The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

By Pat Richards

A fortune in Palmer River gold disappeared on the Great Barrier Reef during a cyclone over a century ago.

Vietnam veteran, Scott, operating big-fi sh charters out of Port Douglas in Far North Queensland with friend and fellow vet Ben, has researched the history of the treasure for years.

After finding a clue to its whereabouts, their search leads to the Ribbon Reefs where they fi nd the wreck of an old warplane hiding a gruesome secret about a powerful politician.

The innocent discovery almost costs them their lives. Meanwhile, the local drug baron is insisting on a favour in return for financing their boat.

Fashion executive Michelle comes to their rescue, but is there more to her offer than appears on the surface? As if their local enemies were not enough trouble, they stumble onto an ancient secret that the Chinese government wants to remain hidden forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Sep 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493105670

Pat Richards

Retiring at the end of 2004 after 30 odd years writing and designing computer software systems, Pat fulfilled a long desire to write a work of fiction. He has since written two more novels to add to The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea. The sequel Talk of the Devil will be published some time in 2014 and a completely different genre The Devil May Care should appear sometime after that. Pat lives in Mandurah, Western Australia with his wife Carolyn and has two adult sons currently studying at the University of Western Australia.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Trolling for Trouble

C hecking the barometer for the thirteenth time within as many minutes, Scott turned to watch his partner wrestle with the wheel as they crested another huge swell. ‘Bloody hell, it’s fallen another ten points in a quarter of an hour. Just for my memoirs, tell me again why we’re out here dancing with Winifred, will you?’

Ben Merchant braced himself on the solid wheel, stocky legs planted widely on the rolling deck and with his muscular backside wedged against the captain’s chair. ‘You know we need the money. There’s the fuel bill to pay, plus our slippage charges from last year.’ He forced a laugh through gritted teeth. ‘Besides, it’s only a Category three and cyclones are unpredictable. This one might swing out to sea or even fizzle away.’

Scott snorted, ‘only a three’, as he peered through the overworked Clearview at the churning seas. Even at maximum revolutions, the spinning pane struggled to clear the spray. ‘It doesn’t look much like a fizzer. The pressure’s dropping like a sinker and the seas are already over five metres. We could always head back to Cooktown, throw the charter over the side and keep his money,’ he suggested jokingly.

‘Hold on,’ Ben yelled as they plunged off the back of a wave into the yawning trough.

Scott felt his stomach try to force itself into his mouth, before heading for the opposite orifice as they crashed into the trough. The impact shuddered through the deck, as though a giant hand shook the boat.

‘Christ, you may be right,’ Ben admitted, his voice betraying a tinge of alarm for the first time, ‘I hope the waves aren’t as steep in the deeper water. I don’t know how long the old girl can take the battering if it gets much worse.’

The Datura was a Bertram Sport Fisherman 56-footer, built in Florida during 1982. Driven by two 675 hp GM engines, her twin screws were good for cruising at 15 knots or 19 knots flat out. She was a solid sea-worthy vessel, but no boat this size was a match for nature in a bad mood.

Scott patted the fibreglass cockpit fondly. ‘She’s as solid as a rock. We just have to hope she continues to float better than one. I’ll go and check on the punter. With any luck, he’s fallen overboard without our help by now.’

Arnold Sanderson leaned against the starboard railing, watching the rolling waves surge past. A grin split his face from ear to ear. ‘These cyclones of yours aren’t too bad, nothing like the hurricanes back home. I don’t know why you were making such a fuss about coming out here,’ he shouted at Scott over the roar of the wind.

Scott gaped incredulously at the business mogul. ‘This isn’t the cyclone. It’s just a precursor storm, a little bubble before the main event. Besides, we’re still inside the protection of the reef. There’s no way we’d be out here if the real thing was anywhere near us,’ he yelled at Sanderson, biting his tongue before he called his customer an idiot. He thrust an orange lifejacket into his hands. ‘Here, you’d better put this on. It’ll get rough soon enough.’

The American’s complexion blanched slightly as the statement sank in, before his arrogance resurfaced. He threw the jacket back inside the saloon. ‘Don’t you worry about me, pal, I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not wearing any floatie.’

Scott again bit back on the retort he longed to utter, swinging onto the ladder to the fly bridge and calling over his shoulder, ‘Well, it’s your funeral you’ll be missing. At least stay inside the saloon when we get outside the reef, Ben hates circling round looking for men overboard.’

