Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip - that started in this tropic port, aboard this tiny ship.  (Well that’s if you can call a hundred foot long yacht - a tiny ship >g<)

Part 1 

“Buck,” Chris Larabee greeted, swinging down the gangplank and onto the freshly painted and refurbished yacht.  It was the largest vessel in the marina and at one hundred feet in length; it was definitely the envy of more than a number of sailors.  Both Chris and Buck were joint owners of the lumbering giant.  It had been a bequeath that had seen them fortunate enough to lay claim to the vessel.  Now they had big plans to see them into retirement.  But for that, they needed a steady flow of cash.  And that was something that neither man was abundant with at present. 

Wilmington glanced up from what he was doing and smiled broadly.  “Hey, Chris,” he broke into an even wider grin as he noticed the three-piece suit his partner was wearing.  Chuckling, he thought - better him than me.  “Ya dig those out of moth balls?” he ribbed. 

“Real funny, Wilmington,” Chris responded dryly; scowling at the unfamiliar clothing that restricted his normal movements.  He cast a reflective glance around the pristine deck and nodded appreciatively.  “Is everything set?  No last minute hic-ups?”  God he hoped not. 

“Yep, she’s ready to pull out whenever you give the word, Captain.  Tanner’s already here; got him spit polishing the toilet,” he barked with laughter. 

“Buck,” Chris warned with a growl. 

“Just pulling yer leg, ole boy.  He ain’t doing anything but looking over the tub at present, ‘getting a feel for the layout’ as he said.” 

“That’s the security guard coming out in him,” Larabee informed. 

“Yeah, whatever.  Like we’re gonna be needing security.”  He glanced up at the cloudless blue heavens and raised his arms beseechingly.  “Could still arrange to have Colette and Simone to be our bathing beauties,” he grinned.  At the blonde’s rolled eyes, he shrugged.  “Next time, huh?” 

“This old bird ain’t gonna be interested in young girls in skimpy bikinis,” Chris reasoned.  “We’re trying to get her to invest money with us, so we can get this business up and running.  The last thing on her mind will be wanting dithering blondes dropping the canapés in her lap or spilling the champagne down her dress.  I want this to go well, Buck,” he pleaded.  “We can make this happen, with just a little bit of capital.  That’s where Mrs Devereux comes in.” 

“She gonna help us, ya think?” the moustached man asked sceptically. 

“She seemed real interested in my plans, and I’ve met with her a number of times now.  Showed her all the books and figures and explained what we’ve proposed for the future.  Start off small, and in no time, we’ll have a fleet of these little beauties to command,” he affectionately patted the side of the launch.  “The market is out there just waiting for us, Buck.  We’ll have customers crawling to get on our waiting lists,” he predicted.  “And the way you sweet-talk the women, that’s gotta be a bonus,” he added.  “What about Josiah?  When’s he coming?” 

“Josiah’ll be here in plenty of time and Nathan’s coming with him.  Don’t worry.” 

“Great, the cook’s bringing the doc,” Larabee shook his head in amusement.  “What’s Nathan planning on doing?”  It wasn’t Chris’ idea to have the dark-skinned man on board for these final negotiations with Mrs Devereux, but at Wilmington’s suggestion he relented.  It couldn’t do any harm to have a doctor on board. 

“It’s good for the image, Chris.  Having plenty of crew, as well as a gourmet chef and resident doctor on board are an added extra.  And besides, Nate’s got the day off.  You know how hard he works at the hospital; he could do with a break.  Being a resident ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed hesitantly, “Okay.”  Buck clapped him firmly on the shoulder and pushed him to the yacht’s side.  “You meeting this lady someplace?  Or is she coming straight here?” 

“She’s coming here.   There’s a few things I’ve got to do before she gets here, but I’ll be back before she arrives.”  Looking over his partner’s shabby clothing he tugged at the torn shirt and grimaced.  “Reckon you ought to change, before she arrives.”  He turned to leave and threw a wicked smile at his oldest friend; “Good for the image, pard,” he mimicked Buck’s earlier words. 

