“I heard they came up on him and slit his throat with a razor,” Carl said. He started chewing a fingernail.

Gun stroked his beard in his thoughtful way. “No. I think he’s wearing the concrete shoes.”

“Really...” Carl tweaked off a piece of nail. “He was always living on the edge. Maybe he’s hiding out in Europe or Asia.” He spit the nail out and examined the next one.

“Na-ah,” scoffed Jimmy. “They say he got on the wrong side of the Cubans on some drug deal around Andros Island way.”

“ Andros Island? No, sir, you don’t want to get caught by those guys.” Gun glanced back at me.

Joni dumped a bucket of mutilated fish parts over the side and we locked eyes on each other a moment. Her bright ruddy face was so full of goodwill that it was beginning to rub off on me. On the other hand there was the mysterious Killis, writing notes in squiggly letters that resembled a Middle Eastern language.

“Bad people around Andros Island?” I ventured to say. Joni popped up the ladder to join the rest of us on the bridge.

“Oh, those ones there, they’re vicious,” Jim said. “For years they’d come up on boats like this, kill everyone and use the boat to run major drugs, then sank it.”

“No trace of anyone or anything left,” added Gun. “Groups of Bahamians and Cubans working for the drug cartels. That’s how they used to do it.”

“God.” My mouth dried up, and I swallowed. “That’s like…the pirates.”

“Oh, pirates are alive and well around here!” declared Joni. “Great place for fugitives, too. Barely any police force.”

New and worse perils seemed to come from nowhere and multiply out here.

Gun spoke my way, “At night they come up on people. Silently. Razors across the throat. But, hey, Carl, you remember that one gang?” He nodded at Carl and Jim. “They were famous for daylight lagoon ambushes? None of these waters was safe for years.”

“Those ones were different. They did crazy stuff like that for kicks,” Jimmy said with a huff. “Yeah, that old pirate, what’s his name, Andros Red, him, one of his crews did that.”

I saw Killis grinning out of the corner of my eye, and couldn’t tell if it was because of our conversation or what he was writing in the other language, but I wanted to know.

“Yeah, Andros Red, wasn’t he the same guy that killed Barker?” asked Joni.

“They say that?” Jim replied. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t surprise me a bit.”

Gun moved in his chair as though uncomfortable.

Carl remarked, “Ain’t heard a thing about Andros Red for years now. Used to be whenever anything happened down here, It’s Andros Red, he’s the one did it. Maybe he’s wearing the concrete shoes, too.”

Dolphins bounded ahead while the sea spray flew back.

“So, are these waters safe now?” I asked.

They all eyed each other, and grinned together. Joni answered, “Let’s put it this way. Not without a weapon. I have a weapon. I won’t tell you what it is.”

“I keep a 45 under the mattress,” Gun told me. “Not everyone sleeps when we’re anchored.”

“Wow...” I stared ahead. Except for the blare of our engines it seemed so peaceful out here. But considering this limitless expanse of sea and sky it was also no place to be caught out alone at night, either.

Killis took the opportunity to leave again. Then, Joni did the same, saying, “Naïve young friend you got there, Gun.” She departed with another big smile for me.

Later on, I told Gun, “Look, I memorized the hand signals, what else do I need to know?”

“What else did I tell you?” he answered.

“Don’t stop breathing. But what about my ears, I always get water in them and can’t get it out. I even have trouble in pools with ear infections.”

“You equalize pressure every few feet by pinching your nose closed, and blowing it lightly.” He demonstrated by doing so.

“You mean I get water inside my ears? Can’t I use earplugs?”

Both Carl and Gun thought that was the funniest thing. “Sure!” Gun blurted out laughter. “If you want the pressure to push the plugs into your brain!” He steered onward with his feet, grinning at me and hands scratching his blond hair. “Look, Caleb, do this...” He pinched his nostrils closed, and tried to blow his nose. “Doing that equalizes the pressure as you’re going down. And when you come up, the rule is never rise faster than your own bubbles.”

“Never faster than my own bubbles…don’t stop breathing…equalize pressure every few feet...I don’t know if I can do this. If I should do this.”

Carl got up. “I’m going to see how Joni is,” he said, heading astern.

Joni was tending several fishing lines that trailed the boat. Then her voice bellowed, “Slow the boat!”

Gun cut the engines.

“What happened?” I got scared.

“Joni’s got something,” said Gun.

“She’s hooked a ‘cuda!” Carl called back to Gun. “A big ‘cuda!”

I went astern, and there was Joni, her smile beaming as she reeled in a four-foot fighting barracuda. The colorful fish was like a missile.

“You going to eat that?” I inquired.

“Oh, no! I’d love to eat him up. But, he’s just too big!” She laughed raucously like it was sexual. Then she unhooked the fish and heaved his wrangling body over the side.

“You can’t eat a ‘cuda over 3 feet,” Jim explained. “They’re poisonous.”

“I just love to fight it out with them!” she proclaimed with a big smirk.

I went back up to the bridge, so anxious about everything I could only stare at a large upcoming body of land. “Bimini?” I questioned.

“No. That’s Cat Cay. A much smaller island. We’ll clear customs here and head over to the secret lobster spot.” He smiled and clicked his cheek. “This’ll take a couple hours.”

“Does that mean that we weren’t supposed to be stopped at that other island this morning?”

“Technically...” He looked away. “If authorities found us in the water, it might be a problem.”

NEXT CHAPTER