Two Tamas In Paradise; Episode 4, Negotiations

This is the fourth episode of the novel Two Tamas in Paradise. It is the fourth novel in the Trace Troy South Pacific Adventure series. It will be posted in episodes. The plan is for two or three a week. There are fifty episodes. It has not been published yet. The reader is given a sneak preview. 

It suffices to say that because this is one novel in a series, there may be things not understood unless one knows what has taken place in previous novels from this series. Here is a link to the first novel in the series: The Big Gamble in Paradise, paperback or Kindle.

Negotiations 

Trace decided to speak with Sean and Chuck before docking at Bora Bora. He had everything in mind about how to proceed. No exceptions to the final plan came to mind, though. Much depended on their reaction. He feared for the worst. He tried to force it far from his thoughts. He wanted to think the best of them, but the information from Sage and Makani, along with the change in their attitudes seemed predictable.  

He turned in the captain’s chair to the chart desk. After glancing at the clock, he made a quick calculation. He used the compass to approximate how far to Bora Bora. “Two hours,” he murmured.

He leaned back, grabbed the mic, and pressed it. As his mouth opened he saw Sean and Chuck moving along the side deck toward the pilothouse. Trace returned the mic to the hook. They came around to the aft door and walked in.

Sage cocked his head and squinted, “What’s up?”

“We want to talk,” Chuck said.

“Sure,” Trace said. “Have a seat.”

They sat on the bench like stone statues. Chuck rubbed his knees. Sean twitched his mouth. 

Trace’s eyes roved from Sean to Chuck several times. He could see and sense hostility. They were ready for confrontation. Trace appeared relaxed. 

Trace thought, ’It is never good to allow your opponent know how willing you’re ready for the fight. Surprise them and suddenly you will be on the offensive. They know there will be a counterattack. Faked surprise and weakness is like having all your buddies behind them—holding clubs.’

“What’s on your mind,” Trace said smiling and unassuming.

“Nobody has worked harder than me and Chuck,” Sean said.

Trace smiled and thought, ‘Wow, I can see where this is going already.’

Then Trace spoke, “Yeah, I’ve never worked with better men. You two make this whole thing purr like a kitten.’

“I’m glad you agree,” Chuck said. 

“In fact, I was looking at my books and I think you two and Makani can have a raise. Business has been real good. Oh wait, I forgot about the gold. You two probably are telling me you want to quit. I’m right there with you. If I was in your shoes I’d do the same thing. But can you a least stay on until we get back to Suva.”

Their heads quickly turned toward each other. Confusion flashed on their faces.

Trace thought, ‘You two are on your heels.’

Each had looks on their faces as if one was coaxing the other to speak. Neither seemed to have the nerve. 

Finally, Chuck cleared his throat. “Ahem, Sean and I don’t feel right about things.”

“Oh,” Trace feigned interest, “We can talk about anything.”

“Okay,” Sean said, “For one thing, we think we should have a larger share of the gold. We did most of the work.”

“Well,” Trace appeared agreeable, “let’s talk. What do you think is fair? We got to start somewhere.”

 They both swallowed and their eyes bounded around like a pinball. 

Trace smiled. “I guess you haven’t got that far yet, so let’s talk. Like I said, start with a number. You two are getting twenty percent each; together that’s forty percent. Where do you want to start, forty-five percent, fifty percent, twenty-five percent each? ”

They both had looks on their faces that this was easier than they thought. They sat back and relaxed.

“Well,” Sean said, “basically Makani is a cook. He hardly did any work at the site.”

“So cut him out or you two take his share?” Trace said.

They quickly glanced at each other. They appeared surprised Trace followed their reasoning.

“We do have some other concerns,” Sean said confident he would be heard favorably.

“Hey,” Trace said, “I’m here to help and listen. We’re a team. We always have been.”

Trace changed his expression to serious. He lowered his eyebrows. ‘I’m appearing too eager,’ he thought. Then he said seriously the them, “Keep in mind we had an agreement.”

“But we had no say in it,” Chuck said.

“Maybe you should have spoken up,” Trace said.

