The Double Cross In Paradise; Episode 6, Introductions

This is episode six of my latest novel in The Trace Troy Adventure series. It is titled The Double-Cross in Paradise. It is not yet available in paperback or digital format. 

  The first title for this book was The Deception in Paradise. There are a couple of other books bearing that same title. Double-Cross really fits the book's theme better. 

   As soon as it is available on Amazon, I'll let everyone know. In the meantime, it will be serialized and scheduled for 50 episodes. I'm sure you'll enjoy.

Introductions

At mid-afternoon, Trace pulled the sextant from the drawer of the chart desk. He hadn’t used it in a couple of months. He applied Brasso and polished it off. He thought about mounting it somewhere handy so he could occasionally use it. He never wanted to allow that skill to skid away. It made him feel more in touch with the craft of seamanship. He read about many of the last arts of navigation and admired them. ‘This is the way a craftsman should start any craft. A carpenter should at least be familiar with a handsaw and a hand drill. It builds appreciation for the masters and the work before him. A shipbuilder should know the craft of his predecessors. Dad made me cowboy like his great-grandfather did. You love it more. And you are a part of a guild, a brotherhood.’

Trace glanced up from polishing at the sound of laughter coming from the deck. He stood. Two young men and two young ladies laughed and moved around playfully on the foredeck. 

Trace laid down the sextant and made his way through the aft door of the pilothouse. He stepped easily forward, and stood next to the roof of the cabins. 

They noticed Trace, stopped, and brought the giggles and laughter to mild tittering. They shuffled around as if embarrassed.

Trace stared, unamused. “Get off my boat.”

“We’re your passengers,” a tall man with fluffy blonde hair said.

“Not until I say you’re my passengers. Now off my boat.”

“I’m sorry it seems we’ve got off on the wrong foot,” the fluffy-haired man said. 

The rest were unable to restrain their smiles.

“We get back on the right foot by getting off my boat and asking permission to come aboard. It’s sailors’ etiquette. Would you enter a home without knocking?”

They dawdled from the boat. 

The fluffy-haired man stood at attention and rendered an open-palmed salute. “Permission to come aboard, sir!”

“This appears like all fun and games to you, but it’s not to me,” Trace said. “Now, I want you to ask me to come aboard like an educated, civilized man. Not begging but understanding the tradition and respect due. Think it through, and ask.”

The fluffy-haired man glared at Trace.

“Go get your refund from Allie,” Trace said and turned toward the pilothouse.

“Sir,” the fluffy-haired man called out in a clear voice.

Trace turned to face him.

“May me and my friends come aboard?”

“You have my permission to come aboard,” Trace said flatly yet firmly, and when each one stepped onto the deck, he politely said, “Welcome aboard,” to each one.

Trace opened the door to the forward companionway. He leaned into it and called down, “All hands on deck!”

Everyone filed out from the companionway. They lined up on the opposite side of the deck, next to the railing. 

“I’d like to introduce myself and the crew to The Tramp Islander, Trace said. “I’m Trace Troy, Captain and owner.”

“I’m Sage Wingate, first mate.”

“Me Makani, cook.”

“Paul Parnell, deckhand.”

“Tom Bevins, deckhand.”

Trace nodded at the passengers. They had no arrangement.

“I’m Patterson Beushon,” said the tall one with the fluffy blond hair.

“Erin Hemley,” said the other male, s bit shorter with short back hair.

“Margot Boekells,” said a female with long red hair.

“Zoey Conccelo,” said a short female with long black hair.

“We’re all pleased to meet you and have you aboard,” Trace said. “This is not a passenger voyage. This is a working cargo vessel. We take on passengers who want to go cheap, go to where a lot of passenger ships don’t go, or who want to have a unique and challenging experience.”

“The crew is not your waiters, porters, or cabin boys. You will not treat them as underlings. The crew eats first, and the passengers eat second. For passengers, breakfast is from 7:00 AM to 7:30 AM. Lunch is from 12:00 to 12:30. Evening meal is from 6:00 PM to 6:30 PM. Snacks are always available on the counter to the galley. No one is allowed in the galley, the engine room, or the holds. Each room has a TV and a video player, and we have a library of movies. We don’t have Xanadu.” Trace paused. “That’s a joke.”

“Okay,” Trace said, “I can cross comedian off my career path. Each passenger can have one beer a day. You can’t give your beer to anyone else. This is not a drunken pleasure cruise. We don’t want anybody staggering overboard. When we are out to sea, we will be days from help. Don’t try to be cute or clever.”

