The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse Page 2

  Cautiously picking his way along the narrow passage, he added the coordinates to enter the narrow channel onto his map, noting it was exactly three miles from the northern tip of Contention Island. Keeping the island focused, on a northerly aspect over the point of the bow, ensured the vessel remained safely within the narrow cutting. Contention Island itself seemed to straddle the lengthy rock barrier, with the west side facing the distant land and the east facing the open ocean, giving Barrett a clear picture why circumnavigating the formidable island was impossible to ships.

  Traversing the passage at the bottom of the tide, Barrett catalogued and marked on his map the exact location of a gaping, deep black hole that lay across the channel’s width. Intrigued by this strange phenomena, he lowered a long boat and ordered his second mate, Riley Dean, to row over to the deep hole for a closer look. As the tide began to run back in, a violent swirling motion gripped the tiny craft, spinning it in the vortex’s mouth before overpowering the churning vessel and dragging it in ever increasing speed until it disappeared with Dean onboard, down the gullet of the raging whirlpool. Watching in absolute terror as Dean vanished without a trace and went to his death, Barrett named the chaotic ocean hole Black Dean in Dean’s memory and as a future warning of Dean’s horrific demise.

  Managing to escape the tyrannical whirlpool with only moments to spare, Barrett, however, on his second journey through the passage, approached the channel upon high tide and quickly became disorientated. As his vessel languished, blindly idling where the passage should be, the tide turned and Black Dean opened its massive mouth, appearing much larger and more violent than he remembered. In less than a heartbeat, the hapless sailing boat locked into a life-and-death battle with the eddying currents; but Black Dean was too strong and overpowered the vessel, smashing the wooden hull into splinters against the turbulent rock walls. Powerless against the aggressively swirling maelstrom, the doomed craft, along with Barrett and his crew, vanished, drawn down into Black Dean’s gaping mouth and disappeared without a trace.

  The discovery and the growing legends surrounding the Barrett Passage and moreover Black Dean’s vile rage, purportedly swallowing many hapless ships, hadn’t deterred vessels from using the shortcut. Captains and the companies they represented considered the economic advantages of the Barrett Passage a risk worth taking; but only a madman would attempt the treacherous channel and its bad moods at night or high tide.

  Over the years, it was discovered that Black Dean calmed at the very top or bottom of the tidal flow, when the current stopped and the tide turned from running in to running out. On one such incidence, it was observed by a passing vessel that Black Dean was actually a massive underwater hole in Barrett Channel’s rock shelf, but unable to see into the chasm’s depths, legend grew out of the unknown and demanded it was bottomless. As the tide quickly turned and began its furious run, heavy currents emanating from the hole took the observers off guard and churned into a swirling vortex, requiring the unsuspecting vessel to use all the power at its disposal and only just able to throw off Black Dean’s thrashing grasp.

  Once news of Black Dean’s embellished conduct made it back to port, a new round of myth grew out of the encounter, with sailors reporting seeing powerful whirlpools that could swallow anything that ventured too close to its gaping mouth. Legend and truth collided among the seafarers, but once they had experienced it personally, nothing about Black Dean was unbelievable.

  At last, word from the boiler room came to Rebellious’ bridge carried by an enthusiastic young seaman. “Sir, the engineer is confident that the boiler will hold this time,” the young seaman reported.

  “It had better, otherwise we will all get to see Black Dean at its worst... from the bottom!” the captain agitated.

  Dismissing the seaman with a bothered slight, the captain shifted the engine order telegraph to full ahead flank and with a bell sounding in the engine room, the engine operator responded with full power from the boiler. A bell sounded again in the bridge and an indicator moved to show the captain that the engine room had received the message and had understood. Removing a small telescope from the helm and aiming it across at the horizon, the captain scrutinised a position where he estimated the entrance to the Barrett Passage should be. But with the sun setting fast and less than thirty minutes to high tide, the treacherous channel walls were invisible.

