Wreckers Island (romantic suspense) (13 page)

Once satisfied he was rid of them, Dan turned and raced to
the cave. His cutlass quickly hacked through the tape binding the wrists and
mouths of first Emma, then John. Emma crumpled into his arms and embraced him,
tears welling in her eyes. Dan kissed her fondly on the forehead.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’re still in danger
and so is our treasure. Those chumps may realise they’ve been duped and return.
We need to act fast.’

‘Aye aye cap’n,’ said Louise, quickly
pulling her clothes on. ‘Let’s get moving.’

‘Girls, you go up the ladder onto the shelf
and start handing things to John and me,’ instructed Dan. ‘We must pack things
into the crates we brought as quickly as we can. Start emptying the chest containing
the gold and silver, then anything else worth taking.’

‘What about those men. What if they get out
or get people to ambush us on the island?’ asked Emma.

‘They’re stark naked remember – they haven’t
got a stitch on, or any means to communicate,’ said Dan. ‘My guess is they will
lie low until nightfall then sneak out under cover of darkness, or possibly
come skulking back here for their things eventually. For now at least, they
will be far too scared of bumping into a very angry ghost.’

Louise and Emma went up the ladder and onto
the shelf. John followed with a crate. The girls started scooping the coins and
ingots and transferred them to the create. John strained to lift it down the
ladder. Dan meanwhile, stayed on guard below, cutlass at the ready should the
men return.

They filled their two robust crates. John
and Dan staggered off with one along the tunnel. The girls came too, carrying
lighter items. When they got to the foot of the shaft, the boys carefully tied
their cargo up with the rope. John, being strongest, climbed into the outbuilding
and hauled it, helped by Dan pushing from below. It was surprisingly heavy,
time-consuming work. They repeated the process with the second crate and the
four of them climbed the shaft into the outbuilding.

‘Is there anything left worth bringing?’
asked John.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Emma, ‘there are a few
small items from the ship but nothing that would be of much use to Jake and Zak
if they return. They might get a few pounds for them on eBay, but that would be
all and I don’t think it’s worth the risk going back down there to get them.’

Dan smiled and said, ‘let that be their
miniscule consolation prize!’

‘Fine,’ said John, ‘look, why don’t we get
these crates safely to the lighthouse then have ourselves a well deserved cup
of tea? I’d suggest something stronger but for our over-indulgence last night.’

The others agreed. Even without slightly
fuzzy heads, a mug of strong, freshly-brewed tea sounded perfect.

‘Hang on,’ said Dan, his brow furrowing.
‘Captain Felipe’s diary – did you girls pick it up? If you remember I had
intended to place it inside his jacket which I was going to leave there with
his personal effects. But because I ended up wearing his things, to scare the
men off, I pushed the diary to the back of the shelf where it would be safe.
Now that most of Felipe’s stuff has been brought to the island, I don’t think I
should leave it abandoned. It doesn’t seem right somehow. I think I threw my
fleece on top of it, which I took off before putting on the jacket.’

‘I’m sorry, Dan,’ said Emma. ‘I picked up your
fleece, it’s here look, but I never noticed the diary under it. It was poor
light and I didn’t see it.’

‘Don’t worry about it now, Dan, it won’t
come to any harm,’ said John, ‘let’s not take unnecessary risks. We can fetch
it another day when we’re certain those men have gone.’

‘It’s just that I would hate those men to find
it and take it,’ objected Dan. ‘It’s a valuable historic document which ought
to be an integral part of the collection – after all, without it, we would
never have found the treasure. I can’t bear to leave it down there. It belongs
with Felipe’s things and as we have gathered them all up, I shouldn’t leave that
diary by itself. I feel I ought to pop back and get it. I won’t be long. After
all, we haven’t brought the ladder back, have we?’

That was true, they had left the ladder
where it was – but precisely because it wasn’t worth the risk of returning to
fetch it. Even Emma was struggling to empathise with Dan on this occasion. She didn’t
see the point of making a further unnecessary journey into the tunnels after everything
that had happened. But she knew Dan had a sentimental attachment to Felipe’s
diary. If his mind was made up, the sooner he went and got it the better.

‘Be as quick as you can, Dan,’ she said to
him, looking strained and weary.

Realising he wasn’t to be dissuaded, John
said to him, ‘ok, the rest of us will wait here for you. As soon as you return,
the pair of us must close off this shaft so it can’t be accessed from below and
get the treasure moved into the lighthouse. None of us is going to leave this
outbuilding until you are back safely. Please don’t hang around.’

