Bone Deep (11 page)

“Treasure! Right …!” replied the crackling voice again. “That will make … sound bite for … evening's broadcast. So, Peggy … you one … researchers or … treasure hunter?”

“Well, ah …” I stammered, taken aback by the question. “Who is this calling, please?”

“Brad Turner, CFTV News — just try … get the scoop on the sunken … everyone is talk … 'bout. Tell me what the value …”

“Hey, wait a minute,” I shouted into the receiver when I finally clued in with horror who I was talking to. “You can't tell anyone what I just said. I'll get into trouble. I promised Dr. Hunter I could keep a secret.”

“A secret, eh? Dr. Hunter must have something … big going on at the bottom of the … if you have to keep it such a … You know, the public has a right to know Ms. Hender … What would you say the value is of the treasure on …
Intrepid
?”

“Wait, I didn't say there was treasure … I just meant …”

“Ms. Hender … said they probably found treasure.”

“No, I didn't mean that — I was just being sarcastic.”

“Sounds more like you're trying to cover … truth … just come clean.” I flicked the switch to silence the voice and the static, then slammed the radio handset down hard.
Good job, Peggy. News about the Intrepid could put the excavation at risk, but if people thought there was treasure — it could be a real disaster. I wouldn't be surprised if Captain Hunter thought it was me who tipped off the media in the first place.
Man, I was really going to have to walk the plank or become shark bait now.

As I considered my options I crossed off lying about it. I was already knee deep in guilt for busting the toilet and didn't think my conscience could handle another cover up. Nope, I definitely had to tell the captain … “come clean,” as Brad Turner had said. But if I could only postpone the news until we got back to town …

I picked up Captain Whittaker's journal. I needed something to get my mind off the inevitable trouble I was in.

June 2nd, 1812

We have arrived at the place known as Tlatskwala
Island. It is about eight leagues in length and four in breadth. While the ship sat a thousand feet from shore I noted some fifty or sixty armed people awaited us. At first we could not tell if they were there to oppose our arrival or to greet us. As we waited for some sign several of their men entered canoes and came out to the ship. Soon we were surrounded by them. I ordered my crew to toss over some trinkets to encourage good will. Even Mister Lockhart did not argue the matter with me.

Peter spoke to them and they seemed to understand that our purpose was to approach their chief with the prospects of a trade. It was a very friendly interview with the inhabitants and we were consequently invited ashore with a sampling of our trade goods.

The chief, who awaited our arrival, was brandishing a spear and wearing a cloth about his loins fabricated by grass. His nature seemed filled with prowess, irreverence even, and I thought to myself, there stands a magnificent man! Chief Noomki calls his tribe the Kwakwaka'wakw and they appear to be a vibrant community. Despite all this, I do not feel an immediate report with them and sense they have no immediate feeling of kindness for us either.

We followed the chief to a large structure and entered. The image carved above the entrance was monstrous and quite intimidating to be sure. I was astonished at the size of the interior — the height about twenty-five feet. There were eight or ten enormous trees carved and painted into the forms of animals and humans, and served as house beams. They in turn were supported by planks of uncommon breadth and length. It is my estimate that some five hundred souls occupy the building. At the end of the long room Chief Noomki sat on a small platform, surrounded by many who appeared to be of significant rank.

We were invited to take part in a meal that consisted of boiled whale meat and fish soup eaten with mussel-shell spoons. After our meal the young men took part in a dance that involved drums, chanting, and remarkable masks — each with unique characteristics and vividly painted.

Tomorrow we will bring ashore more trade items. Loki tells me the chief expressed confidence we will be pleased with his otter pelts but he is looking for something significant in return. I cannot imagine what he hopes to get from us, but I should like to conclude our business with these people as quickly as possible. Mister Lockhart will negotiate the trade while I oversee the preparations for our voyage in two days time.

