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Along Came A Swagman

by Ernie Palamarek; co-published with Trade Winds Productions

282 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #01-0354; ISBN 1-55212-952-7; US$24.00, C$26.95, EUR20.00, £14.00

From out of the mists of Aboriginal Dreamtime, a startling discovery is made by a never-do-well Outback opal miner who hauls up a priceless archeological antiquity in a dented barrel of broken dreams. He vanishes without a trace, creating a devious trail of greed and lust. This fascinating third novel in a series features the somewhat-jaded but dashing Rune Erikson who rips through the Outback in a desperate search. Rune and his Aussie girlfriend, Sally Fletcher, enlist the help of her opal-mining father's former partner, Andy, and an aboriginal bush tracker named Black Jack. Can they trust either one? Together, they search for her father in the unforgiving Outback where they find a secret aboriginal tribal council dealing out deadly justice. Coloured by romance and eroticism, this intrigue lures Rune off his sailing ketch Valhalla in Victoria's Fisherman's Wharf into the swirling myths and legends of the Dreamtime of creation in Australia's Outback.

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about the book      about the author      excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book G'day, Mate! The awesome Australian Outback is one of the beautiful but dangerous settings for this captivating tale of murky intrigue, murder and myths! Read this fascinating tale! It's a ripper, mate! From out of the mists of Aboriginal Dreamtime, a startling discovery is made by a never-do-well Outback opal miner who hauls up a priceless archeological antiquity in a dented barrel of broken dreams. Paleontologists are astounded! One look at what he found is forever burned into the minds of those who see it, setting the stage for a devious web of deceit. Greed and lust change their lives forever! Millions of dollars are at stake! Sally Fletcher, a tall strawberry-blonde Aussie who is a TV news reporter on Vancouver Island, is at a loss for words as her world comes crashing down upon her when someone starts systematically going after her, her grandfather, and her Canadian mother. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that her Australian father is next on somebody's list. Rune Erikson is hot on the trail of a deadly trio of antiquity-stealing snakeheads who slither through the casinos Down Under! Rune wants to keep rolling sevens but the dice keep coming up snake-eyes! Andy, an Outback swagman on a self-healing walkabout through the harsh conditions of the Outback, becomes embroiled in this adventure. This fascinating third novel in a series features the somewhat-jaded but dashing Rune Erikson who rips through the Outback where hardships and timeless feats of courage are legend. Coloured by romance and eroticism, this intrigue lures Rune off his sailing ketch Valhalla at Victoria's Fisherman's Wharf into the swirling myths and legends of Dreamtime in Australia's Outback.

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About the Author Ernie Palamarek has recently had feature articles published in national magazines and is the author of the Rune Erikson series of novels which begin to unfold in Canada and blossom in exotic locations around the world. Having spent his boyhood growing up in the saddle on the Alberta cattle-ranching prairie, he has a keen appreciation for nature's wondrous beauty and its amazing resiliency which balances the eggshell fragility of the environment. He has worked in public relations for a major newspaper, in a research and development laboratory, in his own businesses, and in the service of a federal government agency. Combining his eye for detail with a vivid imagination, he continues to roam the world in search of adventure - to observe, to listen, and to talk to wonderfully-different people in strange, exotic lands. He experiences the adventure and journeys through life with his photographer wife, Sharon, who has a keen eye for detail and shares his passionate quest for adventurous travel. The author has lived in Victoria, British Columbia since he was 20 years old. Vancouver Island, a temperate rainforest off Canada's west coast, is his backyard. Along Came a Swagman is Palamarek's third novel. Click here to read about the first book in the Rune Erikson series, Thundersea Click here to read about the second book in the Rune Erikson series , The Secret Temple of Kintamani Click here to read about the fourth book in the Rune Erikson series , AMAZONIA

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Excerpt

FISHERMAN'S WHARF, VICTORIA, BRITISH COLUMBIA.
It was only my reluctance to be impolite that I allowed this stunning but forthright TV news reporter to set her camera down upon the sloping deck of my live-aboard, sixty-five-foot ketch, Valhalla. And only because she had said that she was tired from carrying the equipment as TV reporters are often required to do in this time of one-person remote news coverage.
    Yeah, right! I was actually like a bear after honey. Only in this case, the honey came after me.

