Palmyra Island Lost Treasure Adventure! Book 5 of the Luke Mitchner Series

By Michael M. Tickenoff

Adventure, Romance, Mystery and More! The fifth novel in the Luke Mitchner Series is an adventure into the secrets of the South Pacific. After a dramatic rescue the New Song delivers survivors to Palmyra Island, searching for ancient sunken treasure. As the treasure divers' paradise turns into a militarized danger zone, the New Song's crew is drawn into the heart of dangerous challenges. Modern day bandits bring about tragedy, but a narrow escape through the jaws of a hurricane brings them to another full-on adventure.

Leaving Palmyra Island, we learn what it’s like to spend weeks on a boat with nowhere to hide and tossed by the sea. But life aboard the New Song is never dull as another rescue on the high seas fills their boat with strange new guests.

Every reader gains pure enjoyment and on-going adventure, right up to the last moment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael M. Tickenoff
• Release date: Aug 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370464739

Michael M. Tickenoff

Michael is a gentle old soul with a heart of gold and a very rich diamond mind. He's been around and around, just won't go away. If you have a hungry mind, he'll feed you well, just read his stories and they will tell. Everything is worn and torn on this old blind man, except for his imagination! Michael is friendly, he is kind and still learning how to be somewhat refined. Take him with a grain of salt and a pinch of gold because he's really on his way to getting old. He's had a rough life, full of strife with many go-rounds and still he lives without a frown. Sure thing, life has taken its toll, but this man named Michael is a special soul with lots of life and a mysterious role !Remember now: One Degree In The Beginning, Makes All The Difference In The End!..........................................................................................................Sadly Michael passed away in November of 2016 and we miss him.We are glad that he has left us stories cloaked in the enchantment of imaginary fables, where we delight in gems of truth and beauty.

Book preview

Chapter One - The Rescue!

Captain Jay Vontempski brought forth a number of warnings. If any hurricane might blow up our way, we would have to try to skirt it. He must have known, or he was one of those special prognosticators, for it was not too much longer when during a blustery afternoon the waves from out of the North began a slow but increasingly sized rolling sea. Now the sea is very fickle; for often, a storm three hundred miles away could create a change in the surface waves. These waves might roll for hundreds of miles under clear skies; however, the major part of the storm could have already moved on or blown itself out, just leaving the aftermath of a great rolling sea. Jay with his expertise as a Navy Seal, his long days as a private sailing captain and a man of adventure, knew everything about the sea and its ways. He would never say‚ ‘Told you so.’ You just knew his knowledge bank was open for high interest loans.

Our schooner took these rollers at an angle. She would slowly climb perpendicular up the face of one of the giant green hills, skirt the smooth rolling crest and then descend like a sled sliding down the face of an ice mountain into the trough of the moving giant. The New Song would then slide, and in some cases drop, down into the valley of the wave to begin climbing the next roller. These waves came in perfect sequence, just forward of the starboard beam—most of the time.

Wherever these massive rollers were headed, the beaches they finally rolled onto would have some of the greatest waves ever seen. This is the type of waves we had been looking for —but there was nothing we could do other than film our never ending crawl up one wave and our swift sliding descent down the back of the other side. On and on, it was not only incredible, but scary as hell. We did not know how big the waves were going to get and we were hoping that they would not go out of sequence and turn slushy, especially if they remained so huge.

Theo got daring by making his way up the mast, and was perched in the rigging chair at the cross tree, holding on for dear life as he filmed. We were all watching him, listening to his whoops, and wows as the mast swayed back and forth. Jay finally told him to get back down, and with his descent, there were a few hold-your-breath moments, especially when a rogue wave hit us starboard and washed over the deck. Crystal was hanging onto the mast, ready to catch her man if he fell.

Suddenly one of our first mishaps occurred when Amber was washed along the deck, while I went chasing after her to make sure she did not go overboard. She was ok but ended up with a few bruises. Jay was irate at us for not having our lifelines on and now we knew their importance. At any time an out of sequence wave could slam us sideways and the first thing that might save you from being washed overboard was the safety line. Then if you did go into the drink, your life jacket would keep you on the surface so that the crew aboard would be able to watch you.

By evening we were all exhausted from holding our breaths and onto anything that would not break loose. Nevertheless, the waves continued growing, and by nightfall, the rollers had to be thirty and forty feet high. Theo, with his triangulating calculations judged this by the height of our masts, while Jay fought to keep the New Song’s bow out of the face of the next wave. Theo was delighted to calculate sizes once we were down in the trough of a wave. Our top main mast often did not reach to the top of an on-coming wave; thus, we knew that some of these rolling giants had to be well over forty feet tall.

