Adrift on St. John Read Online Free Page A

guess.”
    Conrad slid slightly to the right and draped his arms over the back of my bench. “So, Pen,” he began again, his brown eyes sparkling with interest, “what’s your connection to the island?”
    He twitched his mind-misreading fingers in the air near my face. “You’re not in transit, not a tourist…I sense you’re something a little more permanent.”
    I sighed tensely, not wishing to prolong the conversation. It would be at least another forty minutes before we docked in Cruz Bay. “I’ve just started a new job. I’m a manager at one of the resorts on the island.”
    “Mmm, interesting.” Conrad made several exaggerated facial expressions while absorbing this information. “And where’d you come from before that?”
    “Oh, up in the States,” I said evasively.
    Conrad assumed a critical stare, waiting for me to supplement my answer.
    With another sigh, I relented. “California. I used to be a lawyer.”
    I bit down on my lip. The last phrase had slipped out before I could catch myself. I’d opened myself up to another line of questioning—one that I would rather not have to fudge the answers to.
    “I’m a lawyer too,” my companion stated immediately. “Self-taught,” he added unabashedly. “Been in court dozens of times. I always represent myself, and I’ve always won.”
    He pointed proudly at his chest. “That district attorney man, he’ll never convict me.”
    With a wan smile of relief, I leaned back in my seat.
    “You should come visit me at Maho Bay,” he invited eagerly. “I’ll cook you dinner at my teepee tent.”
    Conrad quickly read the refusal on my face. He stroked his chin and tried another tack.
    “You know, they’ve got a ghost up there at the campgrounds. I’ve seen her lots of times.”
    I cleared my throat. This was quickly turning into a very
long
ferry ride. “You don’t say.”
    “Oh, yes,” he replied, pushing himself onto the edge of his seat so that he could crawl even farther over the back of mine. “If you walk into the woods and stay real quiet, become one with the surrounding nature—you know, let your Zen ooze out—oftentimes, she’ll just sneak up behind you and tap you on the shoulder.”
    Conrad’s bony fingers gently touched my shoulder blades.
    “I bet I could introduce you to her, to the ghost that is, if you come for dinner at my teepee tent.”
    Wincing dismissively, I shrugged out from under his grasp.
    Conrad continued, undeterred. “This ghost, she’s from the 1700s, back when the islands were full of sugar plantations.”
    His eyeballs bulged, stretching his skin against the tight contours of his face.
    “She was part of a group of slaves that were brought over from West Africa. Her people were called the Amina. They were one of the most powerful tribes in the Gold Coast area, fierce warriors that all the others lived in fear of.
    “But I guess the Amina had a run of bad luck and lost a couple of battles. A rival chief sold them to the Danish slave traders.”
    Raindrops began to spit against the windows of the ferry as the sky grew darker, dimming the light inside the cabin. Conrad’s pale face glowed in the shadows. He licked his upper lip, warming to his narrative.
    “Before her capture, the woman who became this ghost, she’d been part of her tribe’s nobility. She was the king’s daughter, the tribe’s princess. A delicate flower of a woman—just like you.”
    Conrad paused for a lecherous wink in my direction. I rolled my eyes and looked pointedly at my watch. He cleared his throat and returned to the tale.
    “The Princess managed to survive the ocean passage across the Atlantic to Charlotte Amalie; that’s where she and several other members of her tribe were auctioned off. Most of them were bought for plantations over on St. John. You can still see the ruins of the sugar mill where the Princess used to work, just off the North Shore Road on your way up to Maho.”
    Conrad smacked his lips together. “It