Dan nodded. He cut an incongruous figure
standing there still dressed as Captain Felipe with his naval hat, cutlass, and
chalk-streaked face. ‘I’ll be quick, I promise,’ he said.

Then, cutlass tucked under his arm, he climbed
down the iron rungs of the shaft. When he got to the bottom John threw him a
torch.

Right, here goes, Dan thought to himself,
wishing with all his heart that he wasn’t below ground again – as did the
others. On his own this time, he felt strangely vulnerable. But he’d scared
those men witless, surely they wouldn’t be so foolish as to return to the cave
haunted by the angry and restless ghost of a Spanish naval captain?

Mind you, not having a stitch of clothing to
wear can do funny things to people, mused Dan as he strode along. If sheer
embarrassment at their unclothed state, not to mention feeling jolly cold overcame
their fear, they might return. It was also possible that, having calmed down
and recovered from their shock and unsatiated lust for Louise, they might
realise they’d been hoodwinked.

None of it mattered, so long as he had time
to get back to the shelf, retrieve Felipe’s precious diary and return. It was
something Dan had to do, before he could relax and feel pleased about their amazing
escape and rescue of the treasure. He shone his torch along the tunnel walls
for the reassuring chalk lines although he knew the way perfectly by now.

He turned into the cave and looked about. A
lantern left there still emitted a suitably ghostly glow. He climbed quickly
back up the ladder.

The shelf looked strangely bare and forlorn
now that no coins and ingots greeted the torchlight. Dan put the cutlass down
and crawled on all fours into the far corner where the rock shelf met the sloping
roof. The diary was as he had left it. He picked it up gratefully and pushed it
into the inside pocket of Felipe’s coat, where it belonged – where, perhaps,
the Spaniard himself had often secreted it.

Dan flicked the torch around briefly to see
what remained. Nothing of any great value. If Jake and Zak eventually took it,
it would be of little worth to them. Dan ran his hands over the tapering cave
wall above him, and whispered softly, ‘I’m sorry we plundered your goods in
this way, Felipe, but it was better than for your wealth to fall into the wrong
hands. We will take good care of everything.’

It was a spiritual moment and, his heart
feeling better, Dan crawled to the edge of the shelf, about to step onto the
ladder.

Then, to his horror, he heard voices, bad
tempered voices, familiar voices. It was Zak and Jake. They had returned! Their
words sounded muffled from the shelf, although they were coming closer, and
more audible.

‘Those youngsters we tied up ’ave escaped,’
fumed Zak as the men turned into the cave. ‘This is ridiculous, Jake. ’ow the ’ell
did you fall for that ghost nonsense?’

‘I didn’t fall for it any more than you did,’
retorted Jake.

‘It was you that was blubbing away, “oh
sorry, señor, your lordship, your Excellency, grovel, grovel, sorry to disturb
your place of eternal rest, your ’oly ghostliness.”’

‘You can scoff,’ retorted Jake, ‘but that
weird apparition scared the pants off both of us.’

‘It wasn’t an apparition you oaf, and we
weren’t wearing any pants. We’re still not wearing any pants,’ pointed out Zak.
‘It’s getting darned cold down ’ere too. To think we ’ave missed out on a shag
and all that treasure ’cos someone pretending to be the ghost of a
centuries-old ship’s captain managed to dupe us.’

‘We don’t know for absolute sure that it
weren’t a real ghost,’ said Jake cautiously. ‘‘Ow come those students got
’emselves free then? ’Ow do you account for that, if it weren’t some
supernatural power that assisted them? I’ve long ’eard it said that the tunnels
round ’ere are meant to be haunted by the ghosts of sailors who perished in
these waters. What’s more, he spoke to us in Spanish.’

With this debate in progress, Dan thought he
might have a chance to escape. He inched his way to the lip of the shelf and
peered over.

‘Anyway, I’ve ’ad enough of this, I’m going
up the ladder to see if any of that treasure’s still left,’ said Zak walking
towards the recess as Dan was about to step down.

‘I don’t think we should be doin’ that,’
said Jake, hesitantly. ‘If that were a ghost we saw, then that shelf be his
living quarters. It’d take a braver man than me to go a-climbin’ up there.’

‘It’s just as well there are braver men than
you, ain’t it Jake, you great wobblin’ jellyfish,’ sneered Zak. ‘Can’t you see,
the place is empty. Those bleedin’ students out-manoeuvred us and ’ave cleared
off. Make yourself useful and go and pick up our clothes off the cave floor, assumin’
they ain’t been taken as well.’