Sanderson issued a muffled grunt at the retreating back, before glancing again at the boiling sea rushing past. A glimmer of apprehension reflected in his eyes.

As they breached the outer barrier through Cruiser Passage, the full force of the gale pushed the swells ever higher. ‘Are you sure you want to risk this, Ben? We’ve never taken Datura out in anything like this before.’

Ben gripped the wheel tightly, clenching his jaws in concentration. ‘It’ll ease a bit when we get away from the reef, there’s a lot of backwash and cross currents at work here.’ He spared a quick glance. ‘How’s our passenger doing now?’

Glancing down the ladder, hoping to see a frightened face, Scott was disappointed to find Sanderson grinning up at him. Shaking his head in consternation, he grunted, ‘He’s actually enjoying himself. I don’t think he has enough brains to know he should be scared.’

Ben shook his head in disbelief. ‘Takes all sorts, but you shouldn’t be rude about the paying customers. He might hear you. Even idiots can take offence, you know.’ He leant forward to wipe the condensation off the Perspex shield that kept him almost dry.

A sheet of spray flew back from the bowsprit. Scott ducked automatically as the water whipped off the windshield in front of them ‘I doubt he could hear a gunshot from down there over this gale. I’ll certainly be surprised if we find any Marlin foolish enough to be feeding in seas like these, so it’ll be a waste of his money, anyway.’

Smiling grimly as he negotiated another crest, Ben shrugged. ‘Well at least his American dollars are real and they’re in my pocket.’

A further five minutes saw them through the worst of the churned up seas. The swell was still huge, towering over their perch on the fly bridge, but at least it was consistent in size and direction now.

The colour came back into Ben’s hands as he loosened his grip slightly. His massive shoulders relaxed and he looked up at his partner. ‘I think the wind is dropping a little. Maybe we’ve slipped far enough to the north to avoid the worst of it,’ he said optimistically.

Scott grunted, unconvinced. ‘Well, I’ll set the fool up for some trolling, but if that breeze starts to rise again, you’d better get us out of here fast. I don’t fancy shaking the poor old girl to bits for any charter.’

While his partner went down to the fishing deck to strap their client into the chair and set up his rod, Ben used the radio to check the latest forecast and approximate position of the approaching storm, a frown creasing his forehead as he listened.

Ten minutes later, Scott ran easily up the ladder, despite the violent movement of the boat. ‘He’s got a line out two hundred yards, though I don’t think it’ll do him any good. What did you find out?’

Despite casting a worried glance at what he could see of the eastern horizon, Ben kept his voice calm as he grinned at his partner, ‘Actually, marine rescue weren’t too polite. Kept saying words like crazy and fools. I don’t think they understand the meaning of adventure. Anyway, they seem to think the bloody system is intensifying. Estimated wind speeds off the chart. Their best guess has the eye currently just over two hundred miles east northeast and heading directly this way at 6 knots, so I guess they have a point. We can give him about thirty minutes of fishing, maybe an hour tops, before we turn tail and run.’

Scott peered at the chart, rapidly calculating speed and direction. ‘We could head for Cooktown. As long as the thing doesn’t hit head on, we should get enough protection in the river.’

Nodding towards the laminated sheet, Ben replied, ‘Lizard is nearly as close by the time we make Lark passage and it would get us further away from the eye.’ He flashed his impish grin at the bigger man. ‘Besides, If we’re going to be marooned somewhere, would you rather be in a Cooktown pub or at Lizard Island resort?’

‘You’ve got a point, I’ll go and tell our friend the bad news.’

No sooner had he started descending the ladder rungs, than a high-pitched shriek issued from their charter’s reel.

‘Oh shit,’ he yelled, ‘he’s hooked up. Now we’re in for some fun.’

He jumped down the last few rungs as the boat topped a crest, landing lightly on the deck. Judging the pitching of the deck perfectly, he leapt over to the struggling form of Sanderson, who hauled valiantly against a rod bent almost double while trying to turn the reel handle.

Scott locked a large hand onto the overhead grab rail, put his mouth close to the American’s ear and shouted, ‘Let him run. Don’t fight him while he’s got energy, you have to wear him down or he’ll jump and snap the line like a piece of cotton.’