    "Look, I really have an aversion to being interviewed," I said quite truthfully as I smiled, settled into a padded deck chair and motioned her towards another one.
    "It's not an interview," she countered, crossing her long tanned legs as she sat. "You brought up some very interesting points at last night's meeting of the harbour commission," she said with more than a trace of a delightful Aussie accent.
    "But I didn't think that simply calling for reasoned balance with a public-consulting, heritage commission was an issue!"
    "You have a way of simplifying things for ease of clarity. It's refreshing to find amidst a sea of self-serving interest."
    "Still, I really have to decline an interview."
    "I can see that you're a man who stands by his principles. Therefore, you leave me no alternative but to stand up here in full view of all your neighbours on their boats and strip naked!"
    "You wouldn't . . ."
    "Try me!" she said with a mischievous dimpled smile.
    "You wouldn't dare . . ."
    She stood up and began unbuttoning her blouse until I could see that her firm breasts were unencumbered.
    She dared!
    Helplessly, I looked around, somewhat panic-stricken at what my neighbours would think of her actions. "Okay, okay! You win. I'll consent to a short interview but on my terms only."
    "Sure!" she exclaimed, flushed with victory and obvious sexual tension.
    "By the way, I'm Rune, Rune Erikson."
    "I know. And I'm Sally, Sally Fletcher."
    "I know." We both smiled at the absurdity of our words.
    I helped her carry her equipment into the wheelhouse and down the companionway stairs to the saloon where I consented to hold the interview - on my terms!
    "I still don't understand what you see in me that is so important that it warrants an interview."
    "It's simple. I want to get a man-on-the-street interview. To get the public's perception of how this harbour should be run."
    "I'm afraid that I'll disappoint you in that regard. I'm no expert."
    "But you seem to know what should be done for this harbour. Oh, damn! There's not enough light down here. It would be a whole lot better if we did the interview up on deck."
    "So my neighbours can see me? Not a chance!"
    "You promised me an interview and we need more natural light. Could we do the interview in the wheelhouse?"
    "Well, I suppose if that's the only way to get enough light."
    "You're a darling!" she gushed and nuzzled my cheek. Her scent was like that of a delicate bouquet of Fire and Ice roses.

    "Okay! Let's do a quick run-through. I'll ask you a few questions just to get you used to me and my camera. All right?"
    "Fine," I said with some trepidation. A practice interview makes sense, I thought to myself. Then if I don't want to do the interview after all, I'll just beg off. I'm sure she'll understand.

