The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse Read online

  Krueger’s thoughts were interrupted by a tenacious knock at the door.

  “Come!” he demanded.

  His valet entered with a sealed message carried on a silver plate and offered the contents to the aristocrat. Krueger took the message and dismissed his butler with an annoyed wave of his hand, then tore open the seal and began to read.

  All dock and vessel crews are meeting at the town hall today at noon to discuss the vessel schedules and the danger of the Barrett Channel. Suggest the executive should be present to mitigate the meeting. Pike.

  Just when Krueger thought things couldn’t get any worse, now the experienced crews were refusing to work the schedules and were spooked by Black Dean. With an annoyed breath, the wealthy man exhaled before his countenance exploded in flames. Well, I will just have to get new crews! There are a lot of people out of work and willing to do anything to earn a few dollars!

  *~*~*~*

  The town hall shivered in a sea of working class faces, everyone lifting their voices just to talk to the person sitting next to them, above the noise of others lifting their voices to talk to the person sitting next to them. A hollow murmur rippled over the crowd like a wave running up onto a beach, with all eyes staring at the main entrance as two well dressed men stood searching the crowd.

  Soon, a Scotsman took the initiative, climbed the stage and addressed the gathering in a heavy accent. “Falla warkas, we have cawled this meetin' to address the cancerns of our bruthers aboot these untenable wee vessel timetables and a course, the dangers o' Black Dean.”

  An angry explosion of voices erupted throughout the building, directed at the familiar executives standing in the entry door.

  The Scotsman held up his hands for order and when silence descended he continued, “Arch laddies, I see we have the very wee presence o' the men responsible for our meetin'.”

  Another uproar exploded.

  Again, the Scotsman held up his hands and the crowd once again trickled to silence. “I cawl Mester Krueger to the wee platform and ya canna address ya cancerns directly.”

  Krueger acknowledged the Scotsman with a wave of his cane as he and Pike pushed their way through the mob and climbed the stage. Krueger and Pike searched the dissident sea of faces, faces Krueger had never seen before but were well known to his assistant.

  Krueger began, “Gentlemen, these are tough economic times for this company and these timetables are set in place to remain competitive in an extremely hostile market place. The one thing we can offer to our customers is a quick and efficient service. By you refusing to cooperate with these necessary policies, it puts all of our livelihoods in jeopardy and your families' ability to eat each week.”

  A loud chorus of contention roared through the hall, with one angry man shooting to his feet, shouting at Krueger, “What about the necessary policies of our lives at stake from your policies, as well as the demise of the vessels that employ us?!”

  Another rowdy agreement erupted from the mass, with Krueger glancing to Pike for support. But before Pike could react, Krueger added more fuel to the fire.

  “If you are alluding to the unfortunate disappearance of Rebellious, we have no proof that Black Dean or the schedules had any part to play in Rebellious’ disappearance...”

  But Krueger was drowned out by an ensuing uproar.

  A different man shot to his feet and waited for the dissention to calm. “All of us in this room had friends or family aboard the missing company cutter. My brother was an engineer aboard Rebellious and he spoke of multiple equipment failures and maintenance issues on each trip. How can we be sure her own boilers didn’t explode and send her to the bottom?!”

  Glancing at Pike and unable to mount a plausible rebuttal, Krueger knew maintenance wasn’t happening, at his own orders.

  Sensing Krueger was losing the argument, Pike had a plan and stepped up, hoping his boss would see the sense in his speech. He waited for complete attention before he began. “Men! I also knew the crew of Rebellious. Some of them were my friends, too.”

  Krueger stared at Pike in amazement. Did he... and were they?

  “I, like you, feel their loss, too. The schedules, in my opinion, are unreasonable but I also understand the need to keep the vessels running and earning so in turn we can live.”

