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

by J. B. Hawker

  “Whoa, Nelly!” Max joked as he caught the chair, just in time, and pulled her upright. “When you start daydreaming, you forget all about real things, like gravity.”

  “Thanks, Sweetie. You’re my hero, as usual.”

  “How did you ever manage to stay alive all the years we spent apart, anyway?” Max teased.

  “That’s just what I was thinking.”

  “What? You were wondering how you were able to muddle along without me?”

  “Not exactly. I was thinking that we have some catching up to do, to bring each other up to speed, so to speak. I’d love to know what your life was like when I wasn’t part of it. And aren’t you at all curious about my past?”

  “I know all about your lurid past, remember? I was there for all the best bits,” Max wriggled his eyebrows lecherously as he spoke.

  “Seriously. Aren’t you interested in anything I did while we were apart?” Bunny felt surprisingly hurt.

  “That’s all just water under the bridge, isn’t it? Why dredge up old memories and failed relationships? Aren’t you happy, now?”

  “Of course, I am, Max. But I love you and I want to know everything that made you the man you are today. Even our failures can mold us. I’m sort of disappointed you aren’t even a little curious about my past life.”

  “Now, I never said that. In fact, I’m dying to know all about your marriage to old Useless, or whatever his name was. How did you ever wind up with that character, anyway?”

  “His name was Eustace, as you know perfectly well. I don’t think we should joke about a man who was murdered, do you?”

  “Oh, now I remember…there’s that prudish Bunny I haven’t seen so much lately… Now I understand your attraction to that pious, hypocritical prig. It was his duplicity that got him killed and started that lunatic serial killer on his spree, wasn’t it? Don’t forget, that bastard nearly killed us, too.”

  “Max! Please.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to bring up old news, remember? I say we should just put the past behind us where it belongs and get on with the here and now. And right now, I’m going diving.”

  With that, Max went below to change into his diving gear, leaving Bunny trying to understand what just happened.

  

  In the air, many miles above Pristine Promise, Ellery Argyle reclined in her seat in the Business Class section beside her dozing blond-haired Australian-surfer-turned-university-professor husband.

  Her thoughts were full of her new home in Seattle and beginning life as a professor’s wife. Mentally including items from the SkyMall magazine in her redecorating scheme for Gilles’s apartment, she pictured herself entertaining his university colleagues in the stylish rooms. Uninvited doubts and insecurities began to creep into her imagination and elbow out the happy thoughts of furniture arrangements and paint colors.

  Would she fit in with Gilles’s friends and co-workers? She was the same age as most of their undergraduate students. The gap of ten years between Gilles and Ellery was no barrier to their own happiness, but might it impact their social life? Possibly hurt his career?

  She’d soon fretted herself to the point of tears. A sniff roused Gilles.

  “Hi, you,” he murmured before kissing her lightly on the tip of her nose. “You okay?”

  “Oh, Gilles, I’m so sorry! I just didn’t think!”

  “Didn’t think about what? Did you leave something back at the hotel?”

  “I never thought about what marrying me might do to your career. I’m so sorry!”

  “Hmm. Well, now, what could our marriage do to harm my career? Let me rack my brains here…oh, I see! Everyone will be so jealous of me for marrying such a smart, talented, kind, beautiful woman that they will try to bring me down in ruin. Did I guess right?”

  “Gilles, don’t tease. I’m serious! I never thought about what our age difference might look like to your colleagues and superiors at the university. And what if I’m a failure as a hostess! What if we have a dinner party for all your friends with their Ph.D.’s and I can’t keep up with the conversation and I look like a total dill. You’ll never get promoted with me dragging you down.”

  “My darling goof, I am already the head of my department. I’m not looking for promotion. I have enough to keep me busy with the Uni and my consulting work for the government. If I were ambitious, you would be a wonderful asset. Anyone can see that I must be the smartest bloke in the world to have convinced someone as wonderful as you to be my bride…in spite of my advanced age.”