Each wave was miles in length, the surface looked like a massive washboard. There were times when the waves were confused, one of the out-of-sequence waves would broadside the New Song, and even a well built, forty-five foot schooner would be shaken like a dry leaf on a windy day by the wave’s power. It did not seem possible that the schooner could survive any of the blasters, the name we gave those maverick rollers. If you were lucky enough to be downstairs, tucked away in your bunk you had to have pillows and jackets tucked around you and be holding on for dear life. It was way too dangerous to be on deck, even with a safety line. When a blaster did hit the New Song sideways, you just knew that the entire hull was going to cave. If the cabinet doors were not locked down, everything would come flying out and spill across the galley. The entire boat was under tremendous strain, groaning and creaking. Your prayers were that those shipwrights had used every one of their skills and put in those extra hundred screws and locking spikes to put this boat together. And that the old boat would remember those skills and stay held together. Funny what men pray for when they are in trouble!

One of my grandfathers old sayings came to me, Don’t expect thousand dollar answers when you have only given ten cent prayers!

Theo and I tried to play the courage card for the sake of the girls who were scared with good reason. No one could be on deck during this angry ocean without a strong safety line and a life vest on. If anyone was washed overboard, that was it, they were goners! There was no way that even the most skilled helmsman could turn about and find someone already washed a mile away in 20 to 30 foot rollers! Sometimes the one at the helm could not get the bow turned up at the right angle to curl up and over the mighty wave, and tons of water would flow three or four foot deep across the deck turning the schooner sideways off course. One could see the compass needle turn 20 degrees to the North instead of keeping northeast.

Our weather reports informed us that rough waters lay ahead but we had missed the main storm, which by my dead reckoning was now headed for the island of Kauai. The night came and we were at the mercy of any light that filtered through the cloud. Just enough light allowed the helmsman to keep the boat from being bashed down into the deep dark troughs. These were the kind of nights you did not want to be out to sea but we had no choice; there were no Motel 8’s around handy. By morning, the waves were dropping in size, but the white caps were being torn off the tops of the waves and blown away like blasts from a fire hose. By noon the sea had calmed down considerably and the winds were fast and strong, so we were making excellent time. There always had to be two people on deck. One stood staunch at the helm, steering and staying on course while the other stood watch at the bow, scanning back and forth, forever watching for hidden reefs as well as other ships and objects floating in the water. Thank goodness that Jay took the helm during this long two-day vigil and managed to keep us out of the grinding teeth of these smashers so that we stayed afloat!

But we did not go unscathed. Our first loss was a 50 gallon canvas gas tank and sadly to say, both mine and Theo’s best surf boards were washed overboard during the night. This was a big blow to both of us. Theo’s board was a new experimental sonic board that he had been promoting. There was nothing we could do about this upsetting loss. At least all of us made it through the massive onslaught and the boards could be replaced.

It was on the third day after the big rollers had come and gone, well beyond the last major chain of islands (which was American Samoa) and we were into open sea when Crystal came back and asked for the binoculars to check something out. She thought she had seen something off our port side some five degrees near the horizon.

Now beyond the beauty and sparkle within Crystal’s eyes, she was gifted with extremely good sight. She was forever seeing things both tiny and distant, which the rest of us then strained to see. Over time we came to trust her sharp vision and uncanny sight and would call her up to take a look at something we thought we were seeing.

Soon she yelled back, Hey, I see something out there over in that direction. I saw her arm pointing north east by east. I told her to keep watching, try and figure out what it might be. By now, Jay had come up and I called Theo awake and asked him to read our fix and check the charts to see if there were any sunken reefs or hidden surprises along this stretch. He shortly stuck his head up through the gangway and said that the navigational charts indicated that we were clear of any major islands but there would be a few small uninhabited islands like Johnston and the Kingman Reef, and further on another island reef area called Palmyra Island. We were not in any danger of obstacles as of yet until we passed Washington Island and then approached Palmyra. There were several high tide reefs, which lay submerged just below the surface that could wreck us if we were not careful‚ extremely careful!

Then Crystal’s voice cried out above the hissing of the hull cutting through the water and the blasting of the white spume blown across our decks. She yelled out, pointing off to our port side. There is definitely something out there in the water. I’m not sure what it is because the white caps keep hiding it in the troughs. But for a moment I thought I saw a life raft next to something floating in the water.