Part 2 

An elegant black stretch limousine pulled into the car park of the marina.  The engine didn’t stop, but idled with the windows and doors remaining sealed in position.  Both Buck and Chris stared curiously at the vehicle wondering why its occupant didn’t immediately get out. 

Tanner stepped up behind his friends, resting his arm on Chris’ shoulder.  “That her?”  Before Larabee had the chance to reply the doors swung open and a well-dressed sandy-haired gentleman exited the limo.  “Obviously not,” Tanner drawled, returning to the business of uncurling the ropes that held the launch to the pylons. 

The young man saluted the unseen driver with a two-fingered gesture and once the vehicle had departed he glanced down the walkway, hoisting a duffle bag over his shoulder.  He smiled, holding out his hand to shake and announcing simultaneously; “I’m Ezra Standish, Maude Devereux’s son.  I’ll be giving my evaluations to her upon our return,” he promptly informed, stepping past the stunned partners and on board the ‘Sarah’. 

“Great,” Larabee groaned following in the wake of the brash, overconfident, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, yuppie. 

Standish stood waiting for Larabee and Wilmington to join him.  He noticed Tanner lift his head and frown in confusion.  His unexpected arrival had obviously caused a stir in the ranks.  Always keep them off centre; never permit anyone to anticipate the obvious.  Never show real emotions; not unless you want them turned against you.  He didn’t want to admit it, but his training came back at him again and again.  So much to be thankful for, he thought sarcastically. 

He cast an assessing gaze over the outer deck and nodded his head slightly in approval.  The yacht had to be at least ten years old, but she’d been kept in good condition.  It was clear that these two partners were serious about their new venture.  Pity it was never going to get off the ground.  Well, not with his mother’s endorsement leastwise. 

Anxious to leave the dock he asked; “Shall we be departing soon?  As I have another commitment that must be attended to immediately upon returning.  I trust you will not deviate from the scheduled itinerary?  The tour is only to last three hours?”  He glanced at his watch and up at Larabee and across to Wilmington to confirm,  “That is correct, is it not?” 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Buck agreed, eyeing the younger man with growing disdain.  What a snob!  Where was the lovely, and easily manipulative, Mrs Devereux that Chris had negotiated with? How were they going to convince the young son that their project was feasible?  Was it even worth the effort taking Standish out?  “I’ll go start her up,” he looked quickly to Chris, who nodded dubiously, confirming all his unspoken concerns. 

“Mr Standish,” the boat owner started, “I was under the impression Mrs Devereux would be joining us herself.  There was never any mention…” 

“Mother was unavoidably detained,” Ezra explained, but not really explaining anything.  “Can we start with a tour?” he diverted. 

Chris pursed his lips, staring balefully at the arrogant Southerner.  “Sure,” he eventually complied after a long strained silence between the pair. 

Part 3 

The launch had been out to sea for an hour, and she handled well over the unsteady swells.  Larabee had shown Standish over the yacht, pointing out all the new acquisitions and modifications. There were three generous sized bedrooms in the lower section, an updated galley and numerous cupboards and cubby holes filled to the brim with paraphernalia.  There were plans to acquire a jet ski and parasail chutes in the near future with the growth of their business. 

He was introduced officially to Buck Wilmington, Chris’ full partner and capable captain in his own right and Vin Tanner, who was along, under the guise as a crewmember.  After the tour was completed, Ezra met with Nathan Jackson.  All in all, it only took a little under half an hour, leaving the remainder of the journey to be spent relaxing.  Although, the wily Southerner suspected that Larabee and his motley crew would have been more entertaining and attentive if it had been his mother here instead of him. 

Ezra relaxed back in the lounge chair stretching his legs out and taking another mouthful of the chilled champagne.  Truth be told, he’d much prefer a cold beer instead of the bubbly wine.  But he had to remind himself that the champagne and hors d'oeuvres were intended as incentives for his mother to invest, and not him.  