  “Are you sure?” Ellery asked in a small, but eager, voice.

  “Absolutely. Oh look, they’re bringing out the plates of highly processed food substitute. Did you order the pseudo-steak or the glutinous pasta entrée?”

  Ellery laughed as Gilles lowered their dinner trays, her insecurities banished.

  .

  Chapter Four

  What have you done, that you have stolen away…and carried away my daughters like captives taken with the sword? ─Genesis 31:26

  “Have you seen any of those pretty, young dancers from the cabaret show since the pirates came on board, Sammy?”

  “No, why do you ask, Celine?”

  “I haven’t seen them in any of the groups, either, and I have a bad feeling. I think those beasts might be using them.”

  “You mean raping them? What gives you an idea like that?”

  “When they dragged us onto the upper deck, I glanced into a couple of the staterooms we passed. I didn’t like what I saw.”

  “You think that is why these goons aren’t bothering the rest of the women? You know, looking around, I think you are about the youngest woman on deck. You don’t suppose they separated out all the younger ones for that, do you?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. You know what men are like, and these are some of the worst of their sex, from the looks of them.”

  “Then why haven’t they bothered you, Celine? Even in your forties, you are by far the prettiest woman on the ship.”

  “Oh, Sammy, stop that,” Celine tossed her lank, mouse-colored hair coquettishly. “I’m just grateful I’m not what they were looking for.”

  Samantha Bohrmer and Celine Havelock, or Mrs. and Mrs. Bohrmer-Havelock, as they preferred to be called since their recent wedding, were among the group of restless captives sitting on the deck of the cruise ship near Franz and Warren. The pair huddled at the edge of this unhappy collection of prisoners and conversed under their breath with their heads close together.

  Nearby, Virginia and Strother Ambrose were quietly praying for their fellow passengers and for the pirates. The Ambroses had been missionaries to the Republic of Congo for many years and were given this cruise as a gift from their son and daughter, to celebrate retirement from full time ministry. Although currently subjected to the same deprivations, dangers and discomforts as the others, this couple appeared serene and content to wait and see what God might have in store for them.

  Their prayers were interrupted by a scuffle breaking out among the brigands. The bald and whippet-thin pirate leader broke up the shouting and pushing with sharp words and blows of his own then sent a few triumphant men below, while the others slunk shamefaced and frustrated back to their posts.

  Not far away from the Ambroses, Warren Meyers calmly observed the commotion. He wondered what the dust-up was all about. He couldn’t be certain since Somali was not among the seven languages he spoke fluently, but the men’s body language indicated they were arguing over who would get to go below.

  The pirates ate in front of their prisoners, probably to increase the passengers’ hunger and further demoralize them, so Warren didn’t think they were taking turns at the chow line. When he considered the lack of young women among those on deck, he had a sick feeling that he might know what was happening. It made him dangerously angry.

  He took several deep breaths to calm himself. Emotion was the enemy of rational thought. He needed clarity just in case he ever saw an opportun
ity to get out of this mess.

  “Why are those nasty men doing this to us?” one of the Bohrmer-Havelocks wailed.

  Warren could have answered her, if he’d cared to. He knew piracy off the coast of Somalia had been a threat to international shipping since the second phase of the Somali Civil War in the early 21st century.

  It was caused in part by illegal fishing and the dumping of toxic waste in Somali waters by foreign vessels, severely constraining the ability of local fishermen to earn an honest living. In response, the fishermen began forming armed groups to stop the foreign ships. They eventually turned to hijacking commercial vessels for ransom as an alternate source of income.

  The pirates claimed they were only protecting their fishing grounds and exacting justice and compensation for the marine resources stolen. But whatever the initial rationale, as piracy became more lucrative, financial gain became the primary motive.

  In recent years an international crackdown on Somali piracy had forced most of the pirates in the region out of business.

