by Jack Dey
Damon turned to Johnny, “Let’s get some sleep.”
Damon’s eyes were tired and his head ached. Tomorrow was going to be another stressful day. He followed Johnny out of the wheelhouse and down into the galley. The galley was quiet, except for the drone of the power generator. No one was around.
“Try get some sleep, Skipper,” Johnny’s concern echoed in his voice.
Johnny opened the door to his cabin, stepped in and closed it, while Damon walked over to his cabin and hesitated, with his hand on the handle. The thought of Charlie’s vacant eyes stabbed at him like a knife in his gut. In a moment of decision, he swung around and headed for the spare cabin, opened the door and dropped onto the bare springs where the mattress should be. He closed his eyes, fell into a fitful sleep and dreamed.
*~*~*~*
CHAPTER 15 - PRESENT DAY
Charlie’s angry voice echoed through a dark empty canyon, “ARE YOU MAD...Mad...mad...mad?!” Then her screaming… hysterical screaming. Those lifeless, staring eyes morphed into Pooch’s face, looming up from the darkness, his hand outstretched.
“H-e-l-p... m-e!”
Then he disappeared, sinking slowly back into the blackness.
Damon awoke with a start and sat bolt upright, looking around in the darkness for some recognition, something safe to reorientate his thoughts. His shirt was soaked with sweat.
That’s right. I’m in the spare cabin. Charlie is sedated in our cabin and Pooch... is... dead!
He lowered his head into his hands, his dreams tormenting him.
"Poochie... oh... Poochie, why you? Why wasn’t it me?!"
The starlight glistened into the cabin through the curtainless window. He could just make out Morris Island and the navigation aid tower through the window in the dappled darkness. For some strange reason, the sight of the structure brought him comfort. Something else was standing alone in the dark to support other people, suffering in silence in all kinds of weather, just to see others pass by in safety.
Not even a thank you as they pass, he thought miserably.
He lifted his wrist to his face and pushed the illuminate button on his watch. 0430. He lay back down on the bare springs, the springs squeaking as his weight rested fully against them again. He could still see the top of the navigation tower through the cabin window from where he lay. He drifted off to sleep again, comforted by the presence of the tower in the dark.
*~*~*~*
Three exuberant blasts from a vessel horn awoke him with a start.
"W..what time is it?" he mumbled to himself, shaking the sleep from his mind and lifting his wrist to his face. The cabin was in full sunlight.
Oh!... 0930!
Damon flew out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him. Knots and Johnny were already placing rubber fenders over the portside, to cushion the police vessel coming alongside. Elishia cornered him as he was about to exit the galley through the aft doors.
“I don’t want anything to do with this, Damon,” she said angrily.
Damon lost it. “In case you don’t know, Pooch died last night saving your sorry butt!” His nostrils flared with anger.
She held his gaze for a long time, searching the fire in his eyes.
“The police are here to interview everyone, including you!” Damon added furiously.
She turned from him and started walking back to her cabin, feeling Damon’s stare into her back. Halfway there, she spun around, her eyes moist. “I am sorry about Pooch. From what I knew of him, he will be missed. Can you let me know when the police want to interview me? I will be in my cabin.”
Damon turned and bounded out the aft doors, still chafing at the insolence of the young redhead.
“Permission to come alongside and tie up!” one of the police officers bellowed.
“Granted!” Damon yelled back.
The police boat was about the same size as Annemarie, but she was a high tech, sleek lined vessel, designed for speeds Damon could only dream about. The skipper skilfully manoeuvred her alongside, gently pressing against the rubber fenders, while the other officer secured her forward and aft, then the skipper killed the engines.
The sound of a low flying aircraft approaching at speed made them look up. As it flew over, it tipped its wings, one way and then the other, twice in succession. The police officers, in their blue uniforms, waved at the pilot.
“Damon Anderson?” one of the officers asked.
“That’s me,” Damon said.
“Senior Sergeant William Lees and this is Senior Constable Drew Mills. Permission to come aboard?”
“Granted,” Damon consented.
The officers shook hands with Damon, then with Johnny and Knots.
Damon ventured, “There are two other women on board. Charlie is my first mate. She was holding the rope when Pooch was taken. She is sedated at the moment and still sleeping. It was really traumatic for her.”
Lees interjected, “It would be traumatic for anybody I would imagine.”
Damon continued, “The other, is the woman who chartered the vessel. She was in her cabin when all this was going on.”
Lees raised his eyebrows.
Damon addressed the two officers, “We found this floating in the water around the time I spoke to you last night. It was Pooch’s torch and the light was still on.”
The officers examined the torch and the frayed lanyard.
“So, this was attached to the... uh... to Pooch,” Mills enquired.
“Yes, that’s right. Tied to his belt, like this,” Damon demonstrated.
Lees flicked open a note pad and began to write. “What is Pooch’s full name?” Lees readied his pen.
Damon had to think. It had been a long time since he had used his real name.
“Arr... Jason Reece,” Damon finally answered, while Lees wrote down the details. All was quiet for a time, as they watched Lees scratching in his notebook.