  A subdued murmur rippled through the hall but Pike continued, holding up one hand for silence. Glancing sideways at his boss and hoping he wasn’t about to announce his own expulsion from the company, he went on. “Therefore, I propose the following: First. We cannot afford downtime for repairs, so there will be two engineers per boat for each voyage instead of one, and a team of engineers that will come aboard and carry out necessary, and I repeat, necessary repairs while the boats are in dock being loaded and unloaded.”

  Pike quickly added before his momentum could be derailed, “Second. As Black Dean is a concern, not only for you and our company but for all maritime operations, I intend to put forward a proposition to the government and seafarers alike to build a lighthouse above Black Dean, to mark the channel at night and all weather, thus taking the fear out of the passage.”

  Krueger peered at Pike as if he had lost his mind, but soon conceded to his plan when the hall broke into loud applause. As long as the crews thought that something was going to be done about Black Dean and the lighthouse was going to be built, they’d continue to work the tight schedules. Even if the plan got buried in red tape and it was never built, it didn’t matter; the company fleet would still sail, so Krueger conceded he could live with a few extra engineers, even if the so called engineers didn’t know anything about ship engine rooms.

  Pike’s cunning genius had just won the crowd and saved Krueger’s neck.

  *~*~*~*

  Chapter 7

  “Lady Katrina, welcome to the bridge. This is an honour, but I am not sure your father, the duke, would approve of your visit.”

  “I can go where I like and when I like, Captain Lewis, without my father’s approval. I have been cooped up on this... vessel for the past month! My hair has gone frizzy in the sea air and I am bored!” Katrina responded indignantly. “How much longer until we make a port and I can go exploring?!”

  “We should be in port tomorrow for a short stay while your father continues his trade mission, my lady.”

  Katrina sighed and peered indignantly through the bridge windows and out over the bow. “My father’s trade mission... we have seen nothing but sea and out of the way places since leaving London, not even a single dinner party with people of my own social standing. If I don’t have some fun soon, I’ll simply die!”

  “Katie!” an agitated voice came from behind her.

  Katrina spun around to face the owner. “Father, I..I was only stretching my legs.”

  “You are a lady of fine breeding. You do not mingle with common people!”

  “I don’t have any people of breeding to mingle with, since you forced me to accompany you on this tedious voyage and I have been bored out of my brain.”

  “That’s enough, young lady! I didn’t raise you in the finest schools and society to have you become an object of wanton admiration by every common man. Get back into your cabin where you belong. Where is Tess?! She shouldn’t have allowed you into the company of commoners!”

  “I am your daughter, Father, not a mule to order around at your convenience. Tess had a little too much wine at lunchtime so I could do a little exploring on my own volition,” Katrina smirked a spoilt, mischievous beam but stood her ground, staring down her father with the impudent smile still adorning her fine features until she saw the fuse light in his cold eyes. Spinning on her heels she squeezed indignantly past her father and flounced out of the bridge. The time had come to concede defeat and return to her cabin before she had to contend with something more than her father’s bad temper.

  Once Lady Katrina had cleared the room, the duke spoke loudly so all the men were in no doubt to the intent of his message. “My daughter is not for
your eyes, gentlemen, and if she finds her way into your company again, it would be prudent for you to show her back to her own class. Do you understand me?!”

  The men on the bridge, including the captain, nodded in obedience to the duke’s threat and continued on as if nothing abnormal had just taken place.

  “Good day, gentlemen,” aided by an ornate cane, the duke, satisfied with his castigation and that his point had been understood, turned and walked out.

  *~*~*~*

  A stressful argument erupted and continued for a full half hour as the duke and Katrina exchanged heated words. Tess stood unsteadily at attention against the far wall, listening to the ranting of the rich man and his mollycoddled daughter while her temples ached under the duress of a hangover. She had no idea that fresh orange juice could cause such strong side effects, yet as the tirade continued and she listened to the unfolding drama, she soon understood that she had been the victim of Lady Katrina’s desire to be unencumbered by a chaperone and that exploration was on her self-indulgent mind.