  This desperate ragtag group of misfits had attacked the ship much further south than previous incidents, and did not appear to have any idea what to do with it. In fact, from what Warren could tell, the ship now seemed to be drifting aimlessly, as though there were no longer anyone at the helm.

  Warren was distracted from his ruminations by a tall, extremely thin woman with a sharp face and a wild tangle of salt and pepper hair who was attempting to comfort her gangly pre-teen son. The boy was on his feet, whining about his hunger and demanding that his mother do something about it.

  “Hush now, Marco. Mamma will find some food, somehow. These men can’t expect you to go hungry, after all. You are a growing boy. Just sit back down and Mamma will think of something.”

  Their guard, his skin as dark and shiny as a coffee bean and with hawk-like features more suited to a Bedouin prince than a pirate, was still annoyed at losing the recent pushing match when he noticed the boy and strode over, eager to vent his resentment. As he approached Marco, the mother stepped forward, shielding her son.

  “Leave the boy alone. He is just hungry. Why do you not give us food?” she shakily challenged the pirate.

  The angry man snarled an epithet and struck her full in the face with the back of his hand. This blow sent her stumbling back into her son, knocking Marco to the deck, where she collapsed on top of him. The stunned pair remained entangled on the deck, not daring to get up.

  When the guard strutted back to his post, Marco began to sniffle and was soon sobbing aloud. His mother, with blood seeping from her nose, attempted to comfort him once more, only to be rebuffed.

  “You can’t do anything, can you?!” Marco spat out.

  His mother recoiled as though fearing another blow.

  Franz and Warren had both been watching the incident.

  Franz shook his head in disapproval.

  Warren felt a stirring of sympathy, not for the mother, but for the son she had molded into such a selfish creature. He knew it was a challenge to raise a son without a father’s strong presence, but too many single women turned their boys into monsters by babying them on the one hand and expecting them to emotionally fulfill the father’s role in the family on the other.

  “You, boy!” he hissed.

  “Who, me?” the surly boy responded.

  “Yeah, come here…quietly now.”

  His mother was now nursing her bloody nose and failed to notice this exchange.

  “What’s your name?” Warren asked when the curious boy sidled closer.

  “Marco. What’s it to you?”

  “Hi, Marco. I’m Warren. We men need to stick together if we are going to outsmart these scurvy pirates, don’t you think?”

  “Huh?”

  “My friend, Franz here, and I have been talking, making plans for our escape, but we can’t do this alone. We’re not as young as we used to be. We’ve had our eye on you. We need strong, brave young men like you to join with us.”

  Marco squinted skeptically at Warren, to see if he was being mocked, then shrugged noncommittally.

  “Well, are you with us? We need your help, Marco, we all do.”

  “What could I do? I’m just a kid.”

  “How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

  “You’re just making fun of me. I’ll be thirteen next month.”

  “Well, in some cultures twelve is the age of manhood and this is a very serious situation, don’t you agree?”

  “I don’t know…maybe…what did you want me to do, anyway?”

  “Nothing, yet. Just stay alert, keep your mother calm and be ready when the time comes. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Yeah, I guess. But I’m really hungry.”

  “We all are, Marco. Look around you…do you see anyone here who is in some way better off than you? We are all hungry, and frightened, but if we remain calm and try to help each other, we will get through this. Now, look after your mother. That brute hurt her and she wants comforting. You are a man now. She needs you.”

  An expression of chagrin flickered across Marco’s face before he gave Warren a curt nod and made his way back to his mother’s side.

  “There may be hope for the boy, yet,” Warren mumbled to himself.

  

  Bunny was practicing her yoga positions out on deck before preparing a mid-day meal. Crouched low in the child pose and breathing deeply, she was trying to clear her mind and spirit.

  She began practicing yoga after being introduced to it by her older sister, Linda, on their trip to Italy. She wasn’t into Transcendental Meditation, but performed the exercises to keep her body fit and limber. However, she found if she could empty her mind of all but her regular breathing, she was sometimes able to sense God more intimately. What began as an exercise session sometimes became a time of communion, too.

