated to special service? Looking around the room as she entered and finding herself alone, she examined the bottle and its attached note. A chill of apprehension swept through her as she read the words it contained.

  My sweet dove,

  You will be so happy I have returned early. To celebrate, I have sent you a special treat. I will be busy at my house until late, but then I plan to share the wine with you in the moonlight. As promised, I have brought you something lovely and special, my cherie, to flatter the pretty face I hope to kiss. I wait impatiently these few hours longer until we can be closely together.

  Jean.

  Now what was she going to do? Caitlin wondered, reading the note once again. Although she wasn’t afraid of Jean, she didn’t want an unpleasant confrontation with him. Why had he returned so soon? When she was all alone? She had no desire to fend off his amorous advances tonight, Caitlin thought as she refolded the note and thrust it into the pocket of her full-skirted dress.

  Thinking rapidly, Caitlin settled on a hasty escape plan. There wouldn’t be an unpleasant encounter if she could help it. If Jean planned to meet her at the bungalow, she intentionally would be somewhere else. Why not go for that long walk and explore the other side of Hibiscus like she’d always wanted? After waiting hours for her, Jean would be discouraged from pursuing her further.

  And tomorrow, Caitlin told herself, she wouldn’t be so alone. Surely Bryce or new guests would arrive.

  So, all she had to do was stay away from her room until daylight. Leaving the bungalow hurriedly, walking in the opposite direction of the Beach Bar, Caitlin headed toward the sugarloaf hill. Would she have trouble finding some kind of path up its side? Would there be snake holes? At the moment, searching for paths in the dark and avoiding snakes seemed a lot less unpleasant than keeping Jean Moreau at bay.

  Happily there was a trail up the side of the sugarloaf. As she made her way through the brush and fought for traction on the slippery, beaten earth, however, Caitlin wished she’d taken the time to change her clothes before she set out on the reckless journey. Her frilly white sundress, delicate shawl, and leather-soled sandals were hardly appropriate for an uphill hike in the dark. Startled when some small creature made rustling sounds in the undergrowth, she groped around and found a stout, dead branch to use as a weapon.

  Although no danger appeared, Caitlin found that the club made a practical climbing aid.

  A few minutes later, breathing hard, her skirt torn in one place, suffering from thorn scratches on her legs and arms, she reached the end of the uphill path as the moon slid out from behind some ragged clouds. Steadying herself against a large boulder, Caitlin rested and gazed down the opposite, even steeper incline. Far below she saw the sheen of water as moonbeams played on the waves of the ocean.

  The cool white light revealed the clear outlines of the huge rocks that lined the shore. Taking in their jagged edges, Caitlin thought about the reefs Jean had mentioned, the barriers that made this side of Hibiscus dangerous for boats that approached too closely.

  She looked farther out to sea, gasping when she saw a ship gliding through the waters—a fully rigged ship with black sails! Was it the ship Basil had told her about? Staring for several seconds, Caitlin tried to inch her way around the boulder for a better look but was so distracted that she almost fell as her foot slipped on loose gravel.

  When she managed to look up again, the clouds had cloaked the moon and the ship was gone. If it had ever been there in the first place, she thought.

  Could she have been imagining things? Had she conjured moonlight and shadows into a ghostly pirate ship? The vessel had seemed so surreal and spectral, moving dark and silent over the water.

  Shivering as a cool breeze blew off the ocean, she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Rustling sounds came from nearby in the underbrush. Clutching her stick, Caitlin left the boulder to search for a way down the other side of the hill. The slope facing the ocean had looked forbiddingly treacherous.

  Shivering harder in the night air, Caitlin tried to buoy herself up by remembering the times she’d played adventure games with her brothers, Hugh and Jarvis. Camping out in Indiana state parks, they’d explored and roughhoused their way through many summers. Sometimes the play had actually gotten frightening, like the time she’d been lost in the woods for hours, then found her way out by keeping calm and retracing her own faint tracks.

  That had been quite a feat, and Jarvis had told her she was the gutsiest girl alive. Caitlin remembered she’d been able to accomplish the task by pretending she was an extraordinarily capable heroine. She’d also known that her faithful companions in adventure— her brothers—would be looking for her and had felt reassured.

  And why couldn’t she do the very same thing now? Caitlin thought, picturing herself as an intrepid explorer decked out in safari fatigues and a pith helmet. Caitlin the Explorer would find the path down. She had to admit that she wouldn’t mind having a companion, though. Instead of Hugh and Jarvis, however, it was Bryce’s image that invaded her mind. Caitlin grinned at the irony. If Bryce had shown up today, she wouldn’t be trying to escape Jean by climbing all over the island.

  At least the humorous thoughts made her feel warmer, Caitlin mused as she searched the area. In a few minutes, scanning the hill from another angle, she could hardly believe her good fortune when she found a gentler incline and what seemed to be a rough trail.

  Using her walking stick, she carefully felt for footing and eased herself down the slope.

