Two Tamas in Paradise; Puzzles, Episode 36

This is the thirty-sixth episode of the novel Two Tamas in Paradise. There are fifty episodes. This is the fourth novel in the Trace Troy South Pacific Adventure series.  

It may now be purchased on Amazon. It is available in paperback or Kindle digital format. 

Shortly past noon, the seas and winds abated enough for Trace to give the order to raise the sails two-thirds. An hour later, he gave the order to raise them all the way. And with that, came pleasant seas. 

Sage took the wheel, and Trace walked out on the foredeck, joining Maxwell at the railing.

Maxwell turned and smiled when noticing Trace next to him. “Good afternoon,” Maxwell said.

“It is, and same to you,” Trace said. “Hard to believe six hours ago the seas were churning like a washing machine.”

“There were a couple of times I thought we were going under,” Maxwell said. “I looked out the portal a couple of times, and I could swear we were under water.”

“It’s frightening when the water all around you hides the horizon,” Trace said. “I don’t mean to downplay the past sixteen hours, but I’ve seen worse of the Bering.”

“And you still sail,” Maxwell grinned. “Your head should be examined.”

“But here you are,” Trace said.

“Touché,” Maxwell said.

“It wasn’t meant that way,” Trace said. “Sorry, it came out that way, though.”

“I think you have purposely distanced yourself from us,” Maxwell said.

“Yeah,” Trace said. “And I told my crew as well. I have a responsibility to make sure tensions don’t arise between the crew members. If I toss the passengers in with that, it doubles my concern. I don’t want the crew and passengers striking up friendships, forming cliques, or taking sides on issues.”

“But you formed a competition,” Maxwell said.

“That’s a controlled situation,” Trace said. “It exaggerates cliques and divisions to absurdity. Believe me, I watch to make sure it doesn’t take on a serious tone.”

“It was, indeed, healthy,” Maxwell said. “And it sure as heck took away the boredom.”

“Is that what you're doing now?” Trace said, “Taking away the boredom?”

“You could say that,” Maxwell said. “When you really think about something, it’s like working on a puzzle; it is surprising how the puzzle comes together and how much time passes in doing so.”

“Puzzles are sometimes like a person's life,” Trace said. “It may appear in shambles until it is all put together. Sometimes it’s just that final piece.”

“You are reading my mind,” Maxwell said.

“I’ve spent some time at this railing a few times,” Trace said. “And so has my dad. Take Coyote, this is his first time at sea. He’s been out here a few times. But me, Dad, Sage, and Coyote, we’ve done this before—a different time, a different place. For us, it’s been on the range. We get off our horse and lean on a fence, and think. Just try to put things together.”

“So why did you decide on the sea?” Maxwell said.

Trace grinned. “Touché.”

“No, it wasn’t meant that way,” Maxwell said.

“A food question,” Trace said. “And believe me, I’ve thought about it. I’m not really sure, but I wanted to look at a different place to see if the puzzle came out the same way. So far, I’ve come up with the same conclusions.”

“And what are they?” Maxwell asked.

“It is difficult to put in words,” Trace said. “Especially,” he smiled, “since you’ve put me on the spot. However, here’s one thing: I’ve come across a few despicable people in the last few months. Some are in jail; it’s what they deserve. Yet, no matter what, there was always something good in them. I always thought, if not for a certain circumstance, I might be a completely different person. Or if just one decent act came their way, they might be completely different.”

“Hump,” Maxwell said, “in some circles that would make you a sucker.”

“I know,” Trace said, “but that doesn’t bother me because I think I know the difference in being a sucker, naive, incredulous, and savvy, discerning, compassionate, and so on.”

“That’s quite a puzzle,” Maxwell said.

“It’s one worth piecing together,” Trace said.

They watched the sea without a word. Gauls swirled and swooped. Waves dashed up the side of the boat. A whale was spotted a distance away. The clouds looked as if they were in a parade.

“Look behind you,” Trace said, “to the north.”

Maxwell turned around and looked. 

“What do you see?” Trace asked.

“Dark clouds,” Maxwell said, “the storm that just passed.”

