The Second Son Read online

  The tall well-dressed man closed the cabin door, and then climbed into the cockpit. Placing on a pair of headphones and flicking a switch, over the speakers came his deep voice. “I am Captain Mercer, your pilot for this flight from the Belize City Airport to Punta Gora with Island Airways, which will take about approximately just over the hour mark depending on head winds. Please sit back and enjoy your flight.”

  “Not British Airways, is it,” said Jonathan.

  “Most definitely not, dear chap,” replied Grenville. Just then Captain Mercer switched the engines on, and as the propellers started to turn he revved the engines. Once the engines were running idle and propellers were turning at their optimum speed, he removed the brake and the plane shot off down the runway like a released greyhound. Suddenly Captain Mercer pulled back the stick and the plane shot up into the air and turned south.

  After a few minutes the plane seemed to idle back. Grenville finally opened his eyes, and looked over at Jonathan who still had his tightly shut and had gone a strange white colour. Grenville started to laugh. Jonathan opened one eye and said, “What?”

  “You, you’re a daft bugger,” said Grenville.

  “Nothing wrong with me old chap, just resting my eyes,” replied Jonathan.

  “Of course, you are, old boy,” said Grenville, still laughing at Jonathan. And as predicted, just after an hour and an uneventful flight Captain Mercer came back onto the speakers to announce that they were descending into Punta Gora and would land in a few minutes. Grenville said, “Hang on dear chap, here we go,” laughing and slapping Jonathan’s arm. Jonathan remained with his eyes firmly closed and tight lipped.

  After a bumpy landing at which even Grenville was feeling relieved once they finally came to a stop, whilst taxing to the staging area, Captain Mercer was on the speaker again. “Welcome to Punta Gora, and thank you for flying Island Airways, and we hope you will fly with us again in the future.”

  “So how was that for you?” said Grenville.

  “Never again,” replied a white looking Jonathan. Grenville was trying hard not to laugh at his friend.

  Once the plane had completely stopped and the engines shut off, Captain Mercer climbed out of the plane and opened the doors for the passengers. At the exit gate Captain Mercer stood and saluted each of them with a wide smile on his face. As he passed, Jonathan just gave a weak smile. Grenville shook Captain Mercer’s hand and said, “Capital flying, captain,” as he strolled out of the exit.

  They spent five wonderful idyllic days in Punta Gora, just lounging about on the beach and sitting in a bar on the beach front.

  “You know this is the life,” said Jonathan.

  “Indeed, it is,” replied Grenville. “If this is paradise I can certainly learn to live with it,” Grenville went on.

  “without a doubt”, replied Jonathan, laughing. That evening whilst watching the waves crash the shore, over a tall glass of Jamaican rum, Jonathan said, “Well old bean, we better make our way back to Belize City.”

  “Do we have to?” said Grenville. “Can we not just remain here?”

  “I wish we could old chap, but life states otherwise,” replied Jonathan.

  “So how do you want to get back to the city?” asked Grenville.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking on that,” replied Jonathan, “and I was thinking we could give the coach a try.”

  Grenville smiled, not wanting to cause his friend further embarrassment. Grenville said, “Why not. Another adventure.” Jonathan looked at Grenville and smiled but Grenville could see the relief in Jonathan’s eyes.

  Next day they went to the bus depot and purchased two tickets for the coach to Belize City. The coach, they were informed, would not leave until one that afternoon, so they had a few hours to spare. Jonathan suggested going to a local bar and have a final drink to Punta Gora. Grenville thought this a fine idea, which seemed to lift both their spirits. They found a little bar just off the main road, near the waterfront. On entering the place, they noticed it was old, but clean. Going to the bar, Grenville ordered two beers. Sitting at a table near the door, they studied the interior of the bar. The walls were covered with black and white pictures of Hollywood film stars from the forties and fifties; some were signed but Grenville doubted if any of them had ever been in this establishment. Looking around, there were only five others in the bar; the barman who was sitting watching a football match on a little television above the bar, three locals and one man sitting alone. Grenville tried not to stare at the man sitting alone, but there was something about his manner. Although he appeared to be relaxing having a beer, his body and his expression were on full alert, but he had the appearance of being in another world. Jonathan noticed the dart board in the corner and asked Grenville if he wanted a game.

