Hello, my dear readers. This here is the second chapter of the set I reworked. Like with the previous one, and the following one, the changes are fairly minor, but still, I felt as if they were necessary.

Now that this is over, let's begin.


Chapter 11 – Negotiations and conflicts

Carl Denham herded the Darrows and Dollar to his cabin like sheep, trying his best not to feel annoyed or angry at himself because of what he was about to propose to them. Dollar's bodyguards followed them like shadows. Carl was much more than certain that a sign from Dollar was enough for one of the four men twist Carl's neck like a chicken's, if Dollar so wanted. And right now it looked as if Dollar just might be angry enough to do it.

"What in the hell do you want from us, Denham?"

"I told you. Negotiations." said Denham.

"Why are you suddenly so willing to negotiate with English people?" Ann's voice was cold.

Carl didn't reply, instead giving more importance to his chain of thoughts. Why on earth did they have to be going to Skull Island as well? Carl wanted to be the one to discover Skull Island and reveal it to the world. True enough, from the moment he knew archaeologists had come along; he had been counting on them to increase the publicity about the discovery of the place. He needed publicity for his film, as much as he could get. The question was did they disturb his plans for Skull Island?

As a matter of fact they did. If Darrow published a work about Skull Island that did not mention Carl Denham at all, there would be more attention gravitating to Darrow's work than to Carl's movie.

Given the choice between joining his work with that of two English snobs and having the risk of them taking the spotlight away from his picture, Carl decided to choose the lesser of the two evils.

"Here we are." said Carl. He opened the door with a flourish.

Carl pushed Leonard, Ann, and Dollar inside. Dollar's bodyguards did not try to follow him in. Instead, one of them pushed Carl inside, and then closed the door from the outside. Carl felt as if he had an ice cube stuck in his throat. It seemed he was being put under house arrest, only by a gangster's sidekicks instead of a policeman.

Shaking his disturbance off, Carl turned around the cabin. The Darrows had already made themselves comfortable on the battered leather sofa, the only furniture in his cabin besides his bunk, which is where Dollar parked himself. He pulled a cigar out of the inner pocket of his jacket and placed it in his mouth. Dollar reached back into his pocket and pulled out his cigar cutter and snipped of the end. He then extracted a match and swiped it against the bottom of his boot. He then brought the flaming end of the match to the end of his cigar and started puffing.

Although he smoked a pipe, Carl couldn't stand the smell of cigar smoke. For a moment he wanted to snatch the cigar out of Dollar's fingers and crush it out. But the idea that Dollar had four cousins of Charlie Atlas outside the cabin ready to pounce stopped that action.

"What's your proposal?" asked Dollar through a cloud of smoke. "Hurry up, I don't have all day!"

"As it turns out, it looks like we're going to the same place, with the same purpose of uncovering mysteries, although in a different way." Carl tried with all his might to speak in a confident voice. "My proposal is: we put our differences aside and work together."

Carl paused, thinking maybe a short moment of silence would allow the other occupiers of the cabin to absorb his words better.

"How does that benefit us?" Smoke curled from his mouth like smoke from a volcano's crater.

"Think about it! I will have my movie. You will have a complete study of Skull Island's extinct civilization. If we join our works, we will draw much more attention. That implies a larger profit."

'Profit' turned out to be the keyword, at least for Dollar. He tried to disguise this fact, but Carl saw far too well the light of greed in the other man's eyes. Leonard didn't seem as certain, but it was clear that he was starting to lean toward accepting Carl's suggestion, too. Miss Darrow just looked slightly apprehensive, the same as she had looked in Englehorn's cabin when Carl had revealed that his destination was not Singapore, but Skull Island.

"A hell of a good idea, Mr. Denham." said Dollar, suddenly in a somewhat formal tone.

"I admit it would have its advantages." added Leonard. "But I still find it remarkable that my niece and I have suddenly stopped being those two stuck up limeys you've been calling us."

Carl shrugged. "What can I say? I am a proud American."

Leonard made an impatient noise.

Carl rocked up on to the balls of his feet. "Better yet! You, Darrow, present your study about Skull Island as a sort of speech, and then I show my movie, or vice versa. It'd take a whole advertisement page in Variety."