“There was little reason to,” Sean said. “All of us thought deep down there was no gold. We were making a deal based on a dream.”

“I see your point,” Trace said. “So you want to renegotiate.”

“No,” Sean said, “we just want to negotiate for the first time; knowing what we’re dealing with.”

“You know, if we found nothing, I’d have still paid you,” Trace said. “Looking at it that way, it was all one-sided. I got paid for the charter but not enough for all my expenses.”

“You see,” Chuck said, “we never had a chance to dig around where you did. There may be more there and you’re holding out on us.”

“Have I ever held out on you?” Trace said.

“No,” Sean said, “but this kind of money can make a man think differently.”

“You should look at yourselves in the mirror,” Trace said. “I think the amount of money has changed you two more than changed me or anybody else on this boat.”

“You could be holding out on Makani and your buddy, Sage,” Chuck said.

“Look,” Sean said, “you have the boat, you have land, and we have nothing. It’s about time we get a break in life.”

“You will each have over a hundred and thirty thousand dollars worth of gold when it’s all divided,” Trace said. He paused and studied Sean and Chuck. “You think it should all be yours.”

“We figure we should get two-thirds,” Sean said, “Me and Chuck and you can divide the other third any way you like to.”

“So if I was to split what’s left evenly between me, Makani, and Sage that would be a little more than ten percent each. That’s still a lot, Trace said. “But you’d be happier if you had it all?

“You two have plenty already,” Chuck seemed to plead with his hands open.

“And you guys did nothing,” Trace said. 

“We did all the work,” Chuck again seemed to plead a case.

“But you found nothing,” Trace said. “I—I’m the one who found the gold and could have kept it for myself—never said a word about it.”

Sean’s and Chuck’s planning had not even remotely considered that sort of counterargument. Their eyes looked to the heavens for some sort of imaginative intervention. 

Trace nodded and smiled. “You know what, let’s get this thing docked at Bora Bora. We’ll talk this over. Keep in mind, I should have something.”

Their eyes tried to look at each other without moving their heads. 

“Well,” Trace said, “that looks as if that’s about it for now.”

They stood and left the pilothouse through the aft door. They walked around to the foredeck and leaned against the roof of the forward cabins. 

Trace murmured, “There’s two guys who have never negotiated for cattle with a Texan.”

Two Tamas in Paradise; Episode 3, Where's The Plank?

 

This is the third episode of the novel Two Tamas in Paradise. It is the fourth novel in the Trace Troy South Pacific Adventure series. It will be posted in episodes. The plan is for two or three a week. There are fifty episodes. It has not been published yet. The reader is given a sneak preview. It suffices to say that because this is one novel in a series, there may be things not understood unless one knows what has taken place in previous novels from this series. Here is a link to the first novel in the series: The Big Gamble in Paradise, paperback or Kindle. 

Where’s The Plank?

The sound of Sean and Chuck muffled talking rose from the companionway. It sounded as if they were eating breakfast with their mouths full. 

Sage came from below with a cup of coffee and a toasted egg and bacon sandwich. He took a bite and sat on the bench. With a bulge in his cheek, he said, “I can’t eat with those guys anymore. They’re getting bold.”

“Makani confirmed what you told me,” Trace said.

“When?” Sage said.

“A little while ago,” Trace said. “He brought me breakfast and we had a chat.”

“How are you going to handle it?” Sage said gulping the coffee. “Do they still make mutineers walk the plank?”

“Do me a favor,”  Trace said, “In a few hours we’ll be docking in Bora Bora. We have to take on water and some food supplies. Until then treat those two as if you know nothing.”

“I ain’t gonna eat with ‘em,” Sage said. 

“That’s okay,” Trace said. “I get it, but just don’t be rude or hostile.”

“You have a plan?” Sage asked.

“Yeah,” Trace said. “I want to run it over in my mind a few times before I do it.”

“Will it be a surprise?” Sage said.

“I can guarantee it will be a surprise,” Trace said, “especially to Sean and Chuck.”

“Can ya give me a hint?” Sage said.

“I did,” Trace grinned. “It will be a surprise.”

“Okay,” Sage heaved a swallow of coffee, “where’s the plank at?”

