Voyage of the Dreadnaught
Four Stella Madison Capers
Including:
SEA TRIALS
THE PUSHOVER PLOT
LOST IN THE WILDERNESS
THE LAST RESORT
Lilly Maytree
© 2014 by Lilly Maytree All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.
Published in the United States by the
Wilderness School Press
P.O. Box 19293 Thorne Bay, Alaska 99919
For information contact: [email protected]
Smashwords Edition
Contents
***
What Happened First
SEA TRIALS
THE PUSHOVER PLOT
LOST IN THE WILDERNESS
THE LAST RESORT
A Word About The Stella Madison Capers
Our Own Great Alaskan Adventure
About Lilly Maytree
Other Books by Lilly Maytree
What Happened First...
Stella Madison did not set out to live a life of capers. Nobody does. But sooner, or later everyone faces one of some kind, or another. The fact is, we all run into troubles occasionally, no matter who we are. For Stella, it happened when she was unexpectedly dumped out of a quiet retirement and forced to go back to work just to make ends meet. But having grown rusty on her people skills, and coming from a different generation altogether, it was practically murder. Anyway, that's what she was accused of when things were at their worst. However, a true hero came to her rescue, and that changed everything. It was also during that time she met Colonel Oliver P. Henry (retired), who always believes the best of her. (Home Before Dark Caper #1)
After that, things changed tremendously for the better. Stella took an apartment next to the colonel, which was situated in an old Hollywood mansion, that had seen better days, and been remodeled to accommodate multiple dwellings. Such charm, and she absolutely loved it. Best of all, it was affordable. The others who lived there were rather odd (in a likable sort of way), and she was supremely happy. For a little over two months.
At which point, there was another run of trouble when owners of the place declared intentions to sell, announced they would be coming by to take inventory, and no one had ever informed them about the remodel. Worse yet, it was discovered there was a thief in the house, who had been selling off the more expensive "Golden Era" artifacts for some years. During this time, Stella realizes she has changed a lot since her last catastrophe, and makes a decision she would never even have considered before. (A Thief in the House Caper #2)
That's how it happened that Stella Madison became committed (in more ways than one) to a rag-tag group of misfits who decided to pool their resources and make a run for an abandoned lodge in Alaska. Where it is rumored seniors do not have to pay taxes, and it is possible to survive completely off the land, even if they have no income, at all. At the very least, they would fare better than each trying to fend for themselves. Times being what they were.
The only real expense was getting there. However, one of the group is acquainted with an old captain-turned-inventor who lives out in the bay on a monstrosity of a sailboat called the Dreadnaught. And while it hasn't been out of the harbor in years, it does fall within their budget to charter it. That is, if they skip the extra expense of a crew and all sign on as hands. Even though Stella has never been out on a boat in her life...
SEA TRIALS
Stella Madison Caper
#3
To all those wonderful people who have stood by their friends during difficult times, and been brave enough to step out into the unknown together.
“The longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this truth –
that God governs in the affairs of men..”
Benjamin Franklin
1
Stella Madison flinched when a cold splash of spray hit her face, and she tightened her hold on the bouncing rail. The motorboat was loaded to full capacity, with Colonel Oliver P. Henry’s large bulk ensconced precisely in the middle for better balance. She and her friend Millie (who had insisted on wearing a bright orange life preserver) were at the very front, practically hanging over the bow; Gerald and Lou in the last seat behind the Colonel; while the Captain stood up in the stern with a casual grip on the tiller and the outboard turned up to full throttle. The Senator was riding like a king in a backpack-type apparatus attached to his mother.
“E-gads!” Gerald complained as they bounced off another ripple of chop and sped through the darkness. “I say – is it necessary to go all out?”
“It is if we want to get out of this bay before ten o’clock,” answered Captain Stewart, whose gray hair was standing up all over like wild man’s, in the wind.
It was six thirty-seven in the morning. On a Sunday.
Just as Stella began to wonder what in the world she had let herself in for, Stuart cut the motor to half-power and they spent the next ten minutes weaving in and out around the dark shapes and shadows of other boats anchored across the bay. The sky was still black as night. While her hurried breakfast of donuts and coffee was beginning to churn with a mind of its own, a great ominous wall gradually emerged out of the darkness. The Captain turned the little craft smartly, and cut the motor. He tossed a line over a cleat as they drifted up against a floating wooden platform, and then jumped out to run forward and secure the bow.
“Here we are, mates!” he crowed. “Go easy – one at a time, now – it’s too early to have to fish anybody out of the water!”
Stella climbed out and stepped gingerly onto the rocking platform with a distinct sense of vertigo and nothing to hang on to. Just as she began to sink to her knees to keep from falling, she felt Captain Stuart’s strong grasp under her arm and he propelled her forward to a dangling metal stairway. It stretched diagonally up against the wall – who cared where it went – as long as it took her away from here. She clutched the cold wet rail and began to climb. If she had tried to wait for the Colonel, she fully believed she would have vomited.