Carl gestured grandly into the air. "Something like, "Myth Turned Reality' as a title. Then as subtitle, it could, 'The Secrets of the Last Blank Space on the Map'."

This time, Leonard seemed like the one more entranced by the idea. Ann looked shell-shocked, but in the end her opinion wouldn't have enough weight, if she even voiced it out, which didn't seem likely at the moment.

"We could have the premiere on the Alhambra Theatre." said Carl. "Or maybe even on your Royal Hall, if you two assisted us. We'd invite the whole Royal Family of England to the unveiling of Skull Island's mysteries!"

For a moment, Carl cursed himself for not being a writer. Maybe Jack would agree to write the persuasive speech. But then maybe not; as much as Jack could write violence, manipulation, and persuasion into his plays, Carl doubted Jack would do it for something real. He was too much of a saint for his own good, no matter what someone did to him. And even Carl admired that.

Carl had saved the best piece of bait for last, and he tossed it out, hoping for the best.

"Our names would go down in history. History, gentleman, lives forever."

That had been it.

Leonard rose from the couch and walked over to Denham. "Association would be the most civilized way to avoid competition, Mr. Denham. I agree with your proposition." He turned to Dollar, and added, "Assuming Mr. Dollar agrees with cooperating with you."

"There's no problem." said Dollar instantly. "Of course I agree."

Carl couldn't help but to notice the mobster seemed annoyed about something. It seemed that although he was thrilled at the idea of an association and the perspective of bigger profit, said association disturbed his plans with something. With what exactly, Carl didn't know. And he also didn't care.

"We shake on it." said Carl.

Dollar shook Carl's hand with a huge deal of enthusiasm, but then, Dollar's look turned slightly angry, and his grip tightened, as if he intended to squash Carl's stubby hand inside his own.

"In that case, let's make divisions of the total profits." said Dollar. "Forty percent for me, thirty percent for Darrow and his niece. Thirty percent for you." He emphasized the word you.

Carl kept shaking Dollar's hand, although most of it now was an attempt to get rid of Dollar's grasp.

Dollar looked past Carl's shoulder. "Are we agreed, Darrow?" asked Dollar.

"It sounds equitable to me." said Leonard. "What do you think, Mr. Denham?"

Pulling with his full might, Carl finally managed to extract his hand from Dollar's grip.

"I guess we have a deal." panted Carl.

For some reason, Ann Darrow got up and her eyes locked on Carl. Her look was impossibly steely and cold.

"I still think it is just shameful how you started seeing us so differently from the moment you realized we could be useful to your profits, Mr. Denham." she said in an icy voice.

Carl felt an unexplainable chill when she said 'Mr.'. But before the chill had time to stop, Ann got up and walked to the door.

"Ann, my dear…" said Leonard, his voice remorseful.

Ann just exited the cabin, closing the door with so much angry strength that Carl felt capable of swearing the whole Venture had shaken.

Leonard looked at the closed door, his eyes suddenly growing disturbed.

It appeared he had started to be having second thoughts. This was bad news. And Carl had to do something. But before he could decide what to do, Dollar patted Leonard's back as if they were old friends.

"Don't worry, Leonard." he said. "She'll forgive you in the end. She always does."

"So true, she always does." said Leonard.

Carl joined the conversation. "And anyway, you can't stop doing things just because your niece decides to complain. It's about time she understands things don't always go the way she wants and quits being a spoiled girl."

"My niece is not a spoiled girl, Mr. Denham." said Leonard, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, she acted a little bit like one right now." said Carl, trying to school his tone.

Leonard did not reply.

"Now, let's not argue." Inserted Dollar. "We'll be associates, and introduce Skull Island's discovery to the world through your work and Denham's movie. Right, Leonard?"

Leonard stopped for a moment, as two instincts seemed to enter in conflict under his white hair. Finally, he exhaled, and voiced his agreement. He nodded.

"Well, I'm off to go speak with Ann." Leonard tipped an invisible hat and then left the cabin.

Dollar stood for a moment chewing on his cigar, and then he turned around and left as well.

After the cabin door shut, a delighted smile broke on to Carl's face. He had just assured much more attention to his picture. He would gain even more money from it than he thought initially. Fame and recognition were an ever bigger guarantee now.