  The quarrel abruptly ceased when the duke’s hand made contact with Katrina’s face and a slap came down across her cheek, echoing in the quietened cabin. In reaction to the blow, Katrina’s head snapped to the side and her long black hair tangled around her face. Gasping at the sudden pain and shocked that her father would resort to such a tactic, Katrina stood, holding the injury site with the palm of her hand, her dark eyes alight with fire and staring down the authority figure. In a moment heavy with disgust, she pushed past her father and threw open the door, slamming it heavily against the cabin wall and made her exit.

  “Come back here, Katie; I’m not finished!” the duke called after his injured daughter. “Get after her, Tess, and don’t let her out of your sight.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Tess curtsied, then exited the crime scene close behind Katrina.

  *~*~*~*

  In the early morning light just after dawn, Captain Lewis searched the horizon with his telescope, sweeping in all directions until the exploring quest paused on a point nearly directly behind them. A steam cutter was following at about an hour to stern and judging by the steam clouds billowing from her boilers, she was in a hurry. The waters ahead for the captain were unknown, but the legends surrounding this morning’s voyage were not, requiring Lewis to time his arrival at the Barrett Passage coinciding with low tide. Correlating the tide chart and then the distance to travel, Lewis ascertained that at his current speed he would arrive too early and the tide would still be on the turn from its highest point. If he cut his speed, the cutter following would overtake them, but that wasn’t a concern as these parts were supposedly friendly and the risk of pirates was low.

  Coming to a decision and reaching for the engine room telegraph lever, Lewis selected half speed. A bell announced the captain's requirements to the engine room and the vessel’s pace dropped considerably, followed by a bell on the bridge and the corresponding lever movement indicating the engine room had understood the bridge's intentions. The captain once again checked his calculation and conceded at this new speed they would enter Barrett Passage at the bottom of the tide and still make port by early afternoon.

  Taking the small telescope from the helm ledge and training it on the approaching vessel once more, Lewis noticed since reducing their speed, the cutter was now gaining on them and estimated they would soon be on a collision course. According to maritime law, he expected that any responsible captain would reduce speed also and try to contact the vessel in their direct path, enquiring of their intended action. Through the small telescope, Lewis observed the volume of steam pouring from the boiler funnels and noted there didn’t appear to be any signs or intention to reduce speed. It was unthinkable, but just maybe they hadn’t seen the Riviera, so Lewis called to his radio operator and ordered him to try and raise the vessel and warn them of an inevitable collision.

  The SS Riviera was a medium sized luxury vessel that often took dignitaries and politicians abroad on trade mission trips. The captain and his crew were well versed on the tantrums put on by the rich and their spoilt families, while being called a second class citizen to his face went with the territory and he’d learnt to dismiss their childish behaviour. However, he had a problem at the moment that demanded his full professional attention and the desires of his passengers were low on his priority. If he couldn’t raise the cutter bearing down on them, there was only a small window of time left for him to react and avoid a collision. Any ship takes a specified distance to turn or stop, with the water under a vessel hull in addition to its weight acting like a carpet of ball bearings. Even if the power is taken off the propeller, momentum and the ship’s weight continues to drive the vessel along at the same speed and course, gradually reducing over a specified distance. Two vessels on the same course can take a long time to change their direction and even though avoidance has been activated, a collision can still occur if not activated soon enough.

  Captain Lewis entered the radio room in time to hear his radio operator trying desperately to raise the approaching vessel.

  “This is the SS Riviera to unidentified cutter, please respond, over... SS Riviera to unidentified cutter, please respond, over!”

  Worried by the lack of response, the radio operator turned to his captain. “They’re not responding, sir.”

  “Keep trying, Mr Cook.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Captain Lewis hurried back to the bridge and peered at the speeding vessel, watching the safe distance between them swiftly closing. Scanning the approaching cutter with the telescope, Lewis’ countenance turned to alarm, noticing the vessel’s bridge was completely deserted. Bawling out an immediate order, “Engines full ahead, rudder hard to starboard,” Lewis barked, fully aware the time had come to take action, attempting to avoid a horrific collision.