There was a light on at the top and she recognized Millie’s carpenter friend, Mason, as he reached out to help her step up and over onto the deck. At least she thought it was a deck. What it looked like was some narrow alleyway in the industrial section of the city, along with a row of metal doorways with round windows, that disappeared somewhere outside the feeble circle of light over the stairs.
“Top o’the morning, Stella!” Mason said with a contrived accent and obvious excitement for the occasion.
“Oh, Mase! You better help Lou – I don’t know how she’s going to cart that baby of hers all the way up here!”
“She’s in better shape than any of us, old girl. But don’t worry, she’s used to it. We come out here every Fourth of July to watch the fireworks. Last time she was pregnant, so this time she’ll think it’s a breeze. Here comes Mil.”
Millie handed over a large picnic basket, packed to the brim, while she maneuvered out of her orange life preserver. “Hi, Mase – been up all night?”
“Well, it happens I have, and I could sure use a –“
“Come on, Stella!” Her friend beamed as if the excitement were infectious. “I’ll show you the galley – you’ll just love it!”
The Dreadnaught was a monstrous old schooner nearly eighty feet long that looked as if it had been around since the early days of sail. Over the years it had by turns be
en used to carry cargo, transport passengers, and had even done a stint in the fishing trade. Though it still sported an entire set of working canvas, it had once run on steam, but—somewhere down the line—been converted over to diesel. To Stella, it looked like some ancient but perpetual work in progress. But Millie was right about the galley.
It boasted a magnificent iron cook-stove that was plumbed for propane (but could also burn wood), a huge wooden table carved out of genuine Philippine mahogany set between large comfortable settees that (even though faded and grease-stained) had once been covered in an expensive burgundy plush. Above it hung a fancy brass lantern that swung gently back and forth to the barely perceptible rocking of the sea beneath them. Plenty of counter space. Two deep stainless steel sinks that were every cook’s dream…and the cupboards! Stella was sure such storage could never be found in a kitchen on land.
As if that weren’t enough, there was a walk-in pantry the size of a small room just for laying in food supplies. According to Millie. At the moment, Stuart was using it as a paint locker.
“I’m going to take this cabin, here,” Millie dragged her – still gawking – through a shuttered wooden door with an adorable brass knob that was just to the left of the stove. “Cook’s quarters. What do you think?”
It was at that moment Stella was bitten with the same infectious excitement she had seen in all the others. Why it was another trip back in time! Like Casablanca and the Orient Express all rolled into one. An exotic little stateroom with mahogany woodwork all around; a bed off in one corner that sported (though faded and dusty) a palm-print spread; and a round brass porthole that opened right up over the sea. Stella could tell because she caught a waft of the moist salt air coming through.
“There’s even enough room to set up my favorite rocker.” Millie pointed to an area near the porthole, as she refastened her thick auburn hair back up into the clip the long strands had sprung loose from. “I can’t wait to get all my things in.”
“I had no idea!”
“Let’s go look at the Captain’s quarters.” With cheeks still flushed from the early morning boat ride, Millie propelled her reluctantly back through the galley and down some long interior companionway. “It’s where you and the Colonel get to stay.”
“What?” Stella felt her own color rising at the thought, and wondered how long it would take to get used to the fact she was Mrs. Oliver P. Henry, now. Married to a colonel (retired) who had spent his career as a military historian. Obviously more than twenty-four hours.
“Stella, it’s the perfect place for newlyweds. Just wait till you see this!”
“If that’s the case, why don’t you and Mason get the honor?”
“Are you kidding? I love him but we need our space. We’d be at each other’s throats if we actually had to live together. Know what I mean?”
“Not really. But what about Stuart, then? He’s the Captain, isn’t he? Why doesn’t he take the best apartment?”
“Stewart’s something of an inventor. Always tinkering and making modifications on his engine. He wouldn’t be happy anywhere but down in the engine room in the Chief Engineer’s cabin. Been down there for years, and all this just stays empty. He’s even got television down there!”
The companionway grew darker the farther they moved away from the light in the galley, but Millie seemed to know where she was going and kept plowing ahead with Stella still in tow. At the end of the narrow hallway, a few moments were devoted to pushing open a thick wooden door that obviously hadn’t been moved for ages.
“It’ll take some cleaning up, of course,” Millie switched on a light attached to the nearest wall that sported a tattered red shade with tassels, right out of the era of speak-easies and bootleg liquor. “But did you ever see such extravagance?”
Extravagance wasn’t the word for it.