Feeling suddenly very happy, Carl walked to his reserves poured a large amount of whiskey into the glass, and toasted into thin air.

"To success. To glory. To making him notice that I'm not a loser."

After finishing his short speech, Carl took a large gulp at once.


Ann Darrow entered her cabin and slammed the door shut behind her. She sat down on her bed, breathing heavily with anger. For a moment, she almost didn't recognize herself. It was extremely unlike her to have sudden surges of fury, but seeing Uncle Leonard accepting Carl Denham's proposal made her feel almost as if her uncle had just signed their death sentence.

Her uncle! Was Leonard so desperate to have a place in history? Was the lure of fame and entertainment now suddenly so important to her uncle? Oh, why would he associate with Carl Denham? Although Denham didn't seem as bad as Dollar, he still looked too focused on his objectives to really care about what happened to the others in the end. So far, he had only proved to hate her and her uncle. And yet, Leonard had shaken his hand after he threw him the bait that an association would attract more notoriety to his work. She had known her uncle was willing to get to Skull Island, but she had never realized how willing he was – until now. It was understandable Leonard wanted credit for the find, but there were limits for everything!

The worse part was, her uncle had never done archaeology for notoriety. He had always taught her that archaeology was the means of learning more about different cultures of the world and their history, a way of mankind getting to know itself. In addition to that, Leonard had always worked for either the British Museum or the American Museum of Natural History. Unfortunately, neither organization gave a second thought to Valdemar's diary or the ape figurine, and that is why her uncle had turned to Dollar...again.

The thing that made her want to see Skull Island was her wish to learn about the civilization that once lived there, according to Valdemar's diary. She knew there'd be a lot of attention on the island after they unveiled their discovery, and most likely on the two of them, but she didn't want people to swarm on their discovery like piranhas over a bleeding animal.

Like I said, there are limits for everything.

Now Ann knew that Uncle Leonard's purpose for this discovery clearly was not simply about learning or sharing knowledge anymore. It was now in part for glory, and that disturbed her more than the idea of finding the creatures Valdemar described on his diary.

For a moment, Ann almost hit her head against the wall. Why was everything going wrong with this expedition? First Jack Driscoll had behaved like an animal, now her uncle had sold his soul to the devil just to get a place in history. What would happen next?

Hopefully, nothing will happen. Ann tried to reassure herself. If God meant so, this would be the end of it.

The end of it? Ann sarcastically asked herself. Ann Darrow, you are on a ship with a greedy tycoon, a single-minded filmmaker, and an old archaeologist with stars in his eyes. Do you think this is the end of it?

No. Probably not.

Ann had always known that Dollar went on their expeditions to get profit all for himself. Ann still remembered Dollar accompanying them to their expedition to Peru that had led to the discovery of the ruins of an Incan temple. Several gold items had mysteriously disappeared. Dollar had also come with them to México. Again, several golden Aztec artefacts had gone missing. The two expeditions when pieces of discovery had disappeared. Ann did not repeat those accusations out loud due to lack of evidence, but she was certain that he was the guilty.

Right. Ann thought. As if artefacts were the only thing that went missing on those expeditions..

One of Leonard's colleagues and two local labourers had 'gone missing' shortly after having arguments with Dollar. Of course nothing had ever been proven. When the bodies were found, Dollar seemed as shocked as everyone else. All three deaths eventually were ruled as accidents.

Ann hoped with all of her heart that Uncle Leonard would not end up regretting his association with Dollar.

Ann was not clear on what Dollar had to gain by getting to Skull Island. She didn't even know if there was anything in terms of treasure or valuable artefacts, and part of her didn't want to know what was on the island. What Ann was clear on was the fact that Dollar would not give up his plans for anything or anyone.

"What can I do?" Ann said aloud. She answered herself in a whisper. "Pray."


Thomas Percival Davison, more commonly known to society by his somewhat depreciative nickname "Mr. Dollar", walked in circles inside his cabin, trying to drain out his anger after Leonard Darrow had associated them with that idiot Denham. Being honest with himself, Dollar had to admit he didn't know why exactly he was angry. After all, as Denham had said, an association would be much more profitable. But at the same time, bringing too much attention to Skull Island could spoil another plan that Dollar had to get more money.