An older man sat down opposite, uninvited, offering another tray ladened with garnished appetisers. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, Mr Standish?” his voice boomed loudly. 

“The cruise has been rather… pleasant, Mr…?” he paused waiting for grey headed man to supply his name. 

“Sanchez, Josiah Sanchez.”  He held out his hand and shook the younger man’s. 

“May I enquire why a gourmet chef is tinkering the pots in the galley of this…” he waved his hand at the boat, “cruiser?” 

“Buck and Chris are my friends,” he retorted indignantly, not allowing the insult to slide by without addressing.  “I’m doing them a favour by being here.”  Actually, Josiah was looking for a sign - a new meaning to his life.  The aging chef needed some direction, and working in the kitchen of the well-known Ritz was not giving him any fulfilment.  He didn’t know if this was where he was going to find it, but he had to start somewhere.  He already felt a sense of belonging, urging him stay.  He wondered what Chris and Buck would say if he asked to stay on as the permanent chef? 

“Is it really going to help them in the long run?  Masquerading as the chef, when we both know that should Mr. Larabee and Mr. Wilmington get the influx of cash from Mother, that you wouldn’t be part of the deal?  That they will have to find permanent staff to outrig this vessel, and subsequent others, which in turn has not been accounted for in the costs and figures already presented.” 

“Guess you’ve never done anything for a friend before!” he snapped, banging the tray down and leaving the Southerner to the quiet of the empty deck.  He’d talk to Chris.  Hell, Josiah wouldn’t mind working for free – for a short time in any rate. 

Ezra sighed, wincing at the heavy footfalls that echoed away from him.  “That went well,” he drawled.  He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.  Closing his eyes, he massaged the ache that was beginning to set in.  He rolled his neck on his shoulders, lifted his hand from his face and squinted at the intrusion of the light.  

Part 4 

Setting aside his half empty glass, Ezra frowned at the abrupt movement that bulged the white canvas covering the small dinghy, lifting it a fraction then quickly dropping it back into place.  He glanced at the bridge and noted the distinctive forms of Wilmington and Larabee at the helm; neither was paying any attention his direction.  Sanchez was below the deck; he’d watched the older man retreat after their tumultuous discussion and Doctor Jackson was sunning himself at the opposite end of the vessel.  Mr Tanner was at the moment unaccounted for, but Standish would pay good odds that it wasn’t him that lay hidden in the smaller boat.  Creeping over to the boat, Ezra pulled back the canvas and exposed a dark haired youth sprawled uncomfortably.  His brown eyes widened in shock at his discovery, and the younger man shrank away from Standish. 

Ezra leant over the side, resting his elbows on the boat’s side.  “And who might you be?” 

“JD Dunne.” 

Standish offered his hand, shaking the slim hand that gripped tightly in his hold.  “Ezra Standish,” he announced, smiling despite himself.  “What are you doing here?” 

“My ma died a while back and I finished school, and now I’m gonna see the world,” he rushed out in one long sentence.  “See, I know how to fish and I can cook a bit and I’m a fast learner, so learning how to run the boat won’t take me long,” he boasted, confident in his abilities. 

“Those are extraordinary aspirations for one so young.  How old are you?” Standish inquired dubiously. 

“Old enough,” the youth protested vehemently. 

“Well I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, Mr. Dunne, but this vessel is on a round trip and will be returning to port within the next few hours.  You definitely picked the wrong boat to commence your nautical career.”  He grinned as the stowaway groaned in disappointment.  

“You aren’t gonna tell anyone I’m here are you?” he whined pitifully, hugging his chequered shirt more tightly around his slender body. 

“How long have you been hiding in there?” 

“Off and on for a week,” he admitted.  “Usually during the day I take off, spend the day in the mall, you know, kinda hang out?” 

“And no one has noticed your absence?” 

“Ain’t no one gonna miss me.  It was just me and mum, ‘til she died,” he ended on a sob. 