Her reference to a possible lifeboat caught our attention. Knowing the laws of the sea, and out of curiosity, Jay yelled down to Theo to come up on deck, we were going to check this out. Jay wanted more eyes on deck to see that we did not hit a reef or get entangled into something unknown. I handed the helm over to Amber and went forth to drop the main sail but left up one bow jib, just enough for maneuvering. Jay sipped his coffee and told Amber to keep the compass on 10 degrees northeast and to watch and listen carefully. We were sailing with a small crew and had to double up on watch and on lookouts.

Again, Crystal called out to us, Yes, it is a tiny raft with some people in it. It looks like the raft is tethered to something bobbing in the waves, something floating upside down. She reluctantly added, It might be a whale!

Theo went forward and slid his arm around Crystal, so they would not slip in the on-splashing waves. Sure Theo, I smiled. He then took up the large naval binoculars to look for himself. Now Crystal had hold of Theo. Sure thing, in case he slipped; I had to laugh even louder. No doubt, there was someone standing up in the raft waving a towel or shirt to us. We began to wave back as we drew closer.

Jay gave orders for me and Crystal to drop the bow sail so we could begin our slow change of course to drift in as we approached. The New Song had a small four cylinder auxiliary engine for entering into harbors and getting around, and it was used under these type conditions. Theo soon had it ready to start up if need be, but so far the currents and waves were taking us directly towards this unexpected scene.

Another shipboard rule required by Jay, was that the girls would wear their jogging pants while up on deck with any kind of light long sleeved T-shirt or blouse. Loose jogging pants would protect them if they fell, and we also wore canvas deck shoes to prevent slipping on wet decks. He advised us that keeping our body covered would prevent sunburn and dehydration. He had to smile as he hinted that this would also keep certain eyes from looking at too much leg. He also asked every one of us to wear some kind of a hat that would offer protection for the same reasons.

Everyone was up and alert now, excitedly looking at what looked to be a disaster. Apparently, the storm which had created the huge rollers a few days back had caught this boat, bringing it down and over. As we came closer, we could see that it wasn’t a whale. It was a boat, still afloat with its hull sticking out of the water like the back of a blue whale floating on the surface. The raft had five people in it, two women, two men and a younger teen kid. We could hear them yelling their hellos and gratitude to our arrival. We were not expecting this and had never rescued anyone other than ourselves, through our practice drills on nice calm days.

We began drifting towards them just a little at a time. The choppy surface was going to make this rescue a little dangerous. Jay surmised the situation, checked the winds, determined the drift. Taking the wheel he gave orders for the girls and myself to get several lines ready to toss to the raft that was tied to the submerged upside down hull.

Jay called to them through the ships megaphone, Are you in need of assistance?

I thought at first this was a ridiculous question. One could see that they were desperate, their boat was floating upside down, and they were all sitting in a tiny life raft and waving a towel for help. However, I guessed this was called the laws of the sea: you did not go barging into someone’s territory without permission.

They all yelled Yes and waved even harder.

We did not know their circumstances and they could have another rescue ship close at hand. It was best to begin our rescue with an inquiry. Who knew, this could have been some kind of movie production and we were suddenly sailing up onto the stage. But I looked around and saw nothing but small whitecaps looking like thousands of prancing ponies on the surface of a green-gray sea.

As our drift came closer to the inflatable, we saw one tall, gray haired man, about 50 years old, standing there holding a line tethered to the sunken hull. He seemed to be the possible captain of the boat which was floating below them, bobbing slightly in the moving swells. He struck a proud pose, exuding an air of command while watching our approach with a suspicious eye.

Drawing closer, we could see that he was a rugged man of some authority, for the other four individuals in the inflatable waited for him to speak or act first. His wiry beard contrasted to his well-tanned face and his large silver-gray eyes followed us. He must have been nervous, for his bushy brows gave him away as they began to crawl across his forehead and then touch each other; I thought he might use a weed eater to trim them they were so bushy. He kept rearranging his cap, which turned out to be his symbol of authority‚ a real captain’s hat. A second man was quietly sitting in the back of the inflatable. He too was well tanned, slim, tall, and from what I could make out, he was fair in build, with a wild cluster of blond hair hanging down to his neck. He had a nonchalant look of, No big deal, we are rescued all the time.

There was another younger male sitting in the front. He had to be in his late teens or early twenties, built like a linebacker with wide shoulders and well muscled legs. He was a good looking kid, well groomed for the circumstances. Then there were two mid-aged women. They were very excited to see us on the scene of their disaster. They were in their thirties or a bit more. As the New Song glided up next to them, Jay told Theo to cast out the tie lines to the boat passengers.

Jay made the first contact, What boat were you?

The taller character replied back in an uneasy tone, The Bye-Golly!

