Bunny Elder Adventure Series: Four Complete Novels: Hollow, Vain Pursuits, Seadrift, ...and Something Blue

by J. B. Hawker

  “And this last one happened near where we sail from, didn’t it? Just listen…”

  “An American citizen was shot and killed, and his friend wounded, when pirates boarded their sailboat, Chill, in an apparent robbery attempt on Venezuela's Caribbean coast. The yacht was reported to be anchored off Venezuela's northeastern coast, when it was attacked by the armed pirates.”

  “Do you think maybe we should change our plans, Max? It sounds as though the ocean is just swarming with desperate pirates.”

  “You are too imaginative for your own good, sometimes, Sweetie. We’ll be safe, believe me. The only pirates you need to worry about are the ones in that book you’re working on.”

  Bunny always felt she could rely on Max to take care of her, on land or sea. He was a seasoned sailor and was familiar with the route they were taking, so she decided to try to relax, put herself in his hands and assign them both to God’s care.

  Their first night on the boat was magical. After a whirlwind afternoon spent driving and sight-seeing, the gentle rocking in the harbor had seemed so peaceful as she drifted off in Max’s arms in the surprisingly roomy bed in the boat’s cabin.

  In colonial times, the waters of Porto Cabello’s well-protected harbor were said to be so smooth that a single hair, or cabello in Spanish, could moor a vessel to the dock.

  She was unaware of the harbor’s uniqueness, so the calmness of that first night gave Bunny a false impression of just what the coming weeks at sea would be like.

  Their short voyage to Bonaire in the Netherlands Antilles had been a wakeup call. As soon as the sloop hit open water, vertigo hit Bunny. She had forgotten to take a seasickness pill in the morning before they cast off and by the time she remembered, it was too late.

  She had been unable to appreciate the beauty of Fulk Bay on Curacao on the way to Bonaire, and when they finally anchored off Lac Bay Lagoon, she begged off Max’s suggestion that they go ashore and learn to wind surf, instead sending him off alone to dive and snorkel in the clear waters beyond the break.

  In spite of her resolution to participate enthusiastically in Max’s favorite activities on this trip, she was simply too ill. She longed to bury her toes in warm, sandy terra firma, but was too weak to make the effort. With the boat at anchor, she only wanted to sleep.

  Max assured Bunny that she would get her sea legs in no time. He knew the first few days out were always the hardest for inexperienced sailors, so he left her in their bunk with a basin close at hand and went diving, as she suggested.

  With the Leeward Islands now behind them, they would be in the open ocean until they reached the coast of South Africa, so it was a blessing that Max’s prediction appeared to be correct and she was over the worst of her mal de mer.

  The days at sea soon fell into a pattern. The mornings were spent working at their laptops or, in Max’s case, making business voice or video calls. Taking turns in the galley preparing meals, swimming in the pool, fishing, routine chores, and just lazing on deck filled the rest of the time.

  Max was teaching Bunny to help him sail the boat and she was trying hard to learn the controls on the sloop. She already knew the halyard was used to raise the head – a sail in this case and not the ship’s bathroom – and sometimes to tension the luff, although she wasn’t sure just what a luff was, or why it sometimes felt too relaxed.

  The outhaul was used to tension the foot, apparently another slacker, by hauling the clew towards the end of the boom.

  The sheet, not the one on their bed, was used to haul the boom down and towards the center of the boat.

  The vang, or kicking strap, which runs between a point partway along the boom and the base of the mast, is used to haul the boom down when on a run.

  To Bunny it was a foreign language, but she was trying to wrap her mind around the jargon and carry out Max’s patient instructions. Her efforts on more than one occasion had left them both weak with laughter, but at least she hadn’t scuttled them, yet, and sent the boat to Davy Jones’s locker.

  Trying to hold one of the incomprehensibly named lines in a safely gloved hand for Max one day, she began to hum “What Shall We Do with the Drunken Sailor.” Max joined in and before long they were singing sea shanty duets at the tops of their voices, making up words when they forgot the lyrics.

