Two Tamas in Paradise; Episode 30, Two Beers in Raro

This is the thirtieth 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. 

Two Beers in Raro

Adam manned the pilothouse at dinner time. Trace sat at the mess table with the crew and passengers.

Once everyone had sat and started eating, Trace said. “Thank you, everyone, for being here.”

“You’re the captain,” Maxwell said, “we have no choice.”

Trace half-smiled and gave Maxwell an annoying glance. “I wanted to give everyone, in particular our passengers, the option of staying overnight at Rarotonga or restocking and heading back to sea immediately. It’s been a long trip so far, and there’s more ocean ahead of us.”

“How long if we just restock?” Maxwell asked.

“A couple of hours,” Trace said. “In that time, you could go to shore and maybe shop for a few things. Don’t worry, we’re not going to leave anybody behind if they’re not back in time.”

“Giving us an option likely means you’d like to spend more time off the boat and you think we need it,” Calvin said.

“I'm just thinking that in a day or two out, we could regret not spending enough time on shore to chill off a bit,” Trace said.

“You’re the captain,” Calvin said.

“What if we spend the night and leave the next day?” Maxwell said.

“Any objections?” Trace asked and looked around the table. No one said anything. “That’s settled, we’ll spend the night.” 

Trace filled a tray with two plates of food and took it up to the pilothouse. 

“Thanks,” Adam said, seeing the meal on the tray.

“I choose not to eat with Maxwell,” Trace said. “He just looks smarmy.”

“He is,” Adam said and started eating.

Trace sat on the bench with the tray of food in his lap. “This is the fish they caught. Makani did a good job.”

“Not bad,” Adam said, eating from his plate on the chart desk. “What time will we get to Rarotonga?”

“Should be around eight or nine in the morning,” Trace said.

“What do we need?” Adam said. 

“Fresh fruits and vegetables,” Trace said. “Makani said we’re plenty good on rations. I’ll fill the water tanks and top off the fuel.”

“I’d like to go somewhere for a beer,” Adam said.

“We can both use one,” Trace said. “And I’d like to find a store and pick up a few things. I’ll tell Makani to do the shopping, the first thing. I like to get the necessary things out of the way first. Doing things the last minute drives me crazy.”

“You going to make sure everybody sleeps on board tonight?” Adam asked.

“I’ll demand it,” Trace said. “I don’t want to lose track of my cargo. I gave an overnight stop on Rarotonga some serious thought. Stopping there means they’ll be on The Tramp Islander another fifteen or sixteen hours. The sooner I deliver them, the better. I don’t want them on this boat a minute more than necessary. That Maxwell smells of trouble.”

“It’s the cologne,” Adam smiled. 

Sage took the wheel from 9:00 PM until 5:00 AM. Trace relieved him. 

Before Sage ducked below, Trace said, “We’ll be in Rarotonga in three hours. What do you have planned?”

“I’m going to get a big bag of potato chips,” Sage said. “And if they have some RC Cola, I’m buying a case. And dad and I are going to have a pint of draft.”

“That will give you something to dream about,” Trace said. “And by the way, everybody sleeps on board tonight.”

“Aye, aye,” Sage said and climbed below.

The Tramp Islander neared Rarotonga. Dark clouds hung over the island like a hand pressing down. A half mile from the harbor, it began to rain. They got tied up in the rain. 

Makani rapped on the passengers’ cabin door and called out that they were at Rarotonga.

Trace grabbed the mic. “Everybody is free to go on shore. Everyone must be back on The Tramp Islander by 10:00 PM tonight, that’s 10:00 PM tonight. We will be shoving off early in the morning. Everybody be safe.”

The rain stopped as if someone turned off a valve. A policeman was immediately there to greet them. Trace stood on deck, smiled, and waved.

“Welcome to Raro,” the policeman said. “How long will you stay?”

“Only overnight,” Trace said. “We are taking on fuel, water, and a few supplies.”

“Where are you from, and where will you be going?” The policeman said.