In the end, his life had become one endless pursuit of money. Both his mother and father had struggled with every nerve of their bodies to put bread on the table. His father worked in a meat packing plant, and his mother a waitress at a small diner. Both of them worked as slaves, and they barely got enough to keep the three of them going. In the end, both of them had been worked to death, leaving a fifteen year old son to fend for himself. It was then that Dollar had learned that he had to reach the top, no matter what, no matter how.

He was always climbing higher and higher, always putting himself one step ahead of competition, and removing whoever tried to rival him. His first target had been Cedric Lloyd, the owner of the factory his father had worked in. Dollar had been determined to avenge his parents by acquiring Lloyd's business. Dollar had learned a lot from Lloyd, including how satisfying it could be remove the 'competition' when he had pumped Cedric Lloyd's disgusting guts full of rifle lead.

Sure, it could be argued that his means to fortune could be considered 'criminal', 'morally wrong' or 'unethical', but those terms, like everything else, depended on the point of view. What Cedric Lloyd had done to his father was nothing short of murder. Justice, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.

This expedition had actually potential for a lot of money, for more reasons than just Darrow's mound of papers about the place. Dollar smiled. Multiple possibilities were a good thing.

Another thing that would be good was to dispose of Jimmy Dawson. He didn't get what the kid was doing here, but it was possible that the kid knew too much about Dollar's activities. It was also possible that the kid actually didn't know anything, but Dollar always preferred to play safe. And in this case, playing safe was throwing the kid to the sharks. But Dollar had trouble seeing how to do it when Hayes, Kendra, and even Englehorn were trying to do everything to protect him after Dollar had showed aggression toward Jimmy. In the end, he concluded it was just a matter of waiting for the right opportunity. He wouldn't let a kid to destroy what he had spent decades building.


Kendra moved after Eric through the stairs that lead to the wheelhouse. The rain had grown stronger during the time they had spent figuring out their exact destination. Rain pattered constantly against Kendra's leather trench coat. Water streamed down her face and hands, and she guessed her ponytail would be soaked by now. But after all, this was merely rain, it was nothing to her. As the wind hadn't yet shown signs of increasing, there shouldn't be much danger of a storm. And even if there was, it wouldn't be the first storm she would be through. Eric always tried to insist that she stay in the cabin during a storm, but Kendra always managed to convince him that she wouldn't be able to just sit tight while he faced the danger. Kendra felt chills rushing through her skin, although she knew they were from fear, and not from the cold. The knowledge of where Denham and Dollar intended to go had been too disturbing. Kendra wasn't superstitious enough to believe in the place's existence as solid fact, but it was a scary possibility.

Kendra glanced around her through the heavy rain. The ship, the crewmen, and lastly Eric passed in front of her eyes. Could it be that in no more than a month, they'd be with all those that had shipwrecked on that fatal place, joining the bodies and sunken boats seasoning the sea?

No, that can't be! Kendra told herself. You can't think that way, Kendra! Don't start attracting bad luck!

Eric entered the wheelhouse, and Kendra followed him. However, even before she went one step, she bumped into Eric who had suddenly stopped. Kendra peered over her husband's shoulder, and it didn't take long to figure out why. Hayes was looking straight at the two of them, his expression as gloomy as the sky outside.

Something serious had happened. The idea made her feel a sudden chill. She only hoped it had nothing to do with Jimmy.

"Something wrong, Mr. Hayes?" asked Kendra.

Hayes fixed his gaze on the captain. He finally spoke.

"I need to speak with you, Captain."

"Is there any problem with the ship or the crew?" Kendra interjected.

"Not yet."

"Cut the dramatics, Hayes." The Captain's voice was sharp, impatient.

Hayes walked forward, and as he passed the Captain, he inclined his head toward the Englehorns. "I will speak with you alone."

Kendra knew what Hayes meant by the word 'alone'. Not just outside the wheelhouse, but in the captain's cabin. She watched her husband. His eyes narrowed in comprehension.

"Very well." Eric said quietly. In his captain's voice, he issued new orders. "I want Mr. Clarke at the helm." Englehorn then turned to Hayes. "I'll see you in my quarters."

Hayes nodded. The three of them left the wheelhouse, Hayes going to fetch Clarke, and the Englehorns toward their cabin.