  Catching the nervous eye of his first mate, the captain read the unspoken question. “We have no choice, Mr Bramph. Let’s just pray our boilers hold their steam and we make it through without tangling with Black Dean.”

  Shifting nervously on his feet, the mate knew the pressure the captain was under from the company to keep his schedule, with any delays for whatever reason met with stern consequences.

  Contention Island lay dead ahead, but its shape faded in the failing light so the captain aimed his boat for where he presumed the northern tip of the small island to be, which would supposedly line him up for the centre of the channel. He only hoped he hadn’t made the turn too early, which would change his approach trajectory and lead him onto the rocks.

  In the growing twilight, the view of Contention Island faded ever faster, leaving the small telescope useless and all they could do was try to steer along a predetermined course. Avoiding the fear-filled eyes of his first mate, the captain reached for the engine order telegraph to cut speed, but as he did the vessel abruptly lurched sideways, groaning as Black Dean tore open Rebellious’ hull and threw the crew to the floor under the impact. In the following chaos, the sinking vessel shrieked with pain, but there wasn’t time to think let alone board the lifeboats, with Rebellious listing immediately as the lower decks surged with water, filling the hull with a tidal wave through Black Dean’s jagged bite marks. In less than a minute, Rebellious pointed her bow into the gaping mouth of Black Dean and in a moment of surrender slipped, spiralling into the churning water, her boilers hissing violently as the cold water extinguished her flame, taking her crew down with her.

  As darkness settled over Black Dean, all trace of a dying vessel disappeared into the swirling vortex, forever hidden in a perfect crime.

  *~*~*~*

  A small man in a dark business suit, clutching a clipboard, stood searching the dock for the familiar ship. Rebellious was the company’s flagship, capable of carrying more cargo than any other of their competitors, yet she was the only vessel in the diminishing fleet making money for the financially burdened sea freight company. The small man nervously withdrew his pocket watch and caught it by the chain securing it to his breeches, flipped open the cover and huffed. They were late and there would be strife to pay and it would be him who had to pay it. Rebellious was due in early that morning and an agitated major customer was demanding his cargo, threatening to take his business elsewhere if he didn’t get what he wanted... NOW!

  As the morning progressed with still no sign of Rebellious, the small man became intently nervous. After yet another sweep of the harbour just in case she had slipped in unnoticed, the man left the dock and approached the company office across from the water's edge. Reporting to the owner that Rebellious was now many hours late, a situation her captain knew was unacceptable and was driven to avoid at all cost, the owner decided to send a steamer out to search just in case of a breakdown. It was a dubious call and the owner knew in the pit of his stomach that something was terribly wrong when she didn’t answer any of their radio transmissions.

  All company vessels were required to maintain radio integrity at all times.

  The harbour abounded with talk of the missing cargo ship, with everybody plainly aware the freight company was pushing their captains to keep tight schedules and take big risks to do so; but no one dared to express the unthinkable.

  Until a wiry seasoned sailor soon put to words his growing suspicion. “All this talk is foolishness. Last night was high tide just after sundown and with no other choice, they probably approached the passage on sunset, blind and behind schedule. The cap
tain would’ve had to risk the crossing and if they’ve fallen foul of Black Dean, it will be pointless searching for survivors or wreckage. Black Dean never leaves any trace.”

  Many ears listened to the words of the sailor, but no one spoke. They only hoped he was wrong and that Rebellious would somehow limp safely into port.

  *~*~*~*

  Chapter 3

  Rebecca Redden walked with a new spring in her step and bubbling joy in her heart. She couldn’t wait to reveal her news to her husband, Brett, and once he knew, they could announce their news to their parents together. As she pushed open the doors to the doctor’s waiting room and floated out into the street, Becky knew something was different inside her and now the doctor had confirmed it... she was expecting their first child.

