Abbondanza

By Dave Moruzzi

After Ben Bass retired from the Air Force and was no longer flying fighters for a living, he turned to his other love, the sea. His position as a new sail boat salesman for Boynton Boats in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, was compromised when a newly-designed keel fails and two people are drowned. Even though Captain Bass was cleared of responsibility, he became a pariah in south Florida, forcing him to move to an Island in the Caribbean and into a position in the bare boat charter business. Ever the adrenalin junky, Ben acquires and modifies a high-tech sailboat, and becomes embroiled in dangers facing Sally Boynton, daughter and rightful heir of the former owner of Boynton Boats.
This fast paced story takes Ben Bass back to the home of his family roots for answers. Lives are lost as Ben and Sally are forced to rely on clandestine measures and old skills to make their way through Europe. Returning to the Caribbean, Ben and his sailboat are assailed by both nature and the darker side of humanity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jul 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312383388

Book preview

Abbondanza

ABBONDANZA

Revision II

Copyright © 2014 by Dave Moruzzi

All rights reserved

ISBN 978-1-312-38338-8

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Frontispiece

Prologue

Out in Seal Island Channel, but well inshore close to the British West Indies island of Anguilla, the sleek Italian built yacht slowly came to a stop.  All lights were out, even the normal navigation lights.  Little starlight reflected from her muted hull, and it would be hours before a waxing moon arose to reveal her position.  The darkened power boat reversed course and slowly moved southwestward closer to Road Bay.  For a few hours she kept station, quietly moving back and forth between Road Point and Sandy Island.  It was if she wanted to make certain the popular anchorage was fast asleep.

Then, in the wee hours sometime after midnight, a Boston Whaler was launched from powered davits with a soft splash.  The Whaler’s outboard motor had been removed and only an electric trolling motor hung above the transom.  It wouldn’t do to use a loud outboard motor on such a quite night.  Two figures in black hooded pullovers took turns at muffled oars to bring the small boat around Road Point and into the anchorage.

They were big, rough men who talked little.  There were quite a few sailboats at anchor this evening, but these men had a clear understanding of their intended destination.  Dim anchor lights set high on the masts of the scattered boats might have made quick identification difficult in the darkness, but the Whaler moved directly towards one boat in particular, aided by the return signal of a previously implanted GPS tracking device.  It would take less than thirty minutes for them to reach their destination.

Book One:  The Leeward Islands

Chapter One: SV Homeward Bound

The bright, clear, warm, green waters of St. Martin’s west coast are a perfect place to dive, forget the daily grind and just go with the flow.  The diver was at home here, moving relatively effortlessly through the coral cannon. Soft fans waved as he glided by, breathing the enriched air from the steel cylinder on his back. With slow but powerful strokes from legs that had maintained their strength with a life-long love of running and swimming, he pushed aside the cares of the day and reinvigorated his mind.  He didn’t look his age.  Years of healthy activities and decent eating habits helped, but that wasn’t all.  He truly believed there must be something in his genetic makeup that helped him maintain a youthful and strong body well into middle age.

Gliding through the coral fingers, Ben Bass approached the anchored dinghy from below.  With a quick toss, he flipped the net bag with three spiny lobsters into the inflatable boat.  He removed his buoyancy jacket and powered himself over the side with his fins.  Once in the dinghy, he removed his mask, retrieved the scuba gear, and examined his catch.  Spiny Lobsters are not like the familiar creatures which adorn the restaurant signs of places like the Red Lobster, and which are found in colder waters.  Those tasty crustaceans have big claws and grow much larger.  The Spiny, also called the Spanish lobster, generally grow from five to eight inches long and are without claws.  Ben estimated he had two that were close to eight inches and one smaller one that deserved a chance to get bigger.  Two were plenty.  He flipped the smaller ‘bug’ back into the water.

