****
Mitch and Kit picked their way across the sand, stepping over driftwood and making fresh tracks. There was no sign of Captain Jack, so the hole in the Lucky Lady captured their attention.
Not nearly so badly wounded as they had feared it might be, the boat still needed a considerable number of repairs. If Captain Jack really knew what he was doing, they might make the Lady seaworthy again in a day. Left to their own devices, there was no telling how long repairs might take.
“So where do you think he is?” Mitch asked Kit.
“Right behind you, Mister.”
The response was so close and so completely unexpected that both men started in surprise. Captain Jack howled with laughter. “Look at you two fellows jump,” he wheezed. “You’d think I was one of those spirits come down to the shore to get you.”
Mitch let go of his derringer and Kit unclenched his fists. Captain Jack kept right on laughing. “Come down to see me so soon, have you? Had enough of your girlfriend already? Well I don’t blame you. Women are trouble. Except,” he added fondly, “for my Lucky Lady.”
“No,” Mitch answered, “we’ve come down to help you fix the boat. We want to leave by sunset.”
“Sunset? You fellows must be smarter than I thought. Those spirits may not like the sunlight, but no ghost worth his salt was ever afraid of the dark.” He walked around them to have a look at the Lady. “So, I’m going to be captain with crew this voyage. I kind of like that. Not so profitable as a captain with passengers, but now I get to give some orders. So I’m giving one. Get up on that there deck and clean out those sea lockers. I’ve got to have some tools if I’m going to fix my girlfriend up again.”
Mitch followed Kit up onto the deck.
****
Mitch found the old shotgun with a strange mixture of hope and trepidation. It was wrapped in oilcloth and tied with twine and packed in the bottom of an old sea locker. He untied the fastenings with trembling fingers, spilling loose shells onto the deck. He ignored the shells and examined the barrel, cringing when he saw signs of rust.
“That’s my Pappy’s,” Captain Jack informed him when he noticed what Mitch was doing. “I take it out every once in a while and clean it if it needs it.”
“If it needs it?” Mitch asked. Salt air was notoriously hard on metal.
“It usually does,” Captain Jack admitted. “I just ain’t got much use for a gun.”
Mitch broke open the stock to make sure the barrel was empty, then locked it again. He cocked the hammers and held them near his ear so he could listen to the action when he pulled the triggers. “This must have been beautiful once. It’s a sin to neglect a weapon like this.”
“I didn’t neglect it,” Captain Jack protested. “I just didn’t have much use for it. My Pappy, he liked to keep it handy in case something untoward happened. Me, I just prefer to sail away from trouble.”
“Does it have any shells?” Kit asked.
“There’s a box of cartridges. Who knows how many will fire?”
A possibility in front of him, Mitch came to a sudden decision. “Let’s find out. Kit, toss that gun oil up here. You two don’t really need my help.”
“Don’t need your help? I’ll decide whose help I need. I’m the captain. You’re proposing mutiny.”
“Let’s just say I’m preparing to defend your decks,” Mitch suggested.
“All hands repel borders,” Captain Jack laughed. “Now there’s something I never thought I’d live to see.”
****
Slow-moving Joseph was running all out when he hit the beach. Mitch watched him approach over the barrel of his shotgun. He was not taking hard aim, but was definitely pointing the gun in Joseph’s direction. Kit watched the servant also, but with less concern than Mitch. Joseph didn’t worry Kit. He was saving his concerns for Miguel.
“Mr. Pembroke,” Joseph panted, “Mr. Moran, you’ve got to come back to the house.”
“Why?” There was more defiance than suspicion in Mitch’s voice.
“There’s been an accident. Miss Lorali…” He paused to catch his breath.
Mitch lowered the gun. “Lorali’s been hurt?”
Joseph shook his head. “No, it’s Miss Tharpe. Miss Lorali sent me to fetch you.”
“What happened?” Kit asked. He was suspicious, not defiant.
“Miss Tharpe was looking at some grave markers. The ground around here isn’t always good and it caved in beneath her. Now the sides of the hole she’s trapped in are starting to fall in. She’ll suffocate for sure if we don’t get her out soon.”
