Bluewater Quest

by Charles Dougherty

  "Tell me, Dani, what has he done that's put you off?"

  "It's not anything he's done, but he's not leveling with us."

  "You think somebody's after him and he hasn't told us?"

  "I hadn't thought of that angle."

  "Oops! I should have kept my mouth shut. Now you have something new to fret about. What were you worrying about?"

  "Think about this, Liz. What is he looking for, specifically?"

  "I don't know. Evidence that the Moors were here before Columbus. Some kind of artifact, I guess. Like that dagger he and Shellie were talking about, maybe."

  "Okay, say it is a dagger, then. Or something like that. One thousand years ago, somebody lost a dagger, somewhere on one of the islands. And that's kind of a best case."

  "What do you mean, 'best case?'"

  "The Caribs could have taken it when they wiped out that camp, or anything could have happened to it. It could have fallen over the side of a ship. And we don't even know it was a dagger; it could be almost anything that could be tied back to the Moors, and there'd still have to be some evidence that it wasn't brought here later, like the dagger they used as an example."

  "Right. So what's your point?"

  "Would you bet $250,000 that Rick, or anybody, for that matter, could find something — anything, because we don't know what it might be — that would prove someone from Europe came here 1,000 years ago?"

  "Well, no. Even if I had that kind of money to play with. But whoever did has some other evidence; these documents Rick mentioned."

  "You and I read the documents."

  "But there might be more," Liz said.

  "Might be," Dani said. "There are almost certainly more clues. I think he knows exactly what he's looking for. And he knows more about where it is than he's told us."

  "If I say I agree with you, just for the sake of argument, will you tell me why any of that is our business? We're here to run the boat and help him find the right island. Maybe he's not at liberty to tell us more yet, even if he does know."

  "It's our business because he's put us at risk. You're not the one with a goose egg on the back of her head. I could have been killed."

  "Not with that thick skull of yours. I'm surprised the flashlight still works."

  "You're right. Sit still and let me whack you with it; let's see if it can stand up to another impact without breaking."

  "Okay, Dani. I understand what's got you wound up, now. You don't have to hit me over the head to make your point."

  "You sure?"

  "Yes, please. Now that you've talked through that, what do you think we should do?"

  "I'm not sure. At some point, though, we need to confront him about it."

  "Let's be cautious about that; it's possible that somebody's feeding him information a bit at a time. He may not know more than he's told us."

  "Good point. I hadn't thought of that. But why would somebody do that, Liz? And why would he accept that?"

  "Because the more he knows, the greater the risk of an inadvertent leak, maybe. And he could have a number of reasons to accept it; one being that somebody's funding some open-ended research. He does seem to have a genuine interest in the Caribs."

  "Hmm," Dani said. "Maybe he's playing along with this foundation to get a free ride, trick them into funding his research on the Caribs. You've given me lots to ponder. Thanks for listening."

  "My pleasure. Now think about breakfast with Mrs. Walker until you fall asleep."

  11

  "Now what," Leila asked, as she and Bert stepped out of the customs and immigration office in Bequia.

  "I don't know; want to get a cup of coffee and look around? Get the lay of the land?"

  "Yeah, okay," Leila said, inhaling and curling her lip. "Something stinks."

  "It's this gutter," Bert said, pointing down as they stepped across the concrete-lined ditch that ran along the edge of the street.

  "Gutter? It's more like an open sewer."

  "It's just a storm drain, Leila."

  "Well, it still stinks."

  Bert stepped to where he could peer down into the ditch. "There's all kinds of stuff in there. Garbage, like. Probably comes in from the harbor when the tide's — "

  His cellphone rang, interrupting him.

  "Yeah?" he said, raising the phone to his ear.

  "Where are you?" Ed asked.

  "We just cleared in. Standing right outside customs. Why?"

  "They just piled in their dinghy, headed to town. Keep out of their way, and keep an eye on them."

  "Got it," Bert said.

  "What's up?" Leila asked.