When she and Eric reached their cabin, Kendra realized she felt more nervous than ever. In an effort to clear her mind, she hung up her cap and let her hair loose. She picked up her hairbrush, sat down, and began brushing her hair. It usually helped her calm down when she was upset.

Eric hung up his dripping cap next to Kendra's and then pulled out his cigarette case. Even as he took the cigarette to his mouth and looked for the matches, he began to pace. "What do you suppose Hayes wants with us?"

"I don't know." said Kendra.

Eric lit his cigarette. The hairbrush ran through Kendra's hair ever more quickly.

Eric kept pacing.

Kendra jumped at the sudden rap at the cabin's door.

Eric removed his cigarette from between his pursed lips. "Come."

Hayes entered the cabin and closed the door firmly behind him. Trails of water ran down his coat and on to the floor. His right hand was tucked inside his bridge coat. If this was a stranger, Kendra would have thought he would produce a gun, but this was Hayes, not a thug off the street.

Hayes took his hand from inside his coat and Kendra saw he clutched two charts in it. By the grim look on Hayes' face, it wasn't hard to figure out what he wanted.

He extended the charts to them.

"What is the meaning of this?"

For a moment, neither the Captain nor his wife said anything, but then, Eric took his Kreket cigarette out of his mouth. On cue, Kendra put her hairbrush aside.

Eric spoke. "What is the meaning of what?"

Kendra's eyes flicked between her husband and his first mate. It was far out of Benjamin Hayes character to question Eric. He must be very upset.

Hayes thrust the second chart toward Englehorn.

"This heading puts us southwest of Sumatra." said Hayes.

"It's a new course, Mr. Hayes." Eric took another drag from his cigarette.

"It takes us outside the shipping lanes."

"What of it?"

"Cut the crap, Eric. We run into trouble out there, and there won't be anyone around to pull our butts out of the fire."

Kendra flinched inwardly. Hayes was not appealing to her husband as the Captain of the Venture anymore, but as a friend.

Hayes kept up his verbal attack. "Seven vessels have been lost in that area. Seven! That's over 200 men. What of that, Captain?"

Kendra tried to ignore the shivers coursing up and down her spine. She felt paralyzed by the tension in the cabin; the air was thick with it.

Eric leaned forward; his hands clutched the sides of the table until his knuckles were white. "I don't believe in fairy stories."

Hayes smacked the charts against the large table. "How much did he pay you?"

Englehorn looked at him straight in the eyes.

"That's far enough, Ben." said the captain, his German accent giving his voice a dreadful and dangerous tone.

"How much?" shouted Hayes. "I want to know: how much are our lives and your ship worth?"

"There are dangers in any job." Eric countered. "Especially this one. You know that."

"Whatever you got, I hope it's worth it."

With that, Hayes shouldered his way between the Englehorns and left the cabin.


For the first time in a long while, Benjamin Hayes turned his back on Captain Englehorn and Kendra. Both of them were guilty. Hayes knew they always made decisions together, and although Englehorn was always the one with the final word, if Kendra truly wanted to dissuade him, she'd almost certainly manage to do so. This meant that this time, she either hadn't tried, or she had failed. Hayes didn't know which one of those he preferred.

When he got back outside, Hayes gripped the railing so strongly his fingers started to hurt. Now that some of his anger had been vented, Hayes wondered if he hadn't been judging the Englehorns too harshly. After all, people of honour they were, they could make mistakes – just like everyone else.

And Hayes, just like all of the crew, didn't have to be reminded what had happened during the last voyage, nor what would happen if this one had a similar result. They probably had been desperate enough to accept whatever healthy sum that pig Denham had promised them. But still, they could have tried to find some other way of recovering from their losses.

Hopefully, they simply wouldn't find that place – if they were even going there. After all, it could be just a coincidence, and their journey had nothing to do with that dreadful location. Either way, it had managed to remain uncharted for so long, maybe it would a little bit more. And when that happened, they could safely turn to any other means of recovering money, like transporting normal cargo instead of capturing and selling animate one.

Hayes had lost whatever faith he could have in God when he fought with the Harlem Hellfighters on the Great War, but now, he almost turned himself to praying. For only God seemed capable of getting them all safely out of this.


Captain Eric Englehorn felt raw anger welling up inside him, but he tried to drain it out by taking a drag of his Kretek cigarette. After he blew out the smoke, Kendra moved in front of him.