Finally, Lees broke the awkward silence. “The rescue plane has searched the coordinates you gave us last night in a grid pattern. He had just finished a two hundred mile radius when he flew over us. That was the signal to start the five hundred mile radius. Mr Anderson, we haven’t found anything. I’m sorry.”
Mills broke in, “And judging by the lanyard on the torch and the end of the rope that was around Mr Reece, I doubt we will find him. You would be aware that the sharks out here can grow to enormous size.”
Damon nodded. “Yes, we have brought up some beauties in our nets, when I used to fish these waters.”
Mills just nodded.
Lees spoke again and directed his speech at Damon, “We will have to interview everyone and take statements. That will be best done on the police boat and I think one at a time. We should best start with you, Mr Anderson and maybe finish with the ladies. That okay with you?”
Damon agreed. ”That’s fine.”
It was just after 1400 and all the crew had been interviewed except Charlie, who was still asleep, and Elishia.
Damon knocked on her cabin door and called to her, “Senior Sergeant Lees would like to interview you now, Elishia.”
“I will be right out,” she answered him.
The door opened and Elishia emerged. Damon escorted her to the police boat and helped her from one vessel to the other. Lees’ eyes met Elishia’s. A flicker of recognition flicked across his face and Elishia blushed. It was a fleeting recognition and then it was gone.
But Damon had seen it.
*~*~*~*
CHAPTER 16 - PRESENT DAY
The police vessel gave three long blasts from its horn, a practise adopted by all vessel skippers operating in bureaucratically controlled city environments. Three blasts for reverse, two for forward. It was just after 1700 when the police vessel pulled away from Annemarie, her twin diesel engines cackling as the throttle was thrown wide open.
Damon watched her cut through the water as the distance between the two boats rapidly increased. The search plane had not
seen any sign of Pooch, nor any large sharks in the area. Lees had stonewalled Damon when he had asked about Elishia and would only say that she had corroborated all the other statements.
Charlie had woken up an hour before Lees and Mills left. She was groggy from the sedatives and Damon carried her over to the police boat. Lees was gentle with his manner of questioning and only required yes-no answers. Charlie’s head lay on the table as she tried to answer questions, repeatedly asking for clarification. Lees finally concluded and called for Damon to come across and carry her back.
“There will be a report made for the Coroner. We will require the rope, torch and lanyard to be examined by Police Forensics and we will be in touch if any further information is required,” Lees had said. He added his condolences.
*~*~*~*
The sun set like a giant blood-red ball over Morris Island. If the reason for them being here was in different circumstances, the anchorage at such a pretty place would have been enjoyable. Charlie went back to bed and slept. Damon went up into the wheelhouse and closed the hatch, sitting alone in the steadily increasing darkness. As usual, Elishia was in her cabin, the door firmly closed.
Knots and Johnny sat with a cup of coffee around the table and talked about the last twenty four hours and what Pooch had been to them. Johnny let Knots do most of the talking. He broke down at one stage and Johnny walked around and hugged him and let him cry. Knots would be ok.
It was getting close to 8 pm. Johnny sat alone at the dining table, not feeling hungry at all and then realised Damon hadn’t eaten for over twenty four hours. He quietly climbed the stairs to the hatch, listened for a moment and gently opened it.
“You like some dinner, Skipper?” Johnny quietly asked.
“NO!” Damon’s reply came so forcefully, it shocked them both.
“I..I am sorry, Johnny, I didn’t mean to yell like that.”
Johnny closed the hatch and walked over to where Damon was sitting on the wheelhouse floor. He lowered himself next to Damon and spoke softly, after a long silence.
“Bottling up strong emotion is like swallowing live rat. He not stop chewing up your insides till he break free. You need open up mouth and give him way of getting out, before he make mess of you.”
Damon sighed, his head slumped on his chest and a small tear dribbled down to the end of his nose and plopped onto the floor.
Johnny continued, ”Pooch understand you needed to bring others out of peril. If you went in his place and were killed, no one be able to steer boat to safety and all crew perish. Pooch understand, giving up his life so others can live. Remind me of another life, so many centuries ago, that did same thing and offer His life so many people live. Pooch die, for you to live. One precious seed died and go into ground; dead seed sprout and become big tree and many fruit come from his death. You can despise Pooch death and be angry, or you can wrap arms around his gift and make much of your life. No greater gift can man give, than give up life for friends. You need decide which you will be.”
Johnny stood, put his hand on Damon’s shoulder, lowered his head and began to speak, “Dear Lord Jesus, so much suffering among people You and I love. Please comfort my family, bring wisdom to hurting hearts and make great good from our loved Pooch death.”
Damon heard the simple prayer from the old man, the words hammering at his wounded heart. Johnny opened the hatch and left, but someone else stayed. Damon, stunned by what Johnny had just done, his words still echoing in his head, lay down on the floor and broke.
*~*~*~*
CHAPTER 17 - TORRES STRAIT 1881
Elaine peered through the curtains covering the window to the courtyard outside. The sun had set and darkness hung over the garden like a thick blanket.
