This is episode sixteen 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.
The Crew Takes A Break
On the fourth morning, they sailed to Makers, then to a long string of islands. Each has its own unique appeal, yet the same languid and smooth tropical ambiance of a melodic life pacing with the sway of palms and gentle rolling waves.
Two months passed quickly. The cargo varied. At times, they took on a few passengers, nothing like the brood they brought from Suva to Port Vila.
The smaller island inhabitants extended friendly greetings to The Tramp Islander’s sails, crew, and the cargo delivered. However, such greetings appeared well-rehearsed and commonplace.
The crew lived the idyllic life of South Sea adventurers. It was the type of life Trace thought would greet him from the time he first touched down in Fiji. Trace and Sage seemed to grow into the lifestyle. They spoke less and less about Texas and ranching. Likewise with Paul and Tom. The conversations revolved around their work and subjects, and events related to sailing and islands. It was almost as if life did not exist before the South Seas. Of course, for Makani, the South Seas were all he knew.
Paul and Tom transformed into rugged and strong deckhands. Gone was the vacant, disturbingly placid, and frail look from the time Trace first saw them.
The Tramp Islander clung tightly to the dock in Port Vila. A small load of cargo had been offloaded. And for the first time since arriving in the Vanuatu Islands, nothing waited on the docks for them, and nothing was scheduled.
Trace called the crew to the pilothouse.
Trace sat in the pilot’s chair, Sage sat at the chart desk, Makani stood in the companionway, and Paul and Tom sat on the bench.
Trace handed everybody an envelope.
“There’s five hundred dollars in each,” Trace said. “It’s a bonus. It’s been a good two months for The Tramp Islander. We’ve made all our deliveries on time, and no cargo has been damaged. Other than blisters, scrapes, bruises, bumps, and sore muscles, there have been no injuries. That is remarkable.”
Makani raised his hand.
“What?” Trace said.
“I had diarrhea,” Makani grinned.
Everyone chuckled.
“You’re the cook,” Trace retorted jokingly. “That’s on you.”
Everyone thanked Trace.
“Everybody take three days,” Trace said. “It would be good if you stayed on board at night. But that’s up to each of you. It’s just my recommendation and opinion. No offense, Tom or Paul, you’re Americans and still a little green. I wouldn’t be a good captain or friend if I didn’t say something.”
Paul cleared his throat. “No offense, Makani, but I’d like to have another meal besides what comes out of a galley.”
“No hurt,” Makani said. “That what I do too.”
“I haven’t had a steak in years,” Tom said. “There has to be some place in Port Vila that has a fat, juicy steak.”
“Man,” Sage said, “I haven’t felt homesick in months. Just the mention of steak makes me weep. A ribeye on a wire grill cooked over mesquite, I’d trade all the pearls in the South Seas for one.”
“What are you going to do?” Paul said to Trace.
“Nothing,” Trace grinned, “I divided all the bonus money between you guys—there’s nothing left for me.”
“That’s a load of BS,” Sage said.
“BS is all I could contribute from Texas,” Trace said.
“Why don’t you guys take a week or so?” Paul said to Trace and Sage. “Go back to Texas for a couple of days and get it all out of your system.”
“If I go, I ain’t comin’ back,” Sage said.
“You know,” Trace said, “for now, this is home. I’ll know when my time is up, and I’ll leave with everything done I want to do and have no regrets.”
“Times two,” Sage said. “I got more South Seas’ sunsets yet to fill my memories.”
Paul and Tom stood.
Paul said, “Tom and I have been talking about getting some ice cream. It’s been a while.”
“Watch how much you drink,” Trace warned. “The local police might arrest you for drunk and disorderly. Then they steal your money.”
Sage spoke up. “Take only what you’ll need.”
“Paul and I don’t drink,” Tom said. “That was a prerequisite before joining the cult—no booze.”
“Ah,” Trace said, “we’re treating you guys like ya just fell from the back of the turnip truck. Go have a good time.”
“You want to come with us, Sage and Makani?” Paul asked.
“Me not go,” Makani said. “I got things to do. Then have fun.”
“You guys go on you’re own,” Sage said. “I’d be a third wheel.”
“Tell ya what,” Paul said, “Tom and I will see if we can find a ribeye. Mesquite is probably out of the question.”
“Tell you what,” Sage said, “if ya can’t find a ribeye, just bring me a cow. In every cow there’s a ribeye just waiting to be discovered.”
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