  “Why not, it will pass the time,” said Grenville. Jonathan went to the bar and asked the barman if he had any darts. Jonathan returned with three different darts. Grenville smiled. “Just like the Black Bull,” said Grenville.

  Jonathan said, “They were the days,” laughing. The Black Bull was the pub just in the village from Rayleigh School, and many a weekend in their last year they were found in the Black Bull playing darts or dominoes.

  Jonathan went up to the board and threw all three darts at the board; two stayed in and one fell out. Grenville laughed, “You can do better than that, old fruit.”

  “Practice,” said Jonathan. Jonathan handed the darts to Grenville. “Do your worst, my Lord,” said Jonathan. Grenville managed to get all three into the board, but admitted it was nothing like the Black Bull’s dart board.

  “Shall I go first?” said Jonathan.

  “lead on my dear chap,” replied Grenville. “At least we have chalk,” said Grenville, laughing as he held up a small round piece of chalk.

  As the game progressed the three locals were taking an interest in the game, one approached and said, “You want a game of doubles?”

  “Why not,” said a smiling Jonathan.

  Grenville and Jonathan looked at each other as the two locals produced their own darts from behind the bar.

  “501, double to finish,” said Jonathan.

  “Agreed,” said the local man. The local men won the first match and Grenville and Jonathan the second.

  “Winner take all,” said Grenville. The local men just stared at him as he smiled. Jonathan went first and threw twenty-three.

  “Come on old man,” said Grenville. Jonathan gave Grenville a weak smile; he perhaps had read the situation better than Grenville. The local threw forty-five, just missing the treble twenty with one arrow. “Bad luck old chap,” said Grenville, smiling at the local man’s miss.

  Jonathan tried to get Grenville’s attention to let him know that the locals were not impressed, but Grenville was impervious to the atmosphere; to Grenville it was a friendly game of darts with banter.

  Grenville stood at the ockey and threw one hundred and put his arms in the air and said, “Yes.”

  The game progressed and only Grenville was impervious to the heightening tension the game was producing. Both teams were on finishing double. The local man went and just missed the double eighteen. As he went and took out his darts, Grenville smiling said, “Bad luck old bean.” The local man did not smile back.

  As Grenville went up for his throw he required double sixteen; before he threw Jonathan placed his hand on Grenville’s arm and whispered, “Grenville, I think the locals are not impressed with your banter, I strongly suggest you miss.”

  Grenville waved Jonathan’s arms off and said, “You worry too much, old man.” Grenville threw his first dart which just landed below the double. Taking his time, Grenville threw again, and this time the dart landed in the double sixteen. Grenville threw up his arms in triumph.

  In a flash one of the locals had pulled a knife and Grenville felt a sharp pain in his shoulder.

  “Please, someone help us,” Grenville said, and he collapsed to the ground. Out the corner of his eye Grenville saw th
e man who had been sitting alone move with lightning speed towards the man with the knife; he smashed his bottle over his head, and he went down in a heap. Using the momentum of his arm the man chopped the other local man on the neck. He fell just as quickly next to his friend. The other man just stood transfixed at what had happened.

  The whole incident could not have lasted more than thirty seconds. The man said in a perfect London accent, “Grab your stuff and follow me if you want to live.” Jonathan was the first to react, picking Grenville up, shoving his backpack into his arms, and saying, “Move, follow him,” as Grenville and Jonathan stumbled from the bar in the wake of the stranger.

  They followed the man down the street towards the jetty, where he jumped onto a small boat. He started the engine and said, “Jump aboard, and can one of you cast off.” Grenville and Jonathan jumped aboard the boat and Jonathan casted off. The stranger revved the engine of the boat, and pushed the throttle forwards as the boat picked up speed away from the jetty. Jonathan and Grenville stared at the jetty where the three locals were standing and shouting and making arm gestures towards them.