We chuckled at this name The Bye-Golly, for it was surely that now. Jay’s voice went out to them explaining how we were going to approach them from down current so we would not swamp them or run into the sunken hull. The four sitting individuals nodded in understanding but the taller older man sternly motioned for us to come around the down side of the raft.

Jay went against this suggestion, or demand, and did what he felt was safest, bringing the New Song right up to them. Even though the waves were lifting the raft up and down we secured the raft to our boat. Their line to the sunken hull stretched tight but they were now tethered to us so we could pull them around to the back transept diving platform at the stern where I had set the overboard ladder for them to climb aboard. They were haggard and worn out, but with a bit of help we brought them onboard.

The last man to come aboard, wearing the tattered captain’s hat, had to be the captain of the sunken yacht. He introduced himself as Thomas Brewerton and immediately asked if we could pull the small inflatable raft aboard. This was done and we could see that there were quite a few things piled around in its bottoms. Soon the conversation started and we learned that the cyclone had torn their thirty-foot fiberglass Auburn sailing sloop to pieces. They lost their mast and then were swamped and began to take on water. Things got worse from there. In the middle of the night, one massive wave had broken their keel off and rolled them. They barely made it onto the little raft.

These few moments of talk created within me the feeling that you never have a second chance to make a first impression. The captain managed to impress upon me, a not so good feeling. Here they were floating around in the Pacific debris; they had lost their ship; and he was somehow and for whatever reason, acting proud and giving us commands. I felt this was more than odd.

One of the women was crying in gratitude and relief, her hands held over her face. We were still too busy fending off the sunken hull and securing the raft to pay much attention to anyone’s tears. Thomas Brewerton got around to introducing his shipmate and partner, Timm Cogan, and the two women as Julie Warrenton (the one who was crying) and Gretchen Summerton. The younger kid was Mike James their deck hand.

The women seemed to be in shock. They were a little battered up with a few bruises. The older one, Julie, was holding her left arm as if it was hurt and she was somewhat blubbering about their experience. When she stood up, besides being sunburned, she was tall and skinny as a rail. In fact, I would suspect her of suffering with bulimia or not having eaten for a week or so. She was in her mid 30’s and seemed rather dazed, trying to grasp the consequences of their ordeal. The women’s hair was cut short and both wore baggy shorts that hung down to their knees. Gretchen was a head shorter than Julie but was a wiry figure, well proportioned, pleasantly so. She was certainly more active and she definitely had some meat on her bones. She slowly was awakening to the knowledge of their rescue‚ we could see this in her sparkling blue eyes. They both appeared to be some type of academics, yet rather rugged, as if they were adapted to the outdoors. They stood quiet, just calmly smiling at us.

Gretchen, yes, I saw competition for the twins here. She was what the movies would call, tall, dark and handsome. Already, within a few minutes, she was adjusting to her new environment. This could have been attributed to high intelligence or a woman’s craftiness, looking for a safe landing and better opportunity. I guess I am a skeptic when it came to people. In my journalistic investigations I had to learn how to sum up characters and measure personalities, deciding that most of the time humans were lacking in sincerity and in honesty. Gretchen was a hard one to read, but she was making the right moves by befriending the twins right up front. She stood apart from her shipmates and appeared to be more than thankful for the rescue. It was going to be fun observing her. I saw some kind of a connection between her and Jay; why, I don’t know, but time might tell another story.

Brewerton was the captain and the oldest. He gestured with long tan arms while moving about with a sleek and stringy build, having a professorial look, seemingly implied that he was in control of things. This stranger out of the sea let his eyes scan over all of us, trying to hide his summation behind his stubby gray beard. His tanned face would contort just enough to reveal some hidden anxiety. This could have been attributed to the loss of his vessel, but I had seen enough unbalanced characters to know that there was more going on inside this man than concern over his sunken ship. One of them was Etroid, the lunatic that I had met in my Green Bus journey across America, on his way to destroy the International Triple Moon Launch. He had a similar tweak to his facial expressions. My senses went on alert; I knew our rescue of this man and his crew could spell either danger or adventure for our crew.

Timm was more reserved, or maybe just dazed to the over all situation. He was an ordinary chap, his hair hung down to his shoulders, with a sunburn hat line running across his forehead. He was thinner than his partner but still well conditioned. He seemed to be a timid soul: quiet in response with a character of indifference. He was an observer, watching and seemingly measuring and sifting through his observations. He had a gentle manner about him, but time would tell. Toleration was written on his face. He appeared to be along for the ride, somewhat subdued by other personalities but with a concealed strength.