“We came from Fiji, Suva,” Trace said, “and we are sailing to Pitcairn.”

“If you plan on staying longer, inform the police,” the policeman said, “and as a matter of protocol, may I see your passport?”

Trace, expecting his passport would be asked for, removed it from his pants pocket. He handed it to the policeman. 

He looked at it and looked at Trace. “Very good, enjoy your stay in Raro.” He handed the passport back to Trace. “No need to check the others.”

“Thank you,” Trace said.

The policeman looked over The Tramp Islander as he sauntered away.

An hour later, only Trace and Adam were onboard The Tramp Islander. Trace contacted two companies, and they delivered water and fuel. Makani returned with a small truckload of grocery items and fresh produce. Trace, Adam, and the truck driver helped Makani load the groceries onboard. 

Trace and Adam left Makani on the boat. He stored the groceries away. Trace and Adam walked to the nearest bar and got a beer.

They sat at the bar and slowly sipped the beers from a glass. They shared a few stories.

There was a moment of silence as they sipped at the same time.

Before they set the glasses on the bar, Trace said, “This isn’t what you expected, is it?”

“What do you mean?” Adam said.

“You expected to island hop and see some of the old places,” Trace said.

“I thought about that,” Adam said. “But I really only want to go where the cargo and wind takes us. I’m with friends, my son, and four very interesting people. I hope we get them to where they want to go. If they got malice up their sleeves, I hope this trip purifies them. A lot of criminals go to sea and come back good men. The sea gives you time to meditate on what is good and greater than you.”

“Is that what happened to you?” Trace said.

“In a way,” Adam said. “I always knew ranching was where I’d end up. But I wanted to know something beyond Southwest Texas. I wanted to know how the world worked and how I fit in it. Coming here when I did, I was able to sort things out—long nights at the wheel, the wind, sea spray, the flap of the sails, and the sound of dashing waves. Some nights, not a sound, stars, galaxies, darkness, loneliness, and God.”

“I think I know what you mean,” Trace said. “I never got that on the Bering. There were times it was quiet, but not like here.”

“Some nights, now, on The Tramp Islander,” Adam said. “I strap the wheel and walk out on the deck for a while. And it’s like thirty years ago. It lasts for only a moment. But those moments surprise me. It’s like driving down a highway, and you go in and out of a tunnel. You are trapped in a forgotten time in the past and suddenly—reality.”

“How long are you going to stay?” Trace said.

Adam leaned back and looked at Trace. “Seriously, is this a way of saying this trip is it?”

“No, not at all,” Trace said. “Having you with me seems natural. What about you, are you thinking it’s about time for me to say, it’s time for you to go?”

“I’m having a great time,” Adam said, “but I know there is an end. It’s sooner rather than later from me. And it’s later rather than sooner for you.”

“Yeah,” Trace bobbed his head. “I’m liking this a whole lot. It’s not my career choice. I’ve always known ranching and cattle were where I was meant to be.”

“How many beers are we going to have?” Adam said.

“You always told me,” Trace said, “you drink only enough to tell a good story or two, listen to a good story or two, and wash the trail dust out of your gullet.” 

“With that said,” Adam said, “I’ve reached my limit.” He pointed to the empty glass. 

“I hope our passengers have a limit,” Trace said, sitting down an empty glass. “I’m not looking forward to seeing what kind of shape they’re in when they return.”

“We may have to put them to bed,” Adam said.

“They’re going to sleep where they drop,” Trace said.

“What about Sage and Coyote?” Adam said.

“Sage is a good boy, and what I remember about Coyote is that he always finds his way home,” Trace said.

“That’s him, alright,” Adam said. “And he’s learned how to make it into bed after a night of drinking without waking his dog or wife.”

Trace and Adam walked back to The Tramp Islander. They climbed onboard.

“I don’t know about you,” Adam said, “but if not for the others, I’m ready to sail.”

