Cudco Key was a tiny island five miles from the chain of islands skirting Palm Bay. It had a dazzling white beach bordered with coconut palms, white orchid trees, covered with pale white flowers delicately veined with green, and the woman’s tongue trees with their long slender pods in which seeds rattle monotonously at the slightest breeze. Further along the coast, and inland were mangrove and buttonwood thickets. Spires of smoke hung in the air where mangroves were being burnt for charcoal.
I ran the boat into the heart of the mangrove thickets, and I was fairly sure that no one would spot it from the sea.
We left our grips on board and we struck inland to find the shack.
Miss Wonderly had changed into bottle-green linen slacks, a halter and an orange wrap around to keep her curls in place. She looked cool and cute.
It was hot on the island, and I had stripped down to a singlet and gaberdine slacks, but I sweated plenty.
We kept to the thickets. Miss Wonderly said there were only a couple of dozen Conch fishermen living on the island, but we didn’t see any of them.
I got the surprise of my life when we found the shack. It not only commanded a fine view of Palm Bay and Paradise Palms in the distance, but it wasn’t a shack at all. It was a hurricaneproof house that had been built as an experiment by the Red Cross some years back in their drive to counteract storm damage.
These hurricane-proof houses are built like small forts. They’re made of reinforced concrete and steel; steel rods anchor the house to solid rock. The roof, floors and walls are of concrete, the walls a foot thick. All partitions extend from the roof through the house to bedrock. Window-sashes are of steel, with double-strength glass and double shutters. Wood is used only in the triple-strength cypress doors. Drain-pipes run from the roof to a cistern cut in the bedrock under the house, providing water in emergencies.
This house was on the far side of the island, and because of its exposed position no other dwelling was within two miles of it. It was a successful experiment, but no one lived in it now. I guess the Conchs preferred their wooden shacks or else someone was asking a high rent.
“Your shack, eh?” I said, looking at the place. “Some shack.”
Miss Wonderly clasped her hands behind her back, and raised herself on her toes. She admired the house.
“I only caught a glimpse of it from a boat,” she said. “I was told no one lived in it. I didn’t think it was as good as this.”
“Let’s try and get in,” I said.
It wasn’t easy, and in the end I had to shoot off the lock of the front door. The place was dirty and as hot as an oven, but after opening all the windows the air got better.
“We can make this pretty comfortable,” I said, “and it’s safe. Let’s have a look around.”
I found a small harbour that had been built while the house was under construction. Mangroves had overgrown it, and it was practically invisible. I only came upon it by nearly falling down the ramp that had been covered with dead foliage.
“This is terrific,” I said, after I’d cleared away the undergrowth. “We’ll get the boat round here and settle in. Come on, let’s go.”
As I steered the boat around the island, I came upon the village community dumped down on the east shore. There were three or four ketches moored to the sea wall, a dozen or so wooden shacks and a big wooden building that looked like a store.
“Stay in the cabin,” I said to Miss Wonderly. “I’m going in to get some provisions.”
There were a bunch of men standing on the sea wall as I edged the boat to a mooring ring. One of them, a big fellow, stripped to the waist and barefooted, shambled forward and caught the rope I tossed him.
The men eyed me over as I climbed on to the sea wall, eyed the boat over and exchanged glances.
“That’s Tim’s boat,” the big fellow said, rubbing his hands on the seat of his dirty white canvas trousers.
“Yeah,” I said, and in case they thought I’d stolen it, I added, “I hired it off him. I’m on a fishing vacation.”
“Swell boat,” the big fellow said.
“That’s so,” I said.
I made the rope fast, conscious that they hadn’t taken their eyes off me for a moment, then I strolled over to the store, hoping that no one would start anything. No one did.
The storekeeper told me his name was Mac. I told him my name was Reilly. He was a wizened little guy with bright eyes of a bird. I liked him. When I started buying, he liked me. I bought a load of stuff.
We roped in some of the loungers, including the big fellow, to cart the stuff down to the boat. Mac came, too, but he didn’t carry anything.
“Duval’s boat,” he said, when he reached the sea wall.
“That guy seems pretty well known around here,” I said.
“Sure is,” he said, and grinned.
I lit a cigarette and gave him one.
“Kind of quiet here,” I said, looking up and down the deserted beach.
“Sure is,” Mac said. “No one bothers us. We get along.”
“I guess you do,” I said.
“Hear there was some excitement over at Paradise Palms,” he said, after a pause. “A political killing. The radio’s been yelling its head off.”
“I heard that too,” I said.
“I reckon it’s no business of ours.”
I wondered if that meant anything.
“You alone?” he went on, looking down into the boat.
“Yeah,” I said.
He nodded, then spat into the sea.
“Thought maybe you’d brought your wife along.”
“Not married,” I said.
“We all can’t be.”
The big fellow climbed off the boat and came over. He was sweating plenty.
“That’s the lot,” he said, then added, “the cabin’s locked.”
“Yeah,” I said.
Mac and the big fellow exchanged glances. I guess they were thinking hard.
I gave the big fellow a fin. He took it like it was a C note. He was excited.
“Maybe we’ll see you again,” Mac said hopefully. “Any friend of Tim’s my friend.”
“That’s good news,” I said, and meant it.
“I reckon Duval wouldn’t hire his boat to anyone but a right guy,” Mac went on.
“I guess not,” I said, thinking that Duval rated high around the island. I stepped down into the boat.
“A patrol noses around here every so often,” Mac said, sitting on his heels so he was near my ear.
“That so?” I said, looking up at him.
He closed one eye. “We don’t tell ’em much.”
“Fine,” I said.”
“Maybe you’d better let her out. It must be plenty hot in that cabin,” he went on, looking over my head and admiring the view.
“Huh-uh,” I grunted, then added, “Don’t be smarter than you can help.”
He took out a hunk of chewing tobacco and bit off a lump.
“The cops around here don’t rate with me,” he said, chewing hard. “That guy Herrick tried to clamp down on our trade. He was a nuisance. I reckon the boys are kind of grateful someone removed him.”
I nodded. “I heard he wasn’t popular.”
I cast off and started the engine. I got gas if you ever want it,” he called after me.
I waved.