Ezra glanced up at the Captain and Buck then back at the young man.  “You hungry?”   JD’s mouth literally watered at the mention of food and he automatically zeroed in on the table of savouries and sandwiches.  “You coming out?”  Dunne shook his head, but still eyed the food longingly.  “Very well.  I shall bring you over a sample of the fares.” 

“Thanks Ezra,” Dunne mouthed between shoving the finger foods hungrily into his mouth. 

“When was the last time you ate?” he queried, returning with another tray to the starving youth. 

“Dunno.  Ain’t got any money left…” JD tossed the tray at the Southerner and pulled the canvas over his head.  “Someone’s coming…don’t turn me in please?” he begged. 

Part 5 

Standish stood at the rail looking out to sea; he didn’t turn as Tanner stepped up to join him.  He felt the brooding gaze that swept over him and wondered what the longhaired man wanted.  He glanced to his left, and by all impressions, didn’t move a muscle.  His silent companion was more or less his age, but his face showed lines of strain, although not as intense as the boat owner’s.  By outward appearances, this man had had a tough life.  Not unusual in this day and age. He was amused that this man didn’t feel compelled to fill the silence with meaningless chitchat.  Though he assumed that Larabee had sent the younger man on a mission to test the waters.  And if he were correct, then he wouldn’t have long before Tanner started pumping him for information.  Time to take control.  “What are you hiding from, Mr. Tanner?” 

“What?” Vin squawked, flustered by the Southerner’s question.  “Ain’t hiding,” he protested. 

“As you wish,” not believing the security guard’s declaration.  “If Mr. Larabee is after my endorsement, then he would be wise to seek it himself.” 

Vin coughed and dropped his eyes guiltily.  “Um,” he stuttered, “was just wondering if you wanted…” what?  His mind screamed urgently looking for an acceptable escape.  He grinned at the empty tray.  “…Wanted anything else to eat?” 

“You don’t lie very well, Mr. Tanner,” Standish countered good-humouredly.  

Vin shrugged.  He’d always been taught to speak the truth.  Something his mother had imparted to him before she died.  He’d only been five at the time, but it meant a lot to him and for her sake, and his own wellbeing, he’d adhered to the unspoken policy throughout his lifetime. 

Ezra turned and leant against the rail.  “Do you always do Mr. Larabee’s bidding?” 

“Ain’t like that,” Vin argued. 

The Southerner arched a speculative eyebrow that suggested he wasn’t convinced of Tanner’s declaration. 

“‘S true!  You criticise me, when it’s pretty clear that you’re just a momma’s boy,” he drawled mockingly.  “Bet you probably never worked a day in your life…must be real nice having a rich momma who’ll pay for everything you’ve ever wanted.  I don’t know why I’m bothering…” 

“Oh, don’t be so modest,” Ezra interrupted, “you’re desperate to find out whether your friends,” he said the word derisively, “have wasted their time and money on this little endeavour.  Not to mention, your true reason for hiding out on the yacht.  You didn’t rob a bank now did you?” He taunted, smiling cynically and deliberately turning his back.  “Only time will tell, Mr Tanner,” he muttered under his breath, not willing to reveal anything more. 

“Well, I reckon I got the right to know,” Chris Larabee growled.  He had discarded his suit coat and tie and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.  His blonde hair was wind blown and in tumbled disarray, and his face was streaked with a smear of grease.  

Standish drew in a deep breath and swung back around.  Ignoring the blond-headed captain’s comment, he consciously changed the subject.  “Are we heading back soon?  I have several tasks that require my attention before night fall.” 

Chris stood with his balled knuckled on his hips, his stance wide on the rocking ship.  “I want to know what yer gonna tell Mrs. Devereux?” 

“Well, that is between her and I,” he stated boldly, not flinching as Larabee stepped closer. 

“Chris,” Buck’s stern voice overshadowed the looming fight.  