“You came out here and made a choice to see the good sky, the calm seas, and the white clouds.”

“Meaning?” Maxwell asked.

“You tell me,” Trace said. He gripped Maxwell’s shoulder. “I’m going below. Enjoy.”

Trace walked away. Maxwell continued to watch the sea, the sky, the gulls, and the clouds.

Two Tamas in Paradise; Episode 35, Hurt Feelings

This is the thirty-fifth episode of the novel Two Tamas in Paradise. There are fifty episodes. This is the fourth novel in the Trace Troy South Pacific Adventure series.  

It may now be purchased on Amazon. It is available in paperback or Kindle digital format. 

Hurt Fellings

Shortly past 8:00 AM, Adam stepped into the pilothouse from below. Both he and Trace rocked around in the pilothouse from the heavy seas. Adam sat on the bench. He rolled with each wave. 

“Sleep well?” Trace asked.

“Off and on,” Adam said. “I heard the passengers in the mess.”

“Yeah,” Trace said, “they weren’t sleeping, so I told them they’d be better off keeping each other company.”

“How ya handling her?” Adam said.

“Fine,” Trace said. 

“I had seas like this, maybe once,” Adam said. “I was pretty green and nearly lost her a couple of times.”

“Daylight reveals the danger you were oblivious to a few hours ago,” Trace said. 

Waves gushed over the bow, and sheets of water smashed against the windshield. 

“What’s your strategy?” Adam said.

“Sail through it as best we can,” Trace said. “I had Makani and Sage trim the storm jib.”

“Makani on deck?” Adam questioned.

“He’s younger and more experienced than Coyote,” Trace said. “I didn’t want to risk injury.”

Adam cocked his head and clicked his cheek. “I don’t think Coyote will see it that way.”

“Sage didn’t say a word,” Trace said. 

“How far to Gambier?” Adam asked.

“Most likely seven days,” Trace said. “Do you want to take the wheel for a while?”

“Where ya goin’?” Adam said.

“No place,” Trace said. “I’d just like to have a break. I’m tensed up a bit.”

They exchanged places. Trace sat on the bench, leaned against the back wall, and placed his feet on the bench.

“Ahh,” Trace said, “that feels better.”

“Go below and take a nap,” Adam said. 

“I’m fine here,” Trace said.

Adam looked forward and watched the waves wash over the bow. He kept the bow pointed at forty-five degrees. Soon, he was consumed with holding the boat steady. Every wave and each course adjustment was a victory in seamanship. Skills that had long lain dormant, returned. Thirty years were like yesterday. His exhilaration was great. He wore a confident and victorious smile. 

“I haven’t felt like this in thirty years,” Adam said. “Come to think of it, I didn’t even feel this good thirty years ago. It’s impossible to explain.”

Adam waited for a reply. He turned toward Trace. Trace’s head rolled from side to side. He was asleep. 

Coyote climbed into the pilothouse. He appeared bothered. Adam recognized the sneer on his face as being angry.

“What’s with him?” Coyote said, tossing his head toward Trace.

“Him is the captain,” Adam said. “And the captain is sleeping. He’s had a tough night.”

“Why didn’t he wake me to reef the sails?” Coyote said. “He used the cook—the cook to reef the sails. I’m a deckhand. That’s my job.”

“I think Trace was worried about you getting hurt,” Adam said.

“I didn’t come on this trip to be treated like some old washed-up senior citizen. I can hold my own with anybody.”

“Yeah,” Adam said, “and that’s why he chose you to go with him to the police station. You can handle more than your share, but he was worried about the heavy seas that Makani and Sage would do a better job and be safer.”

“He should have at least woke me up and let me know,” Coyote said. “Why didn’t he do that?”

“Why?” Adam said. “Because he’s the captain.”

“Hey, Coyote,” Adam said, “Trace and Sage both have tough jobs; treat us as greenhorns and at the same time dads. This ship was mine longer than it has been Traces’s, but here I am, sucking hind teat.”

Coyote grinned. “Yeah, yeah, I know better. I just got up out of a dead sleep. I’d have probably got washed overboard if I was out there.”

