Terrors of the High Seas - DK6

by Melissa Good

  Before she followed Dar inside the ship, Kerry did a quick check of her BC to make sure all her hoses were tucked into their holders and nothing was dangling. She pulled out her own light and turned it on, illuminating a ghostly world of algae-incrusted wood. The structure inside was heavily damaged, but her imagination was able to fill in the missing pieces.

  She could envision the sailors who’d lived there, and the cargo they carried across the warm basin of the Caribbean. Long ago, this ship had held dreams. Now all that remained were ghosts, and the flash of odd eyes as her flashlight skimmed over the interior. For a fleeting moment, the thought occurred to her that the eyes belonged to those lost souls who went down with the ship, still there after all these years. Then a lobster scuttled by her, waving its claws menacingly, and Kerry jumped, almost cracking her head against the wood above her. Okay, she told her imagination sternly, save it for topside. With a shake of her head, she drifted down toward the bottom of the hold. Tiny fish swirled around her curiously and as her light reflected off something unidentifiable, she peered closer.

  Dar approached, lifting her dive computer and displaying the time they had remaining. Kerry nodded, then pointed with her light, catching the flash again. They both swam closer, peering under the collapsed ribs and time deteriorated cases piled on the bottom, resting against what had once been the side of the ship.

  Dar tried to edge closer on one side, but her bulk kept her from getting any nearer. Frowning, she motioned Kerry over, but even Kerry’s smaller form was too wide to fit through with her tank on.

  Dar considered a moment, then she turned Kerry around and unclasped her tank from her BC, holding it in one hand and moving it to one side.

  Kerry grasped the spar and pulled herself down, now just able to get between the wood and the side of the ship. She could see the shining something, and as she squiggled closer and her motion brushed a collection of algae off it, it resolved itself into a flat surface. She felt Dar’s hand on her hip in a reassuring pat, and she edged a little further, now able to put her hand on whatever it was.

  She just about panicked when an eel suddenly erupted from around the object, squirming right past her neck toward Dar and giving her a lash with its tail on the way out. A muffled burst of noise came from Kerry’s throat, sending a stream of bubbles upward, but after a jerk behind her as Dar got out of the eel’s way, the comforting pat returned.

  Jesus. Kerry flexed her hand and reached a little further, getting her fingers around the surface and tugging. It resisted her pull but 38 Melissa Good she persisted, and with the faintest crackling as she freed it from the growing coral, it came loose and she brought it closer to her mask.

  It was a box. The shine had been the hammered metal insignia which covered it, though corrosion had mostly obscured the design.

  Kerry started backwards, glad for the grip on her belt that was guiding her out of the tight spot. Dar peered over her shoulder as she reattached Kerry’s tank, and they both gazed curiously at her find.

  A buried treasure. Kerry blinked delightedly. Even if it was, as it appeared to be, just an old box, still—the box held history, and it fascinated her. She clutched it tightly as they made their way out of the hold and into the open sea, which seemed brilliantly lit by sunlight now that they were out of the darkness of the ship.

  Dar gave her a big thumbs up and Kerry returned it, grinning around her regulator. They leisurely made their way back to the anchor line, carried now by the drift current going in the opposite direction. Kerry tucked her treasure away in her BC pocket as she gripped the line, ready to just watch the show around her as they slowly made their way out of one world, and back to their own.

  ”WHOO.” KERRY RUFFLED her hair dry with a towel and padded across the deck. “Dar, that was awesome.”

  Dar looked up from the basin, at the bottom of which rested their little prize. She studied Kerry’s face, a smile on her own responding to the honest delight she saw there. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”

  Kerry applied the towel to her lover’s body, drying the droplets of seawater off it. “That eel scared the poo out of me, though. Did it hit you on its way out?”

  “Right in the mask, yeah.” Dar chuckled. “Bounced off me and just kept going. He was a big one.” She glanced up as the sound of far off engines disturbed the otherwise peaceful air, and watched as a small tender approached, slowing when they came even, very obviously giving them the once over.

  Kerry peered over Dar’s shoulder. “What’s that all about?” she queried. “We’ve got the dive flag out. Is there a problem with that here?”