This wasn’t necessarily a vacation day or even an unscheduled break.  Ben didn’t have regular hours and that’s the way he liked it.  Today, he had just taken the time off to be by himself.  He had his reasons, the strongest one being he definitely didn’t want to be on the dock when she arrived.  Windward Islands Bare Boat charters owner Sam Ko could do the captain’s boat checkout and, considering Sally Boynton’s background and experience, it wouldn’t take any time at all.  Besides, seeing her again would only bring back a host of unpleasant memories that Ben would rather forget.

He hauled the small, anchor, started the outboard and slowly brought the dinghy around on course for the marina in Anse Marcel on the north-west corner of St. Martin.  The name Windward Islands Bare Boat was something of a local joke because this half-French, half-Dutch Island is actually located at the north end of the Leeward Islands.  But the Dutch half of the island, called Sint Maarten, is considered one of three Windward Islands called collectively the Netherlands Antilles. 

Bass’s main job at Windward Islands Bare Boat was to do whatever was needed to help the owner and local manager Sam Ko run a smooth bare-boat charter operation.  At Anse Marcel, Windward Islands Bare Boat was located in a fairly new marina which is part of Port de France.  Ko, a French national originally from what was once South Vietnam had been living in France during the period when the French government had encouraged island investment.  Under this defiscalization program, French citizens could take their tax money and invest it in the French West Indies, realizing a 100% tax rebate in the process.

Ko had come to St. Martin and, with a number of other French businessmen, set up the first of a number of Windward Islands Bare Boat locations.  Over the years, his partners lost interest and Ko bought them out, one by one, until he owned the business outright.  There were two other Windward Islands Bare Boat locations and Ko had plans for further expansion, if he could compete successfully with others in the business. With Ben’s help, Ko was quickly making the St. Martin operation the top sailboat charterer on the island.

As the dinghy passed inside Crowl Rock, Ben reflected on the recent events which put him on and under the water on this beautiful afternoon.  Earlier this morning, while Ben was checking the list of future reservations he read again the one that announced a one-week charter for Ms. Sally Boynton and three of her friends.  They were to be aboard the Sailing Vessel Homeward Bound, and they were scheduled to arrive today.

Ben did most of the bare boat captain check-outs at Windward Islands.  He was expected to review all future bookings and had seen the Boynton reservation on Sam Ko’s desk about a week ago.  Ko knew only sketchy details of Ben’s accident at Boynton Boats, but chose never to pry into Ben’s past.  Ben was an excellent sailor and a hard worker.  Ko knew he was lucky to have him on his staff.  When Ben asked Ko to do this particular checkout all his boss did was to raise one eyebrow slightly and nod ascent. 

Ben estimated that he would have time to leisurely get away from the office and out on the water, but it was somewhat of a shock when he saw Sally and her friends getting out of the airport limo at the head of the dock. They had arrived earlier that Ben anticipated.  He was sure she hadn’t seen him and, within minutes, he had grabbed his gear from the locker and was on the dinghy heading out of Anse Marcel.

It wasn’t Sally’s fault, this feeling Ben had.  She and Ben never had been real close.  But the fact that she was now the owner of record of Boynton Boats…one of the premier sail and power boat companies in Ft. Lauderdale and Ben’s former employer before the fatal events which Ben was having only limited success in forgetting…well it was best that their paths didn’t cross.

Ben had been one of Boynton Boats’ top sailboat salesmen back when Sally’s father Bob Boynton was alive.  Ben liked Bob, as did all of the people at Boynton Boats.  He was kind, fair and honest…and he was good at what he did.  Ben could still see him pacing up and down his executive office until he came to a decision on something.  His business acumen was second to none. But after Bob died and his brother Jack took over, some unsettling events began to bother Ben and some of the other sailing captains who worked for the company.  There were hard to pin down suspicions that materials were no longer up to the standards Boynton Boats had maintained for years.  Short cuts were being taken which looked good on paper because they provided short-term increases in profits.  But it was Ben’s opinion these events would lead to long-term loss in company prestige and reputation.  Then there was the sailboat accident during a demonstration with Ben as captain; an accident which resulted in two deaths.  Even though Ben was ultimately completely cleared of the responsibility for those tragic deaths, this essentially ended Ben’s career as a sailboat captain in Florida and he left the US for ports south.