  Once they were out in the main stream of the river, the stranger kept looking back towards the jetty and after an a few minutes realising they were not being followed by another craft, he eased back the throttle to idle and let the river current move them along. Grenville and Jonathan were huddled in the back of the boat, still looking shocked at the turn of events. Minutes ago, they had been in a bar playing a friendly game of darts with two local lads, now they were sitting in a boat with a stranger going wherever.

  The stranger came towards them and looking at Grenville and Jonathan he said, “My name is Tom Backer.” Holding out his hand towards Grenville, he said, “Can I look at your shoulder? A knife wound in the tropics can become quickly infected if not treated.”

  Grenville stared at the smiling man who had just saved his life and introduced himself and said, “Grenville St Louis, eleventh Duke of Hampshire, second son,” as they shook hands. “Blimey,” said Tom, “that’s a mouthful, I will call you Duke,” to which they both laughed.

  Sensing the tension broken, Jonathan shook Tom’s hand as well and said, “Jonathan Spencer.” Tom told Grenville to remove his shirt. Although there was a lot of blood the wound was not deep; Tom opened his first aid kit, and cleaned the wound with some antiseptic wash and then put some antiseptic cream on it and covered the wound with a large plaster.

  “It will be sore for a few days, but no lasting problems,” said Tom.

  “Thank you so much,” said Grenville.

  “I have seen some pretty bad knife fights in my time, and most finish with one or the other dying for their wounds, so I think you should count your lucky star’s duke,” said a smiling Tom.

  Grenville again thanked Tom for his help. Tom smiled and returned to steer the boat. Before he left, Jonathan asked Tom where he was from and Tom replied, “Originally the East End of London,” but never ventured any other information.

  Grenville closed his eyes.

  “You in pain?” asked Jonathan.

  “Not really, just relieved Tom was there to help us,” replied Grenville.

  “A true guardian angel,” said Jonathan, smiling.

  “Indeed, he was,” replied Grenville, looking towards Tom.

  After a time, Tom returned and said, “It will take about two or three days to get back to Belize City, once there I can drop you off anywhere you want.” Jonathan and Grenville thanked Tom with a smile. Eventually the boat turned from the river into the ocean and headed towards Belize City. Jonathan spent the first day hanging over the side of the boat, feeling sorry for himself. Grenville decided to explore the boat. Below was a little cabin area, with a small kitchen and a single cot for sleeping, which could be turned into a small table with a bench. Grenville found the makings for coffee, and made everyone a cup of coffee.

  Grenville offered the first mug to Jonathan, who just waved him away without opening his eyes. Grenville smiled at Jonathan. He was not really a good traveller, and he could imagine once Jonathan was back in England he would not be leaving it for a long time. Next Grenville took Tom a cup. When Tom saw the steaming cup of coffee he smiled, and said, “Well done Duke, just what the doctor ordered.”

  “My pleasure old bean,” replied Grenville. “Do you mind if I sit and chat?”

  “Of course, not,” replied Tom, “glad of the company. How’s your friend doing?”

  “Not very well poor lamb, don’t think he is going to buy a boat any time soon.” This made them both laugh. On hearing his name, Jonathan gave a moan and waved his hand.

  Grenville asked Tom, “What do you actually do, Tom?”

  Tom replied, “Bit of import and export, you know.”

  Grenville was not sure what that meant but had decided Tom was a bit of a pirate. “How did you end up in Punta Gora?” asked Grenville.

  “Was waiting for a contact,” was all Tom would venture. Realising Tom was not going to offer any further details, Grenville smiled and let it rest.

  After a two-day non-eventful trip, back to Belize City, Grenville had become a success in the galley and managed to produce some decent food for Tom and himself from the supplies he found in the galley. Jonathan did not partake in any substance. Finally, Tom guided the boat off the main route into a side part and docked at what appeared a deserted pier. “Home sweet home,” said Tom, finally stepping onto dry land again.

  Jonathan said, “Finally, terra firma,” and walked down the pier in a zig zag line, to the laughter of Tom and Grenville.