  Spinning the wheel as fast as he could, the first mate then reached for the engine order telegraph and demanded full engine speed. With nothing more they could do, Lewis and the crew watched intently as the vessel began its emergency turn and hoped they had acted in time to avoid a collision. Well aware of his wealthy pampered passengers and the fact Lewis could be fired for the sudden turn, surviving the current drama and the safety of his ship was his first priority and he would contend with the passengers' moans later. As the Riviera completed the panicked turn and sidestepped a fatal crash, the cutter maintained its speed and direction, narrowly missing the luxury passenger ship and continued on unperturbed and oblivious to the averted catastrophe.

  Captain Lewis breathed a sigh of relief as the rogue ship sprinted along the Barrett Passage, knowing full well at its present tack it would come unstuck and tangle with the crushing jaws of the legendary Black Dean. “Did anyone get a look at the vessel name?!” Lewis bellowed from the bridge door, his wild eyes still following the fading outline and the steam torrents billowing from the cutter’s funnels.

  “It looked something like Bellious, sir, but we can’t be sure.”

  *~*~*~*

  Chapter 8

  The weeks since Becky and Brett had announced their impending parenthood had flown by in a maze of frenzied activity, with the board of directors adding to the stress and testing Brett’s mettle in the newspaper business. Elevating the young executive to acting editor and chief, keeping him busy with business development meetings and run of the mill problems that face a person in the boss' position, they’d known the exact date of Brett’s boss' retirement. Watching Brett carefully to see whether he had what it took to fill the editor and chief’s role, they were soon convinced of their choice and without notice, officially offered Brett the chief editor's job. With a smile and handshake, Brett signed the contract and by the time the ink had dried on the document, his salary had nearly tripled, while his young shoulders bent under the weight of a metropolitan newspaper.

  Consumed by the responsibility of running a news corporation, Brett laboured from early morning to late at night, throwing himself into the job to prove the boar
d had the right man; but even at home, he couldn’t get away from the phone and people wanting his attention. Becky knew this was the break they’d been waiting for, with Brett making no secret of the load he would be expected to carry and the sacrifices they’d have to endure as a couple, forewarning Becky well in advance of the event. Even though she thought she was prepared and had expected Brett’s continued absence from home, when it did arrive, she floundered with it. When he did eventually come home, he was exhausted and often went to bed straight after a meal and fell asleep almost immediately, leaving Becky to talk to herself.

  *~*~*~*

  The bedroom was dark and Becky was still asleep when Brett eased himself out of bed. He slipped into the bathroom, shaved, showered and dressed, preparing for another hectic day at the newspaper. Ready to leave, Brett gently bent over the woman of his dreams contentedly sleeping and lightly kissed her, trying not to wake her, but Becky stirred, forcing back a black lock from her eyes.

  “Are you going already? What time is it?”

  “It’s 4:30, honey, and I have a locked solid schedule. I need to get there and get organised.” Gently brushing her cheek with a tender finger, Brett noticed a worried frown and tried to reassure her with a whisper, “It won’t be so hectic once I get a handle on the job, honey, I promise.”

  Becky smiled, climbed out of bed and gave him a kiss to start his day. ”I love you and I am proud of you. Now go, Mr Boss Man,” Becky played, reassured by Brett’s solemn promise. “What about breakfast?!” she called as an afterthought, her words following him out the door.

  “I’ll get something at work,” Brett’s voice drifted back.

  Before Brett had a chance to breathe, it was nearly midday and his early start had been consumed by nightshift production staff vying for a piece of Brett’s time. Meetings were scheduled all morning, with board members and new clients interspersed with phone calls and people wanting decisions made. As the last scheduled meeting for the morning closed and all stakeholders dispersed, Brett was feeling hungry, having never had time to indulge in the breakfast he’d assured Becky he’d find.