5. A Passage to Raivavae

March 2010

When Afaitu returned the next day to meet with his new client, he was a bit shocked at how many papers Rick handed him, covered in his writing.

"You did all this last night?"

"And this morning. Not much else to do."

Afaitu looked closely at the man. He seemed lighter somehow. As if writing the story out had helped ease the burden of grief he was carrying. Or perhaps it was the feeling that he was finally able to do something proactively to help find Miss Beckett; to help himself.

"Ok, I'll take these to Tamahere tonight. He's pretty excited about reading what happened to you and helping free you."

"Do you have any ideas on that end? Ones that won't reveal that Kate is still alive?"

"Yes," was Afaitu's terse reply.

"Care to share?"

"Not yet. I'm working it through in my head. Once I have a better idea I'll let you know."

"Ok. In the meantime, I'll keep writing."

"That's the most valuable thing you could do right now. I won't be back for a couple days, so when I return I expect you'll have a novel waiting for me, if this what you can do in a day," he exclaimed, waving the papers covered in Rick's cipher before placing them in his briefcase.

"Be careful what you wish for," Rick rejoined. There was a lilt of humor in it, the first Afaitu had heard him use. It was one more positive sign.

That night, after driving randomly around Mo'orea for a solid hour, Afaitu pulled onto a dirt road that disappeared into the jungle. He pulled his car in just far enough that no one would see it from the road, then got out and waited. Tamahere ghosted his way out of the thick underbrush and took a copy of the flash drive and the loose papers that Rick had written his story on.

"How is he doing?" He was dying for news of his friend. He wished he could see him in person, but knew that was impossible at the moment.

"Better, I think. When I told him your message he was visibly moved. I think he's felt very alone and very scared for most of this ordeal. Writing seems to have been cathartic for him. Though I imagine if we can't figure out what to do he'll slip back into a depression."

"Then we'd better think of something."

"Let's start with understanding exactly what happened; only then we can start planning what to do. Call me tomorrow when you've finished."

"Will do," replied Tamahere, already walking back through the brush. He'd found a small house to rent on the island. Paid in cash, using his assumed name. It wouldn't keep them from finding him, if they were looking. But it wasn't an obvious neon sign to what he was really up to either. At least he wasn't on Tahiti, which he figured would raise all kinds of red flags. Mo'orea was close enough to Tahiti to be convenient, but far enough away he thought they'd ignore him.

Reaching his house, Tamahere paused only to make some coffee while firing up his laptop. One thing about receiving a government payoff for years was that he had no lack of funds. And while he had always hated spending the blood money in the past—feeling guilty over its presence in his life—he had no such compunctions now. He would be happy to use any means he had to free Hopo and find Kate. There was a certain delicious irony when he considered the source of his funding and its use now.

He sat down, steaming mug in hand, and read through the first two chapters Hopo had typed up for Afaitu. Then, calling up the key, he set to translating the papers, unveiling the subsequent chapters. It was a fascinating story. He'd lived through it all, but his perspective was quite different from Hopo's and Kate's, of course.

He marveled at the detail Hopo had brought to the tale, though of course he was a writer. This was no mere rehash or summary of their ten years together. It was their story, told by a man with the ability to ensnare the interest of others by the use of words to reveal thoughts and feelings, evoking a response far beyond what simple black type on a white background should engender.

Hopo's words were simultaneously a love story as well as a weapon against those that had betrayed them. As he typed it out, Tamahere wondered what the world would think of their actions so long ago. This would likely become the definitive accounting. He hoped he would be remembered for what he was doing now and not for what had happened back then.

November 1999

Stunned into silence by the vision in front of him, she walked away from him before he understood what she was asking. Shaking his head, Rick couldn't figure out what had happened. He had been around plenty of beautiful women; had his share. Bestselling author in his early twenties tended to bring them out of the woodwork in droves. Plus he was a good looking guy. But for some reason she had somehow driven all rational thought from his brain.