  As she exercised, now, she could hear Max negotiating with some client or other over a Skype Internet connection.

  Why was it that they could, almost miraculously, speak with people over these vast distances, but couldn’t seem to communicate with each other face-to-face? Was there something in Max’s past he didn’t want her to know?

  She felt her body tensing up at this train of thought and gave up on her yoga session. She switched to calisthenics for thirty minutes of jumping jacks, push-ups and shadow boxing.

  During her unhappy marriage to Eustace, Bunny had attempted to comfort herself by overeating. After many years of that technique all she had to show for it was a collection of queen-sized pantyhose and self-contempt. The moments of pleasure she felt when indulging in comfort foods could never be worth the physical and emotional damage it was doing. Pulled up short by a health scare, Bunny had drastically changed her habits and quickly lost most of her excess weight.

  Fear of backsliding was always lurking in the recesses of her mind.

  It was especially important to keep up with her exercises while confined to the small sailboat. Bunny was afraid if she failed to stick to her regimen she might outgrow the sloop and need to be towed behind like an over-inflated raft for the last leg of their voyage. She might even become the target of a near-sighted whaler’s harpoon.

  She was chuckling at this mental image as she descended into the cabin.

  “What’s so funny, Hun?” Max asked as he rose from his computer and clasped her in a quick hug.

  “I was just picturing what I might look like if I gave in to my natural inclinations and spent the rest of the trip just eating and lolling about on deck. Do many whaling ships ply these waters?”

  Max grinned and slapped Bunny lightly on her bottom before grabbing a beer from the refrigerator.

  “I don’t think you’ve got anything to fear, Sweetie. Besides, I kinda like some of those natural inclinations of yours, so don’t stifle too many, okay?”

  Bunny swatted at him as Max trotted up the steps to check the helm.

  She was smiling and humming to herself as she set about the task
of preparing lunch.

  She’d read what shipboard life was once like before portable refrigeration and she was grateful that Pristine Promise had that particular item taken care of with the combination of a roomy refrigerator, a gas generator, solar panels, and battery back-up.

  Still, life on a sailboat held many surprises. On the open sea most of the simplest everyday tasks required a completely different process or at least a new mindset. Everything from plumbing to dishwashing and bathing had to take into account the motion of the boat, as well as the limited fresh water and storage.

  Max had provided a supply of five-gallon portable shower bags for keeping clean at sea. Each bag was good for four or five showers, since they washed first in a bucket of saltwater and then rinsed under the hanging sunshower, right out on deck.

  For washing dishes, they kept a vinegar solution in a spray bottle to spritz the dishes after washing them in salt water. The vinegar rinsed off the salt water and sanitized the dishes, too.

  It had been difficult for Bunny to get used to washing in salt water because the soap didn’t suds up the way she was used to, but it got the job done. For really dirty dishes, Max would hang them over the side in a net bait keeper for a few hours before washing, not exactly something one could do on land.

  Learning to use the boat’s bathroom, or head, had been an adventure in itself for Bunny.

  According to her research, the term ‘the head’ for a ship’s toilet, comes from the days of sailing ships when the place for the crew to relieve themselves was all the way forward on either side of the bowsprit, the part of the hull where the figurehead was fastened. Before the days of toilets, some ships even had a tiny grated platform at the bow of the ship for sailors to use as a makeshift latrine. By being in the very front of the ship, the area was cleaned naturally by splashing waves and odors stayed away from the crew.

  Bunny was relieved, so to speak, that this was no longer the practice when sailing.

  In modern times a marine toilet is used to maintain sanitation on the open sea. A normal toilet will not work because a bowl filled with water would spill out over the sides in rough weather. So, a marine toilet bowl is typically kept dry. Water is then pumped into the bowl before use.