  "They're coming to town. Ed wants us to keep out of their sight and see what they're up to."

  "Okay," she said.

  "Keep out of their sight," Bert said, shaking his head. "That dumb shit. They don't know who we are. What's the problem?"

  "They don't know who we are now," Leila said. "But they might notice if they see us everywhere they go. It's early days, yet. Let's get that coffee. There's a place right across from the dinghy dock. We can sit in the shade and see which way they go."

  Once they had settled at an outdoor table with their coffee," Leila said, "Ed's a pain in the ass, sometimes."

  "He's the boss," Bert said. "Just suck it up. This is a pretty cushy assignment, you know?"

  "I'd rather be back in the States."

  Bert looked at her, his eyebrows raised. "Really? You've had enough? Ready to call it quits? I'd really miss you if — "

  "No," she said. "That's not what I meant. I'd rather be assigned there; we could make more of a contribution there."

  "You should be careful what you say. If that kind of comment made it back to Tehran, you'd be toast. They'd never accept that explanation. You got any idea what they'd do to you?"

  "You aren't going to tell. And besides, you know what I meant."

  "What makes you so sure I wouldn't tell? I could make points."

  "Well, are you going to?"

  "What do you think?"

  "I don't think you are."

  "I'm not, but what if I'm lying."

  She studied him for a minute, frowning as she held his gaze. She shook her head. "You know what I am, don't you?"

  He looked puzzled. "What you are?"

  "What I was trained for? What my missions in the States were, before they put this team together and sent the four of us to Dubai?"

  "No. Why would I?"

  "I thought Ed might have told you. You're his second in command."

  "What's that got to do with what you did in the States? I don't understand."

  "It's why I'm on the team. You should know; Ed should have briefed you. I'm here in case there's a problem that requires a, um ... a permanent solution."

  "You're the … I don't … I thought Ed was … "

  She held his gaze for a few seconds, watching as the beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. Smiling, she nodded. "Ed's not; I am. So don't think about spreading rumors about me. If I even think you might, I'll kill you. And you won't see it coming."

  "But what about us? I-I thought we had something special g-going."

  She laughed and shook her head again. "Men. You're such weaklings."

  "I wouldn't tell them. I was just being a wiseass, that's all."

  "You were being a jerk. That could get you killed. Now shut up. They just tied up their dinghy. Here they come."

  "Can we walk?" Shellie asked, looking at all the taxis waiting at the town dock where they had left the dinghy. "I want to get a feel for the town."

  "Sure," Liz said. "There's not that much to see, but it's a nice morning."

  "Besides, it'll save taxi fare," Rick said.

  Dani and Liz laughed.

  "There's no need to take a taxi," Dani said. "They're here for people who want to take island tours. You saw the north end of town last night." She pointed diagonally across the parking area. "The other end of town's only a few hundred yards south of here."

  "
Is that a market across the street from customs?" Shellie asked.

  "Yes," Liz said. "T-shirts and local crafts. And a few yards farther, there's a produce market, but it's a little early for that. Most of the fruits and vegetables come on the ferry from St. Vincent, and it's not here yet."

  "Can we look at the crafts?" Shellie asked.

  "Yes, of course," Liz said. "We'll also pass some vendors set up along the walk from here down to Mrs. Walker's place. That's where you'll often find the model boats. Bequia's sort of famous for them."

  "Model boats?" Rick asked.

  "They're hand carved and beautifully finished," Liz said. "Real works of art."

  "Are they models of real boats?" Rick asked. "Or objets d'art?"

  "Both," Liz said. "A lot of them are scale models of the little whaling boats we were talking about yesterday."

  "I'll definitely want to check those out," Rick said.

  Ten minutes later, the four of them walked into a combination grocery store and restaurant at the south end of Bequia's main street.

  "Good morning. Please make yourselves comfortable. I'll be right out," a woman called from what must have been the kitchen.

  "What a lovely voice she has," Shellie said, in a soft tone. "It's so smooth and rich. Is that Mrs. Walker?"