Once inside the marina, Ben slowed the inflatable boat to a crawl and aimed for the row of Windward Islands boats.  The inflatable softly bumped against the side of a sleek-looking, long, pilot-house ketch; Ben’s own sailboat.  Ben unloaded the gear and put the lobsters in the refrigerator.  He hauled the dingy aboard, washed everything with fresh water, stored his diving equipment, and was taking a shower when he felt someone board the boat. 

Ben.  You back yet?  It was Sam Ko.

In the shower.  Help yourself to a cold drink.  I’ll be right out.

Ben quickly finished his shower and was just about dry when Ko poked his head into the spacious forward cabin.  It was obvious something was troubling his boss.  Ko rarely came aboard Ben’s boat; having an understandable regard for a man needing space of his own.  But this time an obviously uncomfortable Sam Ko came right in and, without wasting time, told Ben he had to go to retrieve a boat from Anguilla, the next island to the north.  Ko’s obvious agitation jogged Ben’s memory.

"It’s not SV Homeward Bound is it, Sam?  Tell me it’s not the boat the Boynton party took out this morning."

Sam was obviously agitated and began to pace up and down the cabin.  The lady called one hour ago.  She said they no sooner got to Anguilla when her three companions unexpectedly go away.  Leave the island.  No warning.  Abandon her.  She sounded very scared, and she don’t want to sail the boat back to St. Martin by herself.

Sam paused, unsure of what to say next … then he mumbled, "She asked for Captain Bass. She know you work for Windward Islands?"

Well, I made no secret about working for you here on St. Martin.  I’m not hiding from anyone.  But I am surprised Sally Boynton would want me to sail for her, considering my history with Boynton Boats.

"I’ve got you on evening fast ferry to Blowing Point Harbor.  Homeward Bound is on anchor in Road Bay on north side.  You hurry.  Less than an hour to catch ferry."  With that, Ko retreated in an embarrassed silence and left Ben what little time he had left to get ready.  It wasn’t at all like Sam Ko, who Ben considered one of the most thoughtful bosses he had ever worked for.  But, after all, collecting sailboats was another one of Ben’s jobs.  And, well, he had stuck his boss with the job of doing the checkout that morning.

Ben tossed a minimum of clothes and some electronic gear into a soft bag.  A hand-held GPS and the satellite cell phone his son sent him also went in the bag, followed by a nylon swim suit and a storm jacket.  This he did automatically as his mind tried to make sense of the circumstances.  Why did the Boynton party break up so quickly?  It wasn’t very often that bare boat groups find that they really cannot stand the close company sailing and living on a thirty-five foot boat.  But when it did happen it was usually took few days.  Not on the very first day, nor in the first few hours.

And why did Sally Boynton want him personally?  She wasn’t even active in the company when he worked there, and was more like an absentee owner after her father died less than eight months before the accident.  She had to know about Ben’s divorce, another result of the tragedy, but even though he remembered Sally Boynton as a very attractive young woman, Ben had been too deeply involved in his own problems during that period in his life to notice much else. Ben’s cousin The fast ferry trip was uneventful and Ben cleared British customs with the understanding that he would be sailing out within 24 hours.  Once outside, he found a rundown cab that would take him to Road Bay on the north side of the island.  In retrospect, Ben was certain Ko had agreed to send him even before they talked.  He was right. There was Sally Boynton pacing up and down the dock at the end of the dusty dirt road.  Ben paid the driver, grabbed his bag and turned to see an obviously distressed and agitated young lady.  With a mumbled ‘hello’ Ben moved past her right to the dinghy marked Windward Islands Bare Boat and took charge of casting off.  Sally had to move quickly or she would have been left at the dock.  Once away, there was little opportunity to talk over the ‘putt-putt’ of the outboard and Sally took the hint, even though it was plain she had a story to tell.