She was out of earshot by the time he recognized that she was indeed looking for a passage. Anapa would be disappointed. However, Rick thought it might be for the best, given his unusual reaction to her. Close quarters on a ship would be torture.

The interruption soured his mood for writing, so he decided to wander around, get some other things done until his head cleared. He whistled at Gaston again, then walked down the pier to an area where men wanting crew work often gathered.

"Toute cuisiner?" The interested looks he'd been getting dried up quickly. Many of the men were willing to crew for a time but few would cook. It was not a popular job. One man kept looking over at him though. He was young looking, seemed fit and strong enough to do some loading or unloading as well. He had scruffy clothes and long greasy hair. Rick didn't think he looked especially trustworthy, but it would be up to Anapa if he wanted to take him on. Many shady characters straightened their act out when they found they were dealing with the legendary captain.

Frustratingly, the guy would not approach him or make direct eye contact with Rick. Maybe he wasn't really interested and Rick was misreading him. Rick eventually turned away with a growl of frustration. It was sometimes really hard to find help in the islands; men that could be trusted in taking a shift alone on the boat were in scarce supply. Most of his present co-workers were related to or the sons of friends of Anapa and Hina. Strangers in Papeete could be a crapshoot.

He started walking back to their slip. About ten steps later he heard someone following him. A tiny grin graced his visage; he waited a few more steps before asking:

"Que voulez-vous?"

"Job. I cook."

Rick stopped, looked the man over. He was young; younger than him. This wasn't a concern, as most island boys grew up knowing how to move about the ocean safely. They didn't have to learn the tricks that Rick had to; it was intertwined in their DNA.

"Ok, come with me. The Cap'll be back soon, you can meet him."

The young man nodded in agreement and they set out for the Iriata together.

Rick showed the young man, whose name was Tane, where he could wait while Rick busied himself with some of the never ending work that comes aboard a ship: splicing lines, repairing some chains, repainting an area that had been gouged down to metal, etc. Rick had learned how important even small details could be; in the middle of a crisis, having a frayed rope might bring on doom. Anapa and the other crewmen had taught him well. He might not have been born to the sea, but he'd worked hard to learn, and was reliable and honest in all of his dealings with the others. He felt like he had achieved the polar opposite of his persona before he had come to the South Pacific.

Some of the other crewmen had initially objected to the presence of a marite, or an American, who knew nothing of ships being part of the crew. They had all come around (more or less) eventually. Rick's bubbly and friendly natural personality had won them over to some degree. He was generous to a fault at times as well, and all the members of the crew could now think of at least one story (or more) in which Rick had helped them out of a scrape.

He cherished his time at sea; it was peaceful most of the time, yet covert danger lurked all around them. The ocean was a fickle mistress, and he had learned how to judge her mood from a master: Anapa couldn't remember a time in his life when he had not spent at least part of his day in the caress of her waves.

The sound of a Polynesian sea chant sung at full volume announced his captain's presence on the dock approaching the Iriata. Rick moved to the gangway to greet him; the young man he'd found to replace their cook trailed behind and tried to look as presentable as possible.

"Hopo, good news, good news. This is going to be a great cargo run for us. Lots of fun."

Rick nodded. Anapa was usually excited by any run that took them out into the more remote islands; he assumed from how happy Anapa was that this was going to be a long run.

"Captain Anapa, this is Tane; he's applying to be our cook."

Anapa peered at the scruffy young man and nodded slowly, greeting him in Tahitian. "Ia ora na. I'll talk to you next. Hopo, they'll be bringing part of the cargo to start loading within the next hour or two. We get the rest and the passenger tomorrow, on Mo'orea."

Rick was startled, remembering the beautiful woman from earlier in the day. Could she be the passenger? Yet she had sought passage here in Papeete. Why would she then take a ferry to Mo'orea? Well, there could be reasons, though he hoped Anapa was referring to someone else. That woman would be trouble, he was certain.