Sanderson stopped pulling against the rod, letting his chest harness take the strain as the line spooled off the reel. Ben had eased right back on the throttle so that they were barely making way against the huge swell. Suddenly the pressure came off the rod and the reel fell silent.

‘Now, wind in as fast as you can,’ called Scott, ‘when he fights you again, let him run, but see if you can take in more than you let out each time.’

Thirty seconds later, the reel came alive again and Sanderson slumped back in the chair gratefully, ‘What is it?’

Scott shrugged as he gazed aft. ‘Hard to tell, but my guess is a Marlin by the way he’s pulling. The waves are probably too high to get a jump out of him. You’ll have to get him in fast though, because we have to get out of here soon, else we’ll be in there swimming with him.’

The American set his jaw determinedly, ‘I’m not leaving without this fish, pal, so you just help me get him aboard.’

Once again, Scott bit his lip. ‘We’ll see.’

Over the following forty minutes, they repeated the same pattern, first the fish pulling away from the boat, then Sanderson winding in as rapidly as he was able to while the great beast rested. The time span between rests grew shorter until Scott, fearful that the weather would overtake them if they delayed much longer, commanded, ‘OK, let’s bring him in. Now haul back on the rod and then wind as you let it down again.’

Three minutes of this activity had Sanderson’s face flushed bright red, while his breathing became ragged as he struggled with the powerful fish. Ben’s voice called down from above, ‘How much longer Scott, I can almost touch the leading edge of this bloody storm.’

Sparing a glance to seaward, Scott was appalled to see that the size of the approaching swells had almost doubled while they had fought the fish. Huge patches of foaming white spread across their surface. ‘I’m sorry Mr. Sanderson, but we’re going to have to cut him free, we have to move.’

Heaving resolutely on the rod once more, Sanderson shouted stubbornly, ‘No way mister, I’ve paid for this fish and I’m going to bag him.’

Scott was about to argue further when the Black Marlin on the line performed a spectacular leap about fifty metres away behind and to starboard. Sanderson whooped with joy at the sight of the magnificent creature, but what captured Scott’s attention was the approaching breaker rearing up behind the jumping fish. This was a rogue wave, moving at an angle to the dominant swell. His mind performed a quick calculation as the monster bore down and he did not like the answer it came back with. He estimated that the rogue would meet a regular swell at just about the same position as the fishing deck. ‘Rogue wave,’ he shouted, warning Ben of the danger. He clapped a powerful hand on Sanderson’s shoulder and yelled, ‘Hold on for your life’, before he leapt through the open saloon door and slammed it shut behind him.

Sanderson barely had time to look up at the huge mass of foaming green and open his mouth to scream, before a swimming pool of churning water poured over the rail into the deck well. Inside the saloon, Scott watched anxiously as the water sloshed half a metre up the glass siding door, before slowly draining out of the scuppers. Once he could open the door safely, he lurched onto the sopping deck to find Sanderson struggling to release himself from the confines of the chair.

Looking up in pure terror, the saturated American yelled, ‘Cut the bloody thing loose and get me out of here will you, buddy?’

With a sardonic grin, Scott replied caustically, ‘Sure thing, pal.’

CHAPTER 2

Lounging on a Lizard

A sharp jab from an elbow into his ribs interrupted Scott’s silent appraisal of the morning’s group of customers. Wincing slightly, he shot an annoyed glance towards his partner.

Ben ignored the pained look as he nodded towards the shore and whispered, ‘Check the late arrival.’

Reluctantly following his gaze, Scott struggled to prevent his jaw dropping open as he regarded the long-legged beauty who strolled gracefully onto the jetty, wearing a bikini just large enough to prevent arrest. ‘Bloody hell!’

She shook her lustrous head of blonde hair, sending it cascading around a face so proportionately shaped that a master sculptor could have carved it. ‘Hi. Are you the new scuba instructors? I hope I’m not too late to join in.’

Not normally at a loss for words in any situation, Scott felt his throat constrict involuntarily. He managed to croak something unintelligible before his partner came to the rescue.

‘Come aboard, you’re in plenty of time.’ Ben thrust his calloused hand in the direction of the vision as she stepped onto the deck. ‘My name’s Ben. We’ve gone through the formalities and were about to start the briefing, Miss er?’

‘Erica Bowman.’ She took the proffered hand and delivered a smile that would have tested a monk’s faith.

‘Have you dived before, or are you a beginner?’

