the swim platform on the lower aft deck. Suzanne, Sam and Carl were listening intently to Mira. Suzanne didn’t notice that Helen had joined the group.
“Louise kept a stash of a thousand dollars’ cash for emergencies,” Mira said. “She said this was an emergency—she had to save her sanity. She paid that charter boat a thousand dollars to take her away. That white one there.”
She pointed toward the horizon where the cabin cruiser was disappearing fast.
“I tried to stop her, but she pushed me away,” Mira said. “Louise said she was desperate. I tried to hang on, but I couldn’t. I hurt my knee and hit my head. Look.”
Mira showed them a nasty scrape on her right knee and a dime-sized bloody spot on her scalp. “She pulled out my barrette,” she said.
“I think we’d better report to the captain right now,” Carl said.
CHAPTER 22
Josiah Swingle was dangerously angry. He did not shout when Mira told him that Louise left the ship. If anything, his voice was lower and calmer. But Helen saw his jaw muscles bunch as he clenched his teeth. That was the only signal to beware.
The captain called an emergency meeting in the mess while the crew ate breakfast. He looked tired this morning, though his uniform was fresh and he’d taken time to shave.
The crew was quiet. Their usual chatter had dried up. Suzanne had set out breakfast for the staff. Helen grabbed a tortilla stuffed with cheese, eggs and potatoes, and poured a cup of coffee. She sat down at the table next to Sam. Even after a rough night the young deckhand looked ridiculously handsome. He gave her a tentative smile and scooted over in the booth.
Andrei sat on the other side, glowering at his coffee. Carl, the first mate, had stayed on the bridge. Suzanne perched on the stairs, ready to sprint up to the galley if she heard anyone come into the dining room.
The captain stood in the center of the room.
Mira sat at the edge of the U-shaped booth and recited her story again. “Everyone knows that Louise was ready to quit,” she said, looking around the room for confirmation. “She told all of us she was sick of working on the boat, didn’t she? Well?”
After an awkward silence, Matt the bosun said, “That’s true.”
“I heard her say it,” Andrei said.
“Me, too,” Sam said.
“I bet she even told you, Helen,” Mira said.
“She said she was sick of waiting on rich idiots,” Helen said.
“Sh! Keep your voice down,” Mira cautioned. “What if a guest heard you?”
“You asked,” Helen said, trying to keep her voice mild.
“Louise may have complained,” Suzanne said, “but we all do that. She’s always been reliable. I don’t believe she left. She might quit when we got to Atlantis—like the stew Helen replaced—but I can’t see Louise leaving us in the lurch.”
“You didn’t work with her the way I did,” Mira said. “Louise said the storm was the last straw. She knew we had at least ten hours of sailing today. She said she couldn’t stand this yacht another minute. She was afraid she might hurt herself—or a guest.”
Josiah Swingle was a judge listening to the arguments. Now he spoke for the first time since he asked Mira to give her account. “Why would a lone woman with a lot of cash go off on a strange boat in a foreign country?” he asked. “It’s dangerous.”
“It wasn’t risky,” Mira said. “She left on a fishing charter boat that operates out of Miami. The captain was anchored in the same cove as us. He was heading home and happy to have the extra money.”
“What was the name of this boat?” Josiah asked.
“Describe it,” the captain said.
“Typical charter fishing boat,” she said. “Hatteras cabin cruiser, white with a tuna tower. Maybe thirty feet long. Well cared for. I don’t know the size of the crew, but the captain said he had a party of four fishermen aboard. I think Louise saw the boat, flagged them down and offered the captain cash to take her home. I heard voices and came down to the swim platform. Louise was boarding the boat. She’d already handed her duffel to a crew member. I tried to stop her and that’s when she fought me. Suzanne heard the commotion upstairs. By the time she came down, the boat was gone. Carl was there, too.”
“I’ll tell the Bahamian custom agents,” the captain said.
“Will this make trouble for us?” asked Andrei, the first engineer.
“I don’t think so,” Josiah said. “I haven’t cleared her into the country.
“Back to work, everyone. We’re all behind schedule. The owners are going to customs at eight o’clock. I’ll go with them. We have to present ourselves in person. You’ll leave here at eight fifteen so I can clear in the crew.”
The captain stalked off toward the bridge and the crew got their orders from their immediate supervisors.
“Helen, we have to do Louise’s work as well as ours,” Mira said. “Start the laundry, then go to the galley and help serve breakfast. The men are awake and out of the sky lounge, so I’ll start cleaning it.”
Mira was taking on a tough job, Helen thought. Scotty and his cigars left more ash than a volcanic eruption. She put her breakfast plate and cup in the crew galley dishwasher, threw two loads of towels in the washer and ran upstairs to the coffee- and cinnamon-scented galley. The chef seemed content in her kingdom.
“Finish setting up for breakfast,” Suzanne said. “The guests could show up any moment—at least I hope so. They have to go through customs early if we’re going to make Atlantis today.”
Suzanne had prepared a buffet with colorful fruit salad in melon bowls, baskets of fresh-baked bread and muffins, bowls of Greek yogurt, granola, steel-cut oatmeal, crisp bacon, plump sausages and fried potatoes.
“All you need is an ice sculpture and you’ll have a buffet big enough for a cruise ship,” Helen said.
The chef peeled the tape off the cabinets and removed the Bubble Wrap that kept the china from shifting during the storm. Helen saw at least four sets of china.
“What service should I use?” she asked.
“The Spode Stafford Flowers on that lower shelf.” Suzanne handed her a plate with delicate flowers and a scrolled gold rim.
“Pretty,” Helen said.
“I’ll say. It’s eight hundred a place setting,” she said. “We only bring it out when the sea is calm.”
“My hands tremble at the thought of carrying it,” Helen said.
“Just be glad you don’t have to serve a formal dinner. Missus likes to use her Royal Copenhagen Flora Danica. That’s seven thousand a place setting.”
“I could trip and wipe out a year’s wages,” Helen said.
The footsteps on the guest staircase silenced their conversation. A rumpled, red-eyed Scotty staggered into the galley, trailing wisps of cigar smoke. He’d changed into fresh clothes, but still smelled like stale stogies.
“Got any coffee?” he asked. Exhausted by those three words, he sat in the dining room. Earl and Ralph followed a little later. Earl managed one word: “Coffee.” Ralph grunted. Helen wasn’t sure if that was a command or a greeting.
After a coffee infusion, the men ordered hearty meat-and-cheese-stuffed omelets with sausage, bacon and fried potatoes. Helen delivered the food without a mishap.