‘Thank ’eaven for small mercies,’ said Jake,
walking to the back of the cave. ‘Just where we left ’em. Christ, they don’t
’alf pong.’

Jake pulled on his own smelly garments and
took Zak’s to him. He was now standing at the foot of the ladder beneath the
shelf.

‘Ah that’s better,’ Zak said as he dressed.
‘I feel a little more dignified now. Now you wait there, at the bottom, I’m
going up the ladder to see what, if anything, is left. Let’s pray they ’aven’t ’ad
time to swipe the lot. Shine your torch so I can see what I’m doin’.’

Dan could feel cold prickles running up and
down his back. Zak was about to mount that ladder. When his ugly face peered
over the top he would find a rocky ledge stripped nearly as bare as he had been
himself a couple of minutes ago. He would be extremely displeased to find a
third-rate fake of an 18th century ship’s captain. Or perhaps he would actually
be delighted, because it would give him a chance to truss him up this time and
all Messrs Zak and Jake would need to do would be to follow the chalk lines
conveniently left on the walls all the way to the shaft.

It would be open, of course, because the
others would be expecting to welcome their returning hero, instead, to their
horror, it would be Zak and Jake who would climb out of the hole, thought Dan,
miserably.

The men would then remove, one by one, every
single coin and ingot the four of them had sweated so hard to haul back. If any
attempt was made to stand in their way, the crooks would point out that the
ghost of Captain Felipe was lying bound and gagged in the tunnels and if they
cared for his welfare, they better not kick up a fuss.

Damn! What an idiot I’ve been, what a total,
utter, stupid prat,’ cursed Dan, furious with himself. How can I, the one who
is so sensible and boring at times, have taken such a crazy risk – for a soft,
sentimental, illogical reason?

There was only one possible solution to this
mess, he told himself, as he heard the clump, clump of Zak’s boots slowly ascending
the ladder. He picked up the cutlass and crouched near the edge, like an angry
hermit crab determined to defend its shell.

Zak’s balding head was nearing the top. Dan leant over, his
ghostly grey eyes bulging angrily from his white-streaked face. ‘Do you dare to
return once more and disturb my grave?’ he roared, waving his cutlass. ‘You
shall be forever accursed! This time you will feel the sharp point of my blade.’

‘Aaaagh,’ screamed Zak in undiluted terror.

Crash! He fell backwards off the ladder
which promptly collapsed on top of him, trapping him beneath. If Zak had begun
to doubt the veracity of this feisty, cutlass-brandishing ghost of an 18th
century ship’s captain, he believed now.

Zak sprawled on the floor, trying to wrestle
the ladder off him. Dan alighted next to him, with a thud of heavy boots. Zak
screwed up his eyes like a baby and yelled, ‘no, no, oh please ghost, spare me,
oh spare me ghost. I mean you no harm!’

Seeing his chance, Dan legged it from the
cave and along the passageway towards the island. Zak fearfully opened his eyes
only to see his tormentor fleeing. Dan could have kicked himself. That was a
stupid mistake. He should have pinned Zak to the floor then sent him gibbering
back shorewards at cutlass-point. Instead, the fearsome phantom had made off
like a common thief. He could guess what would happen now – the same as when
you run from a bull instead of standing your ground. No doubt Jake was long
gone, but a mad, humiliated, vengeful bull by the name of Zak was now certain to
come steaming after him, intent on grabbing him before he disappeared up the
shaft.

Keep cool!, Dan told himself as he ran through
the tunnel. He was most likely a faster runner than Zak. He would have to out-pace
him and hope he still had time to climb the iron rungs to safety. He could feel
his heart beating as he raced along as speedily as Captain Felipe’s heavy old
boots would allow him.

In fact, they were badly slowing him up.
They were not easy to run in and the need to shine a torch ahead while holding the
cutlass hindered him further. To his dismay, he heard an angry shout behind
him. Sure enough! Zak was tearing after him. Clearly a cowardly fake ghost was
not to be accorded the same deference as a real one.

I’ve still got time, Dan told himself, so
long as I keep my nerve and don’t do anything foolish. The beam of his torch
oscillated violently as he ran. Dan tried to train it into the distance to see
any twists and turns lying in wait along the passageway. But running in such
circumstances was risky.

With the light of the shaft dimly visible
ahead, Dan tripped on a jutting out lump of rock. He hurled his cutlass forward
as he fell so as not to injure himself on it. His torch leapt from his hand and
smashed heavily on the cave floor, breaking instantly. There was no time to get
up; the light of Zak’s torch came bobbing round the corner. He was almost upon
him. All Dan could do was roll himself to the side of the passageway.

