Trouble in Paradise

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Jenna backed away in horror, her hand covering her mouth, as Cap’n rose and pointed the gun right between her eyes.

  “Okay, missy. Enough foolin’ around. Time to get down to business. I’m in charge now.”

  Jenna’s hand went to her throat. I saw the sheer panic in her eyes as they darted left and right, looking for a way out.

  “Now help me toss these boys overboard.”

  “Jenna, no!” I yelled.

  She looked at me—stared right at my head, where her boyfriend Esteban had clocked me. And she froze.

  “Do it!” Cap’n roared. I could see the whites of his eyes as he pointed the gun—a truly frightening sight.

  Then he waved the gun at Esteban. “Do it now, or I’ll blow your boyfriend’s brains out!”

  Jenna slowly walked over to me. I let her help me up to a standing position. We stood close to each other—facing each other—and her frightened green eyes looked straight into mine.

  What do I do? I knew she was silently asking me.

  I had no answer.

  “Do it now!” Cap’n bellowed, even louder this time. He fired a shot in the air.

  Jenna screamed, then turned back to me, her hands trembling. But I saw in her eyes that she’d thought of something. They didn’t look panicked anymore—just terribly, terribly sad.

  She took my bound hands in hers and squeezed. I felt her hand put something in mine—a hard object whose shape I recognized.

  Then she kissed me softly on the cheek and said, “Good-bye, Frank. I’m so sorry.”

  She bent down and pushed the heavy cast iron ball that was chained to my feet. She rolled it toward the gap in the railing where Cap’n was standing. I had no choice but to shuffle along behind it, or it would have yanked me from my feet—that’s how heavy it was.

  “Wait!” I heard Joe yell from behind me.

  I turned to look. Somehow he’d gotten to his feet on his own. “Me first.”

  “No, Joe!” I said. “I’m the oldest.”

  He stared hard at me, and, in the semidarkness of the full moon, I thought I saw him wink, just slightly. It was more like a twitch—but I knew Joe, and they didn’t. I was sure he was trying to tell me something.

  “You may be the oldest, but I’m the strongest.”

  “Ha!” Cap’n laughed. “Not strong enough to get free of that ball and chain.” He walked over to Joe. “But I like your spunk, mate. You’d have made a good partner in crime. Too bad you’re honest.”

  He took Joe by the elbow and led him forward, past me and Jenna, over to the gap in the railing. “Well, I’m going to grant you your wish, my friend. You get to go first.”

  I can’t tell you how I felt at that moment. I was barely in my own right mind. My brother was about to be murdered right in front of my eyes—and I was totally helpless to stop it!

  Joe stood at the edge of the deck and looked right at Jenna. “He’s going to kill Esteban next, and you, too—don’t think he won’t.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Cap’n said. “Once we get rid of these two, you and me are heading back to pick up the others.” He pointed to Esteban. “We’ll dump this one, load up the gang and the loot, and head straight for the Bahamas. I’ve got a private island waiting for us there, where we can divvy up the treasure. After that, each can go his own way.”

  “He’s lying to you,” Joe said, staring intently at Jenna. “Why should he keep you around and give you a share of the loot? You see how easily he kills people.”

  “All right, that’s enough out of you,” Cap’n said. He gave Joe a hard sock in the gut. Joe doubled over.

  “Now pick up that ball,” Cap’n ordered him, “before I hit you again.”

  Joe picked up the heavy iron ball—not an easy trick when your hands are tied together. As he stood up, he gasped, “Jenna …”

  Jenna knew he was pleading with her to do something. But she was not about to take on a bad guy with a gun, and Joe knew it.

  What he didn’t know, and I did, was that Jenna had already done something to help.

  She’d handed me the key.

  “Wait!” I said, bending down and picking up the iron ball I was attached to. “We’ll jump together.”

  “Ah, the perfect solution!” Cap’n said with a smile that was way too cheerful. I could see he was really enjoying this, the sicko.

  “All right, step away now, girlie,” Cap’n told Jenna. He pointed to the gap in the railing and said, “Now—jump!”

  “Good-bye, Joe,” I said, choking up a little. “You … you were the best brother ever.”

  Joe’s eyes were welling up too. Neither of us was giving up yet, but we both knew this could be it—these could be the last words we ever said to each other.

