This is episode forty-six of the fifth book in the Trace Troy Adventures in Paradise series. The Title is A Cult in Paradise
. It will be featured in episodes over the next few months. It will eventually be published in full on Amazon. All of the Trace Troy books, as well as my other novels, can be purchased on Amazon by clicking the Bookstore tab above. I hope you enjoy. And thanks for stopping by.
Destination Pago Pago
It was the last trip back and forth from the island. Trace, Adam, and Demeter climbed aboard The Tramp Islander. Everyone was unpleasantly surprised to see their former leader.
Trace stepped on top of the hatch. “Give me attention everyone. I know you were all hoping for one less passenger. No one is to harm him. However, from now on his name is Haywood Demeter. Anyone who can’t live with that, we’ll send you ashore.”
Trace paused. No one said anything.
Trace continued. “I thought about first taking you all to Bora Bora. It’s about two days due south from here. But, most of you are American. Pago Pago is five or six days from here and will be less complicated. It’s an American territory. That’s where we are going to take you. It’s going to be crowded. There is room in the holds but we have plenty of canvass. We can spread it over the deck. Makani tells me we have plenty of food. It’s packaged military rations. None of you are allowed in the pilothouse. A bucket and modest privacy will be available for sanitary purposes. We’ll be sailing shortly.”
Sage, pull the anchor,” Trace called out.
Trace stepped down. Everyone cheered, followed by pats on the back and thankful expressions. Trace smiled, but was unsure of how to handle the adulation.
Trace entered the pilothouse. He looked forward. Sage waved that the anchor was up.
Trace started the engine, steered hard starboard. He set a westerly 265-degree course. “That’ll do for now,” he murmured.
Trace grabbed the mic. “Sage, Coyote, hoist the sails. Dad, Pete, help these landlubbers secure a canvass covering over the deck. Makani, pick a couple of guys to help with some rations. Let’s get these folks fed and then let’s get some sleep.”
The sails snapped full of wind. Trace cut the engine. The Tramp Islander dashed west. An hour into the voyage everybody from the island lay beneath the canvas.
Adam walked into the pilothouse.
“How ya feeling’?” Adam said.
Trace glanced at the instruments and turned to Adam. “Good. I’m running on adrenaline.”
“It eventually wears off,” Adam said.
“This control panel has a little feature,” Trace tapped the control panel with his finger. “All I have to do is turn it on. If the boat lists too much or strays more than five degrees, it starts beeping.”
“How come you didn’t tell me this until now?” Adam said.
“This switch right here,” Trace clicked a switch back and forth, “I always wondered what it was for. So I looked it up in the manual.”
“Think of all the sleep we missed,” Adam said.
He continued, “What are you going to do with all these folks when we get to Pago Pago?”
“This may sound uncaring,” Trace said, “but I’m going to notify government officials. Make sure we’re stocked up. And get out of Dodge before somebody in Pago Pago holds us responsible.”
“What about Demeter?” Adam asked.
“What about Demeter?” Trace said. “If he’s broken laws, that’s not for me to figure out. As twisted as governments and society are today, we’re liable to be charged with the destruction of the property back on that island. Yeah, I’m sailing out of Pago Pago without a notice.”
“That will be another island that you can’t return to,” Adam said.
“How many places can’t you return to?” Trace smiled.
“There’s a few,” Adam returned the smile and said, “Good night, son.” And he climbed below.
Indeed, Trace nodded off a few times and indeed, the instrument panel beeped a few times.
Trace watched the sunrise. He slipped outside the pilothouse and looked beneath the canvas. Everybody slept soundly. He craned his neck to take a good look at Demeter. He looked closely to make sure his chest rose.
“He’s alive,” Trace murmured.
He returned to the pilothouse.
Makani stood, waiting. “How you feel, Cap?”
“Starting to wind down,” Trace said. “Sage is going to take over as soon as he has breakfast.”
“Breakfast ready,” Makani said.
“I could smell it,” Trace replied. “Do you have anything for our passengers?”
“I fix coffee and oatmeal,” Makani said. “Oatmeal have apples, cinnamon, and sugar.”
“That’s thoughtful,” Trace said.
“Apples almost bad,” Makani said.
“That was thoughtful,” Trace grinned.
Makani looked confused.
“Sarcasm,” Trace said.
“That means joke, right?” Makani said.
“Yeah,” Trace said, “kind of. If I have to explain it, somehow it’s not funny anymore.”
“What funny is you explaining and I already understand,” Makani said.
“How often do you do that?” Trace asked.
“When Makani need laugh,” Makani chuckled.
“I’m glad to amuse you,” Trace said.
“I should tell,” Makani said, “Demeter man no eat.”
“Well,” Trace said, “no matter how anybody feels about the man, in the last few hours, he’s had quite a fall. He was way up here,” Trace held his hind high and then lowered it to below his knees, “and now he’s down here—or maybe lower.”
“I no feel sorry,” Makani said.
“Me neither,” Trace said. “No matter, he’s not feeling too good about things. And that is all his fault. He’s a charlatan. And likely responsible for the deaths of many. He’s a murderer.”
“Charlatan?” Makani inquired.
“A crook, a thief,” Trace said, “a thief of the worst kind. Money and property can be replaced, but hope and faith, it’s like stealing something inside that no one should ever take. It leaves a huge hole. Sometimes that hole is never filled.”
Makani fed the oatmeal in cleaned out the tin cans. Although not appearing sanitary, everybody knew it was the best thing available.
Sage took over at the helm.
Trace walked onto the deck and hunched under the canvas. He noticed the can of oatmeal next to Demeter had not been touched. He walked further, asking how everybody felt. He sat down with a small group of men for some small talk and a welfare check.
He turned to observe Demeter. Sylvia approached him. She held his can of oatmeal close to him. He looked ahead as if she weren’t there.
Trace raised to a hunched position and walked back to Demeter. He knelt on one knee.
“That young lady offered an act of kindness,” Trace said. “And like the egocentric, self-absorbed, self-righteous, psychopathic, flimflam, useless piece of cow excrement you are, you hope for self-pity. That young lady sees you as all those things, as well as being pathetic. None of us care whether you eat, drink, take a leak, or a crap. In fact, it’s better off if you don’t eat. I’d sail around Pago Pago a couple of days just to watch you die. But as it is, I want you off my boat and out of my life. So eat the oatmeal. And if we’re lucky you’ll choke on it.” Trace turned to everyone. “If he chokes on his food, let him go.” He turned back to Demeter. “I’ve lost a lot of sleep over you. I’m tired. I going to bed.”
Trace walked away and turned to the men. “Save him. Honestly, I don’t think it’s like any of you to let him die; certainly not me, despite what I said.”
Trace left the shelter. He opened the forward hatch to the companionway. He walked toward his cabin. On the way, he grabbed a piece of toast. He walked into his cabin and fell into the bed without removing his clothes. The piece of toast fell from his hand and onto the floor.
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