  That night they reclined silently on the deck, gazing at the incredible array of stars gleaming brightly from the inky darkness.

  Bunny was overcome by the beauty. A feeling of utter contentment washed over her with the gentle sea breeze and she sighed softly.

  “What’s on your mind, Buns? Not feeling queasy again, are you?”

  “I was just admiring the incomparable glory of God’s creation and feeling so blessed to be here, with you.”

  “Yeah, me too. What are the odds of you and me ending up back together like this, after all those years apart?”

  “Nothing short of a miracle could have brought us to this place.”

  Bunny was silent a few more moments then turned to face Max.

  “You never talk about those years between our ‘then’ and our ‘now.’ And you never ask me about my past, either.”

  “Nothing matters but the time I’m with you, my darling,” Max crooned.

  “Silly! I’m serious. Those years changed us into the man and woman we are today. Our past experiences are part of us. I want to share mine with you and yours with me, don’t you feel the same?”

  “I never give it a thought. I prefer the here and now…and now, it’s time for bed. Come on, Stargazer.”

  Max jumped to his feet and pulled Bunny up into his arms, kissing her deeply before leading her below, their minds now completely in sync.

  

  Franz, a small, wiry elderly man, slumped disconsolately on the exposed upper deck of the cruise liner, Mers Comtesse, his back against a metal vent stack, trying to erase the image of his wife’s last moments from his memory.

  He wanted to remember Analise’s beautiful face smiling her special smile just for him, not frozen in a rictus of terror as she plunged into the sea.

  Franz had learned from Analise that this hatred now burning within him for her murderers was an acid which would destroy its container before doing any harm to the objects of his rage, but he could not wash it from his heart, no matter how he tried. Tears of sorrow and frustration slid down his weathered cheeks, making damp spots on the garish Bermuda shorts his wife had given him for this anniversary cruise. It had been her little joke, but, in a playful mood, he’d donned the outrageous garment on the morning the pirates struck. He had been wearing the shorts ever since.

  None of the passengers had been allowed to return to their cabins, not for a change of clothing or even for necessary medications.

  Almost one hundred captives, passengers and crew of the aged cruise ship, had been herded into clusters of twenty or so and were being held on deck by the heavily armed pirates.

  Franz heard screams and gunshots during the attack. There were a good many crew members and fellow passengers whom he had not seen since the skirmish. Although he could not see all the clusters of captives from his vantage point, he feared many may have been killed.

  After his wife’s ruthless murder, none of the passengers dared to make a complaint or ask for anything. These monsters had demonstrated a complete lack of regard for any lives but their own.

  Anguished moans attracted Franz’s attention to a woman lying nearby on the cramped deck space. He recognized her as one of the women he had often seen lounging around the pool in the first days of the cruise.

  She seemed to be only semi-conscious. Her inappropriately youthful and revealing resort costume provided very little protection from the burning sun of the day or the cold at night. Franz supposed dehydration and exposure were wearing her down. He noticed she seemed to have soiled herself and wished he had something to cover her. He knew she would be mortified to be seen this way.

  The woman, Earla Mae Benish, announced proudly at din
ner the first night out that she came on the cruise to “celebrate” her third divorce and to find a candidate for her fourth. She was a loud, vulgar, brassy woman of low moral character…everything Franz abhorred in a woman…the antithesis of his precious Analise. However, seeing her like this, he felt compassion and would have helped her if he could.

  Franz supposed the large volume of alcohol this woman consumed daily was to blame for her perilous condition and he was grateful, once again, for Analise’s moderating influence on his own appetites.

  “Can’t you make her shut up?” the man on his other side muttered beneath his breath. “The guards will be on us in a minute and we’ll all suffer if they hear her.”

  “What can I do? Have you water, or food, or a blanket?” Franz hissed back.

  “Just pat her on the back or something, can’t you?”