  Dani smiled and nodded. "Yes, — "

  "Dani! What a wonderful surprise. And Liz." A tall, elegant-looking woman entered and wrapped her arms around Dani, lifting her off her feet in a hug. "And who are your friends?"

  "Mrs. Walker, this is Dr. Michelle Everett," Dani said, "and her husband, Dr. Richard Everett."

  "Please, I'm Shellie, and my husband's Rick. We've heard so much about you already, I feel like we know you."

  "It's my pleasure to have you here. Please, let's sit down. Will you have some breakfast? My cook will be out in a moment to take your orders."

  "I'm starving," Dani said.

  "I don't believe a word of that, child. I know Liz can cook, even if you won't lift a finger in the kitchen."

  Shellie and Rick studied the woman while she bantered with Dani and Liz. Her well-coifed hair was fine, straight, and coal black, with only a few strands of silver to show that she didn't color it. The café au lait skin over the finely chiseled bones of her face was as smooth as a baby's.

  "I apologize for ignoring you, but I haven't seen my girls in far too long," Mrs. Walker said, turning to look at the Everetts. "How long have you been sailing with them?"

  "There's no need to apologize," Shellie said. "We joined them in Grenada a couple of days ago."

  "Ah, Grenada. And are Dani and Liz treating you well, I hope?"

  "Of course," Rick said. "They're wonderful hostesses."

  "What are your plans for your stay in Bequia, if I may ask?"

  "We're just passing through on our way to St. Lucia," Shellie said, "but Bequia's lovely."

  "You must stay and see our little island; I know you got here last night. I was about to be put out with you, Dani. You should have telephoned."

  "Sorry. I wanted to surprise you. I should have known I couldn't." Turning to the Everetts, Dani said, "Mrs. Walker has spies all over the place. She's probably been tracking us since we left St. George’s."

  "Hush, child." Mrs. Walker glanced at the woman dressed in white who had materialized beside her chair. "Are you ready, Maddy?"

  "Yes, Mrs. Walker," the woman said.

  "Do either of you have particular foods that you don't like?" Mrs. Walker asked.

  "No, anything's fine," Shellie said.

  "Good. I think we'll have a full English breakfast for the table. Maddy, bring us some coffee before you get started."

  "Yes ma'am," the woman said. "Welcome home, Dani. Good to see you and Liz, and I hope you folks are enjoying Bequia." She nodded and turned to go, calling, "Coffee soon come," as she went into the kitchen.

  "You say you are passing through?" Mrs. Walker asked.

  "Dani and Liz are taking us to see the whaling station on Petit Nevis today," Rick said.

  "I see. Do you have a particular interest in whaling?"

  "Rick's a history professor," Dani said. She rattled off a short summary of his project, and then said, "He wanted to ask you some questions about whaling, and the Caribs, too."

  "The Caribs?" Mrs. Walker raised her eyebrows.

  "I told them that you'd been here since before the Europeans wiped them out."

  "You are trying to vex me, child."

  "I'm teasing. But you used to tell me about them. Some of the things you heard from your grandparents. And I've lost track of how old you are. The last birthday I remember celebrating with you was when I was little. I remember it was a big deal, and everybody came. But I can't remember how old you were."

  Mrs. Walker chuckled. "You have a good memory, just like your father. I remember that birthday. It was a big event because that year I became the oldest person on the island. The only one older died that year. I decided that I was old enough, and I haven't gotten any older since. I don't care how old I am, so why should anybody else?"

  Rick and Shellie laughed at that. "Dani thought you might know about the whaling, from family stories," he said.

  "Yes, I know a bit. Petit Nevis was partly owned by some of my ancestors, way back. It was where my people butchered whales, back before the whaling people came and built the try-works. That was in the late 1800s. Not all that long ago, even though it was before my time." She chuckled. "What did you want to know?"

  "Aside from my interest in the Moors coming to the islands before Columbus, the focus of my studies has been prehistoric cross-cultural contacts in the Americas."