‘I’ve got my PADI open water certification.’ She rummaged through her shoulder bag for a minute before handing him a card. ‘I had a dive with the other fellow on the weekend. I couldn’t believe it when they said the cyclone had hurled a coconut through his window. Is he all right?’

‘I hear he’s not too bad, though he copped a nasty gash on his thigh from the broken window. Fortunately, it missed the artery, so he should only be out of action for a bit.’ He handed back her card. ‘That’s great, welcome aboard. The tongue-tied one here is Scott.’ He waved absently towards his friend.

She turned her outstretched hand and knowing smile towards the taller man.

Scott forced his arm forward to envelop her delicate appendage with his own rough paw, trying desperately not to let his gaze wander down her voluptuous body. ‘Pleased to meet you, Miss Bowman,’ he managed in a somewhat croaky voice, ‘if you’d like to join the others, we’ll get you all kitted up.’

‘Oh, please call me Erica.’ The edges of her lips curled up sensuously as she pivoted on one foot and sauntered to the end of the waiting guests.

Seeing his partner still mesmerised by the encounter, Ben took control. ‘Today we’ll dive on the other side of the island. Bommie Bay is a gorgeous little cove where we’ll find a horde of beautiful reef fish, including the iconic Potato Cod that makes Lizard famous. Be aware that they are a protected species, so just take photos if you have the appropriate camera. You won’t need a spear gun today, although I’ll have a power head with me in case of incursion by an unwanted visitor. As usual you will be diving in pairs.’ He paused a moment as his eyes wandered along the group. ‘I can see that most of you are already buddied up from yesterday. Erica, George here is the only other single on this trip, so I’ll put you two together, if you don’t mind.’

A large man in his early forties, sporting a florid complexion and a lascivious grin pumped her hand a couple of times. ‘Hi. George Lansing. I’m in real estate. Single.’ He chuckled as though he had said something funny. ‘This is the first real holiday I’ve had in years. Too busy making money I guess. I’m pretty new to this diving game, but I’ll look after you, don’t worry.’

The tall blonde regarded him wearily. ‘I feel I’ve met you before, or at least someone like you,’ she said, masking her sarcasm with another thousand-watt smile. ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine, George.’

Ben drove Datura around to their dive site, while Scott fitted the divers with light spring suits. He paid particular attention to getting all the wrinkles out of Erica’s suit, much to her obvious amusement.

‘Pick a mask and fins that fit you. Tanks and BCs are on the port side of the deck. Get your buddy to help and I’ll come by and check your setup when you’re ready. Ben will be diving somewhere nearby today and I’ll be on the boat. If you have a problem, get your buddy to help first, then look for Ben. If you’re near the surface then wave and I’ll whizz over in the inflatable.’

George seemed to know the basics when they performed their pre-dive checks, enough to satisfy the watchful gaze of Scott, so Erica felt relaxed as they entered the water together. For twenty minutes, they explored nearby bombies teeming with exotic multi-coloured fish. Swooping down to the crystalline seabed, they peered into dark holes etched into the coral walls, some containing slumbering marine giants. He seemed more interested in his own pleasure than checking how she was faring. Although she felt quite confident in her own abilities, she peered around to see where everybody else was. With visibility close to two hundred feet, she spotted most of the other pairs of divers. She also caught sight of the unmistakeable figure of Ben cruising in circles above the main group

Without warning, George suddenly dived down to about sixty feet and slid into a large cave entrance, disappearing entirely into the blackness. Sighing in exasperation, she started to follow, when a huge cod, at least two hundred pounds of startled fish, barrelled out of the cave mouth, nearly colliding with her. A few seconds later, a terrified-looking George reappeared. Behind his mask, she could see that the blood had completely drained from his face. Struggling to extricate his body, he snagged his main air hose on a solid piece of branch coral. The tough material survived, but the life-giving mouthpiece ripped from between his teeth. He thrashed the water blindly, ripping his hands on the nearby coral outcrops. The pain caused even greater panic. Lashing about as if fighting an unseen enemy, he managed to bump his facemask, which immediately filled with water. His blinded eyes now bulged in total terror.

Erica backed away from his thrashing arms. She whipped her head left and right, desperately searching for help. Suddenly he seemed to recognize her shape through his misty vision and lunged towards her, kicking furiously. His outstretched hands groped towards her. Afraid that he would rip her own mouthpiece out, she managed to grasp both his wrists. Fuelled by panic, his strength seemed superhuman. She knew she was fighting a losing battle as her grip loosened.