The smashing of his own torch gave Dan one
crucial advantage. Zak’s eyes would be focussed on the dim light of the shaft
ahead. Hopefully he wouldn’t see the dark-clad figure of a fallen phantom. As
he approached, Dan thrust out his leg. Zak’s feet connected. Crash! Zak fell
like a large, toppled tree. Dan was up in a second. He aimed his foot hard into
Zak’s ample belly. He groaned in agony and Dan, remembering to pick up his
cutlass, ran off towards the welcoming light of the shaft.

‘Now for the home straight,’ muttered Dan,
‘a few yards to go and I’ll be safe.’

His terror of Zak imbued him with extra
strength and determination, but Zak would not be far behind. Dan was now
running with no torch – he would have to head for the weak pillar of light
ahead and pray that he would not stumble over anything else. It was impossible
to see the tunnel floor. As far he could remember, this stretch was reasonably
smooth. Please God let me find those rungs easily, prayed Dan, as he arrived below
the shaft.

He could see John’s face looking down
anxiously, but it was unhelpful as it blocked the light.

‘I’ve got no torch I can’t see the rungs,’
shouted Dan, ‘get out of the light. Zak’s right on my tail.’

John stepped away from the hole and grabbed
a torch to help Dan. He tried to shine it without actually getting in the way
of natural light.

Where, where were the rungs? Dan skimmed his
hands round the curved sides of the shaft in desperation. His fingers found
them before his eyes did; it would not have been a difficult task, even in poor
light but for the circumstances. Reluctantly, he let the cutlass drop to the
floor rather than allow it to delay him. He needed both arms free to pull himself
up. He had a few precious seconds before Zak’s strong sweating paws would be on
him. He had to get up fast.

With the strength that comes from pure fear,
Dan hauled himself up one rung after the next. His head was almost at the top
now and John was waiting with arms outstretched to pull him to safety.

Dan felt the most sickening tug at his ankle.
Zak was right behind him! Desperately, he tried to wriggle his trapped foot
free, but Zak pulled on his leg with brute force. Holding on tight with his
hands, Dan kicked out wildly with his other foot, seeking to push the toecap of
that heavy old boot hard into Zak’s ugly face.

He thought he connected with something but Zak’s
beefy arms closed around his outstretched leg like a giant clam. Only the grip
of his hands now stopped him from falling as Zak wrenched him downwards.

Dan’s palms were becoming slippery with
perspiration. He tried to put a hand out to John who was reaching down as far as
he could into the shaft. Their fingers almost met, but not quite. Dan’s arms
were being all but dislocated by the force applied to them. They couldn’t hold
out for long. One after another, his exhausted fingers gave way and he lost his
grip. ‘Aaaagh,’ he cried as John looked down in dismay. Dan fell from the shaft
wall, taking Zak with him to the tunnel floor.

Dan fought to shake off Zak as they landed
hard on the ground, jolting Dan’s hat off. Fortunately, Zak took the worst of
it, his fat belly cushioning Dan’s fall, but Zak was on him in an instant.

‘I’ll teach you to try and make a fool out
of me, you little scumbag,’ snarled Zak. ‘Have that for a start.’

His clenched fist punched Dan hard in the
stomach, winding him and making him double up in agony.

‘I’ll land a few more blows on you later
after I’ve had the shag that girl was promisin’ me and taken away your
treasure.’ Zak reached into his pocket. ‘Luckily I’ve still got some tape
left,’ he said, twisting Dan’s hands behind his back and binding them swiftly.

‘Now for that gob of yours, so we don’t ’ave
to ’ear no more nonsense about disturbin’ your tomb and such like. You scared
the life out of Jake, poor bugger’s scampered off like a dog. Mind you, you
don’t look ’alf so menacing without that daft pirate hat on.’

Zak wrapped the tape tightly around Dan’s
mouth and shoved him to the floor. ‘I’ll be warnin’ your friends that if they
give me any grief, you’ll be the one who suffers.’

Dan lay on the ground, wriggling and
squirming in vain to get free. A visceral anger coursed through him but he was
helpless. He was at Zak’s mercy and so were the others. After having been so
clever – or thinking he was – he had wrecked everything. Their treasure would
be stolen and Louise and possibly even Emma molested – Dan’s heart went cold at
the thought.

It was entirely because of him and his
sentimental desire to do the right thing. He had seen the look the others had
given him – yes even Emma. It was a look of wearied resignation at his
insistence on returning to the danger zone. They had only needed to close the
lid tightly on that shaft and hurl every heavy object they had over the top of it.
But he had prevented that.

