Bone Deep (3 page)

I was starting to get sleepy and my eyes wanted to close, but I just couldn't go to sleep without at least reading the first few pages of Captain Whittaker's journal. His chicken-scratch handwriting was hard to decipher, but I soon got used to the style.

October 3rd, 1811

After loading the
Intrepid
with the last of her stores, we put out to sea today with a fair wind. Our cargo consists of such things as fine English cloths and Dutch blankets, looking glasses, tinware and copper pots, and razors and knives for trading with the natives. Also aboard are great quantities of ammunition, cutlasses, pistols, and muskets for the Russians. We have about twenty hogsheads of rum, including stores for the ship and some sugar and molasses as well.

Our journey will take us first to St. Catherine's Island, off the coast of Brazil, where we shall stop for a few days to wood, water, and take on fresh provisions. Once we have our supplies replenished it is my hope that we set sail immediately. If all goes well, the
Intrepid
should round Cape Horn before Christmas. The voyage will be warm and easy sailing through the Sandwich Islands, though rougher seas await us when we make our way north. Nevertheless, this gives me no discomfort as the
Intrepid
is a fine bark with three sails, six guns, and as spacious and solid a ship as any I ever captained in my career. As we travel north we will trade for otter furs. Once the ship is filled we set sail across the Pacific for the land of tea and china.

It was a tremendous honour to have Mister Astor himself attend our departure in New York harbour and with his usual flair he waved us off. I am most pleased to have Mister John Carver aboard again as my first mate. He's sure to be a fine captain himself one day. We have three French Canadians, hired by Mister Astor himself for their expertise in the fur trade. We also have a full complement of Brits and my own countrymen, whom I selected for their steely nerve and hearty dispositions.

There is one other soul aboard. He is one of Mister Astor's business partners — Mister Robert Lockhart is a Scotsman from Lower Canada. He will oversee the trading, while I am to be left without interference to captain the
Intrepid
. I have observed that the man has peculiar habits when relating to the crew and I must report that thus far his encounters are less than favourable. Yesterday when introducing himself he attempted to set his authority by threatening the men. He stated that any man found not to be fully loyal to the American Fur Company would be left on the first island, inhabited or not. In my long career I have found that the loyalty of a good seaman must be won by firm and fair leadership and not threats intended to frighten him into submission. Mister Lockhart must learn these are not schoolboys, but fierce sailors who have weathered the worst the sea has to offer. I shall endeavor to impart this wisdom in the coming weeks.

At 7 o'clock this evening, Mister Carver brought his report to my cabin and mentioned there was a peculiar ring around the moon — he said it was perhaps a sign of coming bad weather. I know many seamen who are slaves to superstition and think this may be a bad omen, but I have no such fears. While on my walkabout later the clouds had already rolled in and nary the moon nor the stars could be seen. We are prepared for rain in the morning and perhaps there will be a storm by noon. This is not what we desired for our second day at sea, but since the
Intrepid
is such a solid bark I am certain it can weather anything.

Captain James Whittaker

“So I've been thinking, Aunt Margaret,” I said at breakfast the next morning. “I'm sorry about the china and I want to make it up to you.” Mom beamed at me while Aunt Margaret's eyes narrowed — pretty much what I expected.

“This plan of yours — it's going to make up for a broken heirloom that's almost a hundred and fifty years old?” Aunt Margaret asked dryly.

That old, eh?
I could understand why she was peeved.

“Margie, let's just hear what she has in mind,” Mom said. I started out carefully.

“I'll bet keeping Aunt Beatrix entertained all day has been a pain — am I right?” Mom shot me a look about the same time as Aunt Margaret frowned. “Don't get me wrong
…
she's probably been a pain in a nice way.” My speech wasn't coming out like I had rehearsed in my mind. “Anyway, I was thinking you might like some time off, so how about I do stuff with her sometimes?”

“You'll do stuff with her? Like what?” Aunt Margaret asked doubtfully.

“You know, I could show her around Crescent Beach. I could tell her about the ancient Coast Salish who once lived here. We could visit Mr. Grimbal's store. Maybe I could show her how to tie sailor's knots and how to play Crazy Eights. It'll be fun.”

Mom and Aunt Margaret looked at each other and I could tell they were talking with their eyes the way sisters do when they know exactly what the other one is thinking. Then they both started to do that snort giggle thing that runs in the family. Why did I have the feeling that maybe I should have thought this through more? I knew Aunt Beatrix was bossy and opinionated, but just how bad could it be spending time with her?

“Good morning, everyone. What's all this joviality about?” Great Aunt Beatrix came through the kitchen doorway. She was wearing a huge nightgown that flowed around her like a floral tent and her thin white hair was wound up tight in pink curlers. I didn't think people used those things anymore.

“Peggy, don't you have school today?” she said when she finally took note of me.

“Nope, it's Saturday. Remember, Aunt Beatrix?” She sighed heavily at me. What was that about? She was the one who couldn't seem to keep the days of the week straight.

“Peggy, please don't say ‘nope.' You need to speak proper English during your formative years; otherwise you will develop poor grammar habits.” I bit my lip to hold in the groan. “And dear, don't you think you'd better put something else on?” She turned to Mom, whose cheeks had turned pink. “Really Elizabeth, you can't approve of this. She's worn that shirt two days in a row. And shouldn't she do something with her hair?” I felt my mussed-up hair, then looked down at my Canucks jersey. It had only a couple of dirty smudges, but otherwise was perfectly fine.

“Actually it's the fourth day that I've worn this shirt, Aunt Beatrix. And unless something drastic happens to it today, I'll probably wear it tomorrow too.” I watched her baggy eyelids widen. Aunt Margaret nervously brushed at the crumbs on the table and Mom quietly slipped out of her chair and took the dishes to the sink.

