Over the years he had met divers from all over the world and was told countless stories of interesting finds. Some more fantasy than reality. Gold doubloons, anchors, lead bars, iron ring fasteners from wooden barrels, old square cut nails had claimed to be found. But it was the story of one diver in particular that had piqued his interest and was the reason why he was on the island. Phillip Wallace was an occasional acquaintance that he seemed to run into once or twice a year in various locations for unknown reasons. After one such encounter resulted in an hour-long discussion about their shared passion for making new underwater discoveries, Phillip approached Logan in confidence as he was in need of information and was considering taking on a partner. To Logan, Phillip seemed rather odd. This was not evident in their prior conversations. It was obvious that he tried to feel out Logan while dancing around his key point and the reason why he sought Logan’s advice and potential assistance. Logan nearly bid the man good day several times and walked away from the small wooden table in the open-air beachside restaurant on Long Key but had remained polite and staved off the desire to do so. Phillip’s monolog eventually became interesting and compelling when he said the name ‘San José.’
“The San José that sunk off the coast of Cartagena, Columbia in 1708? The Spanish galleon that now belongs to the Columbian government? The same government that, in its unequivocal appreciation of the work of the American salvage company who had found the ‘Holy Grail’ of shipwrecks worth some seventeen billion…plus, that gave the Americans a pat on the back and an offer of a five percent finder’s fee to be taxed at forty-five percent? That San José?” he replied with a disappointed look on his face.
“Yes,” Phillip responded staring while retaining his excitement.
“Why do I want to get involved in that mess?” he asked incredulously while giving consideration to getting up from the table and leaving for the third time.
“What if the treasure wasn’t on the San José?” Phillip asked tossing a hook to reel in Logan’s interest.
“Well, the evidence is pretty compelling that it was. They found several eight escudo and the bronze cannons with the dolphins etched on them. There’s other evidence. I can’t say that the treasure isn’t on the San José. The historical accounts, of the eleven that survived, who had noted that while fighting off the British, the powder magazines blew up and destroyed the ship, killed most of the crew and sunk it. The Brits didn’t even sink it. I am not sure what your intentions are? Piracy?” Logan replied still searching for the purpose of the meeting.
“No. I read about the accounts. But they still haven’t really searched the site since it has been tied up in the courts. Millions of gold and silver coins, emeralds worth, who really knows how much, and other treasure have not been found yet. Sure, the cannons were found seven hundred feet below the surface, but the gold and jewels were not. I spent three weeks in Spain pouring over historical documents about Spanish shipwrecks. I combed through countless historical documents. The name Mujer de Verano appeared several times. And for some reason I found this to be intriguing. I began to search everything about the Verano. After a day of searching and nearing the conclusion that it was a waste of time ultimately leading to a dead end, by chance, I found a copy of a document sent by General José Fernández de Santillán noting the transfer of the San José’s cargo to two smaller ships with the capacity to outrun the British Navy and lighten the San José so that it could make a run for it if needed. The Mujer de Verano was one of the ships listed. Furthermore, several of the survivors backed this up in testimony,” Phil stressed and watched Logan's brow raise suggesting a pique in interest.
After six hours of reviewing photocopies of the documents, via an interpreter, the two agreed to set out and find the Verano. After years of more research, Logan and Phil believed to have found evidence that the Verano, while escaping from the British Navy, sank off the southern coast of St. Lucia. Logan had hoped to find evidence, an anchor, a bell, cannons or something that let them know that they were on the right trail. A phone call from Phil, who had been on the island the week prior, noted that he had found an area of interest three miles offshore while dragging a side-scan sonar. The vast number of hits matched the location where they believed the Verano had sunk, which needed to be investigated. Logan wanted to make a series of dives hoping to find the needle in the haystack that proved the location to be fruitful.
The van slowed down pulling Logan from his thoughts. He was relieved to see the Plantation Palms Resort for the first time believing that the driver may not have been as creepy as he had thought. They had arrived without incident despite the horrific display of driving of the narrow, sharply traversing roads by the questionable driver. In fact, the man hadn’t tried to kill or rob anyone and the van didn’t drive off any of the many drop-offs. Something about the man still nagged at his gut instincts. There was more than met the eye.
Logan gave a bellhop forty dollars to take the luggage to his room on the fifth floor, with exception to his binder. While he was interested to see the view of the beach and the Pitons from the balcony, he wanted to get the layout of the resort and find something to eat while preparing for the dive.
He walked through a lime green colored lobby and passed through a golden yellow sitting area with wooden framed jalousie windows. The dark clear glossy finish gave the appearance of being new. Three sets of six-foot-wide French doors were opened for access to the rear of the building. He stepped into the breeze and briefly paused to take in the aroma of the salty air infused with frangipani, blooming hibiscus, bird-of-paradise, and flowering seed pods, the fragrance of the Caribbean. Between the doors in large terracotta pots were five ten-foot-tall bottle palms, which were not native to St. Lucia.