“What is it, Buck?”  He scowled as he followed the outstretched finger pointing to the ominous clouds that gathered on the horizon.  The wind had picked up suddenly too and the waves grew higher, rocking the launch with more gusto.  He spun on his heels and followed his partner to the helm.  “How did we miss that?” he asked bewilderedly. 

“There’s something else…” 

“What?” Chris just knew he didn’t want to hear the answer. 

“Radio’s out…and the new GPS doesn’t seem to work.”  

“Damn!  How the hell did that happen?” He had checked both pieces of equipment himself just before they set sail.  The boat’s captain swore, and turned accusing eyes on the Southerner.  He in return, refused to meet his gaze.  Was that because he was guilty?  Had Standish sabotaged them?  Had be been paid to deliberately damage the instruments?  Was that why Maude Devereux backed out of their deal?  If that was the case, then why did she send her son in her place?  The son of a bitch knows more than he’s saying!  He’d deal with Standish later.  He had to get them back to safety - that was his first priority.  “Vin,” he called over the increasing winds, “get everybody into a lifejacket.  And downstairs.” 

Tanner glared at the southern gentleman and was tempted to leave him on deck and fend for himself, but the ingrained gentle nature of the Texan pre-empted this idea.  “Come on,” he growled, leading the way down below. 

The weather started getting rough, Larabee’s yacht was tossed. 

Part 6 

Standish was thrown against the wall, losing his footing as he navigated the narrow passageway.  A hand snaked out and twisted around his arm, bringing him face to face with the doctor.  

“Where do you think yer going?” 

“I left something up on deck and must retrieve it,” he explained, wrenching his arm free of the medico’s grasp. 

Jackson was puzzled by the Southerner’s determination.  “Ain’t worth risking your life for,” he counted.  Nothing was that valuable. 

“It is worth more than my life could ever amount to, Mr. Jackson,” he stated, completely serious with the claim.  The yacht lurched, and the Southerner stumbled up the stairs, leaving a confused Jackson tumbling back through to an empty bedroom. 

Standish stepped out on the rain-slicked deck and shuddered at the chilling rain that sluiced through his designer suit.  He looked up into the dark sky and blinked rapidly as the rain pelted into his eyes.  The dark rumbling clouds met the deep blue sea and it was difficult to discern where ocean finished and the clouds began.  Daylight had completely vanished under the black menacing storm clouds.  White streaks of lightning fired threateningly from the heavens and the loud cracks of thunder crackled simultaneously.  The roaring winds took his breath away and the waves had grown in ferocity in such a short time.  The launch rocked and dipped to the motion of the swells. 

Ezra took a deep breath and prayed that he would arrive in time.  “Courage, Ezra, courage,” he muttered as he pushed away from the safety of the lower decks.  The life jacket was more of an encumbrance, but he was not naive enough to remove it.  .  “JD!” he shouted into the storm, and the words were drowned in the howling winds.  “JD!” he called more urgently as he swayed with the cyclonic winds.  He staggered to the young stowaway’s hiding place, continually calling out the youth’s name.  God, he hoped the younger man was unharmed. 

The small boat swung chaotically on the holding chains, crashing hard against the hull of the yacht.  It wouldn’t take long for the timber to splinter under such violent force.  Ezra grabbed at the unstable dinghy, but slipped as the seawater roared over the sides knocking him to the deck.  He coughed as the salty water was sucked up through his nose.  Dark hands lifted him up and he looked up into the concerned features of Nathan.  Unable to be heard, he pointed at the small vessel, resolute in gaining Jackson’s assistance. 

“We gotta get back inside!” Nathan wailed, but Standish didn’t hear the plea.  He continued his attempt to catch and still the boat. The doctor grabbed Standish and attempted to pull him to safety, but Ezra determinedly freed himself.  Damn stubborn fool!  

“Noooo!” Standish screamed, again pointing at the boat.  “JD’s in there!” he persisted.  Flipping back the canvas he groped in the gloom for the young stowaway.  When his hand didn’t come into contact, Ezra climbed in the dinghy.  