“Damn!” This was precisely the sort of problem that neither Mitch nor Kit needed. They had been working on the Lucky Lady all day, and it actually looked as if they might finish in time to get past the reefs in daylight. Now this, and there was nothing they could do but help rescue the woman. They wouldn’t be able to live with themselves if they didn’t.
“Kit, grab that coil of rope. Joseph go back to the house and tell Lorali we’re on our way. Then find Charlie Diamond and get him out there to help us. And keep everyone away from the edge of the hole—no closer than ten or fifteen feet.”
Joseph ran back toward the house.
“Captain Jack,” Mitch continued.
“Don’t you worry about me none. I’ll stay right here and finish the Lady. We’ll be sitting here ready to sail when you get back.”
“I don’t like leaving you here alone,” Mitch protested.
“You want to spend another night here instead? Now get going. And take that old shotgun with you. I’d probably shoot myself if I tried to fire the fool thing.”
****
Everyone had gathered by the sinkhole when Mitch and Kit arrived, everyone on the island but Derek, Miguel, and Captain Jack. Lorali had brought lanterns against the lengthening shadows of the afternoon, but that was the end of any show of initiative. Lorali, Charlie, and Joseph simply had no idea what to do.
The sinkhole, Mitch could see, was seven or eight feet across. Miss Tharpe was not in sight, but she could hear Mitch’s voice when he called to her.
“Mr. Pembroke,” the voice was excited, not scared. “Thank goodness it’s you. I’ve made the most incredible discovery. Just wait until you see. You have to come down and get me out of here.”
“I can’t do that, Miss Tharpe.”
“Then send Mr. Moran then,” she ordered, excitement instantly turning to annoyance when her wishes were frustrated. “I have made the most incredible discovery.”
“Miss Tharpe,” Mitch’s voice was calm, serious and very firm. “Listen to me very carefully. The ground around the edge of the hole you are in is unstable. If we try to come down after you, the sides of the hole could collapse and you might be buried and suffocate. Do you understand? We can’t come down to get you.”
“Oh dear,” Miss Tharpe exclaimed, evidently only just beginning to realize the weight of her predicament. Her self-confidence began to erode. “How are you going to get me out of here then?”
“Trust me.” Mitch could be reassuring when he wanted to be. “Now I need you to answer a few questions for me, all right? Are you buried in dirt right now?”
“Yes, I slipped into something. I’m buried to my waist.”
“But your hands and arms are free?”
“Oh, yes, I can move about. Even one of my feet.”
“Your feet?” Mitch asked again.
“Yes, I told you. I slipped into something. There must be a cave or something below me. My right foot is dangling free.”
Mitch tried to conceal his concern. If Miss Tharpe slipped once she could slip again, especially when they started to move her. He had to keep her calm.
“That’s good,” Mitch lied, “but I want you to move as little as possible. Let’s not do anything that might disturb those walls. Now, we can’t see you from where we’re standing, so I need you to look up and tell me how high the walls reach over your head. How deep are you?”
“A few
feet,” Miss Tharpe answered with uncharacteristic vagueness.
“Not ten?”
“No, I don’t think it’s quite ten.”
“How about five?”
“I think it’s closer to eight.”
“That’s good,” Mitch assured her again. He motioned to Kit to bring him the rope, quickly tied a bowline in one end and threaded the rope through to make a loop. He explained his plans clearly and carefully so that everyone would understand.
“Miss Tharpe, I’m going to throw a rope down to you. I want you to put the loop over your head and shoulders and pull your arms through. Then Charlie, Kit, and I will pull you up to the surface. Okay?”
“All right,” Miss Tharpe agreed.
Mitch coiled a few loops in his hand, then tossed the bowline into the center of the pit. Miss Tharpe gathered it up and hooked the rope under her arms. “I’m ready,” she announced.
Mitch, Kit, and Charlie took their places on the line with Charlie and his weight standing furthest from the hole to anchor them. “Gentlemen,” Mitch instructed, “we want slow and steady force.”
Lorali and Joseph watched eagerly from the side as the three men took up the slack and began to pull.
“I…I think I see her hands,” Joseph announced.
Miss Tharpe groaned.
