This is the fifth episode of the novel I'm currently writing. The title is The Big Gamble in Paradise. I'm about halfway through my first rewrite, and I think it will be completed in six or eight weeks. I hope you enjoy this episode, and more will follow.
Episode 6
Trace stood and made his way back the hallway. He opened the door to the captain’s quarters. There was a seaman’s bed with cupboards above it, a small closet. The bed was unmade. He gathered the bedclothes and tossed them outside the door. He flipped the mattress. He laid in the bed, using the backpack as a pillow.
Sleep did not come easy. A thousand thoughts converged at an intersection of confusion and a ship named Paurova.
Sleep eventually came, followed by a knock of the cabin door.
“Trace, Trace, it’s Chuck breakfast in five minutes.”
Trace opened his eyes. “Give me five minutes.”
“That’s what I said,” Chuck said.
“I’m the captain,” Trace said. “And the captain wants another five.”
“Aye, Aye, Captain.”
Trace sat up and placed his feet on the floor. He thought about all the things that collided in his head a few hours earlier. He grabbed his backpack and counted the money. He cleared out Spence’s clothing from a drawer beneath the bunk and stacked most of the money inside. He dropped the remaining money into his packsack and slunk it over his shoulder.
He climbed up the companion way to the pilothouse. In the daylight, he saw how neat and organized it was. The chart table and shelves above are meticulous.
“Was he going to sell it?” Trace thought.
Trace glanced through the ship’s log and files. He murmured, “It looks like he had a woman working for him. No man is this neat.”
He stepped out of the pilothouse and onto the main deck. He looked out to the sea and breathed deeply. He ducked back into the pilot house, stepped down the stairs, and walked into the salon.
"Mornin',” Trace said to Chuck and Sean as he entered. He sat across the table from Chuck and Sean and laid the backpack in the seat next to him.
A large plate of scrambled eggs and sausage sat in the middle of the table. Steam floated up from the eggs.
“Just in time,” Sean said.
Trace glanced at two seamen’s bags against the wall.
He poured a coffee. “Shoving off?” He asked.
“Yeah,” Sean said.
Trace buttered some toast.
“How much did Spence owe you guys?” Trace said.
They looked at each other.
“About a thousand each,” Sean said.
Trace took a bite of toast and spooned some eggs onto his plate along with two links of sausage. He took a bite of the eggs. “These are great. Not dry and rubbery.”
Chuck and Sean filled their plates.
“So did Spence have anything lined up?” Trace said eating.
“Not that we know, right, Chuck?” Sean said. “Spence never discussed things like that with us.”
“I only met Spence over a game of poker. Before the game, I had no idea he had a boat. Anyway, his room smelled like a barroom, but the pilothouse and chartroom are immaculate. A guy whose professional life was good and his personal life a shambles; is that about it?”
“Yeah,” they said.
“What about his business life?” Trace said.
“Not so good,” Sean said.
“He had a lot of bills?” Trace asked while eating.
“We don’t know for sure,” Chuck said, “but there were all sorts of indications.”
“How much did he owe you guys?” Trace said.
“We told you about a thousand each,” Sean said.
“Just wanted to make sure,” Trace said, reaching into the backpack and gathered several bundles of cash. He placed them to the side of the table. “When we’re done eating, I’m going to the pilothouse. You take what you think is rightfully yours. If it covers everything, that’s fine. If it’s not enough, I’ll be in the pilothouse. That’s some good sausage too.”
The rest of the breakfast was quiet.
When Trace finished. He stood. “Leave your plates. I’ll take care of 'em, and thanks for the breakfast.”
Trace grabbed the backpack and climbed the steps to the pilothouse. He sat at the chart table and opened the desk’s file drawer. He fingered through the files and glanced at some old manifests. He had a little familiarity with them, and they were not detailed. Some had handwritten notes. Each one gave him a piece to a puzzle that he was able to discern how shipments were assembled and delivered.
“Hey, Trace,” Sean said from below, “can we talk for a few minutes?”
“Come on up,” Trace said.
Chuck and Sean emerged into the pilothouse.
Trace smiled. “How much more do I owe you?”
“Nothing,” Chuck said. “There’s some left on the table.”
“Before you leave, take a few bucks more and have a night on the town,” Trace said. “But stay away from the poker tables. You’re liable to end up with a boat.”
“What are you going to do with the boat?” Sean said.
“It can take a couple of years to sell a boat,” Trace said. "If you lease it, it would be mine six months later, with tens of thousands needed in repairs. I’d worry all the time it was leased if it was being taken care of. So, I’ll get a crew together and see if I can pick up some cargo to take someplace. Spence left a lot of documents of places he went and did business with. I’ll start there.”
“Chuck and I have been talking,” Sean said.
“We’d like to stay on,” Chuck said.
Trace thought and puckered his lips. He bobbed his head. “Are you sure about that?”
“I am,” Sean said.
“I am too,” Chuck said.
“I guess we are,” Sean said.
Trace shook their hands. He grinned. “I just saved some money. While I was up here, I was thinking about adding some severance pay.”
“How do you know we didn’t already take it out?” Chuck joked.
“I think we have the makings of a good ship,” Trace said.
“After we break you in,” Sean grinned.
“Tell me what you guys do on this tub?” Trace asked.
“I take care of the engine and all the mechanical and electrical maintenance,” Sean said. “I help store cargo and sometimes take the helm.”
“I do everything else, plus take the blame for everything,” Chuck joked.
“It seems like a pretty slim crew,” Trace said.
“I think we can handle everything,” Sean said.
“It would be nice if we had somebody to take care of the cooking and cleaning,” Chuck added.
Trace continued, “And you need another man on deck. If I can’t make enough to pay a four-man crew, I’ll just toss in the towel. It’s not safe being shorthanded.”
“We are sometimes stretched to our limits,” Chuck said.
“Do you know of anyone who will work cheap?” Trace asked.
“I know a lady who has a son who buses tables at a restaurant," Sean said. “She says he can cook, but they won’t let him.”
“Why don’t you two go talk to this kid? I’ll trust your judgment.” Trace said. “If he looks good, offer him a job.”
“How much will you pay?” Sean asked.
“I don’t know how much you guys get paid, but offer him half of what you make.”
“That’s still a lot for islanders,” Sean said.
“Offer him whatever you think and go no more than half of what you make. In the meantime, I’m going to talk to some brokers and shippers to see if I can drum up some business. And see about another crewman.”
“You might want to get some fuel,” Sean said. “We’re near empty.”
“Spence sure knows when to unload something,” Trace said.
“Nobody ever leaves anybody with a full tank,” Chuck said.
