Chapter 3.
Nestled in the isles of the South Pacific, just to the east of the war-torn Philippine territories sits the remote Polynesian Islands of Samoa. On one of the many smaller atolls near Safara Bay is a jungled piece of land with an inlet on one side leading to a large lagoon.
Floating, tied to the end of a rickety wooden dock sits a large Grumman seaplane. Two Pratt & Whitney nine-cylinder radial engines gleam in the broken sunlight, with the casing behind them darkened from the exhaust of heavy use. The large body of the boat-plane sits low in the water with the high wings extending past the dock and into the lagoon. Upon closer inspection, repaired bullet holes scar the riveted panels near the left side pilot window of the floating white and blue water-bird. The rear hatch, just forward of the tail, sits open with crates of supplies on the dock ready to load. With nary a ripple from the water in the lagoon, the sounds of large insects and tropical bird chatter fills the air.
Several yards away across a patch of overgrown jungle, a dark sandy beach stretches around to the mouth of the lagoon. Growing out over the beach, long trunks of palm trees reach for the sun with tops of green shaggy fronds.
Hanging between two palm trunks swings a small half-scale hammock. A soft purring snore emits from the canvas shell and the long red-haired arm of a monkey hangs over the side. A medium sized primate, native to Indo-China, Curtiss serves as friend and copilot to the owner of the Grumman seaplane.
Not far from the sleeping copilot swings a full sized US Navy surplus hammock. From it, two hairy human arms hang over the side with fingertips skimming just over the warm sand. Strewn on the beach surrounding the hammock are several empty bottles of beer, a half bottle of rum and various pieces of clothing including a petite woman’s bikini.
Small waves roll gently in and lap onto the sandy beach. The sound of splashes a few yards out in the clear waters reveal the long, wet hair of a native island girl swimming. She dives under the surface and comes up smoothing her thick dark hair away from her beautifully sculpted features. Pushing back to a floating position, her youthful breasts break the surface of the water and point skyward. She turns her head as the sound of airplane engines are heard in the distance.
Two black Catalina seaplanes fly low, roaring over the aqua blue waters approaching the island. The rumbling thunder of their engines silences the chatter of the birds in the trees. A shaggy unkempt head rises at the shoulders from the hammock to watch the two planes fly in tight formation overhead then slumps back down again.
Living on the islands of the South Pacific since his release from military service after World War II, Captain James “Jimmy” Ferral has assimilated into the overseas lifestyle. A veteran U.S. Navy Pilot, he is the proud owner of an independent air charter business. He manages his life on his own schedule with the assistance of a fuzzy simian for a copilot and an old military surplus Grumman seaplane.
Tanned and rugged looking from his outdoor living, Jimmy lifts his head again and watches the woman out in the ocean, swimming. She meets his gaze with a smile, dives under the surface and kicks toward him. Standing, the warm salt water rolls off her bare golden body as she splashes to the beach.
Putting his head to the edge of the hammock, he watches as she strolls toward him and pulls a towel from the line. Glistening naked, she pats her hair dry then sits on the slung hammock edge next to him.
“Jimmy, you can’t sleep all day.”
Jimmy rolls over to reveal a man who, from the shag of his hair and the stubble on his chin, has about gone native.
“I bet I could.”
“Jimmy, I have to get back.”
She leans down and gives him a kiss.
“You don’t want me to be late for work, do you?”
Stepping from the hammock, she bends down and picks up her bikini pieces. She shakes them out and steps into the bottoms.
“You’re still coming in for dinner this afternoon, aren’t you?”
Jimmy scratches his head and looks around squinting.
“Yeah, I’ll be there. I just have to, uh, wait for Curtiss.”
As she untangles the thin strings on her top, she looks over at the monkey sleeping in the smaller hammock.
“Why do you let him drink so much?”
“I can’t decide for him how he spends his money.”
Adjusting her skimpy bikini top, the native girl looks up to see a female stranger’s arrival.
Dressed in khaki pants, boots and a thin white t-shirt, Alexa Reid is an archeologist and adventurer. Her very elegant and beautiful exterior hides a hardened and ruthlessly ambitious core. She walks under the palms down the path to the beach with a confident stride.
The native girl nods to Jimmy and watches the approaching woman suspiciously as she ties her floral patterned skirt around.