Logan passed through the hardwood doors and panned the area. The crashing waves of the beach could be heard over the steel drum music that was being piped across the property. He was standing in a large covered open-air room where couches and chairs were strategically positioned to allow for social interaction. The day was getting late and it was nearing the time when the sun would sink into the horizon and bring in the evening. Observation of the setting sun was nearly akin to a religious experience. The only reason for one not to attend would be due to the unfortunate overconsumption of alcoholic beverages earlier in the day or other more personal matters.
In order to reach the beach from his location, he simply needed to follow the covered path and the sound of the steel pan drum version of one of his favorite songs Nothing’s Happening by the Sea. For the moment life was perfect and he could feel his muscles and mind relax. The covered path and music seemed to round a large island bar that sat nearly fifty feet from the main building en route to the beach. Just before turning the corner by the bar, Logan peered over what he could see of the beach. As he had suspected, most of the chairs were occupied. The only exception being a bench seat, much like a porch swing that seemed more suited for lovers or newlyweds. It was never his intention to miss a sunset on an evening when the horizon was clear, and the sun would be visible from the beach…no matter where it was. The music rolled over into a more upbeat song that must have been an original piece from a local band as he had never heard it before.
Logan unintentionally turned toward the bar and noticed a woman sitting in the center. She was looking at him and slid a pair of sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to better observe him in the slowly dissipating light. She smiled, stood, released the drink in her right hand and waved at him as if she had known and was expecting him. He was a little confused and searched his memory for a match to the eyes that had locked onto his. She was beautiful and a part of him wished that he had known her. She was certain to be embarrassed and sorely disappointed to find that he was but a resemblance of the man she had expected.
In order to be polite, he decided to make his way to the beach but would stop and inform the lady of her mistaken identity. Logan was fully confident that as he drew nearer to her, she would realize the error and w
ould be embarrassed and send him on his way. Then for a second, a hint of doubt crept into his mind, but as far as he knew there was no one on the island that he was supposed to meet, or had any communication with other than Phil. Logan smiled and awaited the rejection that grew in certainty with each step he took toward her. He walked down the path and rounded the corner of the bar and was wondering why she had yet to realize her mistake. Certainly, the man had been his twin as she moved to meet him at the end of the bar. He was especially surprised when she took his left hand and kissed him gently on the lips. He froze and nearly hadn’t returned the act of affection. Her hand was soft and inviting.
He estimated the woman to be in her early thirties. She was even more beautiful now that he was close to her. Blue-grey eyes and long wavy dark brown hair well suited her facial features. Five feet ten or eleven, he wasn’t sure, but he was only a few inches taller than her. The conservative clothing made him wonder if she was at the resort on business and had mistaken him for someone she intended to meet at the island bar. Perhaps too many drinks influenced her memory, but she didn’t seem intoxicated.
Outside of his primary business and salvage company he had made investments in vacation properties on the islands of St. Croix, St. John and in the Florida Keys. Perhaps somehow, she had known this and was there to make a business proposition or to try and sell him a home. This conjured an even greater concern as he had purposely kept the trip a secret. Only he and Phil knew of his visit. He wondered if perhaps greeting complete strangers with a kiss of this nature was a local tradition, where, in the states, it was considered to be a bit more intimate.
“What took you so long? You finally made it,” she said with a smile.
Her accent stood out and he could not discern if she was Aussie or Kiwi, “Well, guess we were on the tiki tour. The ride in was long and quite interesting. Other than that, I am not sure,” he said taking a stab at Kiwi slang. He panned the area looking for anything that would help him understand what was going on and settled back on her in confusion noting that the smile on her face had not subsided.
Before he could ask the obvious question, she leaned close to his ear as if kissing his cheek and whispered, “Look, mate, please go along with it. eh.” She grabbed his free hand and gestured for him to have a seat at the bar. She was convincing. The woman appeared to be warmly affectionate toward him while staring into his eyes.
He quickly decided to play along for a while, “Actually, I was hoping that we could go and watch the sunset. But I guess right here is good for now.” He took a seat and put the green binder on the bar. This was a completely new experience and he was clueless as to what he had inadvertently gotten into. The woman clearly had an unknown motive which made him cautious. ‘Curiouser and curiouser’ he thought quoting Alice while in Wonderland. She turned toward the bar and was looking forward. For the first time, while holding her soft hands, he noticed a slight tremble and sensed her fear as her expression turned from joy to one of deep thought and concern. He considered simply walking away at that point as everything seemed too odd. Logan became concerned about getting involved in some scam or drug deal. The last thing he wanted was to end up in a foreign jail.
The smile returned as she turned back to face him and leaned into his ear then whispered, “There is a man who’s a bit sus on the trail to the beach. He is sitting on a bench under a royal palm. Everywhere I go, the rej is there gawking. Can you please just sit with me, act like we are together? Then maybe the ratbag will go away.”
He slowly turned and looked at the man. The first thing that stood out was the long white hair stuffed under a touristy blue baseball cap. He was sitting on the bench dressed in blue jeans and a long sleeve shirt. “I’ll be delighted to sit with you, but what if he figures out what you are up to? I can just go over there and see what’s up with the guy,” Logan said turning back to her.
“Yeah nah, please don’t. I just want him to go away.”