“Martha, have you seen Elizabeth?” she asked, a worried tone escaping from Elaine.
“No, Miss Elaine, but I did see her walking out the gate earlier. She headed up over the hill towards the back end of the island,” Martha remembered.
“Call me if you see her come in, please,” Elaine instructed.
“Yes, Miss Elaine,” Martha replied.
Elaine’s face began to show signs of concern, as only a mother could. She paced, thinking that her only daughter had met with something foul.
"I wish Robert would come home," she pleaded to herself.
He had been so distracted with this Davis person, who had just turned up from nowhere and to the extent of ordering Elizabeth to take an interest in him, something he had never done before. Even though Elaine did not agree with Robert’s tactic, she saw no harm in being polite to the gentleman and had supported Robert in his decision. She was surprised at her daughter’s furious argument with her father, something so totally out of character for Elizabeth.
She heard the front door open and rushed into the entry. Robert Jennings stood in the doorway, obviously tired from his day with Davis.
“Elizabeth is missing,” she blurted out, her voice quavering.
”What do you mean, missing?!” the alarm showed in Jennings face.
*~*~*~*
Jundah reached down over Elizabeth and picked her up in his arms, at Merinda’s insistence. Elizabeth had tried to walk, but was too battered to make much progress. It was dark now and they needed to see Elizabeth home, anyway. They picked their way through the darkness, Elizabeth wincing, as Jundah stepped heavily into unseen depressions in their path. Merinda reached for Elizabeth’s hand and held it to give her comfort against the pain, gently stroking it each time she winced.
The Jennings’ home came into view and Merinda ran on ahead to knock on the door for assistance.
*~*~*~*
Robert Jennings had just fetched a lantern and was about to light it, when a knock came at the door. He opened the door to a pretty, young native woman.
“May I help you?” Jennings asked.
“Elizabeth has taken a fall and she is injured slightly,” Merinda said.
Jennings’ face flushed in concern as he saw Jundah walking up, carrying a bruised and battered Elizabeth.
“Thank goodness!” a relieved Jennings sighed. Jennings eyed Jundah as if he was about to reprimand him.
Jundah gently placed Elizabeth into Jennings’ arms and Elizabeth winced at the exchange. He took Elizabeth into a extremely concerned and relieved mother and she began to cluck around her, ordering this and that from the maids. Jennings returned and asked the couple to come inside and explain the ordeal.
After Merinda gave a brief recap of the situation to the Jennings, Robert spoke for himself and Elaine, “We are grateful to you both.”
Elaine nodded in agreement.
Elizabeth had been bathed; her wounds treated and put to bed. She had to gently scold her mother as she continually clucked around her. Elizabeth could hear Merinda speaking from the open door to her bedroom and when Merinda and Jundah stood to leave, she called for her. Merinda walked toward the voice and peered into Elizabeth’s room.
“Over here, Merinda,” she directed.
Elizabeth reached up from her bed with a slight groan, wrapped her arms around Merinda and hugged her. “Thank you, with all my heart! Please come back and see me again,” she pleaded.
Merinda nodded. “Yes, I will.”
In that moment, a bond had been firmly cemented between the two women.
*~*~*~*
“Have a quill and paper sent to my room at your earliest convenience,” Davis commanded the desk attendant as he walked through into his lodgings.
“Mr Davis,” the desk attendant called after him.
“Yes?” he said impatiently.
“A cablegram came for you today,” she responded, handing him the message.
He took the message and turned on his heels and continued to his lodgings. Davis’ mind was abuzz with the happenings of the day, replaying the scene as Jennings opened the shell on the deck of the lugger and the beautiful rose coloured pearl. He opened the door to his lodgings. Six and half thousand pounds kept floatin
g through his mind, like a sweetly scented flower wafting into his nose and titillating his senses. He slammed the door to his lodgings, pulled out the chair to the small writing table and began to read the cable.
“Just as I thought!”
Ideas began tumbling through his mind, a plan forming in the deep reaches of his consciousness, a slight twinkling in his eye. As he paced around the room, the thoughts came fast.
“Brilliant!” he bellowed, then became annoyed with the lack of writing material, afraid he would forget an important angle. “Where is that quill and paper?!” he spat impatiently.
A loud knock on the door interrupted his tirade.
“What took you so long?!” he berated. Davis slammed the door in the face of the maid after she had delivered the quill and paper, not even a thank you.
Davis’ quill scratched at the paper till well after midnight. Finally, he stared at the two rough documents sitting side by side on the table; identical, except for a cleverly concealed paragraph that would transfer Jennings’ wealth to him, making Jennings’ assets worthless. He anticipated that Jennings would want time to consider the document and that would give him enough time to cable a lawyer he had already bought, who would do both documents, for a price, and have it back to him on the next weekly mail service ship. Jennings was no fool. Davis went over his plan again in his head, recalculated all the objections and angles he thought a well informed opponent would likely present.
If my spies are right and Jennings is in trouble, then I should easily be able to pull the trap closed over him. All that is his will be mine, and he will be left holding the bag.
He smiled, convinced all the angles were covered.
All I need now is his signature.