  She reached sea level in only a few minutes. Picking her way among sand and rocks, Caitlin stopped along the water’s edge and looked out to sea. Should she continue onward, around the perimeters of the island? Or should she sit down against a boulder and try to take a nap?

  Whichever, Caitlin decided to find a wider, more hospitable stretch of beach and walked on. Upon rounding a huge outgrowth of rocks, however, she stopped short and gazed at an amazing sight. This time she knew her imagination wasn’t playing tricks on her. Instead of a ghostly sailing craft, a large cabin cruiser rocked gently in the water. A boat?

  What was a boat doing here? Caitlin wondered curiously, heading toward the vessel. She caught the glimmer of lights bobbing in the darkness. Several shadowy figures were carrying the lanterns, moving back and forth to a skiff pulled up on the sand. Before she could call out, they saw her.

  “Hey, what’s this?” A man’s nasal voice spoke from nearby. Coming toward her with quick strides, he caught up with Caitlin and took hold of her arm. Not liking his rough grip, she tried to pull away.

  “W
hat the hell?” said another man, holding up a lantern as he approached Caitlin’s side. “A woman. What are you doing over here?”

  “Maybe she was desperate for some company,” her captor suggested, laughing unpleasantly.

  “I’m a guest…of Jean Moreau’s,” Caitlin managed to sputter. “What are you doing here?”

  “Jean Moreau!” exclaimed the man with the lantern.

  Both men laughed now. Dressed in jeans and a ragged sweatshirt, the one who held Caitlin had greasy hair and a long, bulbous nose. The other had a mustache and glittering, nasty-looking eyes. Were they criminals? Thinking she’d rather not know for sure, Caitlin tried to bluff her way out of the situation.

  “I, um…thought your boat had run onto the reef. I was going to see if I could help you.”

  The men laughed. “And what were you planning to do? Push us off?” asked the stranger with the mustache.

  “Uh, I was going to help by reporting your accident,” said Caitlin hopefully. “To the resort officials. I’ll go and tell them right now.” Trying to extract her arm from the harsh grip that held her, she made as if to walk away. But the fingers on her tender flesh only tightened.

  “You’re not going anywhere, missy.” This time the man’s tone lacked any humor. “I don’t know what the hell you’ve seen or heard, but you’re coming along with us.”

  “Thanks,” said Caitlin politely, trying to bluff again. “But I’d really rather not. My husband and three children are expecting me back any moment.”

  “You’re old enough to have three kids?” asked the younger man.

  “Never mind about that, Jenkins,” ordered the apparent leader. “Get her into the skiff.”

  Panicking as her captor started to drag her away, Caitlin suddenly struggled, kicking at him until her sandaled foot managed to connect with his shin.

  “Ouch!” complained Jenkins. “You little witch!”

  Feeling as if the arm he held was being torn out of its socket, Caitlin desperately fought. Her struggle ended abruptly when the man slapped her hard across the face. She fell to the sand with the impact, but he pulled her up again and dragged her toward the skiff.

  “We’ll see how spicy you are when I get through with you,” Jenkins threatened.

  Caitlin’s mind was full of whirling, fearful darkness. Surely she must be having a nightmare, she thought as she was lifted and dropped like a sack of flour into the smaller boat. Her shawl had fallen away as she was lead roughly down to the water, and now she sat shivering on the boat’s wooden seat beside her captor. Three other men helped the leader load numerous boxes into the craft and then got into the skiff to row it out to the cruiser. Caitlin’s jailer released her as the other men found seats.

  Should she jump and try to swim away? Caitlin wondered, gazing over the side of the boat at the slate-gray water. But it was soon too late for that. Jenkins placed his arm around her, drawing her tightly against his sweaty-smelling body.

  “Hey, don’t worry about what I said. You ain’t so bad-looking,” he said. “And I like my women spirited. I don’t give a damn if you’ve got kids and a husband. I’ll show you a good time.”

  “Where’d Jenkins get her?” asked somebody else.

  “Jenkins hasn’t got her,” growled the leader. “And once on the cruiser, I’m going to lock her in the cabin where she won’t cause any trouble.”

  “Aw, what the hell…” whined Jenkins, releasing a string of obscenities.

  “Shut up, Jenkins. I’m going to talk to the boss about her. I told you I don’t know what she saw. If the boss says okay, you can have her. Otherwise you can go find a broad somewhere else. Hustling up women isn’t the purpose of this night’s work.”

  “Well, what if he wants her…shut up permanently?” asked Jenkins, releasing his hold on Caitlin’s shoulders to grasp her arm tightly again.

  “Then that’s none of your business.”

  Shut up permanently? Did that mean they were going to kill her? Would she never wake up from this horrible dream? Caitlin wondered. A few minutes later, moving along numbly as if indeed in a nightmare, she was pushed and pulled up the ladder into the cruiser where the leader of the group promptly shoved her into the main cabin and slammed the door.

  What would happen to her now? Staring around the room, Caitlin saw that there was only one entrance, and the porthole was much too small to squeeze her body through. Sinking down on a narrow bunk, she groaned and stretched out as the cruiser’s motor rumbled into life.