  They came to what looked like an abandoned single storey warehouse, which looked like it had had years of neglect. Tom went to a door and pushed it open. “Wait here,” Tom said to Grenville and Jonathan and he went into the darkness.

  “What you think?” said Jonathan.

  “Don’t know what you mean, old man,” replied Grenville.

  “Should we trust him?” asked Jonathan.

  “Stop being paranoid Jonathan, if Tom wanted to harm us he would have done it on the boat while you were laid out like a sacrificial lamb,” replied a laughing Grenville.

  “That’s not sporting, old chap,” replied Jonathan. “Not very good with boats, not everyone can be Nelson,” said a wounded Jonathan.

  Just then the outside and interior of the warehouse was illuminated with bright light, and Tom shouted, “Come on in,” from somewhere inside.

  Grenville and Jonathan stepped into the warehouse and both got a shock to see it was totally different from the outside. The inside was neat and clean and laid out in two halves: one was a small apartment, the other one was stacked with crates of every size. Both Grenville and Jonathan went and sat on the sofa while they waited for Tom to return. Both were unsure where he was in the warehouse. While waiting, Grenville spotted the kitchen.

  “Will make myself useful while we wait,” said Grenville smiling at Jonathan. Grenville went to find the makings of a coffee. Just as Grenville finished making a coffee Tom returned. He smiled at Grenville as he handed him a steaming hot cup of coffee. Tom toasted Grenville with his cup, Grenville bowed and said, “Glad to be of service,” which made them both laugh.

  Jonathan looked at both Grenville and Tom and realised they were fast becoming friends. Jonathan admitted to himself he was feeling a bit put out, and felt left out.

  “So where do you two want me to drop you off tomorrow?” asked Tom.

  “Belize International Airport so we can catch a flight home, I guess,” replied Jonathan. This brought a nod, but no comment from Grenville.

  Next morning Grenville made breakfast of coffee, toast and eggs; the smell brought the other two into the kitchen area.

  “Could get used to this,” said a smiling Tom, as he thanked Grenville for breakfast. Tom said, “Will take me about twenty minutes to re-build the Jeep,” which brought a surprised look from Grenville and Jonathan. Tom laughed and said, “Follow me.” They both followed Tom outside to the
back of the warehouse and there was an old rusty Jeep with two wheels up on bricks, no seats or steering wheel.

  Grenville said, “You’ve been robbed, my old son.”

  Tom went on to explain that if you found a brand-new Jeep outside a derelict building you would snoop about, and nosy people are never friendly, Tom went on to explain that was why he left the place in the abandoned state, to deter uninvited visitors. Grenville and Jonathan both nodded in unison at the logic of his thinking. Grenville and Jonathan both helped Tom to re-build the Jeep which took no time at all. After they had finished they all stood back and Grenville and Jonathan admitted it looked in a better condition than it started.

  Tom drove up a covered dirt track, eventually emerging onto a tarmac road. Turning left, they saw a sign that read “Belize City 10 miles.” Tom drove fast and with skill through the busy streets of Belize City, eventually arriving at the International Airport. Tom parked in the Departure Drop Off point and turned off the engine. Tom turned to Grenville and Jonathan and said, “Belize International Airport, as requested,” with a smile on his face.

  Jonathan got out of the Jeep and picked up his backpack, and turned to Grenville who sat still. “Come on slow coach,” said Jonathan.

  “I am not coming,” said Grenville, softly.

  “What do you mean not coming?” said a laughing Jonathan.

  Stepping from the Jeep, Grenville said, “Look, Jonathan, what have I got to look forward to? It’s not like I will be welcome with open arms.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Jonathan.

  “It’s simple, old bean. If Tom will let me, I am going to stay and have an adventure.”

  “Fine by me,” replied Tom, smiling.

  Jonathan looked from Tom to Grenville and smiled. “OK, Grenville, I understand. Come give me a hug,” said Jonathan, laughing.

  Grenville hugged Jonathan and slapped him on the back. “Do me a favour?” asked Grenville.

  “Anything,” replied Jonathan.

  “Let my mother and father know I am OK and well. And if you see my brother, tell him he is still a prig.”