"Eric."

He took the cigarette out of his mouth.

"What now?"

"You heard…." said Kendra.

"Yes, I heard." Interrupted Eric. "He figured out where we are going. It doesn't really make much of a difference, he would have discovered eventually."

"And that is ALL you have to say?"

Eric felt his patience slipping. He and Kendra had talked about this business shortly before, and for his part, he felt that he had said everything there was to say. Why did Kendra keep insisting? Didn't she realize that he had no other choice than to accept the offer of those two, no matter how foolish it was? Did she even think that he liked the idea of searching for an island that couldn't even exist, and possibly would turn out much worse if it did exist?

"We've already discussed this matter, on more than one occasion." Eric snapped. "I'm starting to get sick of it. I've told you time and time again, we have to do this thing!"

"We don't have to go." Kendra said, her voice rising. "You're the Captain! Go up to Denham and Dollar, tell them you refuse to accept the work, lock them up in a cage if they complain, and return to New York where we can find some legitimate work!"

"And throw away all of that money?" Eric insisted. "You know…"

"Money, money, money!" shouted Kendra. "You've been spinning your whole life around the goddamn money lately! And because of that you don't have the guts to go to those two and tell them you refuse! You're behaving like a coward!"

Any remnants of calm Eric evaporated. He could barely summon the self-control for not to slap his wife.

"I am this ship's Captain!" he hissed. "Whatever freedoms I have allowed in the past does not include telling me what to do."

"You're the Captain?" Kendra's voice was now a disdainful scoff. "You've become a puppet, with Dollar and Denham pulling your strings!"

"Arrogant woman!" Raged Englehorn.

Kendra cocked her arm back to slap her husband, but Eric reached up and intercepted his wife's hand.

"How dare you!" she shouted. "I am your wife!"

"Yes, you're my wife, and not the Captain of this vessel. Unless you have anything intelligent to say, get the hell out!"

Kendra jerked her wrist free from Eric's grasp. "Gladly!"

Eric watched her retreating, ram-rod straight back with her black hair cascading down over her shoulders. Without turning to look at him, she snatched her captain cap from the hanger and roughly put it on. For the briefest of moments, he wanted to shout to her to braid her hair or tie it up in a ponytail before leaving. He didn't want the crewmembers looking at her with her hair down. She looked more of the beautiful woman that she was with her hair long and free.

She slammed the door shut. Eric punched the smaller table in his cabin, making the gramophone that stood on it shake dangerously close to the table's edge. She had just turned her back on him, and the first thing he had thought of was Kendra leaving his cabin with her hair loose!

The things she had just shouted at him kept echoing in his ears. And the worst was that Eric had a strong impression that she was right. No, he wasn't obsessed with the profit, damn it! If they were in a good financial situation, he wouldn't do this! He was doing this because he had no other choice! They needed the payment! And she knew it! It wasn't an excuse to endanger his crew, but what danger was there in searching for a fairy tale island? It didn't exist!

But if he believed so much it didn't exist, then why didn't he do as Kendra said?

And what could he do now? Turn back and receive nothing to pay for what he had spent so far? That couldn't be. Now, no matter what it was, he had to follow this to the end.

He was a puppet alright, a puppet of his despair and financial needs. And although he currently hated Denham and Dollar, he felt as if he was almost forced to take them there. Otherwise, he'd lose the Venture.

But after this argument, it seemed Eric was close to lose the most important thing he had: his wife. He loved Kendra more than anything in the world. Losing his ship would be hard to stand, but losing his wife would be impossible to stand. And now, she had turned her back on him. It was the first really serious argument they had in a long time. He felt sick.

Eric felt a sudden urge to apologize her, and beg her for not to leave him alone to face this problem. As much as it surprised even himself, he needed her help. But he wouldn't do it. His pride stopped him from lower himself to begging to a woman. And Eric cursed himself for that.

"God damn it!" He punched the table again to mark his words.


Well, my dear readers, we got to the end of another slightly changed chapter. Like with the previous one, I felt these small changes were important, and so, I made them. I'm sorry for you having to read this again, and well... I honestly hope my changes don't drive my readers away.

Now... if you haven't reviewed yet, please, review now.