Since they were not going to get underway this evening, Ben and Sally were faced with sharing at least one night at anchor in Road Bay.  While Ben wasn’t particularly pleased with this idea, he had to admit that the company could be worse.  He took the opportunity of the short dinghy trip out to where Homeward Bound was anchored to take stock of his attractive passenger.  Sally was probably in her thirties but didn’t look it.  She wasn’t very tall but had a trim, athletic body with hard but not oversized muscles, firm and full breasts and a slim waist.  Sally was a natural blond as was most of the Boynton clan.  But the one thing than Ben remembered about her was her intellect.  When Bob Boynton was running Boynton Boats, Sally was away earning advanced degrees in archeology and archeo-anthropology. He guessed she also had physical pursuits and was sure no one would ever survive the attempt of a ‘dumb blond’ joke around this lady.  She had a ‘no nonsense’ look about her.  And when she moved, it was with the grace of a cat.

On aboard and with the dinghy painter bent to the aft cleat, Sally offered Ben a cold drink and they sat in the cockpit for a few more minutes of silence.  The short boat ride and Ben’s presence had helped Sally’s state of mind and she was now willing to take a few moments to let their close proximity mellow.  With the sun below the horizon and in the gathering dark, Sally slowly and calmly began explaining what had occurred.  One of her companions had been an acquaintance she had been dating off and on for the past few months.  The other couple was an attorney she knew well and his date.  They all had sailing experience.

The foursome seemed ideal at the start of their adventure, and they all seemed to enjoy the day sail from St. Martin to Anguila.  But after they dropped the hook in Road Bay, things changed.  It began when the lawyer and his girlfriend went below to freshen up. In a few minutes muted voices from below gave Sally the impression that a heated discussion was taking place.  Then her companion was called below.  After a few minutes all three came up to the cockpit and announced they wanted to go ashore.  They threw their soft bags in the dink and said they wanted Sally to drop them at the nearest boat dock, even before the dinner they had planned to cook together.  Once ashore, they mumbled an apology for the sudden change in plans, quickly said goodbye and left for the local airport in the first car they could hire.  None of them would explain, but something had scared them deeply.  Sally returned to the boat perplexed to say the least.  Then she found a note one of her friends had tossed aside.  She gave the note to Ben and they went below to read it in the salon.

Sally believed the note she found had probably been stuffed in the attorney’s girlfriend’s soft luggage.  It was a gruesome description of what hydrochloric acid would do to the face and sexual apparatus of people found in the presence of Sally Boynton.  It was obvious the girl probably hadn’t seen the note until she went below and was rummaging around in her tote.  There might have even been other messages in the men’s luggage, but of course she had no way of knowing if this was true.  What was certain was this and possibly other equally troubling messages convinced the three to get as much space between themselves and Sally as they could … and as quickly as possible.

At that point, Sally admitted she had a moment of panic.  She didn’t know which way to turn.  There were other things going on at Boynton Boats that she didn’t want to elaborate on at this time and Ben accepted her reluctance to discuss them.  She did say, however, that these events probably meant that someone wanted her alone.  Therefore, she needed someone she could count on; someone she could trust.  And, whoever it was, she needed help quickly.  That was when she remembered Captain Ben Bass and her original reason for choosing Windward Islands Bare Boats. 

I always thought you got a dirty deal from the Boynton Boats organization, Captain Bass, and I had hoped to make things right for you.  But you left Ft. Lauderdale before I could make any impact in the company.  Sally paused before admitting, As much as I try, I still haven’t been able to make much difference there.

Ms. Boynton…Sally…please call me Ben.  We have known of each other too long to continue this formal crap.  And neither you nor Boynton Boats owe me anything.

