CHAPTER EIGHT
September 17
Bilge Rat Pub, San Cristobal Island
When the Boca group arrived at the Bilge Rat Pub, flames already danced in the pit, sending up bright sparks. It would be the only open fire on the island, the wood having been brought over from the mainland, as there was no wood for cutting on San Cristobal. Most of the PFCers had already gathered, their faces glowing from sunburn and the heat from the fire. Standing on one of the picnic tables, a fiddler entertained everyone with a rousing reel, accompanied by their clapping hands. From the crowd, a young man jumped up, flute in hand, and joined in. Off to one side, a small group of young people danced jigs to the music.
With the rest of the Boca group, Helena made herself comfortable and enjoyed the camp-out atmosphere. It reminded her of the times she’d spent at Girl Scout camp, sitting around the fire, singing songs, telling ghost stories, and toasting marshmallows. She’d enjoyed those outings, even when the facilities had been primitive. When had she become so addicted to modern conveniences? When had she lost the ability to relax, have fun, laugh and not feel guilty about it, as if she were wasting time? Maybe Alex was right. She was too uptight. Took things too seriously.
When the song ended, followed by a burst of applause, Helena touched Alex on the arm, hating to intrude on his obvious enjoyment of the music. “We’d better start passing the word before Tibbits shows up.”
The delight in his eyes changed to something hard. “Right.” He motioned to Bill, and the two of them rose from the sand and, counterclockwise, wandered around the circle, hunching down to speak to a number of the other men.
Helena and Julia stood, then walked in the opposite direction, crouching now and then to talk to the PFC women. She tried to stress to them the importance of keeping away from the security man, and to pass the word among their own groups to do the same.
Four singers stood and began a round of sea chanteys, which were well known by the PFCers, who sang boisterously along. When the singers took a break, Alex came forward into the firelight, saying he needed to make a few announcements. He was dressed in loose open shirt, baggy pants called “slops”, and his feet currently bare. A blue sash was tied around his waist, and cutlass hung at his left hip. With the firelight casting gold highlights on his handsome features, Helena thought him the most romantic looking pirate she’d ever seen.
With exaggerated humor, he began, “All right, you rowdy bunch of scabrous dogs, here be the warnin’s. Break em, and ye’ll be keelhauled.”
“And who’s to be doin’ that, Captain, as we’ve nuthin’ with a keel within ten leagues o’ here.” A dark-bearded man in his forties grinned at Alex.
“I’ll be assignin’ that task to you, Rum Runner, and you can decide how best to rig it.”
The crowd laughed, then Alex proceeded to list the dangers of jellyfish in the water, tumbling from the rocks inland, sinking into the marsh, or falling off the pier. Parents were to mind their powder monkeys at all times. There were to be no open fires, other than at the Bilge Rat. Candles must be enclosed in some sort of lantern, but preferably not used at all, due to the fire hazard. He also reminded everyone that La Perla was cut off from San Cristobal during high tide by about three feet of water.
“Now, here’s Mad Matilda to tell ye about the treasure hunt.” He finished, bowed theatrically, and disappeared into the crowd.
“Thank ye, Captain.” Mad Matilda stepped forward. “Now, I know you lot be lookin’ forward to the treasure hunt, so here be the rules. Each mornin’ I’ll be postin’ a clue here at the Bilge Rat. First one ta find the chest, be the winner.” She gave the crowd a stern look. “And don’t be diggin’ pits all over the island, ‘cause the chest be not buried, but in plain sight o’ yer bloodshot eyes. There’s no need fer ye ta be wadin’ over to La Perla, neither, as the treasure be hidden on San Cristobal.”
A young man stood and raised his mug. “Would ye be acceptin’ bribes as to the location?”
Matilda gave the man an exaggerated appraisal. “What have ye got in mind, mate?”
“Sumthin’ in private.”