  “Nah.” Dar frowned. “There’s a thousand old wrecks like this around these islands. That’s just an old island freighter. Some of the historic wrecks have no-dive zones, but not this area.”

  “So what’s their problem?” The small boat circled them lazily, then after a moment, roared off.

  Dar watched the small boat retreat into the distance. “Beats me.” She shrugged. “Maybe they’re not used to people using a 56

  Terrors of the High Seas 39

  foot Bertram as a dive platform.” She finished covering the seawater-filled water well that held the box they’d brought up.

  “Let’s leave that in there until I figure out how to take it out of the water and not have it fall to bits on us.”

  “Rats.” Kerry’s arms circled from behind and gave Dar a squeeze. “I wanted to open it up and see inside.” She inspected the basin. “I know it’s nothing much, just an old cigar box or something, but—”

  Dar turned around and returned the hug, giving Kerry’s neck a friendly scratch. “I think we might need some oil first…to keep the wood from drying out. Tomorrow, okay?”

  “Mm.” Kerry licked a few remaining drops of water off Dar’s throat. “Okay.” She released her lover, but took her hand and led her over to the cooler. “Share an iced tea with me?”

  “Sure.” Dar waited while Kerry opened the bottle and took a swig, then accepted it and sucked down a mouthful herself. She swished the tea around before she swallowed it, clearing the last taste of saltwater and rubber from the dive. “All right, how about we pull up anchor and go get us some conch?”

  Kerry stifled her mild amusement over the casual speech, wondering if Dar knew how much she sounded like her father sometimes. In the office, it almost never showed. There, Dar’s vocalizations—when they weren’t wall-rattling yells—were crisp and sharply professional. Only when they were alone and her lover was relaxed did her Southern upbringing tend to slip in. “Sounds great to me, Dixiecup,” Kerry teased. “I’ll go pull in the buoy.”

  Dar captured her with one long arm and pinned her up against the bulkhead. “You making fun of my accent, you little Yankee?”

  “Nope.” Kerry ran her hands over Dar’s still damp body. “I love your accent. I wish you’d let it out more often.”

  One of Dar’s eyebrows lifted expressively.

  “I so want to hear you tell Jose to ‘get yer damn ass outta mah office.’” Kerry giggled. “Yah damn little pansy assed pissant.”

  Dar burst into laughter. “He’d piss in his pants.”

  Kerry nodded cheerfully. “Exactly!”

  Dar’s chuckles wound down, and she quieted. “It’s funny…you liking my redneck side.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “It just is. To me, anyway. I worked so hard to cover all that up,” Dar said. “I remember sitting in a management meeting once, after I’d made regional director, and listening to three of the other people there trash one of the Southern project managers.” She exhaled. “Called him a hick and a lowlife redneck.”

  Kerry sighed. “They make fun of everyone, Dar.”

  Dar nodded. “I know. But this was different, because it might as well have been me they were talking about, only the other guy 40 Melissa Good wasn’t bothering to pretend.” She gazed thoughtfully over Kerry’s shoulder.

  “Mm.” Kerry was slowly rubbing Dar’s back, easing
the tension she felt there. “What did you do?” she asked softly.

  “Called them jackasses and told them to go find some class before the company had to buy it for them,” Dar admitted.

  “That’s my Dar.” Kerry leaned her head against Dar’s collarbone, soft chuckles emerging from her throat.

  “Yeah, well.” Dar had to smile herself. “After that, they never did say anything about rednecks in any meeting I was in.”

  No. Kerry hugged her frequently curmudgeonly boss. “I bet they didn’t.” Just like no one says anything about you… in any meeting I’m in. Damn right.

  Chapter

  Five

  THE SMALL ISLAND they pulled into was definitely laid back.

  As they approached, Kerry peered over the railing with interest, noting the gorgeous white beach and the cluster of small, sun bleached buildings behind the spare, patched together docks.

  “Now, Kerrison,” she murmured to herself, “we’re not doing the Waldorf here.”

  Of course, she wasn’t dressed for the Waldorf, anyhow. Kerry glanced down at her stonewashed, white short overalls and sandals, her lips twitching as she imagined her family’s reaction to the worn fabric and the cutoff, sleeveless gray sweatshirt she wore under it.