  Frightened but exhausted, Caitlin stared up at the wooden ceiling of the cabin. If only this were a dream…

  Caitlin had no idea how long she’d been dozing when she heard the sound of firecrackers. Slowly coming back to consciousness, she gazed blankly around her. Why couldn’t this situation really be a dream? She leapt up nervously as the sharp explosions were repeated again.

  Firecrackers? No, Caitlin finally realized, the sound was gunfire. Running to the porthole, she peered out to see the dark bulk of a ship that had aligned itself beside the cruiser. Were they attacking or being attacked? she wondered as a man teetered on the side railing of the cruiser and fell overboard.

  Then the nightmare deepened. Looking up past the black sails of the new ship, Caitlin gaped at the livid flag fluttering from the craft’s train mast. It was the Jolly Roger!

  Before she could focus any longer off the skull and crossed cutlasses, however, she heard a familiar voice shout, “If they won’t give up, blow them out of the water!”

  Caitlin’s jaw dropped as she spotted the bearded man in black who stood beneath the pirate flag and issued orders. It was Bryce!

  Chapter Four

  Caitlin stood frozen, transfixed by the waking nightmare. This was the black ship Basil had told her about, and Bryce was its captain! Her eyes widened further, if that were possible, when she remembered her first impression of the gorgeous green-eyed man at the Beach Bar. Hadn’t she visualized him then as a handsome, romantic pirate?

  Another shot and scream made her aware that this was no dream, not even an awful one.

  But if she wasn’t having a nightmare now, Bryce must be the ruthless, murdering sea captain the local fishermen feared.

  Dismay swept through her as she saw all her romantic notions dashed before her like breakers on the reef, but before she could mourn their loss, she realized that Bryce and his men were boarding the boat. The clunks and thuds and angry, raised voices on the deck made her shudder.

  What were the villains planning to do? Rob everyone on the boat? Steal the vessel itself? What if they killed everyone on board so there wouldn’t be any witnesses?

  She trembled with the possibilities and, for a moment, could only stare stupidly at the locked door of the cabin. This was ridiculous, for heaven’s sake, Caitlin finally decided, rushing to the door and pressing her ear against it. Bryce wasn’t a thief or a murderer. There must be some mistake. Maybe he’d come to save her. She wasn’t convinced, but at least she could give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “Let’s take this lying son of a devil somewhere private,” Bryce commanded gruffly above the other noises. Boots scraped against the boat’s stairs, the footsteps seeming to reverberate through her. Caitlin popped away from the door when he added, “If he won’t give us the information we want about that cache, maybe we’ll cut out his tongue.”

  If Caitlin had had any doubts as to whether or not to trust Bryce, they were dashed immediately. He was here to steal whatever the first set of thieves had taken from Hibiscus Island, not to save anyone. Her situation seemed to be going from bad to worse.

  “Let me go,” came a whining plea that bore a peculiar resemblance to Jenkins’s nasal tones. “I—I’m telling you God’s truth. I don’t know nothing.”

  “We’ll get the information we want out of this sniveler easy, Captain, one way or the other,” Bryce’s cohort told him in mellifluous tones that belied his threatening words. “This the captain’s cabin?”

  “Yes!”
Jenkins shouted.

  They were directly outside the room. Caitlin watched in fascination as the door handle turned. Then one of the men tried to force the door, but though it seemed to bounce in its frame, it held fast. Would they succeed in bursting into the cabin? Would they find her? How had she managed to get herself into this mess?

  “Wait, let me get you the keys,” said the sniveling Jenkins. “See? I’m willing to cooperate.”

  “That’s good,” Bryce said. “For your health.”

  Desperate now, for she heard a set of keys clinking, Caitlin searched the small room for a place to hide, nearly overlooking the footlocker against the wall beside the bunk.

  Quietly she made for the storage unit and lifted the lid. Luckily the locker was almost empty. She climbed in, heedless of the few articles of clothing that lay on its bottom. With difficulty Caitlin managed to wedge herself in the cramped space and lower the lid just as she heard the door open. She could only pray that she wouldn’t suffocate.

  But perhaps death would be preferable to what she might suffer at that scoundrel’s hands! Caitlin decided dramatically, conveniently forgetting the more provocative fantasies she’d had about the man. Remembering how he’d questioned her about Moreau’s whereabouts, she figured Bryce must have been on Hibiscus merely to glean information in any way he could—the cad!

  Well, she’d prove how wrong Mr. Bryce Pirate could be! Caitlin thought, bolstering her own courage. She’d just wait until the men left the cabin, then engineer her own escape. Once on deck, all she had to do was slide into the water and swim to land.

  If there were any land within swimming distance.

  “Now it’s time for you to talk,” Bryce said.

  “You picked the wrong guy.”

  “I wonder if he’d sing the same tune with thumbscrews attached to those clawlike hands,” the man with the melodious voice speculated.

  “Thumbscrews?”

  “Holding him dangling over the railing would be a lot more effective,” Bryce said. “If he doesn’t talk, we could just drop him in.”