I had wanted to do the job, I had to. There was no way I could sit in the club house and wait, while they searched. I had to go. When the crew radioed in that they were missing, missing at sea, for a second I thought it was some kind of joke. But I knew Nick would never mess around like this. Never in a million years. My brother didn’t play around, unless it came to women, then he broke all the rules, plus a few hearts. He was a good looking guy, looked after himself. Diving was his life, and he built this business up from scratch and now he was the best instructor that there was in these parts. Everyone on Grand Cayman knew his name and recommended him. As only he knew these waters so well. Where to go and when, where to see the silvery Tarpon that hover motionless and the French Angel fish that come in up close for a good look at you through your mask.

He taught me all I know. He showed me the wonderland down below. He introduced me to these waters.159 dives sites certified and cleared all by him. Steep deep walls, adorned with sponges and corals in a stunning colours of a stunning array. The shallow reefs we explored together full of schooling and small invertebrates. The wrecks that we found all complete with their curious marine residents.

It was him that persuaded me to stay in this sun-blessed solitude with miles of untouched tropical wilderness and glistening beaches. He took me onboard his venture, one of his crew. I was no-were near as qualified in both experience or expertise as Nick, but I learnt well from him. Now this tropical paradise Isle had become my home, at least for the time being anyway. Through him I discovered what I was capable of and more. Learnt to like myself again, love living and enjoy the small pleasures of life. Things that I thought I wouldn’t be able to do before I got on that plane. Planning to stay for 2 weeks but now have been here for 6 months. Leaving behind my friends, what family I had left, and my now very ex.

Nick had taken out a couple this morning, a early morning start with lunch on the boat. It should have been simple. Explore the turquoise blue waters for a briefing then lunch aboard then dive back in for a hour or so exploring the wreck. He’d done it a hundred times or more.

If only I had listened to last evening when the couple checked in and booked the dive. Nick had said that there was something strange about them, something that he couldn’t put his finger on. They made him uneasy. With their questions and insistence on diving just on one wreck. The Boatswain’s, Spanish vessel that went down in the trading wars. Not much to see, as not much of it left. The years and the tidal currents eaten away at the hull. There was better wrecks to explore.

I had laughed a Nicks suggestion that they may be drug dealers looking for a safe drop off point, somewhere away from the steady amount of undercover police that now inhabit the islands. Nick had warned me of the islands underground life, one that you don’t get to see by doing the tourist thing. But its hidden there beneath, like the rich who come to hide and play away from all the tabloids back in the states.

Now as I stand here on the side of the boat, adjusting my gear and going through final checks with my dive buddy Max. I wonder if he wasn’t right after all.

RATE THIS BRANCH!