Mike, the young deck hand, seemed a friendly character, strong, well built and the perfect cutout for a yachtsman. He was already looking over the boat, almost nodding his approval. His face was more than tanned, burnt from being in the sun too long. He seemed a little nervous, with one large hand continuously making a fist around a short rope he had knotted. Being introduced as their deck hand, he knew his place and stood off to the side, out of the limelight. Yet, there was a boyish expression fixed on his face. His long hair was trimmed down to his neck line with a UCLA cap pulled down far enough to keep the sun out of his eyes. I wouldn’t want to tangle with this kid but his mannerisms portrayed gentleness and his calm manner made me think of a happy go lucky man of youthful adventure with no harm intended.

Thomas, the captain, excitedly went on to explain that they had been in the storm for at least three full days and then adrift for another three days now and could not yet grasp the enormity of what had happened to them.

O boy, it didn’t take long for the new rooster aboard to try and claim his authority and desire the ranking position. This man Thomas had to be around 50, and thought to use his stature to make his move with obvious intimidation and some useless bravado concerning his rank. However, it would soon become evident that he was a bit too sure of himself. With a sharp-eyed scan, he seemed to sum up our crew as youthful misfits. With challenging assumption, he soon desired to extend his captainship onto the New Song. I could only imagine, that because of his age or possibly his previous experience, which we knew nothing of; he might have felt it was his responsibility to take the helm. No doubt, he seemed to feel that his age as a captain gave him the rank and the right to begin telling what he expected to Jay. While delivering his half request, half orders he was fiddling with his captain’s hat as if pointing out his rank.

Now our Jay was a wise 32-year young man of many skills, and over time we had been introduced to a few of them. We men wore beards for the duration of our voyage, and we did seem a bit scruffy and somewhat tattered; but in no manner whatsoever were we misfits. However, Jay was a near full blond (by birth and by the sun) with a long thick bushy mustache, enhancing his smile and setting off his near perfect white teeth. He was built solid, well muscled, having the appearance and stature of a prestigious movie personality. His soft gray blue eyes were almost hidden under his thick brows. But those eyes waited and watched and there was little that escaped their inspection. Jay, without trying, was one of those read-about captains in a magazine advertisement. He had an easy-going personality, yet stern enough to earn immediate respect, always well mannered, very capable of handling most situations with a confident persuasion. We learned not to take him lightly; for there was no doubt, he had attained and held several universities of experience in one hand, and years of implementation in the other. His well-rounded character made him the perfect candidate for the choice poster captain for the yearly calendar.

However, this Brewerton character apparently did not look upon Jay as any individual of authority, no less someone to take orders from. This to us became a source of needed entertainment. For one had to be blind not to consider Jay’s stature and poise, along with his calm gestures of authority. Pride would do it every time‚ and dull the sharpest eye!

Thomas immediately pushed himself into Jay’s realm of authority. This was most interesting to watch. Of course, he didn’t get too far. Jay simply and rather direct said, Mr. Brewerton, I have no doubt that you are a captain, one of experience, and I am sure, with approved qualification. However, I would like you and your crew to take a look at where you are standing; and then take a good look at your boat, out and down there! Their heads followed Jay’s gestures and they looked. Then Jay proceeded. You are the sole and living captain of that ship there, the Bye-Golly I think you said, with this, Jay pointed again, down to the submerged hull. Without any argument, Jay had set the stage and arranged the characters on the new game board as he saw fit; and scene one was over.

Thomas looked at his boat, looked back at Jay and realized that Jay was letting him know who the boss aboard this craft was. Yet this was done without any fight for position or flamboyant arrogance. With one of his huge raised brows, Thomas seemed to reveal some respect for our captain.

I am sure that it was then and there that the seed of resentment against Jay, the younger captain was watered. Somehow, that resentment must have always been within this Thomas character, in one form or another but it took a challenge and a specific event to stir its growth. Jay had simply made sure that the older and visiting, and even rescued Captain was alerted to his place as a passenger, nothing more. Timm, first mate of the sunken boat, stood back with an absorbing look on his face while Mike the younger deck hand could not hide his smile of pleasure.

Thomas didn’t even try to hide his arrogance. His body language spoke loud and clear. By no means did he like to be told that he was a rescued sailor off a sunken ship‚ one that he had captained! His face grew red, his eyes went into a blinking fit and his gray white beard did a great job hiding his facial emotions. Like it or not, this is exactly what just took place, and when I noticed him clinching his right fist I knew we would be dealing with his arrogance in other ways.

Thomas broke the moment of waiting and without much thought, began to order Crystal and Amber around. Take Julie and Gretchen downstairs and possibly check out Julie’s arm and maybe get them some dry clothes and some food! I actually choked at this command, not believing my ears. But Crystal exhibited the classic act of obedience to the