  Becky offhandedly mentioned the nightmares to her doctor on the chance he may have some advice for her, but after a reassurance that her hormones may be causing some strange happenings, she dropped the subject, especially when he suggested making an appointment with a psychologist. She didn’t feel like having some stranger tromping all over her mind with hobnail boots.

  *~*~*~*

  Deadlines were a usual occurrence in a busy newspaper office and an aspiring editor had to be concentrating at all times. Spelling mistakes and poor grammar just didn’t cut it with the expectant readers of a major city paper, so every story had to be meticulously checked and rechecked. The weekend edition was Brett’s opportunity to take the company reigns, showcase his ability and earn a much coveted promotion to editor and chief once his boss retired in a couple of months, with a significant pay rise accompanying the promotion. However, along with the benefit came a dramatic increase in workload, too. The extra pay was a welcome proposition, especially since Becky had been giving gentle hints about wanting a baby.

  Brett let his mind wander from his work for a few moments at the thought of a family and then diverted to the plaguing nightmares Becky was experiencing. As if he suddenly remembered something, Brett reached for his executive diary, opened to the latest page and made a resolute entry: Contention Island, then circled it with a red pen, closed his organizer and cleared his mind to concentrate on editing another reporter’s work.

  This is a lot of garbage, he thought, then taking a look at the news story’s author, he soon knew why. Grimacing and shaking his head, Brett could just see the editor and chief blowing a fuse, pulling the story and throwing it across the room in disgust.

  When the desk phone broke into his thoughts and demanded he pay attention to the requirements of yet another struggling newspaper journalist, Brett was just a little edgy. “Brett Redden.”

  “Hey, Brett... editor and chief.”

  “Hello, Smiley. I’m not editor and chief just yet,” Brett replied, hoping Smiley’s call would be brief.

  “You will, you will. How’s my piece? Did the boss like it?”

  “Your piece was a delight, as usual. Maybe you can give Mr Downey a few tips. I can predict with all certainty his work is going to be pulled again.”

  Smiley laughed his infectious laugh, drawing in even the most morbid people and soon, a very preoccupied Brett was laughing along with him.

  “So, is this a social call or were you just enquiring after my health, Smiley?”

  Realising Brett was busy, Smiley began to apologise. ”Sorry, Boss. I just wanted to make sure I still had the number one spot and best story,” Smiley began to chortle again.

  “I could use a hundred like you, Smiley.”

  “So, I’m still numero uno?” Smiley bubbled, sounding pleased with himself.

  A sudden thought crossed Brett’s mind. “Have you ever heard of Contention Island, Smiley?”

  “Contention-whoso?” Smiley rattled, in the hope Brett would fill in the gaps.

  “Contention Island,” Brett repeated, wondering whether this was going to be a mistake.

  “Never heard of it. Is this some new national secret?” Smiley, the investigative journalist was in full snoop mode.

  “See what you can find out for me and maybe you will remain numero uno when I get the promotion.”

  “Leave it with me, Boss. If anyone’s trying to hide anything, I’ll sniff it out.”

  “Thanks, Smiley.”

  Brett returned the phone to its cradle, satisfied if indeed there was anything to Contention Island, Smiley would track it down. Brett had just picked up the next news item and was checking each sentence diligently when the phone rang again. Feeling under pressure, he sighed and reached for the phone, his tone reflecting the stress.

  “Brett Redden!”

  “Oh, did I get you at a bad time, honey?”

  “Becky! No, sweetheart, I am just getting a bit swamped at the moment. What’s up?”

  “I have a surprise for you tonight and I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to be late home.”

  “Surprise? What surprise?” Brett followed her playful game.

  “Not till you get home,” Becky teased. “I’d better let you get back to work.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you tonight,” Brett reluctantly put down the phone, closing off the conversation with his pride and joy. She was the only interruption he enjoyed, but after her cryptic call Brett was finding it hard to concentrate, yet almost certain he knew what her news entailed. It had to be something outstanding for her to call him at work.