“If these two kids of ours ever come back to ranching,” Adam said, “we’ll blister their hides then.”

“For sure,” Coyote said. “Have you ever been on seas like this before?”

“Come to think of it,” Trace said. “This is the worst. I had one that was close to this, but this is the worst.”

“Does it scare you?” Coyote said.

“Right to the bone,” Adam said.

“I took two drinks of whisky and let it settle in before leaving my cabin,” Coyote said. “A man that scared shouldn’t be on deck in weather like this.” 

Two Tamas in Paradise: Episode 34, Rough Seas

This is the thirty-fourth episode of the novel Two Tamas in Paradise. There are fifty episodes. This is the fourth novel in the Trace Troy South Pacific Adventure series.  

It may now be purchased on Amazon. It is available in paperback or Kindle digital format. 

Rough Seas

Trace heard reports on the radio of high winds, around fifteen to twenty miles per hour. Because it was near sundown, he had the sails reefed before everyone turned in. Indeed, at 10:00 PM, the winds blew steady at fifteen to twenty miles per hour.

Trace saw only a night light coming from below. Makani was the last to go to bed. He brought a thermos of coffee and a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich along with two blueberry Danishes.

The wind shifted and came from the south. The temperature dipped to fifty-eight degrees. Trace shut the windows. He dashed below and got a jacket from the locker in his cabin. 

Trace sat at the chart desk. The sudden drop in templates might indicate a sudden storm with higher seas. He looked for a nearby island that he might be able to position The Tramp Islander to minimize or avoid the anger of brutal seas. There was nothing within a hundred miles. 

‘At that distance, it’s hardly worth a try,’ he thought. 

He swiveled the chair back to the wheel and checked the wind speed. “Gusts to twenty-five,” he murmured. 

He eyed the phone. He picked it up and punched Sage’s room number. 

It rang four times. “Yep,” Sage said.

“Gusts are up to twenty-five,” Trace said. “Reef the sails. Get Makani Up. Let your dad sleep.”

“Aye, aye,” Sage said and hung up.

Shortly, Sage and Makani swayed in the pilothouse.

“Whenever you two are ready,” Trace said. “If you want a coffee before going out, that’s fine.”

“Sounds good,” Sage said. “It’s cold.”

“I’ll make some coffee,” Makani said and slid below.

“Winds are from the south,” Trace said. “This is their version of arctic air. When I was on the Bering, this was a day in paradise. Arctic air was the only air.”

“Antarctic,” Sage said.

“I stand corrected,” Trace replied. “Tell you what, watch the wheel, and I’ll go check on the passengers.”

Trace climbed below and swayed his way forward to the passenger’s cabins. He rapped on each cabin and asked how they were doing. Everyone was awake and trying to make the best of the situation. 

“Look,” Trace said from the hallway, “if you can’t sleep, Makani is making coffee. Maybe you might feel better in the mess or salon.”

Trace walked back toward the pilothouse. He heard the cabin doors open. All the passengers came out as if they were waiting for the order.

“Hey, Makani,” Trace said. “Take a coffee up for you and Sage. And Maxwell and Calvin, I’m sure you have Makani’s permission to go into the galley. How bout you two getting coffee or tea for the ladies and serving them a snack? That’s alright, isn’t it Makani.”

“Sure thing,” Makani said. He grabbed a thermos of coffee and two cups and climbed to the pilothouse.

“I was in storms much worse than this on the Bering Sea,” Trace said to the passengers to calm them. “When it got rough, we’d do this; get together and talk about things that make us happy—I just hope there are things that make you happy.” He flashed a grin to let them know he had no worries.

After Sage and Makani finished their coffees, they went out on deck, and reefed the sails. They came back dripping wet.

“What have you heard about the weather?” Sage said.

“Moderate gale, spindrift seas,” Trace said. “This is the heaviest seas I’ve seen since down here.”

“I’ve seen much bigger,” Makani said, “from my house on shore.”

“The minute we get a gust to moderate gale, we’ll drop the sails completely,” Trace said. “Take no chances.”

“How long last?” Makani asked.

“The best I can figure is another twenty-four hours,” Trace said.