“Actually, I had a rope and yardarm in mind, matey,” Trace said with a gruff pirate voice. “But just in case, find me a plank. That sounds like a good plan B,”

“I think it’s best I go and catch up on the sleep I lost last night,” Sage said.

“I’ll make sure you're up when I spot Bora Bora,” Trace said.

Sage took another gulp of coffee and inquired, “Not even a hint?”

“Not even. Who knows,” Trace said, “I may be the one surprised.”

“Now ya got me worried,” Sage said and climbed down the companionway.

Trace heard Sage say in a friendly cowboy way, “Keep it down out there, boys, I going to catch a beauty rest.”

‘He’s great,’ Trace thought. ‘If those guys knew him they’d know something was up.’

Trace stepped onto the aft deck with a sextant. He took a reading and returned to the wheel. He made a slight starboard turn and waited for Bora Bora to appear over the horizon. 

Two Tamas in Paradise; Episode 2, Not Standing Alone

 This is the second episode of the novel Two Tamas in Paradise. It is the fourth novel in the Trace Troy South Pacific Adventure series. It will be posted in episodes. The plan is for two or three a week. There are fifty episodes. It has not been published yet. The reader is given a sneak preview.

It suffices to say that because this is one novel in a series, there may be things not understood unless one knows what has taken place in previous novels from this series. Here is a link to the first novel in the series: The Big Gamble in Paradise, paperback or Kindle. 

I hope you enjoy.

Not Standing Alone

After fifteen minutes with his eyes closed, not knowing if he slept or not, Trace turned his head aft. A pale red/orange glow spread along the eastern horizon. He opened the back door and stood on the aft deck. The sun slowly rose and cast a shimmering red ribbon leading to The Tramp Islander. With the sun in full form, he returned to the pilothouse. From below came the sound of Makani preparing breakfast. The gulls who enjoyed the free ride on The Tramp Islander began to swirl overhead and squawk. Soon the odor of bacon wafted up the companionway.

Makani brought a breakfast tray with a fresh thermos of coffee.

He sat the tray on the chart desk. “Good morning, Cap.”

“Good morning to you, Makani,” Trace replied.

“I come up when you look at sun,” Makani said. “Get thermos for fresh coffee.”

“You never miss a trick, do ya?” Trace said.

“No trick,” Makani smiled. “My job.”

Makani grabbed hold of the top of the companionway. He made one step down and stopped. He turned and faced Trace. 

Makani grimaced. Trace leaned formed. He squinted curiously because Makani’s only expression besides nothing was a big smile.

“Is something wrong?” Trace said.

Makani breathed deeply through his nose and pressed his lips. That was even more surprising to Trace.

“Just say it,” Trace smiled. “You want to leave the ship. I get it. You’re a rich man now. If I were you, I’d be doing the same thing.”

“No,” Makani said, “I not ready to leave. Like it here.”

“Then from the looks on your face, you need fiber,” Trace said.

“What you mean?” Makani said.

“Sorry,” Trace said, “I’m making a joke to make this easier for you to talk about. You have a look on your face like you haven’t pooped in a while.”

Makani chuckled. “I see now. That good.”

“They say if you have to explain your jokes then they ain’t that funny,” Trace said. “So, let’s have it. I’m glad you like it here and you want a raise, right?”

“Nothing like that,” Makani said. “Chuck and Sean they good to me. I like them. Two days they not treat me good.”

Trace’s smile turned to the face of a stoic judge. “If they hurt you, they hurt me.”

“They not hurt or hit,” Makani said. “First, they ask me if I think you have more gold. I say, no. And if more gold, it not my business. I got much. Then they treat different. No, ‘thank you,’ Makani.’ No, ‘please, Makani.’ No talk like friend. I hear them talk. I not listen, just they not know I close. They think more gold and you and Sage keep it for self.”

“Makani,” Trace said, “I tell you the truth, the only gold I have is the bag in my room. And we are going to split it five ways. Everyone will get the same amount.”

“I believe you,” Makani said. “But Chuck and Sean no believe.” Makani nodded toward the tray. “Eat, eggs get cold.”

