39. Cole

CHAPTER 39

COLE

T here was no electricity in the old barracks, so Cole and Bella had dragged a non-rat-infested couch outside into the cooler air. The sky was clear, and the stars twinkled above. Bella knew more about astronomy than he did, and she lay with her head in his lap, pointing out the constellations. Aries, Lynx, Orion.

If it hadn’t been for the Crosswind , he might actually have enjoyed getting back to nature with his girl. Miraculously, she was taking this all in her stride. Six years on, and he was finally able to make his peace with what happened right after college, with the betrayal of the two people he’d thought had his back. He didn’t hate Marcus anymore. In fact, he owed him a debt of thanks. Gretchen had gotten hysterical when Cole booked them a surprise break in Cancun and their luggage ended up in Baltimore—no way would she have survived the trip to Skeleton Cay. And she definitely wouldn’t have fucked him in the harbour and then eaten raw sea cucumber for dinner.

Bella was a breath of fresh air. A true partner.

“If I was rich, I’d buy an island,” he said. “Somewhere to escape for the peace and quiet. ”

It wasn’t entirely quiet. Things were moving around in the undergrowth, but he was trying not to think about that.

“I’d pay a million bucks for proper clothes right now,” Bella said, adjusting her bikini top. “What about the ghosts? Would you pay more for an island without ghosts?”

Cole was trying not to think about those either.

“Maybe I’d ask them where they hid the treasure, and then I could afford a helicopter to go with the island.”

“You could afford flying lessons too.”

“Nah, I’d just hire a pilot.”

“Do you really think there’s treasure buried here?”

“Possibly. The buccaneers were around for decades—I’d be surprised if they didn’t bury a chest of loot and forget about it. Or get murdered before they could retrieve everything.”

“No one would ever find lost gold in that jungle.”

“Exactly.” Cole smoothed Bella’s hair. Earlier, she’d rinsed the salt out of it with a bucket of water from the well. “Although the pirates probably took most of it years ago.”

“The buccaneers let them get away with that?”

“Not by choice. The buccaneers captured the pirates’ flagship, so the story goes, and brought it to Skeleton Cay. But it was a Trojan Horse. Instead of treasure in the chests, there were more pirates.”

“And they turned the tables on the buccaneers?”

“They did. The Dreadhaven pirates had been spending more money than they made, and they saw a way to rebuild their fortunes. But it didn’t work out the way they planned.”

“The buccaneers slaughtered them?”

“Why so bloodthirsty, sweetheart? No, the pirates stole the treasure and sailed off into the night, never to be seen again.”

“What do you mean?”

“They vanished into thin air. Never made it to Dreadhaven. Some say the pirates on board the Spanish Dancer double-crossed their friends and fled to Europe, but others say the ship sank.”

A crack sounded from nearby, a stick breaking, and Bella knifed up.

“I think it’s just a deer,” Cole said. “Want me to check?”

“No, it’s not that. What did you say the ship was called?”

“The pirate ship? The Spanish Dancer .”

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Don’t worry; the pirates have been dead for centuries.”

“How did I not know this? How did I not think of this?”

“Well, nobody puts the story in the tourist brochures. You saw what happened to Treasure Atoll.”

“No, you don’t get it. Those assholes who stole your boat aren’t looking for conchs. They’re looking for treasure.”

“The Crosswind isn’t equipped for that.”

“I think they already found it. Soon after the trip started, I saw a journal by the big map. It said…it said…” Bella screwed her eyes shut as if she was trying to remember. “ Today was the first day since the hurricane that I returned. The conchs at the breeding ground were fewer in number, but the winds brought a new gift—the Spanish Dancer. She was shallower than I would have expected, and I caught just a brief glimpse of her, but there was no doubting her beauty. There was something about a turtle too, but that’s all I saw before Witt walked in and snatched the journal away. I figured they were talking about the sea slugs—you know, the frilly ones—but now it’s obvious. Whoever wrote the journal found the ship.”

“You’re sure that’s what it said? The Spanish Dancer , not a Spanish Dancer?”

“Yes.” Bella lay back down and groaned. “And I just remembered something else. Witt said Clint and Jon planned the western part of the trip. Jon the historian . It tickled my brain at the time, but I didn’t realise the significance.”

It sounded too crazy to be true. And yet…and yet Dr. Blaylock had told Cole that it was Clint who’d pushed for the extension to the survey. It was Clint who’d specifically wanted to visit this area. The journal entry had talked about a conch breeding ground. Like the one the boys had found at Windjammer Bank? If that was the case, Cole knew where his boat was. He just couldn’t get there.

“When you rode in the submersible with Dr. Blaylock, did you see anything that could be a shipwreck?”

Cole thought back to their time at Windjammer Bank as well. Before Clint gave up his seat on the Tide Pod —an admittedly out-of-character decision for him—Bella had talked about diving with Cole that day. Whatever was lurking in the shallows, Clint hadn’t wanted them to see it.

“There was something dark in the distance. Visibility was poor in that spot, and I assumed it was a rock formation. In hindsight, it’s clear the boys stirred up the sand to stop me from seeing the Spanish Dancer . She’s lying shallow to the north.”

“Dr. Blaylock would never have gone along with this.”

“I know.”

“Do you…?” Cole swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. “Do you think they killed him the way they tried to kill us?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure.”

Cole rose to his feet. “We have to get to Windjammer Bank. We have to report this to the authorities.”

“And we will. But tonight, there’s nothing we can do, so there’s no point in getting worked up. Stress ages you.”

How could Bella stay so calm? So eerily calm?

“A man is in danger if he’s not already dead.”

“What do you suggest we do? Swim there? ”

They couldn’t. It was twice as far as the island they’d been abandoned on, and if they tried to swim north, the current would push them to the west. Plus they hadn’t eaten well enough to attempt a ten-mile swim. Mangoes and coconuts and the occasional sea cucumber would keep them alive until help came—assuming Frankie was able to roust the coastguard—but they wouldn’t be running any marathons. Maybe he could try catching something more substantial in the morning? One of the old-timers had shown him how to fish for octopus with a stick. Or perhaps they could use a length of the paracord and Bella’s dive knife to make a spear?

“I hate feeling helpless,” he told Bella.

“Me too. But help will be here sooner than you think. Let’s go inside and get some sleep.”

Sleep? How could he sleep?

But he let Bella lead him into the barracks, where they picked out the least musty room available. He’d be of no use to anybody if he didn’t keep up his strength.