Two Tamas in Paradise; Episode 29, The Scheme

  This is the twenty-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. 

The Scheme

The fishing tournament accomplished its purpose. Tensions calmed.

Makani brought and iced tea to the pilothouse for Trace. 

“I thought you might like this,” Makani said.

Trace sipped. “Hits the spot. Thanks, Makani.”

Makani leaned close to Trace. “Makani talk to blonde woman.”

“Were you able to find out much?” Trace said.

“She talk very much,” Makani said. “She say Makani easy talk to.”

“Sounds like you have her eating out of your hand,” Trace said.

“You bet,” Makani said. “Makanis look interested. Ask a question, wrinkle forehead, hold chin. It all work.”

Trace wrinkled his brow and rubbed his chin. “Go ahead, Makani, tell me how you are feeling.”

Makani laughed. “That good.”

Trace smiled and returned to his natural pose. “What were you about to find out?”

“They have big plan,” Makani said. “They get more people to move to island. Then ask for independence. Become country. Then sell things.”

“Like what?” Trace said.

“I no understand but make her think I do,” Makani said. “Sell credentials?” Makani asked, confused.

“That sounds like a good scam,” Trace said. “They are playing a dangerous game. They are trying to scam people who want to scam other people. It’s not much different than our last trip. If you can sell things, like citizenship and ambassadorships, it makes the person a special type of person. They have this thing called diplomatic immunity. If you are a diplomat from another country, there are things you can do illegally, and if you get caught, there is no punishment. It opens privileges for you; you are treated better.”

“Not fair,” Makani said.

“No, it’s not,” Trace said. “Another thing, if you have credentials saying you have a position in another country's government, it opens opportunities to secure loans from banks and governments. Sometimes banks or the government don’t check. They have the view that it’s not their money, so they can be reckless with it.”

“She say something about corporations,” Makani said.

“Dummy corporations, probably,” Trace said. 

“I think she say that,” Makani said. “What is it?”

“Right now, you and I can start a business out of thin air,” Trace said. 

“How?” Makani said.

“Let’s start a company, call it Makani Enterprises,” Trace said.

“I like that,” Makani said. “I feel important already.”

“I thought you would,” Trace said.

“So what Makani Enterprises do?” Makani said.

“Capital investments,” Trace said. “You give Makani money, and he invests it for you. Your corporation is in the Oeno Islands. It’s a piece of paper. No office, no employees, only you, and it’s all in your head. You might have a bank account, The Bank of Oeno. Which will be phony, too. You sell promises you can’t keep or never intend on keeping. What you keep is the money that bought the promise.”

“I understand,” Makani said. “With gold, Makani should be wise.”

“If those people knew what you had,” Trace said, “they’d try to get you to invest in their scheme somehow.”

“What Trace going to do?” Makani asked.

“They paid us a fair amount to deliver them and their cargo to Oeno,” Trace said. “We will do that and go home.”

“And be hard to arrest,” Makani said. “They from other country. Have immunity, right?”

“That’s it,” Trace said. “The woman you got the information from was not wise to do that. She told you, not thinking you were trying to use the information against her. She’s not smart. Because she’s not smart, don’t tell anyone else. If it should get back to her or the other passengers, it could be bad for her.”

“She nice,” Makani said. “Like you say, not smart. Not smart, not make person bad.”

“That’s right,” Trace said. “I think Maxwell is the one to worry about.”

“I look his eyes,” Makani said. “Evil eyes. Remind Makani of shark.”

“Me too,” Trace said.

Makani returned to below. With the pilothouse empty, Trace had time to mull over the things Makani told him. He was sure there was much more to the scheme than Makani could tell, but he was confident of all that was told.

Trace grabbed the mic to the ship’s intercom. “Attention, we will be at Rarotonga Island tomorrow before noon. I want to meet with all passengers, mealtime,  this evening. Adam, report to the pilothouse.”

A couple of minutes later, Adam climbed up from below.

“Want me to take over for a while?” Adam said.

