Copyright © 2021 Published by DOWN ISLAND PRESS, 2021 Beaufort, SC Copyright © 2021 by Wayne Stinnett Kindle Edition All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without express written permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. Library of Congress cataloging-in-publication Data Stinnett, Wayne Rising Tide/Wayne Stinnett p. cm. – (A Jesse McDermitt novel) ISBN: 978-1-7356231-5-3 (eBook) Cover photograph by Alexandr Gerasimov Graphics and Interior Design by Aurora Publicity Edited by The Write Touch Final Proofreading by Donna Rich Audiobook Narration by Nick Sullivan This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Most of the locations herein are also fictional or are used fictitiously. However, the author takes great pains to depict the location and description of the many well-known islands, locales, beaches, reefs, bars, and restaurants throughout the Florida Keys and the Caribbean to the best of his ability. Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page Dedication Maps Prelude Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Afterword Dedicated to the memory of Ed Robinson, a great storyteller, friend, husband, and father, whose final voyage came far too early. #sailonbreeze #cancersucks “Shit always works out.” –Meade Breeze If you’d like to receive my newsletter, please sign up on my website: www.waynestinnett.com. Every two weeks, I’ll bring you insights into my private life and writing habits, with updates on what I’m working on, special deals I hear about, and new books by other authors that I’m reading. The Charity Styles Caribbean Thriller Series Merciless Charity Ruthless Charity Reckless Charity Enduring Charity Vigilant Charity The Jesse McDermitt Caribbean Adventure Series Fallen Out Fallen Palm Fallen Hunter Fallen Pride Fallen Mangrove Fallen King Fallen Honor Fallen Tide Fallen Angel Fallen Hero Rising Storm Rising Fury Rising Force Rising Charity Rising Water Rising Spirit Rising Thunder Rising Warrior Rising Moon Rising Tide Steady as She Goes There, you can purchase all kinds of swag related to my books. You can find it at www.gaspars-revenge.com January 5, 2021 I was on Singer Island, prepping for a billfish tournament, when Buck Reilly called me. He’d told me a couple of weeks earlier that he’d help me find a flying boat. I was surprised that he was calling so soon. He wanted to make a deal: trade my services for a plane he found. The problem was, he needed me in the Bahamas with Floridablanca on Monday, two days after the tournament ended. I explained to my crew—Jimmy, Rusty, and Tank—what Buck wanted me to do. Tank and Jimmy were up for the adventure, but Rusty had reservations. “I tossed him and another man outa the Anchor a few years ago,” he said. “Is what he’s asking you to do legal?” I thought about it a moment. “It’s a fine line,” I said. “But I don’t think any laws will be broken.” “Ethical?” “You’re talking ethics about the people he’s trying to swindle?” “Point taken,” he said. “Okay, I’m in.” Six days later, after having had a great time in the tournament, we skipped over to Bimini, swapped boats, and met up with Buck and his partner, Ray Floyd. The meeting place was at a predesignated spot on the edge of the Bahama Banks, west of Andros Island. Checking my chart, I found that the location was in international waters. Barely. Buck and Ray arrived in a pair of Grumman flying boats—a Goose and a Mallard. We’d dropped the hook on a dive site and anchored nearby, floated the two flying boats—one of which was soon to be mine. All we had to do was hoist some heavy cannons off the sea floor and move them somewhere else. I didn’t ask any questions. It was Buck’s find. We’d already raised three of them onto the foredeck. They were heavy, but Floridablanca was all steel and displaced fifty tons when fully loaded. The water and fuel tanks, eighteen hundred gallons each, were half empty, so the weight of the cannons was negligible. We just weren’t going to be running real fast with them up near the bow, which was the only place they’d fit and the only place the large forward crane could reach. Buck surfaced and gave me the signal to hoist. I used the controls in the pilothouse to allow Jimmy to maneuver the cannons onto the deck without having to deal with the remote control. As he guided the cannon to the deck, Jimmy called to Buck over the side, “Dude, how many more of these pirate sticks you got down there?” “Last one,” Buck yelled back. “Come get me at the plane once you have that one set.” As Jimmy and Rusty covered the last cannon with a tarp, Buck swam back to his plane to get out of his dive gear. A moment later, Jimmy started the outboard on the tender and headed over to the Goose to get Buck. We still didn’t know where he wanted us to take the cargo. Jimmy killed the engine as he came alongside the Goose’s hatch, where Buck was waiting for him. “Cool old planes, hermano,” I heard Jimmy say. “Like stepping back in time.” Buck got into the dinghy and the two started back over. I went back through the salon and stepped outside to the covered cockpit, where I opened the transom door. After Buck tied off the painter to a cleat, he stood in the dinghy, smiling up at me. “Permission to come aboard?” I waved him on. “Gentlemen,” he said, shaking hands with Tank and Rusty. “Reilly,” Rusty said. “Are we talking the Goose or the Mallard?” I asked, point blank. “The Mallard,” Buck replied. I turned to look at it and saw Ray Floyd seated in the hatch, watching us. He waved. Ray sometimes worked on my old deHavilland Beaver. “That Ray Floyd?” I asked. “Yeah, he’s my partner at Last Resort,” Buck replied. “Let’s go check it out,” I said. “Now isn’t the best time.” Buck and I were the same height, though I
