Wreckers Island (romantic suspense)

by Harcourt, L K

  ‘Ok,’ said Dan. ‘So are we going to roll him out of the tarpaulin over the side? We obviously mustn’t leave him tied up in it or anything.’

  ‘No, and I’m afraid we will have to take the tarp with us,’ said John. ‘It will probably smell as well, yuck. Anyway, no-one can see, let’s do the deed.’

  John and Dan took one final glance around before undoing the coils of rope wrapped tightly around Zak’s body. ‘Now let’s lift him over the side together, keeping hold of one edge of the tarpaulin as we do so,’ said John, ‘and his body should roll out.’

  It was a chilling sight as Zak’s now stiffening corpse slid into the water, horizontally at first before suddenly up-ending and ghoulishly bobbing up and down.

  ‘God, that’s revolting,’ said John, rolling up the tarpaulin. ‘Let’s get away from here.’

  Dan stared at Zak in macabre fascination, then leant over the other side of the boat and was violently sick.

  ‘That’s not helpful Dan,’ said John, unkindly. ‘You’re keeping us at a crime scene and you’ve just gone and deposited evidence. We better hope your vomit gets dispersed by the sea pretty quick.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,’ said Dan as he wiped his mouth with a tissue. John got the motor going and they roared away.

  ‘Let’s get back as soon as we can,’ said John, glancing at the sinking sun, now sending its familiar golden finger of evening diagonally across the water.

  ‘Ugh, I can smell him,’ said Dan. ‘That tarpaulin whiffs. We’ll have to be careful what we do with it.’

  ‘We’ll dunk it in that mini lagoon near the jetty,’ said John. ‘If we stick a big rock on it, it won’t wash away, but the ebb and flow of the tide should clean off any traces of Zak. Am I glad to be rid of that body. It was starting to pong wasn’t it? Mind you, Zak was the sort to smell anyway. When he ripped his clothes off in the cave hoping to get lucky with Louise, he reeked of rancid sweat. He’s hardly going to smell any sweeter in death is he?’

  Dan allowed himself a weak smile. ‘Please, let’s not even think about it,’ he said.

  ‘You know something,’ said Dan, as he and John chugged into the mini harbour of Wreckers Island and moored alongside the jetty, ‘I am not convinced how wise it is for us to go out in Porthlevnack tonight.’

  John, pushing his mop of blond hair out of his eyes, looked at him, puzzled. ‘Come on, we’ve had this conversation. I thought we agreed it would look more natural if anything were to kick off – you know, a sort of alibi?’

  ‘True,’ said Dan. ‘Yet I can’t help but feel that to place ourselves visibly somewhere else from the scene of the death would be the sort of thing we’d do if we were actually involved. It would also strongly suggest that we no longer felt we had a reason to be scared of Zak or Jake. You see, if Zak were still around, bearing in mind our brush with him in the tunnels, the last thing we’d do would be to risk bumping into him ashore, with the island unguarded. And we certainly wouldn’t want to go drinking in his local pub.’

  John nodded thoughtfully. ‘Also, the wind is strengthening again, it’s blowing my hair about like I’m a scarecrow. I wouldn’t want to risk being stranded and unable to get back to the island. Perhaps we should stand guard over that treasure. When you think of what we’ve gone through to secure it, it does seem wrong to leave it, even in a locked safe.’

  Their minds made up, John and Dan alighted from the boat. John carried the tarpaulin under his arm. He took it to one of the more remote rock pools, unravelled it and dropped it in – the pool would easily be replenished with fresh sea water at high tide and unlikely to be one they would actually choose to bathe in. They found some heavy stones to weigh it down so it could not be swept out to sea.

  ‘Can I suggest before we go inside,’ said Dan, ‘that we both leap into another rock pool and get ourselves clean? We don’t want to risk going indoors smelling of you-know-what.’

  John agreed and the pair stripped off and threw themselves into an adjacent pool. It got less sun than the ones they usually bathed in and was cool but not freezing. They both heartily wished they had some soap to scrub themselves properly but a good soak would have to do. They got out and ran about naked for a couple of minutes to allow the sea breeze to dry them. They felt much better after that, quite literally cleansed of something unpleasant.