  Warren Meyers was thinking back to his time in the Navy hospital after his last mission as a SEAL. When the pain got the better of him, even with all the morphine, the nurse would pat his back or rub his arm, and just that human contact helped, somehow. It was worth a try, surely.

  “Move over and I’ll do it. But, try not to attract attention.”

  Franz edged behind Warren as the former military man inched forward to take his place and hunkered down beside the suffering woman.

  Warren took off his tropical print vacation shirt and draped it over her form, shielding her, then proceeded to stroke her back and shoulder in a comforting gesture.

  Earla Mae’s moans grew quieter and gradually ceased as her breathing became more regular. She seemed to have fallen asleep.

  “Amazing. Where did you learn this magic?” Franz whispered.

  Warren just shrugged, drew up his knees and rested his head on his arms. If he was going to be able to do anything to help get them out of this mess, he needed to save his strength.

  Chapter Three

  There was a mighty tempest on the sea.- Jonah 1:3-5

  “Hey, Buns! Come up here and give me a hand!”

  Max’s shout woke Bunny and she was instantly aware of a change in the rocking of the boat. When she swung her legs out of bed and stood, a violent surge jolted her to her knees. She crawled to the steps and pulled herself up onto the deck, holding tightly for balance as she emerged into a violent squall.

  She accepted the life jacket Max thrust at her as he scrambled about the deck hauling on lines and lashing them down.

  “What should I do, Max? Are we going to sink? How can I help?” Bunny shouted over the wind.

  Max explained he had the sea anchor deployed underwater to keep the bow pointed into the wind, so the boat was not likely to capsize.

  The sloop was already heaved to and turned close to the wind, with the jib partly furled, and the helm locked into position, so it slowly jogged along without turning broadside to the waves, giving Max the chance to show Bunny how to help out in this rough weather.

  Several hours passed with the two fighting to keep the sloop on course before the storm abated and they were able to relax.

  Bunny was mopping up puddles from the deck, still in her soggy nightgown, when she looked up at Max with a grin.

  “I’m swabbing the deck, aren’t I? So, now I’m a real sailor.”

  “Yep. And you passed your first storm at sea without losing your lunch, too. I’m proud of you.”

  “Speaking of lunch, I haven’t even had breakfast, yet, with all the excitement. I hope I remembered to stow and secure all the cooking supplies after our last meal. I’m almost afraid to look.”

  “Don’t bother, Sweetie. You go get into some dry clothes and I’ll do galley duty. What if I throw together some fried rice? I think we have enough leftover chicken and rice from last night.”

  

  Sitting at an elegantly appointed table in the Scarlett Restaurant of the Harbour Rocks Hotel, Ellery couldn’t stop looking around admiringly at the roughhewn stone walls that contrasted so strikingly with the modern décor.

  It was difficult to believe this restaurant building had once been the first hospital in Sydney.

  The main dining room where the newlyweds were sitting opened onto the historic Nurses Walk and enjoyed views of the Opera House and Harbour Bridge, that architectural masterpiece the locals refer to as “the coat hanger.”

  “Gilles, I am so glad we decided to stay here for our last night in Oz. I know it’s a splurge, but it has all the history, atmosphere and comfort I could want. This is the perfect ending to our glorious honeymoon.”

  “Any honeymoon with you would be glorious, El, but we have been lucky to have avoided all the usual wedding trip mishaps. The weather has been ace, no delayed flights or canceled reservations. Even when we lobbed in on the rellies it was pretty spiffy. I took to your brother, Loman, and his family, straight away.”

  “And your mother and sister are so precious! They won me over as soon as they started telling me those cute stories of your naughty childhood escapades.”

  “So, if we decide to come back home to live, someday, we won’t have any in-law issues,” Gilles pronounced with satisfaction.

  “Had you feared that we might? I knew my brother and his family would love you and that your family had to be wonderful…because you are. So, no worries.”

