‘That was pretty ugly,’ Molly teased as she grabbed the anchor line and started hauling in the anchor, hand over hand. ‘You didn’t need to go back for the sand dollars.’
‘Yes I did.’ I picked up the canvas bucket. ‘See this?’ I pointed to the place where the name of her Zodiac, Good Golly was stenciled in dark-blue paint.
Molly blushed down to her scalp. ‘I take it back. It was an excellent plan.’
With Hawksbill Cay receding in the distance behind us, I said, ‘What do you suppose they’ve got locked up over there?’
Molly shrugged. ‘Equipment, most likely: solar panels, generators, outboard motors and air conditioners. That’s the kind of expensive, hard-to-get stuff that tends to disappear in the islands.’
‘It’s just that…’ I paused, trying to make some coherent arrangement of the thoughts that were ricocheting around in my brain. ‘Why the hell does Mueller need all those freaking guards? And did you see that guy? I think he had a gun.’
Molly shook her head. ‘It’s virtually impossible for a Bahamian citizen to own a gun legally, and that includes security guards. Bahamian gun laws are among the toughest in the world.’ She paused. ‘At least on the books.’
‘Seven hundred islands, two thousand cays and God only knows how many miles of uninhabited shoreline, some of it less than one hundred miles off the coast of Florida. Why am I not reassured?’
Molly slowed, eased Good Golly up to her dock, and killed the engine. We made the boat secure, then headed up the dock with me carrying the bucket of sand dollars. ‘Want to come up for a drink?’ my new friend asked.
‘Thanks, Molly, but I’m pooped.’
She gave me a thumbs up. ‘Hannah and Molly’s Excellent Adventure. We must do it again sometime.’
‘You bet!’ I smiled and waved.
As I meandered home along the path that led from Southern Exposure to Windswept, however, the smile disappeared from my face. Excellent? I wasn’t so sure.
There are only so many ways one can phrase the words, ‘Shut up.’
Shut up!
Shut up?
Shut up.
Shut up!
‘Shut up, I said!’ to Alice.
‘Shut up, you moron!’ to his security guard.
Those two words made me almost certain that the man crashing down the hill behind us had been Jaime Mueller.
SIX
IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE, BUT THE ABACO CRUISERS’ NET HAS BEEN ON VHF CHANNEL 68 AT 8:15 A.M. EVERY DAY FOR EIGHTEEN YEARS THIS DECEMBER. THAT’S 6,570 MORNINGS IN A ROW – IN SPITE OF STORMS, WEDDINGS, BIRTHS AND DEATHS THAT HAVE OCCURRED ALONG THE WAY.Pattie Toler, The Abaco Journal, December 2008
Hannah Ives, Net Control.
Could I be starring in a James Bond flick? Uh, would you believe an episode of Get Smart?
Seven fifty a.m. With a chair pulled up to the kitchen table, Pattie’s ‘bible’ to my left and a spiral-bound logbook to my right, I opened to a blank page. Stuck to the table in front of me were a dozen Post-its where I’d jotted down information about community events so I wouldn’t forget to announce them.
Microphone in my left hand, pen in my right and both eyes on the clock. Paul minding my coffee cup, keeping it full, but adding more sugar than I like.
The digital numbers on the clock ticked from 7:58 to:59 to:00.
Show time!
‘Good morning, this is Hannah Ives at Windswept on beautiful Bonefish Cay. I will be your Net anchor today and I’m standing by on this channel now for anyone who would like to register early for the Abaco Cruisers’ Net which will begin in fifteen minutes on this channel.’
During those minutes the airways clicked and hissed and hummed as listeners called in on their VHF radios, making appointments to talk. Using my notebook, I assigned callers to slots, depending on the category – community announcements, invitations, mail call, new arrivals, departures – on a first-come, first-served basis.
As part of the fun, Paul had come up with the daily trivia question – in what year did the first Americans come to Man-O-War Cay (stubbornly refusing to share with me the answer). Meanwhile, I confirmed with Stu Lawless on Dances with Waves that he’d do the weather report.
When it came to Stu, Paul had serious radio envy. Stu received his email and weather information on a single-side band radio and could download satellite maps from remote anchorages all over the world in the twinkling of an eye. We got our weather from www.barometerbob.com, a reliable source. When the Internet signal cooperated, of course.
At 8:14 I flipped to channel 16. ‘Good morning, all. The Abaco Cruisers’ Net presents weather and announcements now on channel 68.’
And at 8:15, back on 68 I picked up Pattie’s script and my microphone, pressed the talk button, and began reading.
‘Good morning, Abaco. This is the Abaco Cruisers’ Net on the air every day at this time to keep you informed with weather, news and local events. This is Hannah Ives at Windswept broadcasting from Bonefish Cay.
‘Today is Monday, July twenty-eighth. If you think you may be calling in to the Net, please switch your radio to high power now so that everyone can hear you. Remember to use your call signs when calling in, so that I may answer you. I will repeat any messages that sound scratchy, but if you miss anything, feel free to ask me to repeat. You could do the same for me. If I appear to be ignoring a call, I’m not. Your relay will ensure that everyone is included, because, after all, the goals of this Net are safety, friendship and message handling.
‘Weather, the first concern for all of us. We will get an updated weather report now from Stu on Dances with Waves.’
While Stu reported on the weather – sunny, but the chance of squalls later in the day – I sipped some coffee, hoping the caffeine wouldn’t make me more jittery than I already was. Maybe in a few days I’d be as relaxed as Pattie always sounded, able to lean back and plan what to fix for dinner that evening – chicken in the freezer, a nice eggplant, a handful of oddly shaped but flavorful heirloom tomatoes from Milo’s stand over on Guana Cay – but at that moment, I was a caffeine-fueled, microphone-clutching, tightly wound spring.
‘Winds three to five out of the southeast.’ Stu was wrapping up. ‘And if you’re wondering about those smoke clouds over northern Abaco this morning, brush fires have been reported on the old Bahama Star farm, so let’s hope this change of direction doesn’t help them to spread. Dances with Waves out.’
I pressed the talk button. ‘Now that we are up to date on the Atlantic seas,’ I announced, ‘we need to check close to home on the sea state of the Sea of Abaco. For this report we always trust Troy Albury at Dive Guana. Troy?’
If Abaco had a Man for All Seasons, it would be Troy Albury. Dive-shop owner, island councilman, community activist, Troy was also chief of Guana Cay Fire and Rescue; his boat was first on the scene in any emergency. A native of Guana Cay, Troy’d been spearheading the effort to halt the Baker’s Bay project that threatened to overwhelm his tiny island, working his way tirelessly and painfully up through the Bahamian court system. I wondered if he’d turn up at the meeting in Hope Town the following week. Warden Henry Baker could certainly draw on Tony’s expertise for any action plan directed against Rudolph Mueller’s development on Hawksbill Cay.
That morning, though, Troy was wearing his dive-shop hat, reporting calm conditions on the Sea of Abaco, perfect for snorkeling and diving. After Troy signed off, I called on listeners all along the island chain, asking for sea conditions from Whale Cay in the north to Little Harbour in the south.