    "I'm here with Mr. Rune Erikson aboard his sixty-five-foot ketch, Valhalla, at Fisherman's Wharf. Tell me, Mr. Erikson, how did you come to own this magnificent boat?"
    "Well, uh," I stammered as I cleared my throat and looked frantically out the wheelhouse windows, wishing I was anywhere but here. "I happened to have done a favour for a friend of mine and his wife some time ago. Their only child, a teenager, had run away to Hollywood and like a lot of kids with stars in their eyes, quickly got into trouble down there with the 'in crowd'. I helped them out by tracking her down and getting her into a clinic where she could get clean. Thankfully, things worked out in this case and the three of them got their lives back in order. It seems that his wife and daughter never were enamoured of sailing, so he gave me this magnificent ship as he wanted to devote all of his time to his family. He is a very wealthy individual, so he was quite able to do this, much to my delight."
    "That's a fascinating account and I'm sure that there is a story there in itself, Rune. May I call you Rune?"
    "Of, course!"
    "I can see that you are a very caring man and I suppose that is why I am here talking to you - this man-on-the-street - or in this case, man-on-the-sea. In talking to you, I sense a man with a passion for fairness and for doing what's right. Living here at Fisherman's Wharf like you do, you have a very valid reason to be concerned about what goes on around you in this harbour. Last night at the harbour commission meeting, you stood up and brought out a few very valid points that everybody seemed to have missed. Could you elaborate on those points that you raised?"
    "Certainly! My pleasure. First of all..."
    And so it went. Getting into the crux of the issues, I laid out some very basic tenets that I felt had to override all else - health and safety - including injuries from accidents and those of an ongoing nature such as stress-related noise pollution. I mentioned that the harbour was there for everyone to use and enjoy and most of all for the creatures that lived in it and on it. I covered the glut of less-than-esthetically-pleasing condos surrounding the harbour - condomania, I called it. I proposed that the Outer, Inner, and Upper harbours and the Gorge waterway be designated a heritage site to counteract the blight of bad planning in the past and to approve, by way of a qualified harbour commission with public approval, all future planning by the various local zoning authorities. At some point later, I took a breather as I felt that I had covered the main points that I thought were the most relevant.
    "How did I do?"
"You're a natural. Very down-to-earth. Concise. How did you learn about all these things?"
    "Osmosis."
    "Osmosis?"
    "Yeah, I just soak information up. I like to think that I'm a good listener and a keen observer."
    "It shows!"
    "So when do we do the interview?"
    "We just did!"
    "We did?"
    "Yes! My co-workers don't call me One-Take Sally for nothing!"
    "Really?" I asked, my jaw hung open like a kid in full disbelief.
    "Yeah! Thanks for the interview. Gotta go. Deadline!"
    "Well, which week will it be on? Can you let me know?"
    "Tonight! Six o'clock news!"
    "Tonight? Jeez! You sure?" I asked in disbelief.
    "Yeah! I'm sure! Stay tuned! Gotta run!" With that she pecked me on the cheek, deftly hefted her camera and sprinted down the gangplank.
    I stood there, watching her lithesome body bob and weave through the bystanders on the wharf. She sure is a tall one, I thought. Sally, hmm. Long Tall Sally.
    "Hey! Wait up! You forgot your..." I yelled after her as my eye fell onto the camera cover that she had left behind on the main deck. "Damn! Oh, well," I added as she sprinted up the gangplank to her TV news van, got in and drove off.
    I picked the camera cover up off the deck, turned around and stowed it in the wheelhouse. I couldn't get long tall Sally out of my mind. I had seen her plenty of times on TV as she was a regular news reporter covering the local beat. I liked her moxie and she was easy on the eye. She had a style that put me at ease immediately and it felt like I had known her for ten years instead of just ten minutes. Her strawberry-blonde hair was complimented by freckles and an impish dimpled grin. And freckles make me weak-kneed and shaky all over. Like how I felt right now. Weak and definitely shaky. Distracted too! Get yourself together, Erikson, you boat bum! You're soon to be a star on TV! Jeez! Why did you ever do that? You should never have bared your soul like that in front of millions of people! Well, maybe not millions of people but a whole lot anyway. Pull yourself together, Erikson! Admit it! You're whipped! She's got you! Now what have you got yourself into? Aw, forget her! She was just being her outgoing self and treats all the guys just like that, no doubt. Hell! She may even be married for all you know! Then what? Then nothing, you big dumbo! C'mon, get your yourself in gear. There are other things to be done. Yeah? Like what? Like supper, for instance.
    "Got any fresh crab today?" I yelled out to Tiny on his crab boat one finger over.
    "Got a few left. How many do you want?"
    "They pretty fresh?"
    "You know me. Nothing but the freshest, Rune," Tiny said as he put his hands on his hips which had disappeared under his ample girth.
    "A couple will be plenty, thanks."
    "Two dungeness crab coming right up!" Tiny stated as he flipped open his salt water holding tank.
    I hustled right over and bought them.
    "Say, Rune, wasn't that Sally-what's-her-name from the TV station on your boat this afternoon?"
    "Yeah."
    "Well?"
    "Well, what?"
    "Well, what's up?"
    "She wanted to do a man-in-the-street interview."
    "So did you?"
    "Afraid so."
    "Hey, everybody!" Tiny shouted out at the top of his lungs. "We got a TV personality here!" Heads started popping up from whatever work they were doing on the other boats.
    "Jeez, Tiny! Now the whole world knows!"
    "You goin' to be on TV?"
    "Well, yeah."
    "Well then, the whole world will know anyway, won't it?"
    "Tell you what, Tiny. You can be my publicist, how's that?" I asked with some sarcasm.
    "When you on?"
    "Tonight! Six o'clock news!"
    "Hey, everybody! Rune's going to be interviewed on the six o'clock news!"
    "Jeez!" I cried out as I cringed with embarrassment.