  Ellery took another bite of her crispy barramundi fillet served with scampi tail, bacon, and cannellini bean ragout and chewed the cod slowly, savoring the rich flavors.

  “Speaking of family…I wonder how your aunt and Max are doing on their sea voyage. You told me that she’s susceptible to motion sickness,” Gilles said.

  “Oh, she is. She once told me she could get seasick in a rocking chair. However, she’s even more susceptible to Max, so, if I know my great-aunt as well as I think I do, she will just grit her teeth and get on with it.”

  “She won’t get fine cuisine like this on that sailboat, even if she does have an appetite. I think I’ll have the banana crème brûlée with peanut brittle ice cream for dessert. The honey roasted pumpkin gnocchi with sheep’s yogurt, pine nuts and vincotto sauce was delicious, but I’m still hungry. Will you want dessert, El?”

  “I think the berry salad with lime sorbet and meringue sounds yummy, and not too heavy. We will be spending most of the next couple of days in the air, remember.”

  “Exactly. This will be the last decent food we get for a while and I want to make the most of it.”

  Back in their room after a moonlit postprandial stroll along the harbor, Ellery was getting ready for bed.

  Gilles turned on the TV to check the news and sat on the end of the bed removing his shoes and socks as a seemingly endless series of commercials featuring talking animals, animated household items and incongruously lascivious M&M’s was followed by a promo for the cartoon movie “Airplanes.”

  “Hey El, do you ever wonder what the fascination is with all these anthropomorphized cars, planes and candy bits?”

  She stepped out of the bathroom, her petite frame wrapped in the hotel’s plush robe, damp tendrils curling against her rosy cheeks, and asked, “Anthropo-what? Whatever are you talking about, Professor Argyle?”

  “Anthropomorphized means attributing human characteristics to non-humans or inanimate objects. You see it everywhere. I was just wondering why some people seem to connect more strongly with their pets or cartoon talking vehicles than with the people around them.”

  “Heavy thoughts for the last night of one’s honeymoon, don’t you think?” Ellery cooed seductively as she dropped the robe at her feet and pushed her new husband back onto the bed.

  

  The morning following the storm dawned clear and calm. Bunny spent the early part of the day working on a scene in her novel. Her heroine was just experiencing her first storm at sea, coincidentally enough.

  Bunny was pleased to find that she had been right about this trip adding inspiration and verisimilitude to her writing.

  While she wrote, Max made phone calls and filed business reports, interpo
sed with manning the helm and doing routine chores on the boat.

  The pace of life at sea took some getting used to for Bunny. Most of the time they seemed to be in a hazy universe of soft edges, where time had no meaning and there was no urgency about getting things done, but in an instant, as with the storm, the focus sharpened and timing each movement became vitally important. She supposed that was the source of the expression “sea change,” indicating a sudden, complete transformation.

  Thinking back over their days at sea, Bunny began to wonder why, when most days there was all the time in the world to spend together, she and Max hadn’t done very much talking. They chatted and teased, but there had been no sea change in the depth of their communications.

  Bunny and Max had been together from grade school through their early twenties. They could still finish each other’s sentences and predict their partner’s reaction in almost any circumstance.

  Still, it niggled at Bunny that the experiences during their years apart remained hidden. They had shared only brief glimpses of that time with one another.

  Being alone in the middle of the ocean should be the perfect opportunity to fill in the blanks. So far, that was not the case.

  Even though much of what happened between their failed first marriage and when they came back together was uncomfortable to remember, those experiences shaped their lives. Bunny couldn’t pretend the years never happened. However, she was determined not to dwell on it or let her trifling concerns about yesterday spoil today.

  “Say, Max. Here we are, not quite half-way to Australia, and Ellery and Gilles must be flying back to the States from their honeymoon in Sydney, already. I wonder if we could see their plane as it flies above us. Maybe that contrail overhead is the jet carrying them home from their honeymoon right this minute.”

  She leaned back in her chair to watch the jet arc across the sky and almost tipped over.