“Keep pulling,” Mitch’s voice was calm and sure. “Steady pressure, no sudden jerks.”
“I see her,” Joseph repeated. “You’re freeing her. Just a few more feet.”
“It hurts,” Miss Tharpe complained. Then her voice took on a decidedly more urgent note. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Mitch gasped, trying to haul another arm’s length of rope toward him while his feet searched for traction in the soft dirt.
“Something touched me,” Miss Tharpe reported. “Something, something’s down here. Oh, help! Help! Something’s grabbed me! Something’s grabbed me!”
The length of rope surged back toward the pit, hauling all three men five feet closer to the edge of the sinkhole. “Oh, God,” Mitch prayed as his feet lost purchase and he continued to slide forward. “Pull, damn you, pull!”
Lorali ran forward and grabbed the end of the rope behind Charlie, wrapping it around the nearest tree. Mitch stopped sliding three feet from the pit’s edge.
“I can’t see her anymore,” Joseph announced.
“I can,” Mitch grunted, “at least her hand and arm.”
“Help!” Miss Tharpe screamed again, proving her head was still above ground. “It’s biting me! It’s biting me!”
“Kit,” Mitch ordered. “Forget the rope. Get up here where you can see and shoot into the ground around her.”
“Mitch?”
“Just do it. Maybe you’ll hit something.”
Kit dropped the rope and drew his pistol, sliding dangerously close to the edge. It was a miracle the ground hadn’t collapsed under Mitch already. Kit had no doubt that it would soon give out. He aimed and fired, quickly placing three bullets around Miss Tharpe’s body, then leapt back from the edge.
The rope surged back toward Mitch and Charlie. Lorali immediately took in the slack.
“Pull!” Mitch grunted. “Give it everything you’ve got, Charlie.”
The fat man took a deep breath and heaved. Kit holstered his pistol and rejoined the line.
“I see her,” Joseph announced again. “Keep pulling.”
In two more ferocious tugs, Miss Agnes Tharpe broke free of the ground. They dragged her clear of the pit and rolled her onto her back.
“It’s got me,” the woman mumbled. “Help, please help.”
“Does anyone know anything about medicine?” Mitch asked.
“I was a boxer, you know,” Kit reminded him.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Kit took over and scraped at the dirt and blood congealing on the woman’s leg. “Joseph, get some water. I’m going to have to try and clean this gash.”
Mitch and Kit leaned closer, peering at the wound. It was still difficult to see through the grime, but blood was seeping from a half-dozen scratches on her calf. The nastier wound was a roundish hole where the meat had been ripped off her leg. The flesh around it was already swelling and turning black.
“I think that’s a bite, not a gash,” Mitch corrected his friend.
“A bite?” Charlie asked. “But what could have bitten her? She was buried in the ground.”
“Maybe something like this,” Mitch suggested, prying a skull free of Miss Tharpe’s clenched right hand.
“Let me see that.” Charlie took the skull from Mitch and turned it over in his hands. “It don’t look quite right. Must belong to some kind of ape.”
“Not ape,” Mitch corrected him. “A-cha-te.”
****
It was dark by the time Kit finished cleaning Miss Tharpe’s wound. The woman was burning with fever and rambling in and out of consciousness. Kit was convinced that she would die without a doctor. He just wasn’t certain if she had a few hours or a few days.
“All right people,” Mitch announced, picking up the shotgun. “We are getting out of here. Kit, you carry Miss Tharpe, and we will convince Captain Jack to try and sail out of here by moonlight.”
“You can’t get away like that.” Lorali’s voice was soft, barely audible. “The only safe place is in the house.”
“It’s not that safe,” Mitch corrected her, remembering the night before. “You said it yourself. We have to get away from here. Help us.”
“It’s too late for that. Night has fallen and you know too much. Come back to the house. I won’t let them harm you.”
“Won’t let them harm me? Or won’t let them harm us?” Mitch’s gesture included Kit, Charlie, and Tharpe.
“Mitch?”
“That’s what I thought. We’re going to the Lucky Lady, Lorali, and we’ll do what we have to do to anyone or anything that tries to stop us.”
