This is the thirty-ninth episode of the novel Two Tamas in Paradise. There are fifty episodes. This is the fourth novel in the Trace Troy South Pacific Adventure series.
It may now be purchased on Amazon. It is available in paperback or Kindle digital format.
Plans for Oeno
After Maxwell left, all that remained was the creaking and cracking of The Tramp Islander. The faint sound of the wind passing over the sails sounded like a slow, distant drum beat.
Trace switched on the shortwave and listened to the weather report. A good day rested over the horizon, along with the island of their destination. His shoulders slumped, and his face relaxed.
‘I will wonder about them at times,” Trace thought. ‘You never have passengers for a great length of time such as them. Whatever their endeavor, I hope no one is harmed. This seems unlikely; a leopard cannot change its spots. I suppose the truth is, they will run amok with the law and investors. They will be charged heavy fines and disappear. And reinvent themselves, and a new scheme.’
“May I come up?” a voice said. It was Maxwell. “There is no way I can sleep.”
“Sure,” Trace said, “you shouldn’t have had the coffee.”
“It’s not that,” Maxwell said. He returned to the chair at the chart desk. “Do you know what we’re up to?”
“You mean declaring independence from Great Britain. Selling ambassadorships, setting up offshore banking accounts, and a few things in the brewing process, only,” Trace said.
“Wow,” Maxwell said, “that’s impressive. You have it pretty well figured out.”
“Frankly,” Trace said, “I think you’ll lose against The Crown. But I’m sure you’ll put up a good fight. And there will be folks willing to pay for a good fight.”
Maxwell grinned broadly. “That is indeed a piece of the plan. You see, Trace, we contracted a company to build permanent housing on Oeno. We will establish our homes there. Stir up some controversy and write a document that starts with, ‘During the course of human event…’ Sound familiar?”
“The Declaration of Independence,” Trace said.
“You paid attention in history class,” Maxwell said, “congratulations to you and to your teacher for holding your attention.”
“It all sounds fanciful to me,” Trace said.
“Indeed,” Maxwell said, “it does sound fanciful—you’re not a sucker. There are people, successful and smart people, lined up, and all in on this. One thing my dad taught me was how to sell a dream. My dad sold junk cars up front, and mineral rights, and land leases for oil drilling out back. He sold paper with promises, worth less than the ink and paper they were written on.”
“Maxwell,” Trace said, “when we unpack you and your cargo, that’s the end of it for us. Our job is done. I can’t say I wish you and those with you all the best. I just wish you no ill will.”
“Trace,” Maxwell said sternly, “I can’t go through with it. I can’t.”
Trace cocked his head and stared at Maxwell as if trying to see into his brain.
“You heard me right,” Maxwell said. “And tomorrow morning, I’m telling Calvin, Wilma, and Darlene.”
“What are you going to do when we get to Oeno?” Trace asked.
“I’m going to live there for a while,” Maxwell said. “I’m going to sort things out. I hope the others will do the same, but I can’t go on. I don’t want to end up on my deathbed wishing my son to be a crook.”
“I’m very curious,” Trace said. “How did this all come about. You mentioned some things that impacted you. Things that made you stop and think. But something happened that had to change your mind. Something had to place things in order for you. I can’t see playing a few games and getting sprung from jail, doing all that. From my observation, you’re all in. Not to be demeaning, but when I see you, I see a crook, a scammer, a con man right to the bone. You will always look for the quick buck, the mark, the sucker. In some ways, it almost seems like you’re setting me up for something.”
“I admire your candor, Trace,” Maxwell said. “It’s refreshing. You’re right, it didn’t take a few games and a jail breakout. Those things contributed, but your dad and I have had a few conversations. Up here, in the pilothouse.”
“What did he say?” Trace said.
“He just talked,” Maxwell said. “He was a man free from guilt, anxiety, regrets. Not that he hasn’t had them, but he talks about them as if they are a small part of the bigger picture. I’m always hiding the real me. Your dad puts it out there. His mistakes in life are honest ones. You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, have a laugh with your friends, and get back to work. He had good people around him, like his dad, Coyote, and a bunch of ranch hands that all have names like Rusty, Dusty, Chicken Legs, Lefty, and Paco.”
“Well,” Trace grinned, “if you know those names, you know my dad. You know the stories. And those were the men that Dad left in charge of me from time to time. I learned from those men, too.”
“There’s something behind them,” Maxwell said. “Not an outright moral message or some philosophy etched in stone. It’s just a way of walking. It’s like listening to a song in another language. You know the message, not from the words, but from the melody. You read the heart of the composer, the musician, the singer. Am I making sense?”
“Perfect,” Trace said.
“But can I convince the others?” Maxwell said. “What I mean is that I conned them into this whole scheme. I needed Calvin. He’s a numbers guy, a bean counter. And the two women. I love my wife, but she’s an ex-show girl and casino hostess; nothing upstairs. She’s innocent—and gullible. She likes shiny things and big promises. And Darlene is cut from the same cloth.”
Trace looked into Maxwell’s eyes. He leaned forward slightly.“Maybe, just maybe, what your wife really wants is just you. Maybe she sees things in you that you’ve never seen until now.”
“You know what,” Maxwell said, “this is crazy, but I’ve never seen her so happy before this trip. I thought it was just thinking about how good we will have it in a couple of years. Maybe it’s how she feels right now.”
“And you may be surprised at Calving and Wilma,” Trace said. “They may want the same things you want and in the same way—with a good conscience.”
“We have a big day ahead of us,” Trace said. “I’m going to wake Sage up and have him take over. I want to get a couple of hours of sleep.”
“You haven’t touched that wheel all the time I’ve been up here,” Maxwell said. “Why don’t you get your forty winks. I can read a compass. If it strays too much, I’ll wake you. And if I see something in our way, I’ll wake you. What do you say?”
“Have a seat,” Trace said, standing. “But the minute you feel drowsy, let me know.”
Trace lay on the bench, and Maxwell sat in the captain’s chair.
Before closing his eyes, Trace thought, ‘God, I hope no one sees this.’
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