Copyright © 2021
Published by DOWN ISLAND PRESS, 2021
Beaufort, SC
Copyright © 2021 by Wayne Stinnett
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without express written permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Library of Congress cataloging-in-publication Data
Stinnett, Wayne
Rising Tide/Wayne Stinnett
p. cm. – (A Jesse McDermitt novel)
ISBN: 978-1-7356231-5-3 (eBook)
Cover photograph by Alexandr Gerasimov
Graphics and Interior Design by Aurora Publicity
Edited by The Write Touch
Final Proofreading by Donna Rich
Audiobook Narration by Nick Sullivan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Most of the locations herein are also fictional or are used fictitiously. However, the author takes great pains to depict the location and description of the many well-known islands, locales, beaches, reefs, bars, and restaurants throughout the Florida Keys and the Caribbean to the best of his ability.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Maps
Prelude
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Afterword
Dedicated to the memory of Ed Robinson, a great storyteller, friend, husband, and father, whose final voyage came far too early.
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January 5, 2021
I was on Singer Island, prepping for a billfish tournament, when Buck Reilly called me. He’d told me a couple of weeks earlier that he’d help me find a flying boat. I was surprised that he was calling so soon.
He wanted to make a deal: trade my services for a plane he found. The problem was, he needed me in the Bahamas with Floridablanca on Monday, two days after the tournament ended. I explained to my crew—Jimmy, Rusty, and Tank—what Buck wanted me to do. Tank and Jimmy were up for the adventure, but Rusty had reservations.
“I tossed him and another man outa the Anchor a few years ago,” he said. “Is what he’s asking you to do legal?”
I thought about it a moment. “It’s a fine line,” I said. “But I don’t think any laws will be broken.”
“Ethical?”
“You’re talking ethics about the people he’s trying to swindle?”
“Point taken,” he said. “Okay, I’m in.”
Six days later, after having had a great time in the tournament, we skipped over to Bimini, swapped boats, and met up with Buck and his partner, Ray Floyd. The meeting place was at a predesignated spot on the edge of the Bahama Banks, west of Andros Island. Checking my chart, I found that the location was in international waters. Barely. Buck and Ray arrived in a pair of Grumman flying boats—a Goose and a Mallard.
We’d dropped the hook on a dive site and anchored nearby, floated the two flying boats—one of which was soon to be mine. All we had to do was hoist some heavy cannons off the sea floor and move them somewhere else. I didn’t ask any questions. It was Buck’s find.
We’d already raised three of them onto the foredeck. They were heavy, but Floridablanca was all steel and displaced fifty tons when fully loaded. The water and fuel tanks, eighteen hundred gallons each, were half empty, so the weight of the cannons was negligible. We just weren’t going to be running real fast with them up near the bow, which was the only place they’d fit and the only place the large forward crane could reach.
Buck surfaced and gave me the signal to hoist. I used the controls in the pilothouse to allow Jimmy to maneuver the cannons onto the deck without having to deal with the remote control.
As he guided the cannon to the deck, Jimmy called to Buck over the side, “Dude, how many more of these pirate sticks you got down there?”
“Last one,” Buck yelled back. “Come get me at the plane once you have that one set.”
As Jimmy and Rusty covered the last cannon with a tarp, Buck swam back to his plane to get out of his dive gear.
A moment later, Jimmy started the outboard on the tender and headed over to the Goose to get Buck. We still didn’t know where he wanted us to take the cargo.
Jimmy killed the engine as he came alongside the Goose’s hatch, where Buck was waiting for him.
“Cool old planes, hermano,” I heard Jimmy say. “Like stepping back in time.”
Buck got into the dinghy and the two started back over. I went back through the salon and stepped outside to the covered cockpit, where I opened the transom door.
After Buck tied off the painter to a cleat, he stood in the dinghy, smiling up at me. “Permission to come aboard?”
I waved him on.
“Gentlemen,” he said, shaking hands with Tank and Rusty.
“Reilly,” Rusty said.
“Are we talking the Goose or the Mallard?” I asked, point blank.
“The Mallard,” Buck replied.
I turned to look at it and saw Ray Floyd seated in the hatch, watching us. He waved. Ray sometimes worked on my old deHavilland Beaver.
“That Ray Floyd?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’s my partner at Last Resort,” Buck replied.
“Let’s go check it out,” I said.
“Now isn’t the best time.”
Buck and I were the same height, though I
