3 Hour Tour (Dee Sanders Book 1), page 9
I maintained a quick pace for three-quarters of an hour, then stopped, caught my breath, and moved closer to the bluff line for shade. I sipped slowly on the water wanting to conserve it. Perhaps I'd discover more, perhaps not. I glanced out to the sea and noted that the tide was further in than it had been when I started. The clock was ticking, and the tides turning on me. I walked closer to the tide line, pulled out my scope, and looked. There it was, the tip of the island. I guesstimated it would take me another half hour to reach it. That would mean about eighty minutes of brisk walking. The distance on the windward side would be in the neighborhood of four miles.
With my destination in sight, I slowed my pace and took my time. It was late morning, and I stopped and cut up the coconut. I liked coconut, but I was growing tired of it. I'd have to determine the best way to fish. I still had a half bottle of water.
Reaching the tip of the island I rounded the corner to the leeward side. What a view, the island running back to my left, the open ocean before me, midway between, the reef and the change of color in the water, the beach, the sand, the sun shining directly on me. It was hot. I thought about it and realized we were moving into the South Pacific summer. Winter in the northern hemisphere is summer in the southern. Late October would be spring in this part of the world.
I had sunscreen in my bag, but I was sweating so heavily there was no reason to apply it. It wouldn't last. Through my scope, I spotted the beach and boat. The distance couldn't be more than two miles. I figured it would take me forty minutes to get back to that spot. Based on that calculation, I was approximately a mile below the group on the bluff where I had slept, plus the two miles it would take to get back, which made the island approximately four miles on the windward side, and three miles on the leeward side. Not a big island, but plenty of room. Why was nobody here? I'd think recreational sailors might seek it out unless the island was just too far off the charts.
Walking down the beach, I kept an eye on movement and an ear on sound. I didn’t see or hear anything in the first twenty minutes. When I felt close enough, I searched for a way to get inland to approach the group on my own terms.
I wandered about twenty yards inland and found an area with palms and undergrowth. I could move quickly along through here until I saw or heard someone.
Walking another ten minutes I estimated their camp to be no more than a half-mile away. My progress through the undergrowth had been slower than when I was on the beach.
I knew you could hear a loud voice up to 600 feet, which would be just over a tenth of a mile. Moving closer, I'd walk a little way, stop and listen, walk again. The process was killing my time, but it allowed me to recover from the hike. I crossed another stream and stopped to fill my water bottle. That raised a question. I had my bag and my water bottle, and all the other stuff. I didn't want those things seized.
Moving deeper inland I eased along in the underbrush. I could walk all the way back to the bluff, where I camped, and leave my stuff, or stash it somewhere and recover it later. The question would be how I would be received. If Antoine asked me what I had done with the bag, what would I say? What if they tried to restrain me from leaving? Having already decided I'd rather be alone on the island, I didn’t mind helping them out, but I didn’t want to be mandated.
Finding an observation point, I pulled out the scope and saw the boat on the beach directly in front of me. I could hear the water upstream of the pool, where we had all gathered.
I pressed on and crossed the stream that feeds the pool. Continuing for a hundred yards I saw a recess on the cliff face. It was just big enough for my bag and looked dry and secure. I set the bag in the recess and covered it with some downed palm fronds.
Hiking back across the stream I went a hundred yards beyond. At that point, I turned and walked down to the beach and then along the sand and tree line toward the group.
It wasn’t but a minute and I heard voices. I couldn’t tell what they were saying, but I could hear other sounds, like movement and work.
Arriving at the flat spot Antoine had picked, I could see the group constructing huts.
Jamal saw me first. He ran over and grabbed my shoulder. “You okay?”
“I’m good, went for a walk and got lost. I’ve been all the way around the island.”
Antoine saw us, as did the others. Everyone stopped what they were doing.
I grinned at them. “I went for a walk, got turned around, and ended up circling the island.”
"I saw you through the trees, coming up from the far end of the island," said Gina, pointing in the direction from which I had come, as if to confirm my story.
Antoine stood with hands-on-hips. His three stooges eased in towards him. He and his boys were dry and alert while everyone else looked damp and tired.
“We’re attempting to build some shelter,” said Antoine. “Our young men are casting their nets,” he continued, pointing down to the water. “We’re going to grow weary of water and coconut.”
"Well, I'm afraid there isn't much else on the island. There were no piers or docks. In fact, the far side of the island is all bluff line and windward."
“Are you content then?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Good, let’s get back to work. I’m told you harvested the young coconuts. The milk in them was quite tasty. Perhaps you could gather some more,” he said.
“Happy to!”
"William will go with you," he said, nodding to one of his assistants.
Jamal looked at me and grinned. He spoke softly, “You didn’t miss nothing.”
As William approached, Jamal turned and rejoined his workgroup, which looked to be Mike and several of the other men.