  ‘Let us hope that we will never need to hear the name Zak again,’ said John, as they walked up the steps to the lighthouse to rejoin the girls.

  Chapter XX

  Louise and Emma were in the lounge, enjoying the final dregs of their wine bottle when the boys walked in.

  ‘Do you know what I feel like?’ asked John with a glance at the girls’ wine glasses, ‘I feel like an ice cold, very strong lager after the day we’ve had. Only you know something, I’ve got a nasty feeling we forgot to chill any.’

  ‘If you recall, we were supposed to be taking the boat ashore and going out tonight. But Louise and I had a kind of sixth sense that having been out for your fishing trip you might prefer to stay in the lighthouse and relax,’ said Emma. ‘I have therefore put your favouritest beers in the fridge: John a top quality strong Belgian lager and Dan, a German wheat beer. Both in the ice compartment. Better drink them before they freeze.’

  ‘Fantastic,’ said Dan, brightening up, ‘haven’t I got a kind, loving girlfriend?’

  ‘Mind you,’ chipped in Louise, ‘those beers are conditional on you having brought us some fish for our supper. Did you catch anything?’

  ‘Erm no,’ admitted John. ‘To be truthful, we decided not to go fishing in the end. We settled for a nice little saunter about in the boat, over to the headland.’ John pointed vaguely.

  That answer puzzled Louise. What then, had they got wrapped in that tarpaulin and how come she had seen their boat travelling in the opposite direction? Perhaps they were going fishing but changed their minds.

  A thought struck her. ‘I know we’ve got the treasure safely locked up here,’ she said, ‘but I do feel strongly that we must get it reported properly and handed over to the authorities. The sooner it is out of our possession the better. I’m scared that the likes of Zak and Jake will launch some kind of attack on us soon. I’ll feel much happier when it’s no longer in this lighthouse.’

  ‘Dan and I have already talked about that,’ said John. ‘It will be the first thing we do tomorrow morning. In the meantime the treasure is as safe as we can make it.’

  ‘What if they come over by boat?’ asked Louise.

  ‘Jake is petrified that the treasure is guarded by a ghost, so he’s unlikely to want to come sailing or tunnelling to this island and Zak’s got one heck of a headache,’ replied John, a touch brusquely.

  ‘Do you suppose Zak is ok?’ asked Emma, suddenly. ‘I did give him an awful whack with that spade. It won’t have done him any permanent harm will it?’

  John and Dan looked at Emma in alarm. Dan looked as if he was about to stutter an unconvincing reply so John cut in quickly. ‘Emma, don’t worry about Zak. He will be fine. The blow knocked him out, that was all, and allowed us vital seconds to rescue Dan and get him out of that shaft.

  ‘By the time he came round Zak would have found the shaft lid firmly shut and the flagstone back on top, impossible to budge from below. My guess is he limped through the tunnel to the shore and is right now in the Smugglers Tavern as we speak, curing his headache with several glasses of ale.’

  ‘That being so,’ said Louise, toying with her glass, ‘we need to act fast. Zak will be plotting his next move as he sups his beer and he’s certain to strike soon. We can’t afford any delay. He may be watching Wreckers Island from the shore and looking out for any comings or goings.’

  Emma shivered. John and Dan nodded, unable to explain to the girls that the situation was no longer so dangerous as they thought – at least, not in the way they might imagine. Nonetheless, those gold and silver coins were burning a hole in their pockets, too. They wanted the treasure brought
to safety as much as the girls did.

  None of them felt like cooking that evening, they were too tired, so they feasted on a couple of tinned pies in the cupboard. They were surprisingly good with boiled potatoes bought in the village the previous day.

  Washed down with beer and wine, the students spent an enjoyable enough evening together, but without the elation and over-exuberance of the previous night in the pub when their eyes had sparkled almost as brightly as Felipe’s wonderful hoard. The pleasure of discovery had been somewhat diluted by the circumstances of its retrieval and the ongoing worry over Zak and Jake.

  For John and Dan came the uncomfortable realisation that they had acted in a way which, however well intentioned, was absolutely illegal and might have severe consequences were their secret ever to come to light.