Patterson leaned toward Erin and whispered something.

“What is it, Patterson?”

Patterson smirked. “I said you’re a regular Captain Bleigh.”

“Actually,” Trace said, “I consider myself more of a Wolf Larson type. Right crew?”

“A cross between Wolfe Larson and Captain Ahab,” Sage said.

“And the jokes just keep on rolling,” Patterson said sarcastically.

“That they do,” Trace said. “Go grab your baggage.” 

Trace gestured like an usher toward the forward companionway. “Below the steps are six cabins. Men, you will be in cabins 1 and 3, and ladies, you are in 2 and 4. If you wish to eat aboard tonight, let us know now.”

They mumbled among themselves. 

“We’ll eat at a restaurant tonight,” Patterson said.

“It would be best if you’re on board before 10:00 PM,” Trace said. “That way, I’ll know for sure we will be ready to go tomorrow morning. If you come back to the ship drunk, you will not be permitted aboard. Again, it is a safety issue. Drunks hurt themselves. Is that understood?”

“Aye aye,” Patterson smirked.

The others shook their heads agreeably. 

“Very well,” Trace said. “We will be shoving off around 4:00 AM. I try to get out of the harbor before it starts to get busy. Don’t be alarmed at the movement on deck or if the boat starts to rock. If you sleep through it, by the time you are up, we’ll be well out to sea. Another thing, Port Vila is six hundred and seventy-five miles of open sea. It may take four days to get there. This is a sailing vessel. We depend on the winds, currents, and weather; they are not always cooperative. It’s going to be a long four days. I just want to prepare you.”

The Double-Cross in Paradise; Episode 5, Happy Deckhands

This is episode five of my latest novel in The Trace Troy Adventure series. It is titled The Double-Cross in Paradise. It is not yet available in paperback or digital format. 

  The first title for this book was The Deception in Paradise. There are a couple of other books bearing that same title. Double-Cross really fits the book's theme better. 

   As soon as it is available on Amazon, I'll let everyone know. In the meantime, it will be serialized and scheduled for 50 episodes. I'm sure you'll enjoy.

Happy Deckhands

After Paul and Tom finished the cleanup of the passengers’ cabins, Paul eagerly returned to the pilothouse. Trace sat at the chart desk, hovering over the book about Vanuatu. 

Trace lifted his head from the book, hearing Paul at the top of the companionway. 

“All done, Cap,” Paul said buoyantly. “Tom is doing the hallway, and I’m going to take care of the front companionway.”

“Great,” Trace said, “I was going to have you do them sometime, but I’m glad you two are taking the initiative. And it’s good that you told me. Those things can slip my mind. If you don’t tell me, I’ll assume they are being done, and it’s not good to assume.”

“Sure thing, Cap,” Paul bobbed his head agreeably. “Yeah, I guess that’s important. I’ll pass that on to Tom, unless you want to tell him yourself.”

“Have a seat?” Trace said.

“Is something wrong?” Paul’s enthusiasm changed to sober wonder.

“No,” Trace said, “just have a seat.”

“Where?” Paul looked around at the options.

“Bench, chair,” Trace said, holding out his two palms as if weighing the choices in his hands. “Wherever you feel comfortable.”

He sat on the edge of the bench.

“How are you doing?” Trace asked.

“You mean on the boat?” Paul said.

Trace bobbed his head and faintly smiled. He resisted speaking sarcastically. “Yeah, how are you liking the work, getting along with the crew, you know, that sort of thing?”

“My first two weeks, I was ready to quit,” Paul said. “Tom wouldn’t let me, and Sage never gave up on me. I like it.”

“I’m glad you do.”

“This sounds to me like it’s leading up to someone being fired,” Paul said.

“Oh, no,” Trace assured. “It’s nothing of the kind. I apologize. It did sound like it. I wanted to know how things were going for you. When I got this ship, it came with two experienced deckhands. They took Sage under wing and showed him the ropes. But me and Sage have known each other all our lives. We were indoctrinated to work hard at an early age. My dad and Sage’s dad came on for a few months, and they’re of the mindset, blisters and sweat are the only way to prove you worked.”

“I mowed the lawn and took out the trash,” Paul smiled.

“I wanted you up here to tell you that you’ve been doing a great job. You work hard and never complain.”