Just as she was about to succumb, Ben miraculously appeared from nowhere. He looped one huge arm around George, pinning the frightened man’s flailing limbs to his sides. He then held his backup mouthpiece to George’s thrashing face until either sense or instinct overcame the man’s mindless panic. Opening his mouth wide, he finally accepted the lifesaving piece of silicone, taking three rapid gulps before Ben managed to calm him and slow down his breathing.

Continuing to hold the petrified diver while he guided him slowly to the surface, Ben motioned for her to follow as they stopped for a short decompression. Once they surfaced, Scott responded to his partner’s shout and hauled the unfortunate explorer onto the deck.

She watched as he efficiently dressed George’s wounds, thoroughly cleaning out the coral cuts with some Hibitane to prevent infection, while Ben called the other divers out of the water.

When Ben returned and smiled at her, she suddenly found herself shaking uncontrollably. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I guess I should have done something to help him.’

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight until her shivering eased. ‘You did all you could,’ he reassured her. ‘He’s a lot bigger and stronger than you, even more so in his panic. If it happens again and no one else is around, just get well out of range and wait until the diver passes out and then you’ll be able to help.’

She nodded numbly. ‘Thanks. I think I’ll buddy up with a girl next time. Maybe a small, weak one.’

Ben chuckled. ‘You’re still in mild shock. Why don’t you go below and have a warm shower while we cruise back to the resort. You’ll find a couple of cabins forward downstairs.’

She smiled weakly. ‘OK, but only if I can buy you lunch.’

‘It’s a deal.’ Ben laughed. ‘But isn’t all the food here included in the price?’

‘Well, that’s true.’ She paused and pursed her lips in thought. ‘But maybe I can find something that’s not on the menu for dessert.’ She smiled coquettishly and spun on one foot before striding inside.

With his heart pounding, he managed to get all the other divers out of their gear. After he had settled them in the saloon with a drink, he sidled up to Scott and quietly told him about his date.

‘I guess that means I get to clean the boat and refill the tanks,’ sighed the big man. ‘You’ll have to be back by two for the afternoon trip, though, and you can clean up afterwards, because I’ve got a dinner date this evening.’

Ben’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘You sly old dog! Who in their right mind would want to go out with you?’

‘Erica asked me when I was kitting them all up.’

‘My Erica, you mean?’

‘Well she’s obviously not exclusively yours, is she? Maybe she wants to try us both out to see who she prefers, or maybe she just wants some pleasant company and intelligent conversation.’

Erica was the last to leave after they tied up. ‘Thank you for a most entertaining morning gentlemen.’

She leaned forward and pecked Scott’s cheek before poking her finger lightly into his chest. ‘Seven o’clock all right?’

Without waiting for an answer, she bent slightly to graze her lips over Ben’s. ‘And I’ll see my saviour in the restaurant in twenty minutes.’

They both sighed in unison while they watched her perfectly shaped rear bounce as she strolled down the jetty.

‘Heads, tails or the best man wins,’ said Scott.

The shorter man smiled and replied, ‘Let’s wait and see. Who knows? Maybe we’ll both win.’

Despite his near death experience, the estate agent appeared in the bar towards the end of their meal, nursing an ice-cold beer. George appeared to have fully recovered and regaled anyone who would listen with graphic and fanciful accounts of his escapade. The way he told the story, Ben and Scott were somehow responsible for his accident and the only reason he was alive was through his own daring and skill.

After a minute of listening with slowly tightening jaw muscles, Ben slid back his chair and started to rise.

Erica quickly folded her hand over his on the table. ‘Let it go Ben. He’s not worth it.’ She flicked her head in the direction of the bar. ‘Look at his audience. They all know he’s full of crap.’

He slowly relaxed back into his chair and smiled at her. ‘You’re right. My doctor tells me I need to relax more as well. You’re not related are you?’

She laughed and continued to hold his calloused hand while she finished an abbreviated version of her life story.

‘I’ve been modelling for a few years now, mostly catwalk and fashion shoots. I get the odd bit of television work as well. It pays well enough to stay at places like this when I have a break. I’m still looking for my big break in the movies,’ she chuckled softly, ‘but at least it’s a long way from the family sheep farm in Western Victoria.’

