This is episode fourteen 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.
Night Talk
An hour into Trace’s time at the wheel, storm clouds gathered from the southwest. He flipped on the weather channel to the shortwave. The report indicated heavy rain with ten to twelve knot winds.
“Not enough to worry about,’ Trace thought, ‘but enough to keep everybody off deck. With that bunch cooped up below, Sage may get his wish without even trying.’
Trace grabbed the ship’s mic. “Attention, everybody. We will be having heavy rains and moderate winds. I suggest going on deck and taking in some fresh air before it comes.” He hung up the mic.
In a matter of minutes, everyone appeared on deck.
Trace grabbed the mic. “This will be nothing like yesterday. Also, we will make Port Vila in about ten hours. This will be your last night on board.”
The four passengers shouted jubilantly. They danced and waved their arms.
Trace pressed the mic. “You can walk the rest of the way if you like.”
Trace hung the mic and thought, ‘That’s no way to treat paying passengers.’
Trace grabbed the mic. “Hey, I’m only kidding. I’d at least give you a raft and a paddle.”
‘There,’ he thought, ‘I’ve cleared my conscience—kind of.”
The rain came in a sudden burst and lasted for three hours. It settled into a light rain for another hour and tapered to a sprinkle.
Later, Paul handled the pilothouse from 10:00 PM until 2:00 AM. Trace returned at 1:45 AM.
“Hey, Paul,” Trace said through a muffled yawn, “looks like lights on the starboard bow.”
“I got an AM radio signal not long ago,” Paul said.
“Port Vila?” Trace asked.
“An English-speaking station,” Paul said, steering and looking beyond to bow. “Aussie accent.”
“Music?” Trace inquired.
“Rock,” Paul said.
“Let me take a look at our position,” Trace said, looking over Paul’s shoulder.
He sat at the chart desk. He flipped on the light over the desk, and ran his index finger from one side and the other from the top until they met at the control panel’s reading. He laid a ruler on the chart and measured to Port Vila.
“Fifteen miles,” Trace said. “Two hours. You can catch an hour and a half or so of sleep before the sails are dropped.”
Paul slid from the pilot’s chair. “It’s all yours. If it’s okay with you, I’ll stick around for a few minutes to wind down.”
Trace sat in the pilot’s seat. He adjusted the height down. He scanned the instrument panel.
Paul sat on the bench. “Everything okay?”
“Just the way I left it,” Trace said. “So, how are you liking the sea?”
“It’s nothing I’d choose as a vocation, but it’s good work. I’m really enjoying it. I like The Tramp Islander. I like the crew. The passengers—not so much. What about you?”
“I’m a rancher,” Trace said, turning to face Paul. “That’s where I’m going to end up. I didn’t want my life the be ranching and that’s all. I chose the sea for a while. As my dad did when he was my age. I worked on the Bering for a year. Crabbing during crab season and one season of fishing. I took some of my money and went to a merchant marine school. I got to know some cargo captains when I was on the Bering. I contacted a couple and took the best job for me.”
“And what was the best job?”
“A small cargo ship named The Blue Mist. The crew was promised that after a year on the Bering, they would be going to the South Seas. I spent two years on the Bering.”
“They lied to you?”
“No, it’s just part of the business. The captain and owner was promised by his broker, and the broker backed out of his promise. And I’m sure the broker had every intention of The Blue Mist going to the South Seas. You can’t send an empty boat five thousand miles.”
“How’d you get here?”
“I took a vacation—and stayed. I won The Tramp Islander in a card game. I couldn’t leave.”
“Is that where my dad comes in?”
“Yeah. And I really think that from our first meeting, we had sort of a liking for each other. However, he was on one side of the law and I was on the other.”
“My dad really respects you. He said you can never hate a man doing the right thing, even if it’s the wrong thing for you.”
“I take you as a good man. You had to have been raised by a good mother. And your mother must have loved your father very much. She, as a good person, must have seen the good in your dad.”
“She did. Dad didn’t start out being a shady character. It all seemed to find him. Mom said he is a genius.”
“Morality and genius don’t always end up in the same brain.”
“It was Dad’s upbringing. His dad was a small-time crook. From all accounts, a real evil sort. Cared for nothing but himself. His mother left him with his dad to raise.”
The waves passed by, and the lights from Port Vila shone brighter.
“I’ve really messed up, haven’t I?” Paul said. He waited for Trace to reply.
“How do you figure?” Trace turned to Paul.
“The island and the bizarre religion, following a cult; that’s not rational thinking. I’m afraid that will be a pattern for my life.”
“Youth is full of indiscretions.”
“It was more than an indiscretion. I can’t call it that. To call it that makes it seem acceptable. Do you have any idea what it was like to face my father? He’s a man who sees through people. His life revolves around taking advantage of weak-minded people and exploiting them. And there I was, the very epitome of what he preyed upon. I must have looked like a fool to him.”
“I have no idea what the total amount is for your dad getting you off that island, but I know it’s well north of one hundred thousand. Yeah, you got hornswoggled, but who’s sitting in a crummy cell on the island of Fiji? I don’t know how much your dad had squirreled away, but he may have spent every last dime he had to get you away from that island. Waldo Franks, doesn’t place a bet unless the odds are heavily in his favor.”
“In my life, I’ve never been so confused about things,” Paul hung his head.
“Well, hold tight on the reins and tighten up your butt cheeks, life is ahead of you and a lot more confusion.”
“My dad said time at sea with you would help me.”
“I don’t know about the ‘me’ part, but there is something about the sea. It can cleanse a man, if he allows it. You face storms that test your will, like the one we just went through. You can stare for days and endless waves and sky and think this is all there is. And that allows you to arrange your own little universe. On a clear night, you can stare into the vast heavens and wonder and figure out how little you are. And you realize the universe you arranged in your mind can only function if it is in harmony with the universe that is real.”
“My dad’s universe, the casino, is based on chance. The universe is not.”
“In a casino, you can tip the scales, fudge the odds, but not the universe.” Trace smiled. He reached over and flicked Paul on the knee. “Get some sleep.”
Paul stood and placed one foot on the companionway steps. “See you in a while. Thanks.”
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