Gloria Jenner sat in a well-lit corner of the main lounge, with an open book on her lap. She watched Wayne cross the silent carpet, nodding and smiling to other residents and visitors as he steered a course toward her.
"Hello, darling, how are you today?" He sat beside her on the bright print sofa.
"Oh fine . . . I suppose."
"I see you're reading. What's the story?"
"Hmmm?"
"Your book. What book are you reading?"
"Oh I don't know." Her fingers plucked at the leather bookmark, flipping it against the page.
"Well I'm sure it's a good story." He sighed and glanced about the room, returning his gaze to the woman who had been his wife for thirteen years before plunging into her present state.
"How is my daughter?" Her question sounded faint and dreamy.
"Our daughter, Gloria. Our daughter. Moira is fine. She is doing very well." He cringed inside at the thought that she might one day discover the truth but it was a wasted fear. Gloria would not be dealing with any real world truths again.
"Hmmmm."
"Can I get you anything? Is there something you'd like?"
She turned slowly, staring at him and Wayne felt a shiver of discomfort at the bleak, searching look in her eyes. "Just see that Moira behaves herself, dear. As a mother I can't ask for anything more." He gawked, tongue-tied as she turned away to stare out the lounge windows, the action dismissing him from her attention.
****
Both couples slept for most of the flight to St Anthony, awakening at touchdown and fumbling their gear together for their debarkation. On the map, St. Anthony was at the north end of the island on Hare Bay, but with their tight schedule, Stone saw little more than a small control tower, a hanger and the desolate runway. A battered van idled beside the airport office and when they reached the door a short, stocky man in an open duffle coat stepped forward and introduced himself.
"Captain Edward Stokes, Eddie to most. Professor Stilton made arrangements for me to greet you and take you directly to the boat." Introductions were terse and minimal as Captain Eddie hustled the group into the van along with their gear and with a clash of gears in the manual drive, sped out of the airport and down the curving highway to the coast.
"We've had a long flight uh, Captain, is there some place we can stop and get something to eat and freshen up?"
"The boat."
"We were hoping there might be—"
"Professor's orders. Said you'd understand." The van swerved around a threatening pothole and bumped over some debris on the road, ending further conversation.
The van bounced down a steep access road leading to the dockside. At the end of the grade was a wooden structure with huge crossed oars nailed to the side and draped with fishnet covered in large cork floats. On a Small metal sign over the door was the name of the dock, and the owner—Captain Eddie Stokes.
The van stopped with a jerk by the door and Eddie was out and immediately around to slide open the passenger doors.
"Just take all your stuff inside, Arvil will explain the itinerary while I get the boat ready."
"Where is it?" Gretta tried asking but was dismissed with a shooing wave.
"Later."
"Welcome to Captain Eddie's Cruise Vacations." Stone cracked, opening the door for them to enter.
The inside was surprisingly organized and stocked with an impressive display of boating and fishing paraphernalia. Behind a short counter stood a young man with long blondish hair and a backwards baseball cap, checking a list of some kind and humming tunelessly.
"Are you Arvil?" Stone asked.
"You the folks from the Congress? C'mon in. There's some chairs in the corner there, I've got a pot of coffee on the brew if you're interested."
"Is there a restroom anywhere around here?" Melanie wanted to know.
"Through the back. Jacks on the left, Jills on the right."
"Pu-lease," Arny murmured. He tossed his bag in the corner and pulled out a couple of chairs for he and Gretta.
"I'm with Mel," she said, leaving her stuff with his.
"I'll have some of that coffee, Arvil." Stone said, looking to Arny who nodded. "Make that two. Oh hell, make it four."
A buzzer sounded and Arvil picked up a handset and clicked it on. "Shoot. Gotcha skip. Five minutes." He put the receiver down and lifted a carton onto the counter, dropping his list inside. "Captain has the boat ready. Wants us on board."
"What about our coffee or some food, hell we haven't even had a—"
"On board. Everything you need. Get your ladies and let's go, Cap doesn't like tardiness." Arvil hoisted the carton and headed for the door, balancing it one knee while he worked the knob.
"So much for an explanation of our itinerary." The two men grabbed all the stuff and hollered for the women to hurry, and then they all stumbled down the rickety wharf and around behind the office to the boat and Captain Bligh.
"Oh my." All echoed the sentiment when they saw the boat with Captain Eddie standing proudly by the gangplank, smiling broadly.
"Welcome aboard the CONGA LINE, finest refit in Hare Bay."
"The 'CONGA LINE'? Tell me Cheesy didn't name this boat." Gretta gave a mock salute and started up to the deck, followed by Mel, Stone and a reluctant Arnold.
"Don't dally there, son. Get aboard." Captain Eddie shooed Arnold up to the aft deck.
"I'm not much of a sailor."
"Don't need to be. That's my job. Just don't be up chucking on my deck. Hang over the stern if you feel it coming on."
"Thanks."
Arvil squeezed past and lugged his carton into the salon ahead of them. Inside, Gretta gasped again at the almost opulent interior. Bench seats along one side, upholstered in a sturdy looking tweed material, fronted by a long, polished wooden table. The deck was carpeted in a dark blue that brought the stained wood out in a lustrous patina. There were three other padded single chairs and a storage table with a small light designed like a boat's tiller. Track light ran the length of the lounge, emitting a warm glow through soft amber covers.
"This is gorgeous!" Mel exclaimed. "And look, a TV with a rack of videos."
Arnold ran a hand over the polished wood and blew out an appraising breath. "This is quite something."
"All the comforts of home," the Captain announced, stumping about the space and pointing out the details. "Through there is the galley; full stove, sink and refrigerator. Coffee maker. Toaster. Even a blender." He started toward the companionway. "Below decks we have two, three-piece cabins, another with twin beds and a fourth with bunks. It's the smallest.
There's a washer and drier in that one. Can only use those when we're in dock." He shot an arm forward and described the bridge, stating that it was his domain and off limits without an invitation, then went on to describe the engine room, workshop and where all the safety equipment was stored.
"Life jackets and flares?" Arnold looked at the others.
"Don't worry, son," Captain Eddie beamed. "Only ever used them once—on my last boat."
"Your coffee's ready," Arvil announced from the galley serve-through. "I'll stow your gear while you relax and have a bite."
"Bring some of that grog in too, Arvil. We'll toast the voyage."
"Grog?" Arny whispered with a roll of his eyes.
"Put hair on your chest, son," the Captain said, sliding him a wise look.
YOU ARE READING
The Viking Seal
حركة (أكشن)A map fragment is found among the belongings of an archaeologist that died working on the site of a dig in Egypt. before any action can be taken, the rest of the belongings are stolen before any more could be retrieved and protected. The map, a poss...