  They were not late to bed that night and although convinced they wouldn’t sleep a wink they were exceptionally tired. It felt odd at first to Emma that she should again find herself sharing a room and a bed with Dan – she wasn’t used to having a man with her at night and she found herself suddenly feeling shy.

  Her nerves soon dissolved as she snuggled up with him under the duvet. Dan held her tightly and protectively to his chest and stroked her neck. Thank heaven she does not know what actually happened to Zak, he thought.

  Dan lifted her chin gently and placed his lips against hers. They kissed, not passionately, but with the slow, deep affection of two people, both in their own ways rather vulnerable, who had come together and found each other.

  As they embraced, that bond between them grew stronger. Their hands caressed each other’s bodies in a loving way – the kind of touch which said that what they had was more than mere physical attraction. Drifting to sleep in the arms of her lover and soulmate, Emma felt content and secure. With his eyes closing, Dan felt relief that he and John had taken such swift action earlier – unpleasant, frightening and risky but done for the right reasons, to protect a good, sweet person.

  In what was now John and Louise’s bedroom, the only sound to be heard was the heavy breathing of deep sleep. Wearied after such a long, strange day, their eyes had closed within seconds.

  Chapter XXI

  If the four had anticipated a restless night of worry, they were mistaken. They slept soundly until the bright early morning sunshine pouring through the windows finally roused them.

  The students gathered in the kitchen whereupon Louise nervously opened the safe to check nothing had been taken during the night. It was all there. They felt refreshed and relaxed. Emma got the kettle on and set about making a decent fry-up as a treat for their hard work the previous day. They had some excellent local eggs, bacon and sausages from the butcher in Porthlevnack which smelt delicious as they sizzled in the pan.

  ‘You cannot beat a cup of strong tea and a full English breakfast,’ declared John, wiping a piece of crusty bread round his plate, ‘with a good puddle of brown sauce. Those fat sausages full of herbs and onion are unbeatable. I wish we could get them like that at home.’

  The others agreed. With that breakfast inside them, they were ready to face the day. Their first task was to get the treasure officially reported. John rang Cornwall Council on his mobile for advice. He was put through to the council’s Finds Liaison Officer and described the hoard to him and that they thought it was from a Spanish ship which had foundered in 1780.

  ‘Oh,’ said John, looking surprised. He scribbled some information on a piece of paper, thanked the officer and said goodbye.

  ‘That was a short phone call,’ said Dan. ‘What has he told you to do?’

  ‘He said that it sounded remarkable but it’s not a matter for the council or the coroner because it isn’t treasure but salvage from a wreck lost at sea, so we have to report it to the Receiver of Wreck, part of the Maritime and Coastguard Agency. He says that property found in the sea or seashore from a ship constitutes ‘wreck’ which can’t be treasure because it wasn’t buried with the intention to recover it.’

  Dan shook his head. ‘I don’t think that’s right,’ he said. ‘I hope not because there’ll be a delay of around a year or more usually to see if legitimate owners can be traced and all we would qualify for is some sort of token salvors’ award for having scooped it up. Let me ring that Finds Liaison guy back and have a word, I know a bit about these things.’

  ‘Look,’ said Dan, firmly, when he got through, ‘this is not salvage from a wreck because it was not lost at sea when the ship foundered. It was property retained or retrieved by the ship’s captain who survived the sinking. He took it ashore and chose, deliberately, to store these items that we have just found, on a rock ledge in a cave beneath the seabed, accessible via a tunnel from an island in the bay where we are currently staying and which is owned by my friend Louise’s parents.

  ‘He clearly had every intention of recovering these items because he stored a change of clothing and a cutlass with them, including a number of other personal effects and also wrote about having done so in a diary which I myself have partially translated from Spanish.’

  The others looked in admiration at Dan who was living up to his reputation as a brain box and the most academic among them.

  ‘Yes, that’s right, 1780,’ they heard him say. ‘Yes I know that makes the find under 300 years old but the law of Treasure Trove still applies I think you’ll find if you look it up.’

  ‘Right ok, see you later,’ they heard Dan say after a short pause.