“Ezra, we’re gonna be okay!” Nathan assured, assuming the Southerner was reacting on pure panic and not thinking clearly.  He swallowed his next entreaty when a young boy was pushed out of the boat and onto the launch.  Clutched protectively to his chest was a bag of his only possessions.  He refused to leave without it.  “Lord, where did you come from?”  Not waiting for a reply that wouldn’t be heard over the roaring winds, he pushed the two guests back toward the safety of the lower decks, praying that the others would steer them clear. 

Part 7 

Larabee fought for control over his life’s dream, but the ferocity of the storm and the enormous swells swallowed the launch.  His muscles tensed as the strain to hold the wheel became an impossible task. Chris put his whole weight behind the wheel, attempting to keep the oversized launch from capsizing.  He barely acknowledged the added presence of Tanner as he joined him at the helm.  They had to keep adjusting the direction, and it seemed hopeless to go against the surge of the waves.  

Seawater lashed angrily over the bow, pushing and pulling at the boat.  The rain and wind buffeted the yacht spinning the tired vessel into a whirlpool.  Timber’s creaked and groaned under the maelstrom and Larabee knew the ten-year-old launch was struggling in the unseasonable conditions.  “Try the radio again, Buck,” Chris yelled desperately.  He had no idea where they were, but he vowed he wasn’t going to let her go down.  Not without a fight.  He had five lives on this yacht that depended on him to see them to safety.  

Water pounded at the window, throwing its might against the drowning vessel.  “Buck!  Anything?” he asked desperately.  

“’S Not working, Chris!” he shouted back in disgust. 

“Are the others below?” he directed the query to Tanner. 

“Yeah…” 

“Then I want you to go down there with ‘em,” Chris ordered. 

“They’re safe, Chris!  I can be more help up here,” he pointed out, assisting the captain to hold the wheel steady.  

“Fine,” he didn’t have time to debate it. 

The glass from the side window broke under the surge of water and the cabin’s floor filled with seawater.  The captain, his partner and his best friend landed in a heap, scuttled by the rush of incoming water.  Chris regained his footing first and pulled Tanner off Buck and lost his own precarious hold again when the boat tilted dangerously to the right.  “We’re rolling!” he rasped.  The reflected horror in the eyes of both his friends matched his own turmoil.  He struggled to his knees, but the unmanned launch lurched with the will of the ocean, tossing them about like rag dolls. 

The storm raged throughout the night.  If not for the courage of the fearless crew, the ship would have been lost.  The yacht limped and struggled to shore on the incoming tide, washed up on the sandy beach. 

Part 8 

Standish sat up on the sandy beach, grimly studying the wrecked yacht.  The battered vessel rested on her side; a massive hole took up residence in the forward section.  It was sheer determination that saw the seven survivors reach the island in one piece.  How Larabee pulled off the miracle, he shuddered to contemplate.  And he was convinced it was the captain’s skill that had saved them, as he didn’t put any faith in luck.  The boat was not going to be of any use to them now, he dejectedly thought. 

Sanchez stroked the fire, watching the young Southerner with curiosity.  Sitting apart from where they’d established their temporary camp, Standish just gazed out over the lagoon in silence.  He’d been there since morning, unmoving.  JD, the young stowaway that Ezra had saved, was energetically recounting his version of last night’s events for the umpteenth time and Josiah grinned at the exuberance of the youth.  The others had been stunned by Dunne’s appearance, but he managed to endear himself to them in the short time they had known him.  Buck had taken a particular interest in the youngster, treating him like a younger brother. 

Sanchez left the fire and sat down beside Standish.  “A penny for your thoughts.” 

Ezra snorted.  “And what exactly will that buy me here, Mr. Sanchez?” he drawled thickly. 

Josiah rubbed his jaw thoughtfully and picked up a shell, turning it over in his large hands.  “To share a burden can often halve the problem.” 

“And do you think, that by divulging my inner thoughts it will return us to civilisation?” he asked caustically. 