“So, was I just in the right place at the right time?” Logan asked. She simply stared at him as if she had no idea what he was talking about. “All these people here, you randomly wave me over?”
“You are joking…right. You’re a real hard case, aren’t you?” When he stared blankly back at her she replied almost blushing, “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?” he asked.
“Yeah, nah,” she said trying to bury the conversation. “Have you ever looked in the mirror?” she asked while turning her head forward and taking a long sip of a colorful drink.
“Hard case? Yes. I bathe two or three times a year. So, I have no option but to look into one.”
“Hard case…witty. You’re a funny chap. Eh…you gonna make me say it?”
He smiled as she seemed to be a little embarrassed but understood what she was getting at. “Okay, I think I know what you are saying…it’s a nice compliment. I would say that about you, but not about myself,” he grinned and said, “I am going to step out of my comfort zone now, how is this, ‘you look skux today?’”
She raised an eyebrow and returned a girlish smile, “Yeah nah, think we may have to work on your Kiwi a bit.”
“Friend of mine is married to one. For a while there none of us knew what she was saying. After a while, you kind of pick it up…or so I thought. Well, since we are going to spend some time together this evening can I at least get a name… real or fake, it doesn’t matter. But I can’t refer to you as ma’am all night…it might seem a bit…sus,” he said taking another poke at Kiwi slang. “What part of New Zealand you from?”
“Ayla. I grew up on a farm just west of Oamaru. What should I call you?” she replied.
“The South Island…nice. Name is Logan, or should I tell you my real name?” he replied.
She nodded, “I don’t see a ring, I hope the missus doesn’t get angry,” she looked up from his hand and back to his eyes and studied them.
This time he leaned in, “No, missus. I travel too much, I guess. Holiday or business brings you here?” He wondered if it was wise to have actually used his real name and if she had been honest about hers.
“I’m here for a friend’s wedding. They are having a ceremony on the beach tomorrow. I am one of the bride’s maids. You?” she asked smiling and looking up at him.
Every time she flashed a smile and stared at him; he couldn’t help but smile back. He wondered if he was being played by the beautiful woman. None of this is real…right, he strongly considered. “Diving…hopefully on a wreck. Just here for a bit of recreation. I’ll tell you a funny story if you’re up for one.”
“Yeah, that would be spot on.”
“Last year I took a trip to Jamaica. I was staying at some nice all-inclusive and decided to take the shuttle from the airport. I was reading and pouring over notes and engaged in a project that I was trying to complete. The bus pulled into a rather fine-looking resort, which didn’t look much like the photos on the internet. I just assumed it was a section of the property that perhaps was left off the website or that I had somehow missed. The driver pulled all the luggage from the bus and set it on the curb before taking off. I even tipped the guy.
“I grabbed my things and entered the lobby. At that point, it became quite obvious why I hadn’t recognized the place. I was at the wrong resort. But I wasn’t just at the wrong resort…naked people were everywhere. Let’s just say some interesting things were going on within my view. It was certainly an eye-opener…actually, an eye closer. You wouldn’t believe what people were willing to do, but also what they would do in the open where it can be seen by everyone. They were acting like animals. It was apparent that the only place on the property beyond the front entry where people weren’t naked, or fornicating, was the restaurant.”
She chuckled and asked, “So, what did you do?”
“You ever get a severe sunburn on your butt?” he asked.
“You stayed?”
“No, I’m kidding. I sat there for two hours waiting for the correct transport to
pick me up. That was, by far, the most uncomfortable experience. Hopefully, I will never make that mistake again.”
Ayla continued to laugh, “So, you didn’t know those places existed?”
This aroused Logan’s thoughts, “I’ve heard things. But was never really interested in that kind of stay, so I just didn’t really pay much attention…I guess. You know, you just can’t unsee something like that. Have you ever been to one? It makes one wonder about the possibility of evolution.”
“Then where do you think we come from, friend? Some mighty creator?” a loud raspy voice asked interrupting their conversation. A tall man with a short dark beard sat up on the seat at the bar to better his view of Logan. The man appeared to be inebriated.
“It is rude to butt in and interrupt a conversation. The lady and I were talking. But since you mentioned it, where do you think life comes from?” Logan asked while staring the rude man down.
“We’re cattle…just cattle. All of us. We were put here a long time ago. They come and take us whenever they like. Eating us, enslaving us…whatever they want. Why do you think so many go missing all the time?” the man replied in a spray of spittle.
“Put here by who? What do you mean by ‘go missing?’” Logan asked now looking at the man inquisitively.
“Come on. Them…the aliens,” the man continued, “people go missing all the time. Sometimes hundreds disappear into thin air.”
“I don’t believe in aliens. I don’t believe in life on other planets with the technology and capability to get here. I just don’t see any evidence of it,” Logan argued. He noticed Ayla’s hands starting to tremble again despite his effort to comfort her. It was clear that something about the man or the conversation was troubling her. He turned back to the stranger who was moving from the opposite side of the bar toward them. The situation made him uncomfortable as conversations with annoying vociferous drunks usually didn’t end well.
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