“No,” Trace said and told Adam all that Makani had heard.

“I don’t think that’s a surprise,” Adam said. “So we deliver them and forget them.”

“Yeah,” Trace said. “I just wanted to know certain things if something comes up. If we have some idea what is going on, we can make informed decisions.

“I hate to keep Coyote or Sage in the dark about this,” Trace said.

“It’s really none of their business,” Adam said.

“Certainly not at this point,” Trace said. “I know Coyote.”

“As do I,” Adam said.

“Sometimes it doesn’t take much to set him off,” Trace said, “and the next thing you know, the whole bag of beans is spilled. And that could put the dumb blonde on the return trip to Suva.”

“I’d drop her off at the nearest island with an airstrip and pay her way to anyplace she’d want to go,” Trace said.

Two Tamas in Paradise; Episode 28, Fishing Tournament

This is the twenty-eighth 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. 

Fishing Tournament

The passengers stood on deck at the rail, entertained by a pod of porpoises. They seemed to tease everyone with delight by tailing off and returning so close they could almost be touched. However, it soon became monotonous. 

Sage’s and Coyote’s knife throwing took on a bizarre twist that seemed to alter the passive attention from the porpoises. They leaned a large piece of plywood against the forward mast. It had an outline of a man. 

“It doesn’t make sense, who’s gonna get close enough to a bull to toss a bullseye?” Coyote reasoned. “You use a knife to cut a steak, stop a man, or clean cow dung from underneath your fingernails before eatin’ time.”

The passengers recoiled at hearing the explanation. And that brought a hidden smile to Coyote.

Trace sat at the wheel, and Adam sat on the bench. They watched with amusement.

“It’s getting a bit tense, wouldn’t you agree?” Trace said. 

“It isn’t to the breaking point yet,” Adam said. “It’s probably time to introduce something to break the tension or start passing out Xanax.”

“On the aft deck, flip open the starboard bench,” Trace said. “There should be four fishing poles in there. Grab them and the gear and take them to the forward deck.”

Adam slipped out to the aft deck.

Trace grabbed the mic and called to the galley. “Makani, bring some bait to the foredeck.”

Adam and Makani met at the foredeck with the bait and fishing gear. 

“Listen up,” Trace said over the mic. “We’re going to have a fishing tournament. There are four poles. It will be the Collins against the Wholleys. You catch three fish each and weigh them. The winner will face the winner of the Wingates against the Troys. Makani is in charge and will be the judge.”

There was a collective groan and scowls.

“I’m the captain,” Trace said. 

Calvin called out, “This can hardly be fair, you guys are used to fishing.”

Trace said over the Mic, “Makani will coach. Nobody fishes better than him. And there’s nothing to it; bait on hook, toss line, pull in fish. It’s the most basic of human skills.”

As soon as the four baited lines struck the water, the competition grew fierce. The Whooleys won. Maxwell held a smile but was clearly displeased. 

In the match between the Wingates and the Troys, the Wingates won. Adam accused Trace of throwing the match so he could return to the pilothouse.

The Whooleys won against the Wingates. 

“For the winners,” Trace announced. “Come to the pilothouse as my guest.”  

Calvin and Wilma entered the pilothouse from the rear door.

“Welcome,” Trace smiled. “Calvin and Wilma, I’m going to let you steer for a while.”

“It won’t tip over, will it?’ Wilma said. 

“You don’t have to worry,” Trace said. “If you can drive a car, you can drive this boat.”

“I tipped a car over once,” Wilma said. 

“I'm sure it was the car's fault,” Trace said.

“That’s what I said,” Wilma said. “But the policeman thought differently.”

“What do they know?” Trace said. 

Trace wanted them to start asking questions. He could logically ask questions in return. That didn’t happen. After an hour, Wilma grated so heavily on Trace's nerves that he congratulated them for winning the fishing tournament and spending the time with him in the pilothouse.

“And remember,” he said, “the rule still applies, no passengers in the pilothouse.”