This is episode thirteen in the sixth novel of The Trace Troy Adventure Series. It is titled The Double-Cross in Paradise. Here are the links to The Double-Cross In Paradise: paperback, Kindle.
Don't Mess With Tom
Trace struggled at the wheel for another four hours. Sage relieved every hour until Trace felt rested. The winds abated, and Trace ordered the sails hoisted. The waves tamed to six to eight feet.
“Sage,” Trace said with droopy eyes, “can you take her for a while?”
“Sure,” Sage said and grabbed the wheel. “Sleep as long as you like.”
Trace raised his tired hand and gave an informal salute. He trudged down the steps.
At the foot of the steps stood Patterson.
“Do you realize the danger you put us in. We should have never left Suva.”
Trace’s eyelids dipped slowly, and the words oozed from his mouth. “The storm was supposed to be well north of us.”
“We were beat around like pinballs.”
“I’m really sorry. That’s all I can say.”
“We paid good money for safe passage, and we ended up almost losing our lives.”
“I’m tired, very tired,” Trace groaned, “but I got enough left in me to toss you in your cabin and lock it. And don’t test me.”
Trace shoved Patterson on the shoulder and slogged to his cabin. He shut the door and fell into bed.
Patterson walked back into the mess. “The nerve of him to threaten me. When we get to port, I’ll report him.”
Tom stood nearly chest to chest with Patterson. He looked up at him. “You’ll have to report me as well. Another word out of your pie hole and I’ll toss you in the forward hold and lock it. The man saved our lives.”
Patterson took a breath and was about to speak.
“Choose wisely what you are about to say,” Tom said. “The captain is dead tired, I’m not.”
“I was about to say, it’s been an ordeal and I’m not thinking right,” Patterson said apologetically.
Tom turned to Paul, who sat at the mess table. “Maybe we should take turns in the pilothouse with Sage. One of us ought to keep watch on the sails for a while.”
“I’ll take the first watch,” Tom said. “Four hours sound good?”
“Sounds good,” Paul said and walked back down the hallway to his cabin.
The passengers exchanged glances, and they staggered forward to their cabins.
Makani opened a drawer in the galley. He returned a meat mallet he held tightly during the confrontation. He paused for a moment and practiced a couple of times opening the drawer and grabbing the meat mallet. The second time, he went through motions of hitting somebody with it. “Bam! Maybe some day.”
An hour later, the seas returned to normal. The Tramp Islander moved effortlessly through a gentle rolling sea.
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