“I get bucket for passengers,” Makani said and climbed below.

“You loosened up a little bit on the passengers,” Sage said.

“Yeah,” Trace said. “They’ve been with us long enough, besides, we’ll check their pockets before they leave.”

“They seemed to have changed, too,” Sage said.

“Something about going through tough times that can either draw people together or pry them apart,” Trace said.

“It’s sort of funny,” Sage said, “a few days at sea without makeup and those gals start to look wholesome.”

“Yeah, they do,” Trace said.

“Can you keep a secret?” Sage said.

“If I said no, would that keep you from telling me anyway?” Trace said

“I went into Maxwell’s cabin,” Sage said. “I took his hair goop and tossed it overboard. Hair goop might belong on a cruise ship, but not on The Tramp Islander.”

“That’s not good,” Trace said. “We don’t go into a cabin without the permission of the passenger or the captain.”

“It won’t happen again,” Sage said, “but you have to admit, he looks better without it.”

“I’m going to have to punish you,” Trace said. “When the weather clears, you have to show him how to trim the sails.”

“Can’t I just confess and buy him some goop?” Sage said.

“Nope,” Trace said, “Make him a sailor.”

“Ay, ay, Captain Bligh,” Sage said.

Two Tamas in Paradise; Episode 33, Victory Feast

This is the thirty-fourth episode of the novel Two Tamas in Paradise. There are fifty episodes. This is the fourth novel in the Trace Troy South Pacific Adventure series.  

It may now be purchased on Amazon. It is available in paperback or Kindle digital format. 

Victory Feast

Trace and Makani prepared a meal good enough to satisfy an American’s appetite: steak, eggs, fried potatoes, and French toast. The passenger ate appreciatively, served by the crew.

At the end of the meal, Maxwell spoke up. “Trace, Makani, Coyote, Sage, and Adam at the wheel, we don’t know how to thank you. You risked a lot to free us. You could have let us stay there and sailed back to Suva. I really don’t know what to say, other than, thanks.”

The other passenger chimed in with, “Me too.”

“A young boy told us about what happened,” Trace said. “We had to do something.”

“No,” Maxwell said, “you didn’t have to do anything. I have to admit, if the roles were reversed, I don’t think I would have done what you and your crew did.”

“Who knows, the time may come for you to step up and do something good for somebody someday,” Trace said. He glanced at his watch. “We are well beyond the reach of the Cook Island authorities. You folks could probably use some sleep. Just leave your plates and we’ll take care of them.”

They all thanked the crew and made their way to their cabins. The crew quickly cleaned up. Sage, Coyote, and Makani retired to their cabins. 

Trace climbed up to the pilothouse. 

“I heard everything,” Adam said. “Nice, that was nice.”

“Dad,” Trace said, “why don’t you turn in, and I’ll watch things up here.”

“Not going to turn that one down,” Adam said. “We lawyers need our rest, have to stay sharp.” He tapped his temple.

The adrenaline still ran through Trace’s body. He felt as awake as if he slept all day.

Makani brought a thermos of coffee and a blueberry Danish. 

“My favorite,” Trace said, 

“I know,” Makani said.

“Thanks,” Trace said, and set the thermos and Danish on the chart desk.

“Makani sleep now,” Makani said and yawned. 

“Long day, right?” Trace said.

“Long day,” Makani affirmed. “I be up in time for breakfast.”

“Sleep in,” Trace said. “Everybody else will.”

“That’s not how I run galley,” Makani said.

“No problem,” Trace said. 

“Makani sleep a little, he be good,” Makani said. “Good night, Captain.”

“Good night, Makani,” Trace said and smiled as Makani slipped below.

From the opening in the companionway, Trace saw the lights go out. Soon, it was only the green glow from the instruments and the flashing deck lights. He relaxed. The Tramp Islander pushed on over the waves. A steady breeze whistled around the pilothouse. He turned on the shortwave radio and heard some chatter about the escape. ‘We are heroes,' Trace thought and smiled. 

Trace switched off the radio. ’It will be more than two weeks before arriving at Gambier,’ he thought. ‘I’m starting to like those people, but not enough to trust them with my money.’