If matters go as planned the pelts will fetch a price of twenty-five or thirty dollars apiece from the Chinese. That would bring nearly thirty thousand dollars in profit. Our aim is to bring back the most exotic textiles, ivory, brass, and chinaware — of which the ladies are so fond. Indeed, the set given me by the Emperor on my last voyage will make a handsome gift for my wife, Clara. Over the winter I intend to commission the same artisan to make additional pieces for the set.

Though I wish it were sooner, we shall not arrive at Canton until November. Tea shipments will be ready by then, however we will still have to winter there. In the spring we will use the northeasterly monsoon winds of the South China Sea to take us to Sunda Straight and then we shall ride the trade winds to the Indian Ocean and onwards to New York. After that I intend to give up this life at sea and spend my final years with my wife — perhaps I shall finally come to know my sons, Robert and James Junior. I dare say Mister Lockhart will be pleased with my retirement.

Captain James Whittaker

I sat dream-like under the warm sun while the gentle waves rocked me like a baby. For some reason I was thinking about my aunt's china when I heard the faint sound of splashing water. I hopped over to the side of the boat half expecting to see another pod of porpoises, but instead it was the team back from their dive. I should have been excited, but I only felt dread.

“Yahoo! It's amazing down there,” Amanda gushed. “You're going to love it, Peggy.” All the others were equally bubbling with enthusiasm over what they'd seen.

“Was it hard to find the anchor? Did you see the
Intrepid
?” I fired back.

“The anchor was right where our GPS indicated it would be — a perfectly spectacular example of one used on a seventeenth-century trading ship,” Captain Hunter spouted while bobbing on the waves.

“And what about the
Intrepid
?”

“Not yet. We needed to set up the anchor as our datum point and start a radial grid with three metre intervals,” said the captain. “Then Scott's tank ran low on oxygen so we had to surface. But we'll go down again this afternoon.” I felt relieved they hadn't yet found the
Intrepid
.

“We saw a half a dozen artifacts already,” Amanda said after she'd climbed up onto the boat.

“That's right. And now we've got lots to do to prepare for this afternoon. So Amanda and Marnie — you get started on the site map right away. Scott — I'll get you to prepare the lab and water treatment tank. And Dr. Sanchez — I'll need you to get on the radio and get the latest weather forecast from the Coast Guard. As we all know — weather around here can change quickly. I'll prepare the equipment for this afternoon's dive. Okay people, let's get to it.”

“Ah, Captain, don't you have a job for me?” I asked, the disappointment swelling up again.

“Get the kid to make the food,” said Dr. Sanchez. “It a safe place where she does no damage.”

“Damage?” I said sharply. “Obviously you haven't seen me cook yet.” I stormed off towards the galley cursing the wiry little creep under my breath. A few moments later I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Amanda. She was obviously amused.

“I bet you've some ideas of what you'd like to feed Dr. Sanchez.”

“Yah — for starters, fish guts and boiled saltwater soup, followed by stuffed viperfish covered in ocean mucus and seasoned sand flies.”

“Mmmm, sounds delicious. And for dessert?”

“Dessert will be fish eyeballs in Jell-O topped with whipped bilge water and shavings of ex-lax … wait, better leave off the ex-lax … the head is still broken.” Amanda plugged her nose and we both laughed.

“Never mind Sanchez the Scrooge. Marnie's going to get started on the site map and I'll help you with lunch — I'm starved.” We worked side by side to prepare the crew a tossed salad, grilled cheese sandwiches, and for dessert — banana bread. I really did wish we had some of that ex-lax on Jell-O for Señor Poop Head!

“Would you like to dive with me this afternoon?” Amanda asked while I set the table. I turned to face her instantly.

“This afternoon — really?” She nodded. “Captain said it was okay?”

“Sure, now that he's seen the terrain he feels it's safe for you to go down. Just promise you'll stick close and if you spot something, leave it in place for mapping.”

Over lunch the conversation was focused on the excellent condition of the anchor, the shredded rope still attached, and some mysterious wooden box about forty feet from it. The captain pulled out some charts that showed details of the depth of the seabed and ocean currents in the area.