“I’ve heard if you complain on a ship, you get forty lashes,” Paul joked.

“That forty lashes stuff went out a long time ago,” Trace said. “We only do about twenty.”

“I’m still not complaining,” Paul said.

Trace cupped his hands around his mouth. “Sage, put away the whip.”

They laughed.

“That’s what I like about working on The Tramp Islander,” Paul said, “Everyone gets along and it’s okay to crack a joke. Humor was frowned upon on Flint Island.”

“Strange,” Trace said, “because the whole place was a joke.”

“Not to me,” Paul said. 

“Sorry,” Trace said, “a poor selection of words.”

“No,” Paul said, “I get it. It is funny to look back on it, but not at the time.”

“Below, in the salon, is a book, Principles Of Navigation. I’d like for you and Tom to start reading it. Tomorrow I’m going to start showing you both how to drive this thing.”

“I already know how to drive a stick,” Paul said.

Trace grinned. “You’re catching on.” 

“And it feels good,” Paul relaxed.

“Here’s something I wanted to go over with you,” Trace scooted forward in his chair to get closer to Paul. “Four college students will be going with us to Vanuatu—one way, two guys, two girls.”

“And you expect them to act like college students?” Paul leaned forward for the answer.

“I do,” Trace said, “I don’t expect anything other than young and dumb. However, this is a cargo sailing vessel, not a Carnival Cruise ship. There are safety concerns, and our crew is not made up of hostesses.”

“You have rules for us, right?” Paul said.

“Yes,” Trace said. “Remember, you don’t initiate interaction with passengers, be polite. And you are not stewards. They don’t tell you what to do, and you don’t do anything for them that they can’t do. If they ask you to do something for them, tell them to clear it with the captain first and go about your business. Even if that business is looking at the waves. I will make that clear with them when they arrive.”

“We will eat at different times. If they strike up a casual conversation, be polite. Don’t reveal too much personal information. Passengers of a ship can divide the crew in hours. Don’t allow them to say anything negative about another member of the crew. If they do, bring it to me. I will handle it immediately. When they come aboard, I will introduce you and go over the rules while you’re there. If they break any of them, let me know.”

Paul nodded as he allowed the information to settle in his thoughts.

“I never thought about this,” Trace said, “but it sounds a lot like what you came from.”

“Not really,” Paul said. “The purpose here is clear. Ships have to be kept safe. All we were protecting back on Flint Island was the power and position of a psychopath.”

“Have you read Moby Dick?” Trace asked.

“I read it when I was in the eighth grade,” Paul said.

“Other than not having a wooden leg, do I remind you of Captain Ahab?” Trace asked.

“Actually, it was whalebone,” Paul said. “And to answer your question, I see you as more of a Wolf Larsen type.”

“Ahh,” Trace feigned a pleasing smile, “exactly what I was going for.”

Trace slapped Paul playfully on the knee. “Go get Tom and send him up.”

A moment later, Tom trudged up the companionway. His countenance looked like melted wax. 

Trace, at first, looked concerned but broke out in laughter. Tom’s melted face turned to a confused look.

“Paul told you, you guys were fired, didn’t he?” Trace said.

“Yeah,” Tom said.

Tom closed his eyes and dropped his head. “He'd better watch his back.”

“I think you two have a lot of pent-up fun inside you,” Trace grinned. “I only want to go over a few things with you and tell ya, you've been doing a great job.”

The Double-Cross In Paradise; Episode 4, Maturing Paul and Tom

  This is episode four of my latest novel in The Trace Troy Adventure series. It is titled The Double-Cross in Paradise. It is not yet available in paperback or digital format. 

  The first title for this book was The Deception in Paradise. There are a couple of other books bearing that same title. Double-Cross really fits the book's theme better. 

   As soon as it is available on Amazon, I'll let everyone know. In the meantime, it will be serialized and scheduled for 50 episodes. I'm sure you'll enjoy.

Maturing Paul and Tom

A week passed. Allie found enough cargo for Trace to sail The Tramp Islander to Port Vila, Vanuatu. 

Trace relaxed at the chart desk, studying a chart to Port Vila. The ship-to-shore phone rang. “Troy.”

“Troy, this is Allie.”

“Hi, Allie, we can’t take on any more cargo unless it’s hauled topside.”

“When are you shoving off?”

“Tomorrow, early.”

“I got four passengers for you.”