    I had already showered, changed and had poured myself a liberal glass of white wine while I began preparing my supper. I filled a larger pot with water, added a dash of salt, a splash of lemon juice, and set it on the stove to cook the crabs in.
    While the pot of water was heating, I went into the saloon to select some tunes. I fingered through my jazz collection which does wonders to put me into a mellow mood after a hectic day. And today's interview making me look like some publicity hound was more hectic than usual. Astrud Gilberto! Yes! The Brazilian beauty. That's just right, I thought. The Girl from Ipanema. This is the song that set her on the road to stardom. Her English vocals were backed up with Stan Getz on tenor sax, Antonio Carlos Jobim on piano, Joao Gilberto on vocals and guitar, Tommy Williams on bass, and Milton Banana on drums.
    I put the two dungeness crabs on to cook for almost twenty minutes and prepared a garden salad while I was waiting for the crabs to be done.
    That done, I set the pot of dungeness crabs aside to cool.
    I got out another pot to cook pasta, poured in some water, added a dollop of olive oil and set it on the stove.

    Once I Loved was playing on my sound system as I heard my ship's bell gong a few times. It's my doorbell when a light rap on the wheelhouse door or porthole doesn't get my attention. I wiped my hands on a towel in the galley then walked through the saloon to climb the companionway stairs to the wheelhouse. Peering out the wheelhouse windows, I spotted an attractive young lady dressed in a summery floral dress. A floppy woven hat covered the top of her long strawberry-blonde tresses.
    It was the girl from Australia.
    "Hi!" she cheerily said as I opened the wheelhouse door to let her in. She looked freshly scrubbed and the change of clothes softened the hard edges that the news reporter in her demanded.
    "Well, hi!" I responded as she stepped over the threshold.
    "Did I happen to have left my camera cover here?"
    "Why, yes! I think so! I tried to get your attention when you were leaving but you were in such a hurry to..."
    "Deadlines! The bane of all reporters everywhere. I'm so sorry to have caused you all this..."
    "It's no bother, really!"
    "Well, I'd better get going as I don't want to miss your debut on the six o'clock news."
    "Would you like to watch it here? I have a TV on board."
    "Well, I feel as if I've already imposed upon you enough what with using my feminine wiles to get your interview," she grinned impishly. Visions of her lovely breasts flowed into my mind. I blushed while checking out her low-cut bodice again.
    "It's... It's no problem!" I stammered.
    "You sure?"
    "Really! I'm sure. It'll be my pleasure... as long as you don't want another interview, that is."
    "I promise! Scouts honour!" she declared as she raised her right hand.
    I led her down the companionway stairs into the saloon.
    "Glass of wine?" I asked.
    "That would be lovely," she responded as she demurely sat down on the sofa and removed her floppy hat.
    "This is really a lovely old ship!" she remarked as she glanced around.
    "Yes," I replied, "she has quite a unique history."
    "Oh?"
    "She was built by Leehausen and Sons in Oslo, Norway in 1905 and used as a fishing vessel in the North Sea. I haven't found out if she was used in the first world war but I do know that during W.W. II, the Big One, the Germans had seized her and used her as a mine tender because of her wooden hull. The Valhalla was liberated after the war and was then used as a coastal freighter. During the nineteen-sixties she was purchased by a Seattle newspaper baron from the Leehausen family who were based in Bergen, Norway. He had her brought to Seattle by way of the Panama Canal and converted for use as his personal hide-away. I think he had a certain eccentricity as he had a few hidden compartments, which I occasionally stumble upon."
    "Have you found anything in them?"
    "Nothing illicit yet."
    "It really is quite opulent for a one-time fishing vessel."
    "It has gone through two major refits that I know of and has been refurbished to its original Seattle grandeur."
    "It's like a floating maritime museum!"
    I handed her a glass of wine, clicked the TV on to the six o'clock news and sat down beside her. Her scent was heavenly.

    "... happened in Ottawa earlier today. He was reported to have said that, as he was in the best of health, he had absolutely no intention of stepping down to let anyone else run in his place. To prove his point, he borrowed a scooter from a young lad visiting Capital Hill. Reportedly, his parting words to the press were, 'The only stepping down I'm going to do is the stepping down on this scooter,' as he rocketed down the sloping drive.
    "It was reported that an opposition spokesman said 'this is yet another graphic illustration of the governing party going to hell in a handcart', in this case - a scooter.
    "He is due to be released from hospital later tonight. His badly sprained ankle will require him to recuperate at the official summer cottage for some weeks."

    "On the international front, there have been unconfirmed reports of yet another boatload of Chinese Fujian economic migrants hitting the northern shores of Australia. This makes an even dozen boatloads arriving within the past year. Australia has been plagued with these economic migrants much the same as Canada has been with boatloads of Fujians hitting our shores on the west coast."