  ‘He’s coming over by boat later on,’ said Dan. ‘He wants to talk to us and take a look himself – and yes, he agrees, it may well be treasure. That’s good news because if it is declared to be officially treasure it will be bought on behalf of the Crown and we are likely to get the full market value. He says the decision will be up to the Coroner who will most likely have to hold an inquest.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Emma, ‘I know you mentioned inquests the other night in the pub but I always thought coroners only held inquests into deaths – when people die in strange circumstances.’

  ‘That’s mainly what they do,’ replied Dan. ‘They also conduct inquests into finds of antiquities – in England and Wales anyway. I know about the law on salvage and treasure because a couple of old schoolmates of mine are mad keen on metal-detecting and a while back they found centuries-old gold goblets and it was declared treasure at an inquest. A couple of lads at uni also dive wrecks in the summer holidays. If they find anything, it’s governed by strict rules to stop the wrecks being plundered. I’m no expert but it’s better that this is declared treasure and not salvage.’

  ‘Sounds like you know more than that council officer,’ said John.

  ‘I’d guess he was young and inexperienced, replied Dan, modestly, pleased to show off his knowledge. ‘First he said it was legally ‘wreck’ until I disputed it. Then he said that the new law of treasure only applied to gold and silver that was 300 years old. I pointed out to him that the old law of Treasure Trove still applies to precious metals under this age. Anyway, he sounded eager to help. His eyes will be popping out of his head when he sees what we’ve got to show him!’

  ~~~~~

  Later that morning, the Finds Liaison Officer from Cornwall Council duly turned up, chauffeured over in a council motor boat. Only Louise was around to greet him. John and Dan had disappeared on some errand in the outbuilding and Emma had a headache and gone for a lie down.

  ‘Hello,’ said Louise, smiling cheerily and stretching out her hand as the officer stepped rather clumsily from the boat. ‘I’m Louise Locksley. Welcome to Wreckers Island. You must be Mr Spencer?’

  ‘Oh, call me Rupert,’ said Rupert Spencer, shaking hands and grinning at her. He was a strange, gauche-looking type who did indeed look young and inexperienced – in more ways than one, surmised Louise. He was one of those tall, gangly, studious types with round, metal-rimmed spectacles and slightly goofy teeth which made him look like a horse when he chuckled, which he did often.

  Rupert seemed ner
vous to find himself alone in the company of a stunning, Amazonesque young woman like Louise. His eyes, she noticed, were immediately drawn to her cleavage which was well defined that day beneath her T-shirt which she’d knotted, exposing her bare olive-brown midriff. He also seemed very taken with the long, smooth contours of her legs.

  Louise waited patiently for him to drink in the view before saying, ‘right, shall we go inside and you can take a look.’

  ‘Yes please,’ replied Rupert, chuckling again, ‘I can’t wait to see what you’ve got.’ He went bright red at this point and attempted a camouflaging giggle but it came out more like a horse wheezing.

  ‘Now, now,’ said Louise, smiling, ‘I thought you were here to look at our treasure.’

  Delighted that he hadn’t offended her by accidentally appearing too forward, Rupert lurched into over-confident mode and, blushing again, said in a camp tone, ‘well Louise, I’m sure you’ve got a few hidden treasures yourself.’

  What a prat, thought Louise, irritated at his over familiarity and school-boy attempt at being saucy. I could eat this chump for breakfast if we hadn’t already had such a good one. How could a man in his late 20s be all overcome and blushing and giggly just because he was alone with an attractive woman?

  Maybe, she mused, he had never had a woman – ever. She didn’t fancy him but perhaps it was time he learnt to grow up and find out that there was more to life than public libraries and archaeology digs.

  ‘Follow me into the lounge,’ said Louise. ‘Would you like a cup of tea or anything?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ replied Rupert. ‘Tea would be splendid, quite milky and no sugar if that’s ok.’

  ‘Coming up!’ replied Louise breezily. She went into the kitchen, put the kettle on and slipped upstairs to check on Emma. She was fast asleep with a cool strip on her forehead. She must be having one of her migraines, she thought. Louise slipped out of her shorts and into a flimsy skirt. A glance through the window indicated that the boys were not yet finished in the outbuilding.