‘Well looky here. No wonder I got the crap gear. You were looking after your girlfriend the whole time. Wouldn’t surprise me if you set the whole thing up so you could look like the big man.’

The smile fell away from Ben’s face as he turned towards the voice. ‘What are you on about?’

George swaggered closer to their table. ‘You heard me. You gave me substandard scuba gear, nearly killed me, just so you could do the big rescue thing and impress the little lady.’

‘That’s bullshit and you know it. Why don’t you just go back to the bar and drink yourself a bit more courage,’ growled Ben.

‘Better yet, why don’t I call my lawyer and sue your ass off along with this crummy resort.’

Shaking with anger, Erica planted her feet in front of him and glared with her hands on her hips. ‘You arrogant prick. You got scared by that big cod. Then you panicked and hooked your air hose on the coral. In fact, you nearly killed me with your stupidity. If it hadn’t been for Ben we would both probably be lying on a cold slab by now.’

‘Sit down sweetheart and leave this to the grown-ups.’ George pushed her by her shoulder towards her chair.

Ben leapt to his feet and snarled, ‘Don’t ever touch her again.’

‘Or what, little man, you’ll beat me up.’ He swelled out his chest and stood to his full height, towering over Ben by nearly a foot. ‘I’d like to see you try.’

‘Not if you apologise to the lady and slink off back to your room to pack your bags.’

‘Why, you little turd. Nobody tells George Lansing what to do.’

As he spoke, he drew back his right fist before suddenly jabbing out with his left, straight towards Ben’s jaw.

The last syllable of this sentence had barely left his mouth before George found himself sailing through the air. He hit the floor almost flat on his back, the wind knocked completely out of his lungs.

As he lay there struggling to breathe, Ben looked down on him and said, ‘I wouldn’t want to tell you what to do George, but I really think it’s time you left the island. Next time I won’t be so gentle.’

He spun around on his left heel and walked out of the bar holding a shocked-looking Erica’s hand.

After a few minutes, she stammered. ‘Wow that was impressive. You are full of surprises. Where did you learn to fight like that?’

‘The army did have its good points.’ He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘One of the guests has booked a private fishing charter this afternoon, but you’ll come for another dive tomorrow, won’t you?’ His face darkened as he added, ‘As long as George doesn’t get us fired, that is.’

‘Wouldn’t miss it, and don’t worry, if the manager gives you a hard time I’ll have a word with him.’ She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and turned towards the pool. ‘Remind that partner of yours he promised me a special dinner tonight. I have a lot of questions for him.’

She had disappeared before Ben had time to question the puzzling statement. He shrugged, still feeling euphoric from her presence, and almost skipped down to the jetty.

CHAPTER 3

Ribbon Reefs

M ultiple renditions of a golden moon danced across the shimmering waves. Each swell distorted its captured reflection until the hurrying peak overtook its base and a breaker rolled onto the soft sand slope. The gentle hiss of each receding wave, followed by the muffled crash of the next contestant, were the only sounds breaking the tranquil silence of the tropical evening. The cooling waters rushed around the feet of the pair, before running back to the safety of the ocean.

Scott could not remember a time when he felt more at peace with the world. Gazing over the tropical island, away from the glistening moon, a myriad pinpricks filled the night sky with their long-sent messages of light.

He stole a glance at the tall, slender beauty strolling beside him. ‘Isn’t this place marvellous? Here we are, after a superb meal, strolling along a perfect beach on a calm night, washed by a gentle breeze. The atmosphere is so clear you feel that you could reach up and touch the moon, yet if we had been standing here a few days ago, we’d have ended up in the water halfway to the mainland.’

She adjusted her bikini top absent-mindedly, drawing his attention away from meteorology. ‘It certainly persuaded me to stay in my room. I think I read more books last week than in the previous year. Are the storms always so terrible here?’

He shook his shaggy head. ‘Cyclone Winifred was the worst we’ve had for years. Gusts above 140 knots and the biggest seas I’ve seen above the fortieth parallel. February first 1986 is certainly a day I’ll remember for a while. Ben and I are lucky we made it here without being swamped.’

‘I’d meant to ask about that. Why did you come here? Lizard Island seems a strange place to shelter. There isn’t much protection from the wind.’

