As the travel agent had said, the marina was large. Several hundred boats of all sizes and descriptions were docked there, with room for more. Advertisements for excursions for both fishing and diving abounded. The large bulletin board on the front wall of the ship chandler’s store was filled. But Wendy wasn’t satisfied with the information they contained. Instead she insisted they wander out on the commercial pier to examine the boats themselves.

Marissa followed along, enjoying the surroundings more than the boats. The day was glorious. A hot, tropical sun blazed in the middle of an azure sky. Large cumulus clouds dotted the horizon particularly over the peaks of the neighboring islands. To the north in the far distance a group of dark clouds clustered, suggesting a thunderstorm on the way.

“Here’s a good one,” Wendy said. She’d stopped at a boat slip where one of the larger boats was moored. The name emblazoned on the transom was “Oz.” It was a cabin cruiser, painted white, with a spacious cockpit. Several swivel deep-sea fishing chairs were mounted there. Against the forward bulkhead a long row of scuba tanks was secured.

“What makes this one better than the others?” Marissa asked.

“This one has a nice dive platform right at the water’s edge,” Wendy said, pointing to a gratelike wooden structure that hung from the transom of the boat. “I can also tell there’s a compressor on board. That means they can fill their own scuba tanks. Besides, it looks like it’s about fifty feet. That means it will be nice and stable.”

“I see,” Marissa said. She was impressed that Wendy knew so much about it. She felt she was in good hands.

“You ladies interested in fishing or diving?” a bearded man asked.

“Possibly,” Wendy said. “What’s the charge for a full day’s diving?”

“Come on aboard and we’ll discuss it,” the man told her. “Name’s Rafe Murray. I’m the captain of this vessel.”

With experienced steps, Wendy marched out on the two-foot-wide planks that separated the boat slips and swung herself onto the gunwale of the Oz. Then she stepped down onto the deck of the boat.

Marissa tried to follow with the same bravado, but hesitated with one foot on the dock and one foot on the boat. The captain lent her a hand for balance and she was able to step on board.

A handsome, muscular younger man came out of the cabin. He smiled and tipped his lived-in Australian hat to the women.

“This here’s my first mate and dive master, Wynn Jones,” the captain said. “Knows the reef like the back of his hand, he does.”

Wendy asked if they might tour the boat, then followed the agreeable captain from bow to stern. Satisfied, she sat down in the cabin with the captain and bargained for an all-day dive rate. Marissa had never seen this tough side of her friend.