Trace smiled. “Thanks.” He began eating and Makani turned away. “No stay.”

“You think, I go,” Makani said. “I in way of thinking.”

“Nah,” Trace said, “I think better when you and Sage are around. You are honest and true. Do you know why Sean and Chuck think I’m holding back on them?”

“They think you cheat Spence out of boat,” Makani said. 

“How long have they been talking like that?” Trace said.

“Only since gold,” Makani said.

“It is strange,” Trace said, “when a person gets more than they expect or deserve they think more should be coming their way. It’s like if you get something more than what you hoped for; if you hoped for, you should get more. Hope doesn’t change reality.”

“I think I know,” Makani sadi. “If a man give one fish for nothing, he think man should give two if ask for another. Not respect first fish.”

“That’s right,” Trace said. 

“I know other man who thinks that way,” Makani said. “Always want something not work for. They think Trace don’t need because you got big land in Texas. They say something about silver spoon in mouth. Do you have one?”

“That’s an American expression,” Trace said. “Born with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

“Yes,” Makani said, “that’s it. How can that be?”

“It means from the time you were a baby your parents had enough money to feed you with a silver spoon,” Trace said.

“Is that true?” Makani said.

“We have a lot of land and cattle, a big house,” Trace said. “We have men who work for us. We got tractors and trucks—a lot of stuff. We also have blisters, calluses, blood, sweat, tears, and worry. We go days without sleep. We work in blistering winds and sun. If I had a silver spoon, it was earned. And one thing for sure, my Dad made me work harder than any man who worked for us. That’s the way he was raised. That’s the way my grandpa was raised and so on. When my buddies were having a good time, I was repairing fence or shoveling manure. I don’t know how Sean or Chuck were raised but I can guarantee they never worked until their hands bled. And Sage was raised the same way.”

Makani stood motionless. He felt uncomfortable making eye contact with Trace.

“Sorry, Makani,” Trace said. “I’ve over-said my welcome.”

“You talk, I listen,” Makani said.

“You better head back down and fix breakfast for the crew,” Trace said. “And Sage has already told me much of what you have. So you’re not standing alone.”

Two Tamas In Paradise; Episode 1, Lonely Cowboy

 This is the first episode of the novel Two Tamas in Paradise. It is the fourth novel in the Trace Troy South Pacific Adventure series. It will be posted in episodes. The plan is for two or three a week. There are fifty episodes. It has not been published yet. The reader is given a sneak preview.

It suffices to say that because this is one novel in a series, there may be things not understood unless one knows what has taken place in previous novels from this series. Here is a link to the first novel in the series: The Big Gamble in Paradise, paperback or Kindle. 

I hope you enjoy.

Lonely Cowboy

The Tramp Islander sailed smoothly above the blue South Pacific waters. Perhaps this may have been her most valiant and prosperous voyage out of a thousand. Only she knew, as well as those who manned her before. How many sails had she worn through? How many tones of cargo had she hauled? How many men have strolled her decks and hoisted her sails and pumped her bilge? She speaks of them, if one listens. She moans and creaks a language, yet to be translated but felt. It is like a melody with no words—only emotions, imagination, and dreams. Like listening to a song in another language and understanding it. Someplace in the universe there lies the collective memory of this vessel, from an oak timber to a hewn beam—and all that rests in between.

Trace gazed out the port window of the pilothouse. He scanned from the horizon upward and stopped at a lonely pulsating star. Although surrounded by other stars, it appeared lonely. It’s like taking notice of one person in a crowd. Something draws your attention to that one person. There is nothing attractive or familiar about them. And when you look away, you feel they are looking at you. 

’The universe; where does it end?’ he thought. ‘And when it ends, what is beyond that? I’m sailing for days and this place called Earth is less than a crumb in the existence of space and time. The same thought drives one man to insanity and the other to explore for meaning. And in-between is chaos. For the ones with neither insanity nor curiosity, they are left to manage the chaos. That seems what most of us do.’ He chuckled. ‘I guess herding cattle is a metaphor for the meaning of life for the greater number—manage the chaos.’

He grabbed the thermos from the chart desk and poured a coffee into a thick white mug. Not for want, but for something to do. He blew and sipped. 