"Mo'orea? Are we going to be hopping around the Societies?" Rick had learned that French Polynesia was composed of multiple island groups. The Society Islands were the heart of everything, with islands such as Tahiti, Mo'orea, and Bora Bora included in the group. However, there were multiple other groups, such as the Marquesas, Tuamotu, Gambier, Bass islands and the Australs. Altogether, there were more than 100 islands, though not all were inhabited by anything other than birds and small animals.

"Aita," Anapa denied. "We're taking a relative of Pierre Grollet out to Raivavae. Name of Henri Grollet. Just got here from France, and he'll be on Mo'orea with the last of the supplies he needs for a new agricultural business."

Rick was excited by the news. Raivavae was known to be very beautiful and one of the wildest appearing islands, with an emerald green lagoon and mountain slopes covered in ferns. It was an island he had yet to see. Over 630 kilometers from Papeete, it was a bit of a haul.

"He's helping set up a new farm there, so we're taking a bunch of supplies for their homesteading efforts. And chickens. Did I mention the chickens?"

Rick made a face. Hauling livestock was messy business for any run; chickens were especially loathsome to him. The smell in the cargo hold with chickens was almost more than he could take.

"How many?"

Anapa gave his younger friend a big grin. "Maha 'ahuru." Then laughed hysterically at Rick's face. Rick wished he hadn't learned enough reo tahiti to know this meant forty chickens. Forty. God help them, the smell would be overwhelming.

"Have you checked the weather? I saw Rahiti today and he said there was a tropical depression down by the Australs."

Anapa nodded. "E, yes, it's east of where we'll be headed. We'll need to watch it though."

Anapa then took Tane up to the galley to discuss matters of employment while Rick returned to his busy work. He would have more time to write tonight; for now there were plenty of odd jobs to keep him busy.

Within an hour their open cook position had been filled by Tane, who then disembarked to make arrangements on land for his upcoming absence. The rest of the crew had returned, as expected, and were told of the long run with various reactions. They mostly preferred short hops among the Societies. Staying fairly close to Papeete meant they could enjoy the creature comforts of home more often. Nor did any of them want to take care of chickens in the hold. They were good men though, and all adored Anapa and Hina. They'd do anything for those two.

An hour later the cargo started arriving. With the assistance of the crane, and a lot of hard work, it was all quickly stored away, balanced carefully in the hold. The majority consisted of pallets with barrels of seeds, but there were also fruit tree seedlings and a bunch of tools. Then there were the chickens. They took up an entire hold; the cover would be a mesh net for ventilation, instead of a hard cover. One hold was left empty for the last of the load they would pick up on Mo'orea.

By the time everything was safely secured Rick was filthy, hot and sweaty. Glancing at the afternoon sun, he was excited to see he'd have plenty of time to enjoy a free evening. The breeze was perfect, driving away a bit of the tropical heat and the sky was that perfect shade of blue he had come to associate with the South Pacific. He was looking forward to getting off the boat for a hot shower. There was a local boarding house that he liked to stay at when he was in port and not expected to stay on the ship. He had already bid Anapa farewell and was about to step on the gangplank when he heard his name being called. Turning back to face the stern and the person hailing him, he saw Ari'i, the first mate.

"Hopo, I forgot to mail this letter to my family. Are you going to the post?"

Rick was planning on finishing his final chapter for his first Derrick Storm novel that night and sending it to Black Pawn before they left port. He had his waterproof bag that housed his paper and pens on his shoulder. He took the letter, quickly stuffed it in the bag with his papers, and bid the older man nana, goodbye in Tahitian.

He turned sharply, his only thoughts on disembarking and grabbing a hot meal. As he moved, a soft and slightly squishy object rammed into him. Before he could register what was happening, he reached out instinctively and steadied the offending entity, which subsequently emitted whoosh that was followed immediately by an indignant, sharply indrawn breath.

Fortunately, the object was light and easily put back upright by his hands, which were still firmly attached to the other body. And he quickly realized it was a body when he heard a muffled yelp followed by a stinging slap on his face. Not at all the thanks he expected after saving someone from falling backwards down the gangway.