"Let's go, Bill," I called out.
“It’s William to you,” he snarled.
I turned to go.
“Wait,” he called out.
I stopped, and he walked up beside me. "Now, we can go."
I searched for several minutes, wandering through the palms and getting a feel for where everyone was and what they were doing.
“Stop wasting time,” William said.
Without stopping, I replied, "I'm looking for the right tree. It takes a little time."
He grumbled.
Ahead, I spotted a tree with a large coconut cluster. It was a little taller than the one from the day before, but the slope was right.
“This one will work.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked, in a suspicious tone.
“I’m going to climb the tree and throw the coconuts down to you, so don’t let them hit you.”
He scowled.
"You got a knife, Billy?"
He stepped right into my face. “My name is William, are we going to have a problem with that?”
“Not if you have a knife, William.”
“What for?”
"It's easier if you can cut the stalk. Otherwise, you have to waggle the fruit back and forth until it breaks, waste a lot of time," I answered.
He nodded, reached in his pocket, and handed me a switch action knife with a five-inch blade.
“Very nice.”
“I want it back.”
“No worries,” I said and I pocketed the knife and started up the tree.
He watched from the ground, shaking his head.
It took me a few minutes to get to the top. Once near the fruit, I wrapped my legs securely and fished out his knife. It opened and locked with a reassuring click. I began cutting the stalks and waggling the fruit. The knife was sharp, and it made quick work.
As the coconuts turned loose, I dropped them to William. After just a few, he hollered at me, “Slow down, I can’t catch them and stack them.”
Fortunately for me, the angle was comfortable enough that I could hold on, but just the same, I thought I'd have a little fun with him.
"You better hurry, I can't hang up here all day." To my surprise, he moved a little faster.
I cut a dozen, put the knife away, and made my way down. William was walking the fruit back to the group. By the time I got down, he had carried most of it away. I dismounted the tree and tossed him the knife.
“Thanks, that made it a lot easier.”
He nodded and started back to the group with the last of the fruit.
Over his shoulder, he called out, "Come on, let's go!"
Under my breath, I said, sure thing Willie!
22
Group Dynamics
We spent the rest of the afternoon gathering fruit. I’d locate a tree, climb, cut the fruit, throw it down to William, and dismount. Then we’d repeat.
After we’d collected a couple dozen coconuts, I said to him, “How many do we need? They’ll spoil if we cut too many.”
“Antoine says he wants three dozen, we get three dozen.”
“Why so many?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
I looked at him for a second. “You always do what Antoine tells you? You don’t ask why?”
“Get back to work,” he said sharply.
I guess that was my answer.
We gathered another dozen coconuts and walked back to the camp. Everyone was clustered by the pool, sipping water and resting. I sat in the sand next to Mike and Jamal. Angelic and Keno were cutting coconut and handing it out to the others. I noticed there were a half dozen gallon water jugs scattered among the group, which made drinking easier.
“Oh, Great Food Gatherer,” said Jamal and gave me a fist bump. Mike nodded.
"Where did the jugs come from?" I said, pointing to the plastic containers.
Jamal replied, "Antoine's assistants found them in a storage bin on the motor launch. By the way, Antoine said no one should go around the boat so that they don't get hurt. His assistants searched it and have been guarding it since then."
“What could they have found?” I asked. “I didn’t see much of anything.”
“We didn’t see them bring anything ashore, but they’ve stayed close since they searched it,” replied Mike.
We sat in silence for a moment.
“What have you guys been up to otherwise?” I asked.
Mike pulled his ball cap off and wiped his forehead. "We have been building huts, you know, like Gilligan's Island." He laughed. "They're about halfway out of the ground. First big puff of wind will blow them away."
“You not offer any construction advice?”
“Antoine seems to have an idea of what he is doing. He must have a construction background, although there’s not much you can do with sticks, vines, and palm fronds.”
I looked at them both. Exhaustion lined their eyes.
Jamal saw me looking. “Antoine gives the instructions, his assistants manage it, and the rest of us do the work. It’s getting old. I’m getting tired of it. We need to get off this rock soon.”
“How is everyone taking it?”
"There's some tension," replied Mike. "Jamal and I are doing most of the shelter work. The others are older and do what they can. Gina has been really helpful and energetic. Tom Jones doesn't have much energy, but he keeps us entertained."
“How’re the young guys doing with the fishing?”
They both shook their heads. "They haven't caught anything," replied Jamal.
“Their nets keep breaking,” added Mike.
"Antoine isn't thrilled with them," followed up Jamal.
Through the trees, I saw down to the beach where the young guys were casting nets. I looked up at the sun, it was late afternoon. "It's not a good time for fishing, is it?" I asked.
Mike grinned, as did Jamal. “No,” said Mike.
“Antoine has them so jacked up, they keep going at it,” added Jamal.