She straightened, her arms crossed over her ample chest. “And yer a brave one to be makin’ suggestions, with me husband nary ten feet from ye, and ready ta separate yer head from yer shoulders.”
Matilda’s husband stepped out of the crowd. He was built like a blacksmith, and made as if to pull his cutlass from his belt. To applause and laughter, the young man sat down.
Matilda waved a hand. “They’ll be no bribes, so save yer breath. The treasure be worth yer time, but mind Captain Blue’s warnin’s while ye be lookin’ fer it.” With a cocked eye at the seated youth, Matilda’s husband escorted her back to her place.
By that time, Helena and Julia had rejoined Christa, Don and Arthur.
Alex walked into the circle once again. “We all be wantin’ ta have a fine time, and I know ye all be brave and tough, but mind, we’re a long ways from the mainland, so use yer noggins. Ye be warned.” With a smile, he walked around the fire pit and rejoined the Boca group. “Where’s Bill?”
“He’s not back yet,” Helena said. “How many people did you have a chance to talk to?”
“I tried to see most of the group leaders. They’ll pass the word to their crews.”
“What was their reaction?”
“Most didn’t act too surprised. Apparently, I’m not the only one Tibbits has riled. What about the women?”
“They didn’t say much, but agreed to be careful.”
At that moment, Bill rejoined them, sitting next to Alex. In a low voice, he said, “Tibbits is here.”
Helena looked quickly around the gathering, but didn’t see him.
“Where?” Alex asked.
“Other side of the cabana. He’s standing in the dark, watching.”
“You think he noticed us talking to people?” Helena couldn’t help but glance toward the back of the cabana. She couldn’t see anyone.
Bill shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t know how long he’s been there. I wouldn’t have seen him myself, if I hadn’t had to use the privy. Passed right by him on my way back. He asked me if I was having a nice evening. Nearly jumped out of my boots.”
Christa, her eyes wide, said, “That man gives me the creeps.”
“I think that’s what he’s trying to do. So far, it’s working pretty well,” Bill said.
As the group settled in to enjoy the rest of the songs and music, Helena glanced toward the cabana again, trying to picture the security man lurking in the darkness. Even though she still didn’t see anyone, her skin crawled. She turned to Alex. “Let’s just hope everyone takes our warning seriously. I don’t trust that man.”
Later that evening, Helena and Alex trailed a little behind the others as they walked back to the tents. Alex had his arm around her waist. It made her feel safe, which was admitting she felt afraid. Not just of Tibbits, although he was a big part of it, but of the island. It was too isolated, too dark. A soft breeze rattled the dry palm leaves, making it sound as if the trees were whispering secrets. The rolling surf, which should sound soothing, made her feel stranded. Apparently, relaxing was going to be harder than she thought.
Alex hugged her closer. “You’re being awfully quiet. Tibbits got you spooked?”
She slid her arm around his hips, hooking her thumb in his sash. “Yeah, a little.”
“Can’t say I blame you. For once I wish I was in the future instead of the past. I could have Scotty beam him up.”
Helena smiled. “I’d tell Scotty to accidentally push the wrong button and send his nasty little particles out into space.”
“Forget Tibbits. We came here to have fun, not spend all our time worrying about some overzealous security guard.”
“I know. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll fall in the marsh. Does it have quicksand?”
Alex chuckled. “I don’t think so, thank goodness. That’s one hazard I wouldn’t want to deal with.”
When they reached the tents, Arthur said, “I brought a large bottle of Amaretto from home. The good stuff. How about a night cap?”
“Sounds good to me,” Alex said.
“I’ll get the glasses. I’m not drinking Amaretto from pewter.” Julia ducked into a spare tent they had set up to store supplies in case it should rain.
“What’s Amaretto?” Christa asked.
Arthur poured and handed her a glass. “Ambrosia, my dear, ambrosia.”
When everyone had a small glass of the golden liquid, Bill made a toast. “To a successful event, here on ‘Treasure Island’.”