Kit cradled Miss Tharpe in his arms and snatched up her strange skull as well. Charlie pulled out his pistol and picked up the lantern.
“You can still come with us, Lorali,” Mitch offered.
She shook her head. “You’re not going to make it.”
****
Lorali was correct.
The Lucky Lady had seen her last day. During Mitch and Kit’s absence, someone had taken a boat hook to the Lady’s hull and torn a twenty-foot gash in its thirty-foot length. There was no sign of Captain Jack.
“I should have left the shotgun,” Mitch berated himself.
“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” Kit said. “Captain Jack said it himself. He didn’t know how to use the weapon.”
“Then we shouldn’t have left him alone,” Mitch argued.
“Then Miss Tharpe would be dead,” Kit countered. “You can’t do everything. Captain Jack made his choice. Maybe he isn’t dead.”
Kit carefully laid Miss Tharpe on the sand while Charlie started to complain.
“I can’t believe you guys. Who cares if the old guy is dead? The boat is ruined. That means we’re stuck on this island.” He shuddered visibly. “That means we’re all in for it.”
Kit caught Mitch’s eye, then jerked his head toward the boat. Mitch nodded and followed Kit up onto the deck.
“What are you doing?” Charlie demanded. “Don’t you get it, the boat is dead.”
“Charlie, if you don’t shut up, I’ll feel compelled to give you another stomachache,” Kit advised him.
“Why are you mad at me?” Charlie asked him.
Kit ignored the fat man so that he could stop Mitch from entering the Lucky Lady’s cabin. Drawing his pistol, he assumed the lead and let Mitch follow him in.
The tide lapped in the lagoon, gently slapping the Lady’s stern, rocking the boat gently to and fro. Whoever had wrecked the hull had stopped inside the cabin as well. The cabinet doors had been pulled open and their contents thrown about. The bunk had been cut to shreds and everything else mangled.
&n
bsp; Mitch breathed a sigh of relief. “No body, maybe he wasn’t here.”
“He was here,” Kit corrected him. The bodyguard holstered his pistol and crouched down to steady himself. One large hand rested on the frame of the bed, the other balanced his weight against the floor. “There’s an awful lot of blood over here. Captain Jack must be dead.”
Kit started to turn back to Mitch when his eyes caught sight of something in the pantry. His fingers tightened on the bed frame and his jaw clenched closed to keep the contents of his stomach in his throat.
Concerned, Mitch started to push forward but Kit wrenched himself to his feet and prevented him from doing so.
“What is it?” Mitch kept asking as Kit manhandled him out of the cabin onto the deck.
“Captain Jack,” Kit gasped, still struggling to control his twisting stomach. “They put his head in the pantry. Packed it in with the other food.”
The ex-boxer leaned on the gunwale and breathed the cool salt air.
Charlie began to puke.
****
“What kind of people are we dealing with?” Charlie asked for at least the seventh time.
Mitch tried to ignore him. The fat man had a way of really getting on his nerves. He had to find a way to get Kit, Lorali, and Miss Tharpe off Lazarus Key, and he didn’t have time for senseless questions. It didn’t matter what kind of men they were. They already knew that they were willing to kill.
“What kind of man cuts off a guy’s head and sticks it in the cupboard?”
“You tell me,” Mitch suggested. “You’re the one who told us about Miguel.”
Charlie cringed at the name. “We’re all dead,” he muttered. “There’s no way they’ll let us leave here.”
“Not yet,” Mitch insisted. “There has to be another way off this island. The Sinclairs must have a boat.”
“Maybe that’s it over there,” Kit suggested.
Mitch and Charlie turned to see what had captured Kit’s attention. While they had been speaking, the moon had risen over the horizon revealing a yacht moored in the lagoon. It was larger than Captain Jack’s boat and rested peacefully in the water a mere quarter mile from the shore.
“We’re saved,” Charlie announced, starting down toward the water’s edge. “One of you can swim out there and bring it closer to shore.”
“That’s not a wise idea,” Kit advised. “These waters are full of sharks.”
Charlie shuddered at the thought, but remained undeterred. “One of you can make it. It’s not that far. Why should the sharks bother you?”
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