The chef chuckled, ignoring the cynicism and tossing the shell into the lagoon.  “Ain’t nothing you could have done to prevent us being marooned here, Ezra.” 

“Isn’t there?” he asked sceptically, looking up for the first time.  “What would you say, Mr. Sanchez, if I informed you that I wasn’t sanctioned by Mother to take her place on the cruise?  And if it wasn’t for me, none of you would have even been out yesterday on that ill-fated cruise.” 

Josiah arched his eyebrows, surprised at the Southerner’s revelation.  “I think you better explain that, son.” 

Standish returned his attention to drawing in the sand.  “Mother had no intention of making that trip.  As for suppling capital for Mr. Larabee and Mr. Wilmington’s venture,” he laughed out loud, “let’s just say she was not interested.” 

“So why’d you come?” Josiah asked. 

“Oh, that’s the real humorous part,” he drawled sarcastically.  “Because of Mother’s interference, I lost my job yesterday,” he sighed deeply.   “She has a habit of usurping every job I get, trying to force me into her world.  It makes getting the next job that much harder.  Of course, that’s her intention,” he lamented. 

The chef glanced behind his back to JD, who was quietly unpacking his duffel bag and listening.  The others had come and gone over the course of the day, relaying information about the island on which they were deserted.  He was certain that he had heard one of them return, but no one had stepped out to show himself.  Probably too interested in what the slick Southerner had to say.  “That still doesn’t explain why you took Mrs Devereux’s position.  And what about the limo you showed up in?” 

“That’s easily explained.” 

“Then…” 

Ezra moaned in frustration.  Did he have to spell out everything?  “I just lost my job, and Mother was not attracted to this endeavour.  It was only natural that I should be interested, when she was not.”  He saw the confused frown on the older man’s face and swallowed his growing ire.  “She and I are always at odds.  If I say black, she’ll say blue, if I like something, then she’ll automatically dislike it, without even seeing it.  The story of my life,” he moaned.  “When I heard Mother making plans to send her driver to cancel her appointment with Mr. Larabee, I convinced him to take me along.  When we arrived, I once more persuaded Darrel that I would inform the captain of Mother’s non-appearance and subsequently take her place.” 

“She wasn’t gonna show?” Chris growled angrily, stepping out of the underbrush.  

Standish visibly startled at the captain’s sudden appearance.  “No,” he admitted.   

Larabee squatted to his haunches, reassessing the Southerner, given the new facts he’d over heard.  “Why’d you mess with the GPS and radio?”

Standish bit his lip, contemplating what he’s say.   He didn’t imagine that the captain would be pleased to find out he’d been responsible for the problems associated with the communicating equipment.  And had he known that they were going to be stranded on an uncharted deserted island, then he’d never have contemplated such drastic measures.  But none of this came to mind when he sabotaged them.  All he hoped for was to get the crew a little lost, and in turn get a reaction from Maude.  

Larabee watched the play of emotions that crossed the Southerner’s face.   He was guilty as hell and wouldn’t even admit it.  Chris was going to enjoy making Standish pay his dues.   "What was the job you lost?” 

“I have had many varied occupations in my lifetime.  Does it really matter to you what I lost yesterday?” 

Larabee smiled broadly.  “I reckon.” 

“I was in public relations associated with the marketing of automobiles.” 

“You were a car salesman?” Chris asked incredulously. 

“That would be correct.” 

“Ah huh,” he chuckled.  “Well hope you know how to adapt to island life, ‘cause it looks like we’re stuck here for a while.” 

“Great, just preachy.” 

“And so you know,” Larabee added, “If nobody showed yesterday, than Buck and I would have still taken the yacht out.” 

The End!

Now this is the tale of the castaways, they're here for a long, long time, they'll have to make the best of things, it's an uphill climb. The first mate and the Skipper too, will do their very best, to make the others comfortable, in the tropic island nest. No phone, no lights no motorcars, not a single luxury, like Robinson Crusoe, as primitive as can be. - LOL