Don raised his glass. “Just as long as we remember, the only treasure is the one Mad Matilda has stashed.”
Arthur shook his head. “You never know, Don. You just never know.”
Julia huffed. “Well, I, for one, am not going to spend my days tramping all over San Cristobal looking for treasure, Matilda’s or, what’s his name’s.”
“Captain Renaldo,” Arthur reminded her.
“Me either,” Christa chimed in. “I’m going to take some classes, work on a nice tan, and get the attention of that guy who tried to bribe Matilda. Is he with someone?”
“Not that I’ve noticed,” Alex said.
“Are pirates allowed to wear bikini’s?” Helena asked.
Alex grinned. “Why, you bring one?”
“Just asking.” She had a little—a very little—surprise for him.
“I don’t see why not. Actually, as remote as we are, I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of the ladies went without suits, period.”
Helena had a sudden, ugly picture of Tibbits standing hidden in the palms, watching the women swim. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Alex. Not with our voyeuristic Mr. Tibbits around.”
Alex’s face hardened. “Damn that man. Were it not for him, I really don’t think it would be a problem.”
“I agree with Helena.” Julia set her empty glass on the folding table. “That would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Even if he didn’t actually accost anyone, he could use that as an excuse to stop the event.”
“And there’s the kids to think of,” Arthur said. “They don’t need to see a bunch of naked ladies frolicking in the waves.”
Alex scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Jeeze, I forgot about the kids. You’re right. No swimming in the buff, male or female.” He sighed. “I better post that first thing in the morning, before the idea occurs to someone.”
Julia got up from her place at the table. “I’m to bed. See you lot in the morning.”
“Me too.” Christa yawned. “This Amaretta stuff is really good, Arthur, but it makes me sleepy.”
Bill set his glass next to Julia’s. “I think we all better turn in. It’s been a long day.”
Alex looked at Helena. “You ready for bed, H. H.?”
She laughed. “Lead on, Captain.”
Within the confines of the small dome tent, Helena and Alex undressed, awkwardly bumping into each other, trying not to laugh. They slipped into the joined sleeping bags, thankful for the inflatable mattress under them. It was obvious to Helena that Alex was neither tired nor sleepy. He pulled her to him hungrily, surprising her with his sudden need. His lovemaking was a possession—a rough, primitive claiming of what was his. He took and she willingly gave, while in the back of her mind she recognized this was his way of telling her she belonged to him, and he would protect her.
Afterward they both lay exhausted. Over their quick breathing, Helena heard the pounding waves as they broke over the sand and rushed up the beach. As if the ocean were a huge, dark animal clutching at the island with watery claws, waiting to drag her in. Her heart pounded and she had an overwhelming urge to get up and run. But to where? Down the beach, where, like Robinson Crusoe, she would end up back where she started, and meet her own footprints in the sand?
Alex’s fingers touched her arm and she flinched.
“Hey,” he whispered, “you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
He raised up on one elbow. “It’s not Tibbits, is it? Are you frightened of him?”
“I hate to admit it, but, yes. It’s not just Tibbits, though.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know. Just a feeling that something isn’t right.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” His voice had a hard edge to it, so unlike his usual half-joking tone. “I promise.”
“I know. I’m probably overreacting.” She curled against him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “I meant to tell you, tonight, when you were standing by the fire, I thought you looked magnificent. Handsomest pirate on San Cristobal.”
“Why, thank ye, lass. You cut a fine figure yourself in that saucy little bodice you squeezed your ... yourself into.”
“Glad to hear you noticed.”
“Oh, trust me, I noticed.”
“Ooo, Captain, I think you forgot to remove your cutlass before coming to bed.”
He snuggled into her neck then gave her ear a nip. “No, darlin’, I never go anywhere without me weapon.”
Much later, as the waves crashed and receded against the white sands of San Cristobal, Helena lay half asleep, the taste of Amaretto sweet on her lips, and Alex’s strong arms holding her safe.