Looking down he realized several things simultaneously. One, it was not a guy. Two, he was still latched on to the body part he'd grabbed. Three, it was not just any body part; it was her chest. Four, it was the woman who'd been on the dock earlier that day. And five (most important of all), she was not happy with his current hand placement. Oh, and one more thing. Six, she was absolutely far more gorgeous up close than she was twenty feet below him.

Kate had wandered around looking for other options after her less than satisfying meeting that morning at the Iriata. Unfortunately, the sailing boats that specialized in passengers were far out of her league and the cheaper ferries were very crowded.

She was trying to escape from reminders of all that she had lost; being surrounded by happy families was not in her playbook. Knowing that the Temarus had a high regard for the captain of the Iriata had brought her back that afternoon to see if he was available.

There seemed to be a lot more activity, both on board the Iriata and on the surrounding vessels this time around. She could hear indistinct male voices talking on the deck, though she could not see any people directly.

She tried hailing the vessel from the dock again, but no one seemed to hear due to the cacophony of noises in general. Determined to try and find a passage, she decided to go aboard the boat, despite not having permission to board, and find someone who could point out the captain. She wasn't sure if walking up the gangway uninvited was rude, but if she were willing to pay for a passage they would surely overlook any accidental transgressions.

She had just reached the top of the plank and was stepping onto the boat when a solid mass knocked into her. She felt herself start to fall and pin-wheeled her arms, trying without success to maintain her balance. Suddenly, she was brought back to her feet when something caught her chest and pulled her upright again. When she realized she was safe, she looked up to see what had happened. A large, very dirty man was clutching her boobs. Hard. He was strong, that was certain, as he had handled her like a rag doll. While she appreciated the rescue from a fall, she did not like being groped by a stranger. His stranglehold on her chest seemed to have no end. She was not a life preserver, but his grip on her reminded her of a man drowning: clutching the only thing he could find. She reached up and slapped his face in rebuke.

"Get your hands off me, you ape!"

He released his hands immediately then stood silently gaping at her. She recognized him now that she'd had a chance to look at him. It was undoubtedly the man from earlier. Up close she could see he was rather tall, with piercing blue eyes and wavy brown hair. His well-trimmed beard prevented her from seeing the rest of his face, but it gave him a rakish air. He had a very tanned and buffed body under all the dirt and grime; she could appreciate that even more now that they were so close to each other. He looked familiar, but she wasn't sure why. He didn't look like anyone she knew.

He remained silent and she suddenly was reminded of their encounter earlier. He understood her; he'd spoken flawless English. Yet he seemed to have trouble keeping up with a simple conversation. He really must be quite slow-witted. Still, that didn't give him the right to molest any women he might run into.

"Just what do you think you were doing?"

"I was…I was…I was trying to leave the boat."

"Well, here's a tip for you: women don't like it when you just reach out and grab their chests."

He stood stock still for another few seconds and she was revising her previous conclusion from 'slow-witted' to 'complete oaf' when he visibly relaxed and gave her a small smile.

"I'm not used to having to rescue women from falling down in my presence."

Looking in his eyes now she could see the obvious spark of intelligence. He was definitely not simple. And while their unusual meeting had initially startled him speechless, he had quickly recovered his wit.

"I guess I have to remind you that you were the one knocking me down before you groped me."

"Au contraire. I was distracted by a shipmate as I was leaving the boat, and when I turned around it was you running into me. I merely saved you from certain injury. Whether just to your pride or simply to your lovely body we'll never know. I would be happy to examine you for any bruising I may have accidentally caused." He smirked, confident in his ability to charm almost any woman less than forty years old.

Now it was Kate's turn to be speechless. She had made the mistake of underestimating him. This man was capable of matching wits with her; that was obvious. She felt a slight pull of attraction to him and tried to tamp it down. He had an incredible body, true, but his ability to spar with her verbally was just as attractive. She hadn't met anyone in a long time, maybe ever, who could really keep up with her.

She sternly reminded herself she wasn't here for an ill-fated love affair. She was determined to find a passage on the boat, although the non-monetary price might be too high if her response to this man was any indication. Yet, as a crewman, they were not likely to be in each other's presence often. She pressed on.