  *~*~*~*

  Checking the dinner table setting for the thirtieth time and satisfied everything was just perfect, Becky glanced up at the kitchen clock and sighed nervously. Brett would be on his way home and his favourite meal—rack of lamb—was teasing the kitchen with its heavenly scent. Adjusting her polished appearance in the loungeroom mirror, she heard their car turn into the parking space under the apartment and after a quick glance at the clock, realised he’d left work early, more than likely anticipating her surprise. Striking a match against its flint, the small flame ignited rapidly and then with the practised hand of a dinner hostess, Becky lit the candles and dimmed the lights.

  Fluttering with nerves and anticipating her man’s arrival, she quickly took up her place of greeting at the apartment door and waited for their usual cuddle, imagining the expected reaction to her news.

  *~*~*~*

  Walking up the stairs to their apartment, Brett’s mouth watered as he intercepted the scents of Becky’s exquisite home cooking drifting welcomingly out onto the front stairwell. Before he could thread his key into the lock, the front door burst open and Becky launched herself into his arms, passionately kissing her man for long moments. When she finally wriggled from his embrace, she could see the flame of desire burning in his eyes.

  “Wow, I hope the mailman doesn’t get this type of treatment.”

  “Only if his name is Brett and he looks exactly like you.” With Becky’s face alight with joy she returned his playfulness and then took hold of his hand and led him inside the apartment.

  “Okay, shoot! What’s the surprise?”

  “Not so fast, mister. I have your favourite dinner first and then I’ll tell you.”

  “Should I guess?” Brett teased.

  “It won’t do any good. I won’t confess until...”

  Brett had a fair idea what was coming. He could see the warm glow around Becky and her excitement was infectious, but he wasn’t going to spoil her moment. They played and teased their way through the dinner, Becky bursting for the meal to be done and as she finally cleared the dirty plates from the table, a sudden thought made her anxious.

  What if he isn’t excited about my news?

  Brett saw Becky’s childlike face cloud over and the beam diminish. “What’s up, honey?”

  With fear taking the place of joy, she glanced away from his probing eyes. “I..I just had a horrible thought that maybe you wouldn’t be so happy with my surprise.”

  “Well, why don’t you just tell me and then we can worry about it then,” Brett’s hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her onto his lap.

  Wi
th her face buried in his shoulder, apprehension had taken the place of excitement and she pushed away, stammering as she tried to form the words. “I... I... that is, we... are going to be parents. I’m pregnant.”

  Becky searched Brett’s eyes, anxiously probing for any sign of emotion, but his face remained expressionless as he returned her gaze. Then she saw it and almost burst, the telltale twinkle in his eyes, knowing he was trying to hide his excitement, too and keep her guessing. She squealed with relief as Brett beamed, obviously overjoyed with her news.

  “Can we go and see Mum and Dad tonight and tell them... p-l-e-a-s-e?”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  *~*~*~*

  Chapter 4

  The short journey from their rented apartment to Becky’s childhood home would take only a few moments and as she sat in the passenger seat, she admired the contour of Brett’s face. While the car travelled along the darkened suburban road, the street lights played a game of light and shadow, dancing across his features and accentuating his strong profile. Rebecca Redden loved her man with all her heart and having his baby was the greatest testament to the depth of her feelings for him. Becky was excited and fulfilled being his wife and wanting to convey that emotion, she reached over and touched his arm, but he flinched and the unexpected movement surprised her.

  “Sorry, Beck. I was a million miles away,” Brett’s face broke into a smile, watching the rosy cheeks of the woman he loved.

  Moments later, the lights of the late model grey Kia Forte turned into a modest middle class driveway and lit up the front of a neat brick and tile suburban house. The happy building was a familiar sight for Becky, with her parents living in the modest dwelling all her life and then some. She had so many fond memories of her contented childhood as Becky Forest, the only daughter of Jacob and Emma Forest, living in the small home where the echoes of love over time were ingrained and recorded in the perimeter of its walls. She knew they would be as excited as Brett had been at her news.