Okay.  ‘Ben’ it is.  But let me finish.  Things at Boynton Boats haven’t turned out the way I expected after Dad died.  Even though the company is legally mine I can’t seem to make an impact.  I was away on an archeological dig when Dad died.  That’s when Uncle Jack, who had been the General Manager of the sailboat division, stepped in as Boynton Boats’ new boss.  Since my return, I have been having trouble making Uncle Jack understand I want to be involved in running the company.  And there are some other things going on that I’d rather not get into at this time.

She took a few moments before continuing.  Anyway, I kept track of you through our contacts in the sailing industry.  You might be surprised how many friends you still have back in the States, Ben.  And when this sailing opportunity came up…well let’s just say I was curious.  Sally didn’t say any more.  She was drained by the travel and the distressing events.  She leaned back and, after a few moments of silence, she began to nod off right there in the salon.  It had been a long day for her, with the flight in from Florida and the day sail to Anguilla, not to mention the tension that the last few hours had provided.

You take the aft quarter cabin, Sally.  Ben said loud enough to bring her back to consciousness.  You have had a long and interesting day.  I’ll take the V cabin and, tomorrow, we will get you safely back to the real world.  Ben wished he could believe it would be that easy.  Sally had told him enough to know that there was considerable danger in their present position, but there was no sense belaboring the obvious.  And both Sally and he would need whatever rest they could get before facing tomorrow’s challenges, either known or unknown.  Sally stretched and mumbled a ‘good night’ before retiring to the aft cabin.

Ben washed up the glasses and cleaned away remnants of a sandwich Sally had nibbled on before he arrived.  Then he remembered he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.  There were two lobsters waiting aboard his boat back at Anse Marcel, but she was miles away.  Oh well, he could wait until morning.  With that, Ben went topside to take a few bearings.  It was an old habit and quite possibly unnecessary in this day and age, but Ben was ‘old school’ and liked to rely on as many natural habits as possible.  Road Bay in this low-lying British colonial island is normally well sheltered from the prevailing trade-winds.  Most visiting boats anchor in the northeast corner, south of Road Point and in sight of Ballast Bank. That’s where Homeward Bound was, along with at least a dozen other boats with anchor lights illuminated.  In the growing darkness, neither Ben nor anyone else could have seen the unlighted silhouette of what might have been a patrol boat or a private yacht a few miles out to sea, as it passed northeast behind Road Point.  Ben took three good bearings, checked the amount of anchor rode and then went below.

Back in the V cabin, Ben retrieved his hand-held GPS receiver and turned it on. He led the antenna wire through a porthole and attached the suction cup to the deck overhead. Once three to five satellites came up and his position was determined, he set it for anchor watch.  Now if Homeward Bound were to drag anchor the GPS alarm would let Ben know.  Probably one of the best actions he could have taken that evening.  He put his head down and was instantly asleep.

Chapter Two: Road Bay, Anguilla

The soft but persistent ‘beep…beep…beep’ brought Ben upright in the V berth.  A quick glance through the port hole confirmed what the GPS receiver anchor watch was trying to tell him.  The bearings to at least two of the shore lights Ben had sighted before turning in had not only changed considerably, but the boat was moving. Ben silenced the beeping GPS and slipped out of the V berth.  He grabbed a sweatshirt from his bag, pulled on his sailing shorts and slipped into his boat shoes.

While he didn’t have a large choice of wardrobe, Ben felt he was at least minimally dressed for whatever might happen next.  He moved quickly into the main salon and checked the clock on the bulkhead. It was 2:30 in the morning and something was definitely wrong. The sound of water lapping against the bow meant the boat was being moved…slowly and by some external source.  The direction of movement, if Ben’s quick calculations were correct, was eastward.  Ben poked his head up slightly through the open hatch.  He wasn’t sure what he might find on the deck or around the boat, but there was no reason to make a larger than