The big man shrugged. ‘It’s not an ideal port, but it was our nearest refuge. As it turns out, this was a great result for all of us. Our client was able to catch a flight back to Cairns when the wind dropped to a dull howl. The same plane the dive instructor went out on, actually. More importantly, they offered us some work, which meant we could stay on. Otherwise we never would have met you.’ Scott smiled at the slight flush beneath her perfect tan. ‘There’s no way we could afford to stay here as guests.’

‘How come you still sleep on Datura?’

‘Partly for security, that’s why we moor in the bay at night. The guests and staff are the only people on the island, but we don’t want any curious explorers wandering over her, thinking she was communal property. We also didn’t want to squeeze into a small room ashore. I know our cabins are cosy, but we’re used to them. Besides, we get to use all resort’s facilities, dine on lavish fare for no charge, as well as collect a token wage and some hefty tips.’

‘Maybe you should get a permanent job here?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. This is great for a break, but it’s not really our style. Besides if we were real employees, then we wouldn’t be allowed to fraternise with the paying guests.’

She took his calloused hand in hers. ‘Well I’m certainly glad you decided to stop by. You and Ben have been the best cure for my boredom. I’d had my fill of the stuck-up guests at this place. I have to endure enough of the pretenders in my work, so a couple of down-to-earth louts like you are heaven-sent.’ Her teeth sparkled in the soft light.

He grinned back at her, racking his brain for a clever answer. ‘You know, looking at this sky full of brilliant stars reminds me of a story. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson went camping. Holmes awoke during the night and nudged his friend saying, Look at all those stars Watson, what do they tell you? Watson contemplated for a moment and replied, Ah, the stellar abundance invokes feelings of awe and wonder while emphasising the insignificance of we humans upon our fragile Earth. At this, Holmes snorted, Rubbish! What it tells me, my dear Watson, is that some scoundrel has stolen our tent!‘

He thought her laughter would make a Steinway Grand sound dull. He knew he could happily listen to that music forever. Over dinner, she had tried to describe the tension of a magazine shoot, trying to attain the perfect photo under pressure, or the chaos of a high fashion catwalk show. Now, on an isolated beach off the Queensland coast, with no camera shutters nearby, she relaxed fully and her whole face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning.

‘Do you have a different, funny chat up line for every girl you meet?’

He stared at her beauty in reverence as she struck a windswept pose in the soft glow of the moonlight. Despite having just met, he felt himself drawn inexorably toward this statuesque beauty, like a leaf to a waterfall. He knew she was much younger than his thirty-eight years. He guessed something in the early twenties. He also realised that she brushed shoulders with younger men that were far better looking than he was. After years of exposure to the elements, his skin almost matched the mahogany hue of Datura’s dashboard, minus the smooth finish. His long sun-bleached hair was less a product of outdated fashion than a concession to the cost of a haircut. He wondered if she was genuinely attracted to either him or Ben or if they were merely a diversion on a boring holiday.

A set of startlingly white teeth flashed like a beacon beneath his piercing blued-steel eyes as he joked, ‘Well, I’ve found that if I leave it up to my natural beauty, then I might attract the tea-lady, but only if she’s over fifty and can’t see past her nose’.

With one shapely hand cupping her chin, she seemed to ponder his statement seriously for a moment, before replying, ‘I think you’re being a bit hard on yourself. You’re much better looking than most of the producers I have to fend off.’ She flashed a mischievous smile. ‘Then again, they’re generally as old as the hills and can’t get their chair near the table because of their bellies.’

He donned a mock hurt expression as he playfully smacked her bikini-clad bottom.

She squealed joyfully and ran off through the shallows, kicking sprays of water up with each step.

He allowed a ten-metre head start, before sprinting after her, making growling noises like a hibernating bear woken from a long slumber.

The chase continued for about forty metres before she suddenly yelped and tumbled head first into the shallow water. Her natural grace and poise evaporated as she sprawled in an ungainly heap. By the time he reached her, she was holding her injured toe and rolling around in the small surf, swearing like an army trooper.

He did not know whether to show sympathy for her obvious pain or burst out in laughter at the torrent of unladylike vocabulary issuing from her delicate lips. Compromising, he cast about for the cause of the injury. It was difficult to pick out anything in the inky blackness. After a quick search, he stumbled across a dark, low shape bobbing in the shallow water. He picked up a thick, waterlogged board about a metre long and showed her the soggy mess.