“I think they’re getting pretty frustrated,” said Mike.
We sat and rested.
The group of young men came up from the beach carrying their nets, but otherwise empty-handed. They slumped by the pool and got water to drink. They looked tired, weary, and frustrated. I nodded to them, and they looked at me and glazed out.
"I see you weren't successful," Antoine noted. He stood above them as he approached with his arms crossed. Two of his assistants flanked his sides.
The young man who had spoken to him earlier jumped to his feet. "We're tired of this bullshit! We're not fishermen. Catch the damn fish yourself!" he spat out. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“You’re not doing your part. That is unacceptable,” Antoine said as he leaned over the young man. It looked to me like Antoine was trying to provoke him. It worked.
The young man sputtered and stepped up to Antoine with his fists raised. One of the assistants stepped in and drove a fist into the boy’s stomach, sending him stumbling back. He doubled up and staggered. Two of the other boys jumped to their feet and were at once face-to-face with the other two assistants.
Mike and Jamal were both leaning forward.
“Gentlemen,” cooed Antoine, “violence is not necessary, we all just need to do our part so that we all prosper.”
”And just what are you and these goons doing to help?” the young man on the ground gasped out as he tried to catch his breath.
Antoine took a step closer to the young man and tented his fingers while looking down at him. “We are planning and managing the operation, a necessary and integral function.”
”Bullshit! You think you’re some kind of king,” he said and flung sand in Antoine’s direction.
The closest assistant to Antoine took a quick step forward and kicked the boy in the chest, hurling him back into the sand. The largest of the other young men shoved the assistant nearest to him to try and go to his friend. He caught a hard right under the chin, from the assistant he shoved, that knocked him to his knees.
The entire group was watching and drawing closer.
Antoine raised his hands above his head. “Stop!” he called. “This is not necessary. We all must work together, do our part, and get along. Everyone must give their best effort so that we all succeed. Don’t you want off this island? This is the only way! I will lead you from this place.”
Nobody spoke. The two young men on the ground were recovering their composure while their friends watched in silence.
Since the huts weren’t finished, we slept on the beach near the tree line. People mostly slept in their workgroups, separated by a few feet of sand. Jamal, Mike, Angelic, Keno, and I were in one area. The rest of the hut crew was together a few feet away. Antoine and his guys were further up in the trees. The group of young men was several feet away and down the beach. The boat lay at rest in the sand beyond them.
Daylight came early, as did the night. We were all tired, and it only took a few minutes for people to start drifting off to sleep. We customized the sand to make a mattress, more like a foxhole, to fit our individual shapes.
It was beautiful when you lay down, like we were only a few feet from the stars and the water. We had the sounds of the surf, and the smell of the ocean and jungle, to lull us to sleep.
I nodded off quickly and slept for several hours. I woke and rolled to my side to the reflective face of my watch. It was a little after one am and very quiet. The tide was out as even the water wasn’t making any sound. I could feel something in the air. I lay still and silent and listened to the breathing of the group of people along the shore. I didn’t think anyone was awake. I rolled to my back and stretched my neck while looking toward Antoine’s group. I could see no movement and heard only a slight collective breath.
I rolled back toward the beach and the ocean. That’s when I caught a glimpse of motion and heard, rather than saw, movement. The group of young guys was slowly easing out of their beds.
I didn't move. From my vantage point, I could see two of them start down the beach toward the boat, while the other two moved in my direction. The two coming toward me might not have been able to catch fish, but they were stealthy. They slipped past my group and continued toward Antoine and his assistants. I tilted my head and shifted my eyes without moving my body to follow their trail.
I had no idea what they could be doing, although I was beginning to sense a plan. There was no way for them to overpower the assistants, so they must want something else. What could that be? Food and water, portable water in jugs? I saw the food and water stacked in a pile, a few feet from Antoine's group, as we had prepared for bed. I guessed Antoine felt so comfortable that no one was standing watch over the food or the boat.
The supplies were to the side of the sleeping men. The young guys eased around and approached the food and water. One of them held his arms out, and the other stacked a large pile of coconuts into them. He had long arms, and I guessed they must have taken about half of what was there. The fully loaded young man started toward the boat. The other young man grabbed the six water jugs, three in each hand, and made his way back to the boat.
I watched them glide across the sand. I rolled my head back to check Antoine and his group. They were all sleeping.
I watched the two young guys with the provisions reach the boat, which the other two had apparently been working on, sliding it toward the water. They handed over the supplies, and all four began pushing.
I rolled lightly out of the sand and walked slowly toward them. I waved my arms above my head in a slow, signaling motion. When I saw one of them see me, I stopped.
I held my arms still, upright, palms out. Then I took a few steps toward them. No one made a sound.
As I got closer to them, the leader stopped pushing and turned to meet me. I stopped a few feet from the group and spoke softly.