“Will you try to bring the anchor up?” I asked.

“Not right now, Peggy. We don't have the right equipment to handle something so big on this trip. We'll need to leave it until we can figure out how best to move it.”

Then Dr. Sanchez groaned. “Maybe the little girl should clear dishes so adults can talk business.”

Amanda laughed. “No need, this is an equal opportunity crew,” she said. “Hey Scott, I think it's your turn to do dishes.”

“You got it. Hey, Marnie, will you give me a hand?” Scott and Marnie got up from the table and started to clear the dishes.

Dr. Sanchez groaned again.

“Captain, why don't you go ahead and finish what you were telling Peggy.” Amanda winked at me.

“Sure, what I was saying is that the iron anchor has been sitting on the ocean floor for over two hundred years. If we just lift it to the surface and expose it to oxygen it would create a chemical change causing the iron to heat up. This would create intense internal pressure — so much that the anchor would crack into little pieces. ”

“Is that what happens to wood too — does it just disintegrate?”

“Wooden artifacts preserved in perfect conditions may look as good as new until taken out of the water — if allowed to dry they can split and collapse too. Generally, anything we recover from the sea must be given special preservation treatment from the moment it reaches the surface. Marnie, since you're our resident wood specialist, do you have anything else to add?”

“Well, Peggy, you can imagine that preserving an entire ship made of timber is a real challenge. It too would collapse into dust if it's not kept moist — so constant spraying is a first measure. Preserved timber can tell some pretty important and interesting things. For instance, by reading the rings on the timber — much the same way as tree ring dating — we can get a general date of when it was harvested — which in turn will tell us how old the ship is and possibly even where it was built.”

“Scott, do you want to share something about glass and ceramics?” Amanda asked.

“I'd be happy to,” Scott said, turning from the sink and wiping his hands on a dish cloth. “Glass and ceramics need to be stabilized and cleaned too. But the real danger is not usually oxygen, as in the case of iron and wood. The bigger problem here is that the glass and ceramics will have become brittle and fragile. Special care needs to be taken during excavation and during the cleaning stage too.”

“If Marnie's specialty is wood, and Scott's is pottery and ceramics, then what's your specialty, Amanda?” I asked.

“My specialty? Human remains of course. And from what Eddy told me, you're somewhat of an expert yourself.” I smiled, but that quickly turned into a blush when I caught Dr. Sanchez sneering again.

“I wish someone had told me this was going to be a kids' day camp.” I was happy when everyone ignored his comment.

“From what you've said, metals, wood, and ceramic could all be preserved in water given the perfect circumstances, but what about human remains?”

“Good question, Peggy. And the answer is — it all depends. Do you know what sailors used in the old days to preserve their food — meat in particular?”

“I think I read somewhere they used to use salt to keep meat from rotting.”

“Right, it was the most efficient preservative they had aboard ships back then. The downside was the high salt content of the meat often caused sailors to have scurvy and high blood pressure. But getting back to preserving of human remains — salt water combined with an environment void of oxygen and some nice protective silt create the perfect place to preserve just about anything. Problem is — conditions are rarely so ideal. For instance, there are many organisms in the water that feed off organic matter. Dr. Sanchez can tell you more about that — his expertise is worms!” So that explained why the guy was so creepy.

“Worms! Nasty!” I said. Dr. Sanchez rolled his eyes. Captain Hunter grinned.

“It truly is fascinating stuff — go ahead, Hernado — we'd all like to hear about those nasty little creatures you find so interesting.” More eye rolling and sighing.

“Yes, all right. My specialty is marine borers — poopilarly known as the sheep worm,” he said in his heavy accent.

“
Poopilar
sheep
worm?” I laughed. Probably shouldn't have.

“Not bah bah! I said
sheep
worm,” he barked impatiently.

“He means ‘ship worm,'” Amanda interpreted. “From your samples do you think ship worm is going to be a problem for us?”