“Sure,” Trace said, “get ‘em over here.”

“It’s four college kids, looking for a South Seas experience, two guys and two girls.”

“Has their check cleared?”

“Cash.”

“They have to check in before six and if they are to have supper with us. I have to know as soon as possible.”

“I’ll let them know.”

“Is that it?”

“That’s all I have.”

“Thanks, Allie,” Trace leaned to hang up. “I guess I won’t see you in a couple of months.”

“Nope,” Allie said. “Take care, Captain.”

“Aye, aye, admiral.” Trace hung up.

Trace hailed Paul and Tom to the pilothouse. Paul entered from the aft door and Tom from the companionway.

“We have four college kids coming aboard as passengers,” Trace said, “two guys, two gals. Go below and make sure four of the passenger cabins are clean. You know where the polish is. Those rooms need a good going-over.”

“Right away,” Paul said eagerly.

Paul and Tom hustled down the companionway.

Trace grinned and thought, ‘Was I ever that eager when I first signed on? Do I remind others of Captain Ahab? How could I? I don’t even have a wooden leg.”

Trace grabbed the mic, and before he spoke, Makani appeared from the companionway.

“I hear,” Makani said. “Four passengers. Plenty food. No problem.”

“Why did you come up?” Trace asked.

“You no like long talk over mic.”

“Okay,” Trace agreed. “Four college kids, I’m worried. Keep the beer under lock and key. This will not be a party cruise. I hope they know that. Anyway, don’t let them boss you around or speak down to you.”

“No worry,” Makani said, and tilted his head for permission to return below.

“Sure, go ahead,” Trace said.

Trace picked up a book that lay on the desk about Vanuatu and its islands. Only a third of it had been read, and he wanted to know more about the islands. 

After a few pages, Sage came on board and into the pilothouse. 

“I heard,” Sage said. 

“How’d you hear?”

“I saw Allie walking out of a drugstore; corn pads.”

“I already went over some things with Paul and Tom. Makani…”

“Sage interrupted, … had to be told nothing.”

“Maybe I should have him greet the passengers and go over the rules,” Trace mused.

“What are you expecting?” Sage asked.

“College kids, summer break, full of themselves, and entitled.”

“Sounds like a rude awakening is in store for them,” Trace said.

“Well, we know what it’s like to be that age,” Sage added.

“Yeah,” Trace grinned, “likely we listen to the same music.”

“Hey,” Sage said, “we ain’t that old. We only got Paul and Tom beat by a year or two.”

“That reminds me,” Trace said, “in some subtle way, we've got to toughen those two up. They don’t act like hands, they’re acting like cult members trying to keep their leader happy.”

“I get it,” Sage said. “They’re like a dog wagging its tail and waiting for ya to toss a stick.”

“I sent them below to spit and polish the passengers' cabins, and I thought they were going to fall over each other going down the companionway.”

“Do you remember how we were on our first cattle drive?” Sage said.

“We were twelve,” Trace reminded. He paused for a thought. “And maybe those guys were treated like twelve-year-olds on the island.”

“We have to figure out how to kick-start their upward development to maturity,” Sage said. “That comes from a self-help book in our ship’s library.”

“Who bought that crap?” Trace said.

“That was in a bundle you bought about six months ago,” Sage said.

“Oh, that’s right,” Trace joked, “I had you in mind.”

“It’s all earmarked,” Sage continued the joke. “I think I saw Dad reading it.”

“You’re missing him, aren’t you?” Trace said. 

“Wasn’t that all the kick of our lives?” Sage said. “Our dads working for us.”

“So they let us think,” Trace said. 

“What about you,” Sage said, “ya missin’ him?”

“Yeah, but he has Talei now,” Trace said. “That makes it easier. Two people missing each other, one feeds the other, but when you know the other is cared for, it’s different.”

“I don’t want to make it as if I’m getting soft and sentimental,” Sage said, “but Paul and Tom, who have they got to miss? What kind of background do they come from? Paul came here because his dad probably made him think he was finally pleasing his father. And Tom, that guy has nothin’, not even a bad father like Waldo Franks. At least if he had somebody like him, he coulduv learned to deal from the bottom of the deck and how to palm dice in a crooked game of craps.”

Trace stared seriously into Sage’s eyes. “This is something we didn’t ask for, but it is something we took on. We have to teach those two how to be men.”

“And what a row to hoe,” Sage said soberly, “we’re barely older than them.”