Several things crossed Trace’s mind. ‘Will the crew change after they realize having some wealth? Will they stay or move on? It may mean getting a new crewman; two or three. I have good men now. They know the boat. They know it better than me. I’m not looking for Sage to stay. Buddies get together for a while and while they’re still buddies they split. They know when the relationship is getting stale and if it’s going to last, they have to part while the gitten’ is good. I look for him to go back home and buy some land, like he said.’

‘What about me? Have I had my fill? Should I cash in and head back? If not for the gold we come into, I’d be going back to Suva and calling Allie for more cargo. I can’t allow the gold change me. It’s a distraction to be dealt with later.’

He sipped from the mug again and turned his head to the stars. He fixed his attention on that one lone star again. It was not the largest. It was random, just where his eye rested. ‘I wonder if there is a planet orbiting that star. And on that planet, there is an ocean. And on that ocean is a boat with a man looking at and wondering about this solar system. Does he contemplate my existence? Has he found what I’m looking for? Is he centuries ahead of me or centuries behind me? Or are we contemporary?’

‘Are we supposed to merely maintain our existence or contemplate and solve the bigger issues of existence? It seems as though we have limitations but our understanding, at least the way I see it, is unending.’

Another sip. ‘This coffee is still good.’

Trace sat the cup on the dash. He looked beyond the bow and saw nothing; no lights were sighted; starboard or port. He checked the time from the clock on the chart desk; 2:35 AM. He closed his eyes. 

He jerked and opened his eyes. He checked the time; 3:10 AM. 

‘I thought I just dosed for a moment. It’s been thirty-five minutes but it feels like eight hours.’

He sipped the coffee. It was cold. He slid open the port side window and tossed the coffee out and poured another. He checked the heading and made a ten-degree port adjustment. “Must have caught a south wind,” he murmured. 

He glanced at the radio on the middle shelf of the chart table. He switched it on and searched for an English language station. He stopped at a station playing country music. 

‘Reminds me of home,’ he thought. ‘You could drive up to a neighbor’s place and hear it coming from the house or the barn. Sometimes far from home, that fiddle can cut right through your bones. Your legs and arms seem to fall and there you are, in a puddle of tears longing for home. I’m used to that now—now it’s just tears.”

He softly whispered the lyrics of a song he heard a few cowboys sing;                                                                                         

“There's a place way out west called Texas.                           

There's a cow called the Texas Longhorn                                 

Some kind of man called a cowboy                                             

And Texas is where he was born                                                   

He wears a pair of old ragged blue jeans                                         

A crumpled hat and a faded old shirt                                           

And a half-worn-out pair of old cowboy boots                    

Polished up with that good Texas dirt.”

“Ahem.” Someone cleared their throat.

Trace turned toward the sound. Sage’s sleepy face emerged from the companionway.

“Did I wake you?” Trace said.

“Nah,” Sage said, “just having a hard time sleepin’.”

“Well,” Trace said, “why not sit here and watch me fall asleep?” He reached over and switched off the radio.

Sage sat on the chair at the chart desk and faced Trace.

“What’s troubling you?” Trace said.

“I went to the forward cabins after supper,” Sage said. “From there, I heard Sean and Chuck talking on deck.”

“I saw them from here,” Trace said.

“I couldn’t make out every word,” Sage said, “but they sounded, well,” he hesitated, “maybe that’s the way deckhands sound. But they sounded like men about to leave the herd because they got short-changed.”

“What did they say?” Trace said.

“That’s all I’m gonna say about it,” Sage said. “I’m just tellin’ ya what I heard. You're gonna hafta taste the stew for yourself. Ya know, if it’s bad enough, it’s best ya toss it away.”

Trace bobbed his head. “Thanks, you’re right. I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“I hope I’m wrong,” Sage said.

Trace grinned. “Sleep well, cowboy. Ya did good.”

Sage rested his hand on Trace’s shoulder. “Wake me when we get to Amarillo.” He disappeared down the companionway. 

Trace leaned back in his seat. He flipped on the radio and smiled at the sound of a lonely steel guitar.