  Mrs. Walker nodded. "And prehistoric means before the Europeans came?"

  "Basically, yes. On the mainland of the American continents, more artifacts survived, and the original inhabitants survived longer, as well. Their oral histories have been recorded, and in some cases, they're still passed down through the generations. But in the islands, the Europeans wiped out the original people much earlier, before many people had a chance to learn about their history."

  "And nature took care of whatever the Europeans didn't destroy," Mrs. Walker said.

  "Yes. One thing historians have wondered about is why there's no evidence of the Caribs hunting whales, just for example. It's been a puzzle, because almost all people who lived in a marine environment hunted marine mammals for food. When Dani and Liz mentioned the whaling station, it made me think of that. Obviously, there would have been whales here, and the Caribs had big, seaworthy canoes. They must have hunted whales, or dolphins."

  Mrs. Walker nodded. "I'm sure they did, but the whaling you see in Bequia these days is a more recent development. A man came here in the late 1800s and started whaling to sell the whale oil. He was born here, the son of an English colonist, but he went away to sea. After many years, he came back and started the commercial whaling here.

  "Before that, there was a legend that whales were hunted and beached on the little island, Petit Nevis. The people would butcher them for meat. Then there was slavery, and people didn't hunt whales so much. When that man came here, slavery had ended, but only a few old people remembered the stories of whale hunting. The commercial whaling went on for some years, maybe until about the time I was born. Then the whales became scarce, and people didn't need the oil for lamps any longer anyway.

  "Some years after that, the whales recovered, and people began to hunt them again, but now it was more like the old days. They hunted for the meat, because they were hungry. And they began to use Petit Nevis again. I'm afraid I don't know much more about it."

  "Dani told us they don't use Petit Nevis anymore," Rick said.

  "That's right," Mrs. Walker said. "There were some disputes over who owned Petit Nevis in more recent times, I know that. In old times, before the Europeans, I think it belonged to everybody. Maybe that was better. Now they take the whales to Sempler's Cay to butcher them, but it's not as good a place. At Petit Nevis, the water
is deeper and the current is stronger, so it washed away the remains. Now they rot and pollute the water around the Cay and even up in Friendship Bay." She shook her head.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Walker," Rick said. "That's more useful to me than you can imagine."

  "You're welcome. I see Maddy's about to bring your breakfast. Please excuse me for a moment. I should greet that couple at the table behind me; I didn't see them come in. I'll be right back."

  "I won't have to eat again for a day or two," Rick said, as the four of them ambled back toward the town dock and their dinghy. "That was some kind of meal. Thanks for introducing us to her; she's an amazing person."

  "She certainly is," Shellie said. "How old do you suppose she is, really? She doesn't look like she could be out of her 50s, even."

  Dani laughed. "I think she's close to one hundred."

  "Get out," Rick said. "You can't be serious."

  "Seriously," Dani said. "Her husband was older than my grandfather. They were in business together before my father came along."

  "Wow! That's hard to believe."

  "It's not that unusual," Liz said, "not down here. Dominica's famous for the number of people over a hundred years old. For a while, a woman there held the world's record as the oldest woman, but she finally died, maybe ten or fifteen years ago. Elizabeth Israel was her name, if you want to look her up. She lived to be 128."

  "That's astonishing," Shellie said. "Why is that?"

  "Who knows?" Dani asked. "I think she's the one who said her secret was moderation, that she only had a few ounces of rum and one cigar every day."

  They laughed at that as they drew even with the town dock.

  "If we're going to leave from Petit Nevis, tomorrow, I should stop in customs and clear out," Dani said.

  "Good," Shellie said. "Rick and I can check out that market across the street while you do that."

  Ten minutes later, they were in the dinghy, threading through the crowded anchorage. As Dani throttled back to approach Vengeance, Shellie said, "That boat was in the marina with us in Grenada."

  "Which one?" Dani asked, as they coasted to a stop alongside Vengeance.