“Better throw some pants on. You have a visitor.”
She drops a towel on Jimmy which he wraps around his waist as Alexa steps up.
“Captain James Ferral?”
Jimmy sits upright in the hammock.
“That’s correct. What can I do for you?”
“I need to speak to you about a job.”
Rubbing his head and trying to tame his wild hair, Jimmy coughs and clears his throat with a laugh.
“I’m not hiring, sorry.”
Alexa rolls her eyes and subtly shakes her head as she looks on at the nearly naked man and bikini clad girl. She turns to the surroundings and nearly second guesses herself until she sets eyes on the Grumman seaplane docked in the lagoon.
“Maybe you could put some pants on and we could speak about business in private.”
Reaching out, Jimmy pats the native girl on the bottom.
“Darlin’, could you please excuse us. I’ll see you in the village later.”
The girl leans down and gives Jimmy a long deep kiss. She pretends not to notice Alexa watching and runs her hand along his tanned body.
“See you later, Jimmy.”
She gives Alexa a possessive look and ambles toward the ramshackle hut near the dock. Alexa watches as she mounts an old rusty bicycle leaning on the wall and pedals off down the dirt path.
Sitting on the edge of the hammock, Jimmy watches the girl ride off then turns to Alexa and rubs his face.
“Well, would you like to talk business here, or in my office?”
Alexa looks over as Jimmy gestures to the hut. She scans the beach suspiciously.
“Here would be fine. Are we alone?”
“Yep, except for Curtiss.”
Her eyes dart over to the shack and the dock and look for anyone else around.
“Who?”
“My co-pilot. Shhh, he’s asleep.”
With a half drunken wink, Jimmy motions toward the small hammock.
“Captain Ferral, are you intoxicated?”
He looks around confused, as if not sure.
“Nooo, why?”
“I need a pilot. I need a good one. Not someone who is going to be …”
Alexa glances over at Curtiss as he gives a snorting snore and rolls over while scratching his belly.
“Monkeying around shall I say. Are you any good?”
Trying to blink his vision clear, Jimmy straightens up a bit and gets serious.
“I was good enough to make it through a World War, flying transports and rescues in heavy combat. I guess I’m good enough for whatever you have in mind.”
Alexa shrugs and continues.
“Well then …”
Jimmy puts a hand up and motions for Alexa to be silent.
“Hold on there, let’s back up a bit, shall we. First of all, who the hell are you?”
He pauses a moment and studies her outfit then looks up to the fine bone structure of her face and her long wavy hair pulled loosely back. Staring for a second too long, he shakes his head and returns to his rant.
“Second, what is so damn important that you come out to this nowhere island and need this great world-class pilot?”
Alexa squats in the sand before Jimmy and looks over her shoulder. She turns back and gracefully swooshes the hair off her shoulder distracting Jimmy again.
“And third … I forgot what’s third.”
Shifting her position, dropping to her knees in the sand, Alexa gives Jimmy a soft smile.
“I’m sorry. My name is Alexa Reid. You may have read about me in the papers.”
Jimmy looks around at the desolate island paradise.
“Uhmm, no. I haven’t received my New York Times in a while.”
“I’m an Archeologist of sorts and I need your services to fly me to a small island not far from here.”
Standing slowly, Jimmy holds his pounding head.
“There are a lot of small islands around here. That’s not so difficult.”
“Yes, just important.”
Adjusting his towel trying to keep it on, Jimmy bends down to pick up his clothes.
“When do you need to go?”
Alexa stands and brushes the sand from her knees.
“Right now.”
He winces as he looks up at her as if she is joking. Straightening up and shaking the sand from his shorts and shirt he looks over at her.
“Now? What’s the hurry?”
“You’ll be well paid.”
Jimmy tucks his clothes under his arm and shakes his head.
“Forget it, I’ve got plans tonight. I don’t know what the newspapers say, but I’d say you’ve got more money than manners.”
Slightly irritated, Alexa again changes her approach. With a sense of urgency, she addresses Jimmy.
“Captain Ferral, this is very important. It’s a matter of life and death.”
Jimmy stumbles toward the shack and stops to look over his shoulder.
“Life and death for who?”
Alexa takes a deep breath and walks toward him.
“Both of us.”
Intrigued, Jimmy tilts his head confused but attentive.