  “I’m just a proper marine vagabond, I am.”

  Dar skillfully navigated the Bertram into a slot at the end of the dock. Kerry tossed the bow rope to the young boy who ran up to greet them, then took the stern rope and jumped onto the wooden surface, pulled the line taut around the rusted cleat, and tied it off.

  “Thanks.” She smiled at the boy, who shyly smiled back at her. He had dark skin, and brown shaggy hair and eyes, and he was dressed in a pair of denim shorts and nothing else.

  His eyes went past her and widened a little. Kerry turned her head to see Dar leaping off the boat, a broad grin on her face. “Hey, Rufus,” she said, pausing and sticking her hands into her pockets.

  “What do you think?”

  “Wow!” the boy replied. “Killer boat, Dar!” His eyes roved over the vessel. “C’n I ride it?”

  Dar chuckled. “Later, yeah.” She put a hand on Kerry’s shoulder. “This is my friend Kerry. Kerry, this is Rufus.”

  Rufus studied Kerry warily. “Hi.”

  Kerry held a hand out. “Hi, Rufus. Nice to meet you.” She waited for the boy’s hesitant handclasp, and then returned it gently.

  Rufus backed off a step. “I’ll go tell dada you’re here, Dar,” he said, and then he turned and ran off, bare feet almost soundless on the wood.

  Dar exhaled as she watched him go. “I’m looking forward to 42 Melissa Good seeing his father,” she said, guiding Kerry up the dock. “He was in the service with Dad.”

  “Ah!” Kerry smiled. “His friends are always interesting people.”

  “Mm,” Dar agreed. “He doesn’t know.” Her eyes flicked to Kerry’s face. “About my father being alive. There’re no phones out here. I think he keeps it that way on purpose. Dad was going to make a run out here, but I told him we were stopping, and that I’d pass the news.”

  Kerry read several levels of meaning in her lover’s words.

  “Hm.” She studied the small cluster of weatherworn buildings. “I’m looking forward to meeting him, then. He lives here?”

  “He runs the joint we’re having dinner at,” Dar said. “After he got discharged on a medical, he came out here and set up this place.

  He and his partner—they do all the cooking and brew their own beer.”

  Kerry’s ears perked up. “Partner?” she queried. “Partner, like you and me partner?”

  Dar nodded.

  “Hmm.”

  “They adopted Rufus. He showed up one day on a little raft and just refused to leave.”

  Kerry absorbed all that as they walked off the dock and onto a shell-strewn path. As they approached the buildings, a figure came out onto the porch of the largest one, placed hands on the porch railing and leaned on it.

  “Look at what that damn wind blew in, wouldja?”

  The man behind the railing was tall and had a chunky build, but that’s not what Kerry noticed. He was also missing a leg. Below his right knee, swathed in an overlarge pair of dark green khaki shorts, extended a metal frame. On the end of the frame was a well-worn shoe. He had thick, silvered brown, curly hair and a bushy beard, and his skin was criss-crossed with thin but noticeable scars.

  Dar lifted a hand. “Howdy, Charlie.”

  The man limped down the wide, wooden steps and came to meet them, pulling Dar into an enthusiastic hug. “Damn, it’s been over a year, Dar. Where’ve ya been?”

  Dar released him. “Here and there,” she replied. “Charlie, this is Kerrison Stuart.” Her arm draped over Kerry’s shoulders. “My chosen one.”

  The man turned to study Kerry, who was hard pressed to hide her bemused surprise at Dar’s new term for her. “Ahhh, so that’s where you been, huh?” He held out a hand. “Ms. Stuart, it’s an honor and a pleasure.”

  “Mine too.” Kerry rose to the occasion, clasping his hand firmly. “I hear you make some mean conch chowder.”

  Terrors of the High Seas 43

  Charlie laughed, clapping Dar on the shoulder and gesturing toward the larger building. “C’mon. Let’s go siddown and let me prove out my reputation. We got some catching up to do.” He limped ahead of them, obviously used to his disability to the point where it didn’t appreciably hamper him.

  Kerry and Dar followed after him, Dar with her arm still draped over Kerry’s neck.

  “Chosen one?” Kerry inquired softly, giving her lover a curious look.