  It was hard to take.

  “One,” I said.

  “Two,” Joe said.

  “Three!” we both shouted.

  Taking a last, deep breath, we leaped side by side into the black water.

  13.

  The Deep

  We sank like a pair of stones. I tried not to panic, but it was impossible.

  Thankfully, the bottom here wasn’t very deep—maybe thirty feet. I could still see the full moon through the clear water, though dimly.

  Frank and I hit the bottom side by side. Instantly, I started digging into my belt with my fingers, feeling for the single-edged razor I always keep there. If I could get both our hands free, maybe we’d have a chance to live through this, although I couldn’t think how.

  That’s what Frank is best at—getting great ideas just when we need them most. And I knew he had something up his sleeve. I could tell.

  I got the razor out and slashed through the plastic cuffs that bound my wrists together. Precious seconds went by as I went to work on Frank’s.

  This was why it had been so important for us to jump together. Frank knew I had the razor. And if the boat had drifted between his jump and mine, I’d never have gotten close enough to free him.

  I cut through Frank’s bonds. Then, just as I was thinking, Now what? Frank held up what looked like a key! What little light was left caught it.

  It was the old-fashioned skeleton-type key—you know the kind. This one looked really old. I sure hoped it wouldn’t break when Frank tried it on our leg irons.

  He unlocked himself, but it took a good long while. When you’re holding your breath, five seconds seems like an hour. Finally, he stepped out of his irons and got busy on mine.

  By the time he got me free, I felt like my lungs were about to burst. I willed myself not to pass out. If I did, I knew there was no way I’d survive.

  We swam for the surface. It seemed impossibly far away.

  Both Frank and I can hold our breath for a really long time—more than two minutes—but it’s different when you’re in a swimming pool having fun, trying to see who can hold his breath longer.

  When your heart is racing in panic, it uses up more oxygen and puts out more carbon dioxide—the stuff that makes you pass out if you don’t exhale.

  On the other hand, once you do exhale underwater, you have only a few seconds before you pass out from lack of oxygen. In a swimming pool, you can surface in less than a second. But here?

  Luckily, the surface looked farther away than it really was. The moon still seemed dim and far away when we broke through, gulping and gasping for air.

  It took a good while before either Frank or I had recovered enough to speak. By that time, though, we’d both looked around and had seen that the boat was nowhere in sight.

  For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, we’d been abandoned at sea—only this time, we were twelve miles from shore, much farther than the last time. There would be no life-saving buoys to hang onto out here.

  We were on our own.

  We could see the lights of St. Thomas in the distance. I knew it couldn’t be St. John, because there were just too many lights. The current had to be taking us westward. “Hey, Frank,” I said. “If we keep dr
ifting, we’ll wind up in Puerto Rico.”

  “Great,” he said sarcastically. “Like we’d ever get that far.”

  “Why not?” I asked, as we floated on our backs to save precious energy.

  “Remember what happened at the wreck site?” he said.

  “You mean those sharks?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Well, maybe they sleep at night.”

  “Sharks don’t sleep, Joe. They have to keep moving all the time or they can’t breathe. It’s how they’re built.”

  “Well, then, how do they rest?”

  “With one eye open.”

  “Well … then maybe they rest with one eye open at night.”

  “Let’s hope so,” he said.

  We tried swimming toward the lights, but they were impossibly far. We alternated periods of floating, recovering our energy, then swimming some more. But at this rate, we’d be past the island by the time we got anywhere close to shore.

  The sky began to lighten, and the lights on shore started going out. I was beyond exhausted, and I knew Frank had to be too. Somehow, though, we kept going. Neither of us wanted to die like this—not after escaping death so many times in just the past two days.

  The first shark fin appeared just as the sun was about to break over the eastern horizon. “Uh-oh,” I said. “Frank? Don’t look now, but—”

  “I see it, bro,” he said. “Just stay cool. Don’t move.”

  We floated on our backs some more. The fin kept circling us, and soon it was joined by three more.

  “Here we go again,” I said.

  Just then, though, we heard the sound of a boat’s motor.