‘Here’s your attacker, young lady, what would you have me do with him? Shall I cut him into pieces to feed to the sharks, beat him to a pulp or burn him at the stake?’ Scott wondered whether the resultant groan came from her injury or his awful jokes.

He was about to hurl the lump of wood far up the beach when the moonlight caught the face at an angle, revealing some figures carved into the shiny surface. Curious, he examined his find more carefully. By squinting across the board in the dim light, he could make out indistinct markings scratched into the waterlogged wood. The etched letters were evenly spaced, with some gaps where the elements had worn the wood smooth. Still engaged on other matters, his mind was slow to comprehend the meaning of what he held. Finally, some part of his subconscious put together the pieces and an expression of incredulity spread over his rugged features.

His sudden lack of interest in her plight both surprised and miffed Erica. Her alarm intensified a few moments later when he suddenly started running around in circles on the beach, whooping and yelling.

‘What’s wrong?’ she cried, trying to make herself heard over the lunatic hollering, ‘Did you get bitten by something?’

He thrust the cause of her recent tumble towards her, shouting excitedly, ‘Look at this! Look at this!’

Mystified by his bizarre behaviour, she said sarcastically, ‘It’s a piece of wood.’

Scott was still having trouble containing himself. ‘It’s not just a piece of wood, my beauty, this is part of an old ship’s transom, that bit at the stern where they used to carve the name of the boat.’

Erica peered closely and read out, ‘ELANR. What does that mean?’

‘There’s a couple of letters missing where those spaces are,’ he said enthusiastically, ‘but I’ll bet that what we have here is a part of the Eleanor, a barque that was lost in a cyclone back in the 1870’s. She sailed from Cooktown into one of the biggest blows ever felt around here, and was never seen again. No part of her has ever shown up before now.’

Clearly unimpressed with this piece of historical knowledge, Erica complained, ‘Another cyclone! Don’t you think it strange that the travel agents never mention anything about being regularly blown off the island at this resort?’

He impatiently hauled the injured girl to her feet, anxious to get back to his boat to examine this new find more closely. ‘Can you walk lass, or shall I carry you back to the boat?’

With an exaggerated gesture, she placed the back of her hand against her forehead and sighed, ‘I suppose I can ignore the agony and stagger along behind. I wouldn’t want you to leave your precious piece of wood behind.’

Suddenly realising that she must think him mad, he was relieved to see the glint of amusement in her deep blue eyes. ‘No problem, I can carry both of you precious things.’ He grinned widely, then bent down and slid a massive arm around her legs, causing a muffled scream as he hoisted her over his shoulder. ‘All will be explained when we get back to the boat,’ he promised.

She persuaded him to set her down after a few steps and hobbled along the beach beside him. Although he continued to make small talk with her, she knew that she had lost his attention. Finding the worm-eaten section of the Eleanor’s transom had seemed to drive all thoughts of romance from his mind. Within ten minutes, she found herself bundled aboard the inflatable zodiac and whisked out to the motor yacht.

‘We’ll get your toe patched up on the boat,’ he assured her, ‘but I have to tell Ben about this right away.’

He whipped the painter of the inflatable around the back cleat and helped her onto the marlin board, saying, ‘Grab a drink while I rouse the lad,’ before he disappeared into the darkened saloon, shouting to his partner.

She selected a beer from the bar fridge and sat down in a fishing chair with her feet on the rail. From somewhere below came the sounds of Scott’s excited chattering interspersed with some sleepy sounding replies.

A few minutes later, Ben staggered through the door from the saloon. He grabbed two beers from the fridge, while making futile waving motions to calm down his partner who was holding a naval chart and rambling on about tides and currents.

When Ben spied her propped in the chair, he hazily greeted her. ‘Hail, fair damsel! What unfortunate vicissitudes lead you to adorn this pitiable conveyance? Did no agreeable companionship avail itself of your beauty during the night’s repast?’

She shook her head in confusion. ‘You said what?’

Scott interrupted his perusal of his chart to comment, ‘Pay no attention to the fool. He’s been like this all afternoon. The Cairns Dramatic Society was silly enough to offer him the lead role in a Shakespearean drama. Every now and then, he starts jabbering in this Ye Olde English. He says it’s for practice but half the time I can’t understand a word.’

‘You didn’t tell me that at lunch. Congratulations. So, you’re a real live thespian.’