    "And yet another strange discovery in Australia, this one in the outback. Unsubstantiated claims have been made that an opal miner there has discovered a fossilized human skull said to predate the current Mungo Man which is purported to be the oldest yet known on the Australian continent at 60,000 years old. These reports have been discounted as the skull supposedly turned up in an outback bar in the hands of the miner and had not been inspected nor tested by paleontologists. Officials stated that local pub patrons wildy exaggerated the find. One wag even claimed that the skull was glowing with shafts of fiery red light emanating from its eyes. Neither the skull nor the miner have been seen since despite numerous attempts by anthropologists, paleontologists and fortune-seekers to contact him."

    "My dad's an opal miner in the outback," Sally stated.
    "Is he really?" I asked.
    "Yes. My Mum and I were too! That is until she got fed up with the isolation and moved to Brisbane. Then my grandmum died in Courtenay, here on Vancouver Island, and my mum and I moved back to Canada to take care of Granddad. Well, she moved back as she was born here; I was born in Australia and had never lived in Canada before."
    "Interesting, so did you..."
    "Oh, look. Here's the interview!"

    "I'm here with Mr. Rune Erikson aboard his sixty-five-foot ketch, Valhalla, at Fisherman's Wharf. Tell me, Mr. Erikson, how did you come to own this magnificent boat?"
    "Well, uh..."

    And so it went. I was used to working behind the scenes and not used to publicly baring my thoughts and my soul for all to see.
    "There, that wasn't so bad now, was it?" Sally asked.
    "Not with you doing the interviewing. You made it seem easy. You put me at ease."
    "You're a real dream to interview - no hard edges, no devious thoughts."
    "Oh, yeah? I can think deviously. Care to stay for supper?"
    "Sure! I haven't had mine yet and I get tired of cooking just for myself."
    Good, I thought, she's single. "Actually, I was just in the midst of cooking a couple crab. I was going to leave the crab meat from one for tomorrow but now that you're here we can have both of them tonight. I've also got a salad ready in the fridge. I've just got to get the pasta cooked, some garlic bread into the oven and we're all ready."
    "You're such a sweetheart! And a cook too!" she said as she kissed my cheek. My knees felt rubbery as she hugged me.
    Only Trust your Heart was playing on my sound system. My heart was not only being trusted but was leading me, no pushing me into the arms of this saucy Australian lass with the long legs as I hugged her and responded with aroused ardour.
    It was only the pasta pot boiling over on the stove that broke our fiery kiss and entwined bodies.

    Supper was a pleasant blur of candlelight and wine. The meal was delicious as we cracked crab and finger-fed each other the bits and pieces of succulent meat between love nibbles. The pasta was perfectly cooked al dente. Soon, we were making a mess of our linen serviettes, not to mention the white linen tablecloth that I had set out just for her. I suggested finger bowls. She suggested showers. I readily agreed. Hell, at this point, I would have agreed to anything that she would have said, including another interview. I was putty in her hands. She had that effect on me.
    I showed her where the shower was and turned it on for her. She commented on the lavishness of the master cabin and the ensuite with its shower and claw-foot bath for two.
    "Help me with my dress," she whispered urgently into my ear.
    She quickly removed her cotton print dress with a little help from me. I was awestruck at her physical beauty! Her long strawberry-blonde hair cascaded down her curving back. The freckles on her gorgeous face flowed like gold dust down onto her uplifted breasts. Despite her tan, tan lines were non-existent. I hurriedly stepped out of my clothes, smoothly reached into the cabinet for some protection and joined her under the flowing shower head.
    She tilted her head back ever so slightly and ran her tongue over her parted lips. We kissed passionately under the spray of water. My hands effortlessly traced her silken body. I kissed the dark aureoles of her heaving breasts in homage to her naked sculpted form as her hands caressed my body. My pulse raced.
    Urgently, she slipped her long leg around me. Gently, I held her firm body as she entwined her body with mine, as if totally possessed. Her low moans escalated in pitch as a torrent of sexual ecstacy flowed over us. She clung to me with unbridled ferocity. Her sustained moan was supplanted by the gushing whistle of a chugging steam boat as it surged into the Inner Harbour.

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Catalogue Information

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