"I'm looking for the captain. Do you think you could manage to tell me where he is without accosting me again?" Her tone was sharp. She couldn't let him think she enjoyed talking to him.

He might have flushed, though it was hard to tell under all the dirt. "Yes, Captain Anapa is on the bridge."

She was discombobulated from their encounter and turned the wrong way. However, instead of tapping her on the shoulder and redirecting her, he simply cleared his throat. It was her turn to flush when he simply pointed with one hand where she should go; she got the message that he hadn't wanted to touch her and have his action misconstrued.

"Thank you." She was trying to be polite, embarrassed at her own sharp words. There was no doubt he had some fault too; her left boob in particular was still protesting its rough handling. The man's hands were strong.

"Take the stairs to the top deck. That's the bridge." He then proceeded to start down the gangway without waiting to see if she needed anything else. Shaking her head, she strode off, concentrating on finding the captain and seeing if she could afford his price.

When she reached the structure that rose out of the back of the boat, she saw the stairway that ran up the side and climbed to the top as the man had suggested. She found the bridge, which was the third level. It took up the entire deck. There was a ship's wheel in the center, with a long counter in front of it and windows that ran the length above them. She had a very good view of the boat and surrounding docks up here.

The only other person on the level was an older man, with the evidence of years at sea written in the wrinkles of his skin. He had white hair and was short; shorter than she was, though she was tall for a woman. He was clearly strong and wiry and had a kind air about him.

"Hello." She gave a little knock on the doorframe at the same time. "Are you Captain Anapa? I was told I could find you up here."

The man looked up from the charts he had been studying and gave her a wide smile. "Ia ora na. Bonjour. Both mean hello and welcome to my boat. How can I help you?"

Kate thought him utterly charming and suddenly hoped the fare would be within her reach.

"I'm Kate Beckett. I was talking to the Temarus about my wish to see some of the other islands and they told me you take passengers sometimes. I was wondering where you're going next and how much you charge for a single passenger."

"E, yes. I saw Hoanui earlier today and he mentioned you. He said you might like to go to some of the other Society Islands. However, we've actually gotten a cargo today for the Australs, to an island called Raivavae."

Seeing her blank look, he continued. "The Australs are much further away, though they are all part of French Polynesia. I'm afraid it will be a much longer trip. However, if you're still interested I wouldn't charge much more than a normal passage. We plan to stop at a couple islands, so you'll see more than you would from a ferry around the Society Islands."

Kate didn't really care where they went. She just wanted to get out away from the touristy vibe that Papeete had and see how the more remote islanders lived.

"Also, if you would be interested, we could employ you in some work. I would of course drop the price of the passage substantially in exchange for your assistance."

Kate had always been a hard worker. She had no idea what she could do to help them, but thought it had the potential to be an absolutely unique experience.

"I'm definitely interested. What kind of work are you thinking about? I don't know anything about sailing or boats in general."

"My wife, Hina, is a healer. She often needs help preparing treatments and carrying things. We'll be stopping along the way as we head south and east and she'd appreciate the help. One of the crew, Hopo, helps as much as he can, but he's often got other duties that need him and can't always attend to her as much as we'd all like."

Kate was intrigued. If Hina was anything like Anapa, this was going to be a fascinating tour. When he told her the price, it was all she could do to keep from shouting with joy. Finally a price she could afford, with what seemed like a great captain.

She was so excited after finalizing everything with Anapa that she rushed off the boat for the hotel to pack, due to be back on board very early in the morning so as not to miss best part of the tide. She forgot all about her concern over the oversized crewman who'd affected her so profoundly until later that evening. She wondered what had brought him, an American, to be serving on a cargo ship in the South Pacific. Perhaps he was trying to escape something from back home just like she was? It didn't matter in the end. Surely on a boat the size of the Iriata they'd be able to avoid each other without too much difficulty.

I've place a map of French Polynesia showing the Australs in relation to the Society Islands on my tumblr. Also, a picture of what the bridge of the Iriata might have looked like.