  Dar’s jaw bunched, and she glanced down at the ground before she snuck a look at Kerry’s face. “I’ll explain later,” she murmured as they reached the steps. “It’s a compliment.”

  “Duh.” Kerry bumped Dar’s hip with her own as they walked up the stairs. “Looks like we’ll have lots of interesting things to talk about tonight.”

  “Hm.” Dar held the door open and they went inside.

  KERRY GLANCED AROUND curiously at the inside of the little shack. They were seated at one of six tables, all made of hand worked driftwood. The room wasn’t much bigger than her bedroom at the condo, though at the rear, swinging doors led into the kitchen. Though the large, square windows on three sides of the room let in the glow of sunset and a cool breeze, the place was lighted by oil lamps hanging on the walls and sitting on the tables.

  Two other tables were occupied, one by two scruffy-looking men in beachcomber outfits, and the other by a handsome islander and his female companion, who—to all appearances—were on their honeymoon.

  “Smells great in here,” Kerry commented, sniffing appreciatively at the spicy, delicious scents coming from the kitchen.

  A quirky grin twisted Dar’s lips. “Not too rustic for you?”

  “Dar,” Kerry frowned, glancing down at herself, “did I forget to rip the alligator off my shirt pocket or something today?”

  Dar fingered the woven rope salt and pepper holder. “Just kidding.”

  “No, that’s the second time you brought this up.” Kerry shook her head. “Are you really that sensitive about dragging a Midwestern WASP around with you?” She turned her head and regarded Dar seriously, finding soft, round blue eyes gazing back at her. “Honey?” She put a hand on Dar’s in pure reflex.

  After a moment, Dar cleared her throat with a touch of sheepishness, and propped her chin on her fist. “Yeah, I really am that sensitive,” she admitted quietly. “Sorry.”

  Kerry relaxed a little, stroking Dar’s fingers with her own. “I’ll 44 Melissa Good just have to work on that, then.” She glanced up as Charlie limped over, almost jumping up to help him as he navigated a tray toward them.

  “Naw, just siddown, there, little lady.” Charlie managed to get the tray on the table without spilling a thing. “Go figure. Bud’s over on the big island, right when I need ’im.” He set a large bowl of steaming, spicy scented, almost stew-like
soup in front of each of them. “There ya go.”

  “Wow.” Kerry blinked at the mass of rich broth and seafood.

  “This looks great.”

  Charlie grinned at her. “Ya got good taste, but I knew that—

  seeing as you picked old Dar here. Get you anything else for now?”

  Kerry looked up at him. “The biggest mug of beer you have. I think I’ll need it.”

  An even bigger grin split his face. “You got it. Dar, same for you?”

  Dar nodded vigorously.

  “All right. I’ll get these here folks taken care of, then we can sit down and catch up… how’s that?” Charlie picked up his tray.

  “Sounds great,” Dar replied. “Thanks, Charlie.”

  He winked at them, then limped back toward the kitchen, disappearing behind the two swinging doors.

  Kerry waited a few moments, watching Dar out of the corner of her eye. The dark haired woman was fiddling with her spoon, a pucker visible above her eyebrows. “Dar?”

  “Hm?”

  A tumble of words suddenly filled Kerry’s mouth and she let them out, almost without thinking. “You want to talk about it?”

  Dar cocked her head, gazing at Kerry curiously for several heartbeats, then she put her spoon into her chowder and stirred it.

  “It’s…um...” She hesitated as Charlie returned and put two huge tankards with nice, foamy heads down in front of them. “Thanks.”

  Kerry grinned in appreciation. “Ditto.”

  Charlie chuckled, and then headed off toward the next customers.

  Kerry took a sip of her beer. It was rich, with a nutty taste—

  smooth, and very, very potent. “Ooh.” She licked her lips. “This could be dangerous.”

  “It is.” Dar took a sip of her own brew, then a second, longer one before she set the mug down. “The last time I was here, I got in trouble with it.” She studied the tankard. “Charlie and my father were good friends.”

  Kerry accepted the sudden change of subject with grace. She made an encouraging noise. “Mmhm.”

  “But Dad and Bud never got along,” Dar continued with a sigh.