  “HELP! HELP!” we both yelled at the top of our lungs. We waved our arms frantically in the direction of the noise. We couldn’t see the boat, because we were staring right into the rising sun—but that meant whoever was on the boat would have a better view of us.

  Unfortunately, so did the sharks. They started coming in closer to check us out. I could see that the blood had soaked out of Frank’s hair and into the water—and you know how sharks get when they smell blood.

  They get excited. And when you’re waving your arms and yelling like a maniac, it gets them even more excited.

  “Ow!” I heard Frank yell.

  “What?” I shouted. “Did you get bit?”

  “Yes—no, not bit, stung.”

  “Stung?”

  All of a sudden, I felt a searing, burning pain on my back. “YEOW!”

  It wasn’t sharks, though. It was a school of jellyfish, and we’d drifted right into their path. Every few seconds, Frank or I would brush across one of their toxic tentacles and feel the shock of another sting.

  On the other hand, the sharks seemed to be keeping their distance. I guess they didn’t want to get stung themselves.

  The noise of the boat’s motor got louder, and now we could see it—a black silhouette blocking the sun. It was a fishing boat. I could see the nets strung out along its sides. It pulled up alongside us—and then I heard gunshots!

  Were they trying to kill us? Was it the Leaky Sieve, coming back to finish us off?

  “Ahoy, down there!” a voice bellowed. “We’ll throw you a line!”

  Now I understood—the gunshots were to scare away the sharks. Looking over my shoulder as we swam for the line, I couldn’t spot the circling fins any longer.

  A few minutes later we were lying on the deck of the fishing boat Happy Daze, heading back toward Cruz Bay.

  Zuzu Johnson, the fisherman who’d rescued us, radioed ahead for medical help. We were going to need it—both Frank and I had jellyfish stings all over our bodies, and we were beginning to swell up something awful. Frank’s wound was going to need a few stitches, too.

  “Dude,” I said to Frank, “you look really messed up.”

  “Me? You are the ugliest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  “Me? No, you.”

  “No, you.”

  “No, you.”

  Hey, at least we knew we were still alive.

  Captain Rollins of the National Park Service was there at the dock to meet us, along with the ambulance that would take us to Cruz Bay’s local community clinic.

  We filled him in on what had happened, and he promised to alert the police and the FBI. Hopefully, Cap’n and his gang were still down at Reef Bay, loading up the Leaky Sieve with their treasure. They would be in a hurry, but there was an awful lot of treasure to stow aboard.

  The ambulance took us to the clinic, where they gave us antivenom and antihistamines to keep us from swelling up so much we’d explode.

  As we lay there in our hospital beds, the pain of the stings shooting darts through our bodies, we heard the roar of what had to be an entire fleet of police helicopters overhead.

  “They’re on their way,” Frank said, managing a smile.

  “Sounds like it,” I agreed.

  “I hope they’re in time.”

  “They will be,” I assured him.

  It had been several hours since we’d walked the plank, but what with loading up the boat, and making sure nothing was left behind at the dark campsite by the ruins, the Leaky Sieve would surely still be in U.S. waters, even if she had shoved off.

  “I just hope he didn’t kill Jenna,” Frank said.

  “I don’t think he would have,” I told him. “Did you see the way he was looking at her?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think he was hoping to make her his girlfriend, once Esteban was out of the picture.”

  “You think so?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But what about Esteban?”

  I wasn’t so sure about him. At that point, he might have been shark food, or they might just have left him behind on the beach in exchange for the ransom money.

  One thing was for sure—now that the police were hot on their trail, Corbin St. Clare’s gang of thieves and kidnappers would soon be rounded up.

  The doctor came in to examine us. “You boys feeling better now?” she asked.

  “Much better, thanks,” I said.

  “Me too,” Frank agreed.

  “We’re going to keep you here for the rest of today, then let you go tomorrow if you’re well enough.”

  “Hey, Frank,” I said, “that still leaves us with four days here before we have to go home.”

  “Oh, no,” he said. “No way I’m hanging around this place. It may be paradise, but it’s way too dangerous for my taste.”

  “Totally,” I said. “After this ‘Vacation,’ I’m going to need a vacation.”

  “Me too,” Frank said. “Only this time, let’s stay home in the snow and cold.”

  “I hear you, bro,” I said. “I hear you.”