Zak flicked his torch over the ground –
Captain Felipe’s bicorne hat lay on the tunnel floor. He picked it up and
placed it on his own head.

‘Is it sideways on or fore-and-aft?’ asked
Zak. ‘I think fashions changed over time. I’ll do as you did and wear it
sideways I think. Now, where’s your precious little cutlass disappeared to?
Aah, I know, you must ’ave dropped it before you climbed the shaft. Oh yes, ’ere
it is!’

Zak grinned at Dan. ‘Will I do, do you think?’
he asked. He stood over Dan brandishing the cutlass menacingly. ‘Time for some
fun, see ya later!’

With that Zak strode under the shaft and,
putting his hand over his mouth to muffle his voice, called up, ‘I’m ok, Zak’s
legged it, I’m coming up.’

The voice sounded indistinct to John, Louise
and Emma waiting anxiously at the top. John had wanted to go after Dan but was
unwilling to leave the girls alone. If Dan had been caught, it made no sense
for him to be, too. He had told the girls to return to the lighthouse and bolt
the door but both, bravely, had refused.

John’s heart leapt when he heard Dan say
that Zak had legged it and he was on his way back up, although the voice didn’t
sound quite like Dan’s. He peered anxiously into the shaft. Sure enough, the
now familiar captain’s hat on top of his head was slowly ascending, accompanied
by a cutlass. It must have been the echoing effect and Dan’s nervousness that
caused his voice to distort.

When the cutlass appeared first through the
hole followed by the iconic hat, the others cheered and applauded their
friend’s safe return.

Then joy turned to horror! It wasn’t Dan’s
smooth, fine-featured face which smiled back at them from beneath the hat but Zak’s
rough-cheeked jowly mug. He didn’t attempt to get out of the hole straightaway
but paused with his head sticking out, for maximum effect.

‘Well what a reception, I thank ’ee most
kindly,’ said Zak, doffing the hat. ‘Right, shall I take ownership of the
treasure straightaway, or do you want a final gaze at it over a cup of tea? I
say, don’t it look beautiful in those crates? Will you look at that? You know I
often think I’d ’ave made a good smuggler and wrecker, back in the old days.’

He grinned round at them all.

‘Oh I say, missy! How are you? I didn’t
recognise you with your clothes on,’ he said, leering at Louise. ‘Sorry we was
so rudely interrupted earlier by that loony in fancy dress. Are you still up
for some fun?’

Louise glared at him.

‘
Where’s Dan?’
demanded Emma, ‘what’s happened to him?’

‘Dan? Who’s Dan? Oh
you mean the ’oly ghost? Dan the ancient mariner?’ hooted Zak. ‘He’s gone back
to acting school, sweetheart, see if they can bring him on a bit. I think it’s
a lost cause personally, although maybe he’d ’ave a chance playin’ the pantomime
villain at Christmas, with a bit more practice.’

‘Where is he,’
repeated Emma, slowly, and the others were surprised at the cold, steely
quality of her voice.

‘Ok, ok, I was
only jesting. Truth is, I stabbed him luv,’ said Zak, matter of factly. ‘He’s a
gonner. I must say this cutlass is jolly sharp considering its age. Don’t worry
I wiped it clean on that awful old sailor’s coat he was wearing, I won’t drip
blood everywhere.’

‘You killed my
Dan, my lovely Dan,’ screamed Emma, her voice contorted with anguish and fury.

‘Well, he don’t
look very alive to me, with his tongue lollin’ out and all. You can go and
check if you like. Now I don’t like to invite myself in,’ said Zak, beginning
to haul himself from the hole, ‘but I could really do . . .’

‘Aaaaagh you
bastard!’ Emma yelled.

Her eyes wild, she
grabbed one of the heavy iron spades that John and Dan had used to lever up the
flagstone and rushed at Zak. Before he could bring up his hands to protect
himself, she raised the spade high above her and brought its rusting blade down
with all her might onto his head.

The anger and
adrenaline which coursed through Emma’s slight arms gave her strength ten times
greater than normal and the force she applied was murderously brutal.

The age-old
bicorne hat disintegrated as the spade smote Zak’s skull with a horrible clang.
His eyes crossed weirdly for a second then rolled in their sockets. Zak toppled
forwards, his body lolling over the side of the hole. Emma nudged his shoulder hard
with her foot and he fell with a great thud and clatter of cutlass to the
tunnel floor.