The paneling was a rich mahogany, inlaid with various mermaids and sea creatures over each doorway and window. Half the back wall was a slanted bank of French windows, complete with tufted window seat beneath. Stella could just make out the outline of the sea from the faint glow of dawn that was beginning to spread over the sky. Beneath that was a gray plaid sofa with carved wooden curlicues arching over the back and arms, to end in feet that were bolted to the floor. Part of the wooden floor was covered over by a gaudy red and black Oriental rug that also seemed to be tacked down.
There was a huge desk off in one corner with a leather swivel chair behind – Oliver would like that, no doubt – the perfect place to sit and work by the hour without missing what the weather was behaving like outside, or hear what was happening up on the decks above. And for Stella, there were bookshelves everywhere. Only a few scattered and dusty volumes tipped over to occupy them now, but she could already foresee her own collection displayed in a comforting array all around, just waiting to be perused on dull evenings. The last thing she had expected on this venture was luxury. Things were definitely looking up.
Her eye traveled across to the wall opposite the desk, and there was the most –
“There you are!” Mason’s voice boomed from the open doorway, where he stood with a half-finished chicken leg in hand. “Stuart wants everyone to--”
“Mason Jefferies!” Millie complained, “ It’s too early to be digging into the lunch!”
“But I’m half-starved, Mil. Been up working most of the night, and the only food ol’ Stuart keeps around here are sardines and crackers, or boiled eggs. A man’s got to have more than--”
“Oh, come on, then, and I’ll fix you a ham sandwich.” She headed back down the hall toward the galley.
“Stuart wants us all up on deck in about ten minutes, Stella,” he said before turning to follow Millie. “So we can get started.”
“All right,” Stella answered. “I’ll be along in a minute.”
This because she needed another minute to finish exploring her new home, and maybe pinch herself once, or twice, to make certain this was all really happening. There was something “other worldly” about the place – no denying it – and the sudden feeling of “déjà vu” she experienced the moment she was left alone, proved it. How else could everything feel so familiar? Take that darling little wood-burning stove, for instance.
She knew exactly how it worked already. One simply lifted the small iron handle from its perch near the black pipe that went up through the ceiling, and used the hook end to lift one of the round burner covers that lead to the firebox below. Then one could regulate the amount of flame or coals necessary to –
She dropped the iron ring and jumped back as if it had burned her. And there it was, another one of those stabbing memories that came and went so fast one couldn’t quite make it out. Along with the full-blown vision of a woman. But she had never seen such a woman! A beautiful young woman lifting one of the lids to that stove, with her dark hair all done up like one of the old-fashioned Gibson Girls. But she was wearing a man’s clothes and there was a cigarette dangling from one corner of her mouth…
Impossible! It was all in her mind – it had to be – for there was no one else standing at this cold little stove that obviously hadn’t been lit for years. “Oh, dear--” she murmured to herself, as she slowly backed away from it. “Surely not this, again – not now!” No doubt it was the stress and strain of having to move, again, so soon. That’s what it had to be.
“Are you all right, my dear?” How long had the Colonel been standing behind her? “Not feeling seasick, are you?”
2
“Not any more,” Stella replied with a quick smile. “What do you think, Oliver? These are the Captain’s quarters, and everyone decided you and I should move in here.”
“Magnificent desk!” He went over to try out the leather-upholstered chair, and open and close a few of the drawers. “Comfortable, too. I have a feeling I could do my best work here, Stel.”
“Oh, I know you can!” How distinguished he looked sitting there, with that head of gray curls, his deep tan, and such a delightfully co
mfortable gaze. A lot more like a captain than that grizzly old Stuart. “And it will be even better by the time I get it all fixed up for us. Wait and see. I have to admit I was a little skeptical when we first came aboard, but I’m thoroughly won over, now. I caught the fever from Millie.”
“Sea fever?”
“Well, traveling fever, anyway.” She took her purse off her shoulder and pulled a red bandana from one of its pockets to tie around her hair. She had a feeling the short white fluff that normally framed her face and tucked under neatly at the back, must be standing on end about as much as Captain Suart’s was on that wild ride across the bay. “Don’t know what kind of crew member I’ll end up making, but I’ll certainly give it my best shot.”
“As you do everything, my dear. It’s one of the things I like best about you.” He got to his feet. “Now, I suppose we should get back out on deck before Stuart starts bellowing orders.”
Stella had not been put to so much physical exertion since the early days of her single life, when she was a substitute for high school P.E. Up with the sails, down with the sails, heave ho, and prepare to come about! Over and over again until she thought she was beginning to see double. What’s more, these were enormous sails, that took at least two of them to fully raise. Nobody was in shape.
Except maybe Stuart, who kept popping up unexpectedly in one place or another to bawl, “Harder! Put some back into it! We’re trying to sail here – not set up tents! Blast it – Gerald – you’re out of sink with everybody, again. Let’s do it over!” And in the meanwhile, steering the boat, tending or shutting down the engine, and generally running circles around everybody.
Voyage of the Dreadnaught: Four Stella Madison Capers Page 1