“Oh, I see. Well, in my day, children were expected to be clean and dressed appropriately. But …” She sighed. “… those days are gone. You youngsters go around with rings in your noses and eyebrows, and your arms marked up with tattoos, and wear the most atrocious things.” She looked at my jersey with her nose all wrinkled … like it smelled or something. That was the moment when I figured out what Mom and Aunt Margaret were laughing about earlier.

“Right, well, that's very interesting. But I'm off to the library.” I saw my mom's eyes widen. I bet she knew I was already working on how to get out of spending time with the old biddy. I needed to come up with a different plan to get those diving lessons. Just then Aunt Margaret opened her big mouth.

“By the way, Aunt Beatrix, you'll be pleased to know that Peggy is planning to spend some time with you this afternoon and on school days when she gets home. In fact, it was her idea. So now the two of you can get to know each other better. Won't that be nice?” The look in my Aunt Margaret's eyes told me I'd walked right into the quicksand and she had no plans to rescue me. I jumped out of my chair and headed quickly for the back door.

“Gotta go,” I said, and whipped out the door. On the way out I heard the last of their conversation.

“Well, that's wonderful. I'm very sure with daily guidance I can set Peggy on the right course — just as I did when you both were girls.”

Great!
While I thought I'd come up with the perfect plan for softening Mom up so I could get diving lessons, in actual fact I had become an improvement project for my great aunt.

I stayed out as long as I could. First, I stopped at the library to look for books on underwater archaeology. When the librarian couldn't find anything she offered me a book on some old guy named Jacques Cousteau. She said he was famous because he explored the oceans and was like the father of scuba diving. I figured it was worth a look. My next stop was TB's house to use his computer to locate the Reef Dive Shop and find out about lessons — it was the nearest dive shop to home, and the best part was they had beginner lessons starting almost every week.

When I finally got home Aunt Beatrix was sitting at the kitchen table wearing her coat with the fur collar and some crazy-ugly brown shoes. On her head was a dorky feather hat. She must have been hot, which would explain the serious scowl on her pinched face.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to come,” Aunt Beatrix said curtly. “I was led to believe we would be going out this afternoon. If I'd known you were going to return so late I would have gone with your mother and Margaret. You know it's very rude to keep people waiting.” She made an exaggerated effort to look at her watch. “I'm not even sure now if I have the energy for an outing anymore …” Brilliant, that suited me just fine. “… But I suppose I can muster the strength for a short excursion. Perhaps to that gift shop that sells antiques and aboriginal art. What's it called?”

“Real Treasures and Gifts,” I sighed.

“Yes, that's the place. Well, let's get going then.” She shooed me out the door like a little kid with muddy feet.

All the way to Beecher Street Aunt Beatrix nattered on at me like a cranky parrot. Mostly it was about the broken china. She reminded me it had been in the family for six generations and that one day it might be mine. “If there's anything left of it, that is,” she said. After a while she moved on to my dirty fingernails and torn sneakers. She'd just started giving me tips about the best way to make a good impression on my teachers when we finally arrived at Real Treasures and Gifts. I was trying to estimate how much trouble I'd get in if I just dumped her off on Mr. Grimbal and ran for it. He was just as crusty as Aunt Beatrix so they'd make a great pair.

“Hello ladies, come right in,” Mr. Grimbal said in his slick, used-car salesman voice. “And who is this charming lady with the elegant hat, Peggy?” Oh please, did he think that kind of goopy flattery actually worked? Then Aunt Beatrix giggled daintily. Hmmm, obviously he knew something I didn't.

“Good afternoon, sir. What an interesting shop you have. Now you must tell me about these objects — are they all made by First Nations?” I could tell Mr. Grimbal was already sizing up Aunt Beatrix's wallet and wondering if he should start with the expensive stuff.

“What a fascinating man Mr. Grimbal is,” Aunt Beatrix gushed as we walked back home. “Such a pity he doesn't have a wife to help him. He's just the kind of man I can relate to — educated, polite, and a successful businessman too. I do hope we'll come visit him again, Peggy.” Gross! It sounded like Aunt Beatrix had something in mind besides shopping for souvenirs at Mr. Grimbal's store.

All through dinner Aunt Beatrix chatted on happily about Mr. Grimbal, his store, and the ancient Coast Salish — she didn't even mention that I was late picking her up. I was actually impressed with how much she'd learned and remembered. And I could tell Mom and Aunt Margaret were pleased with her chipper mood. That meant serious brownie points for me.

“Aunt Beatrix seemed thrilled with her outing today, Peggy,” said Mom at bedtime. Maybe this was all going to work in my favour after all. When she was finished gushing her appreciation I'd bring up the topic of scuba diving lessons. “It might well be the highlight of her trip. And it was a big help to Aunt Margaret too, as she had some important errands to get done.”

“It was my pleasure,” I lied. Then with a soft tone and as little eye contact as possible I added, “Mom, ah, there's something I want to talk to you about.” Mom didn't have a lot of extra cash and we were always on a tight budget — one that I'm sure didn't include diving lessons. “TB was thinking since he lives right on one of the world's most beautiful coasts it would be a cool thing if he learned to scuba dive. His mom really likes the idea and thought if I took lessons with him it would give him more confidence — you know, because he's not as good a swimmer as I am. I told her that you probably couldn't afford it, but that I'd ask you anyways.”

I twisted the details of my story as though I was tying a back hitch knot. I knew Mom was proud and didn't like others to think she couldn't afford to give me all the same advantages in life that kids with two parents got. So in a way I was doing her a favour.

“I wish you wouldn't tell people that I can't afford things. It gives a wrong impression.” Then she gazed up to the ceiling like she was calculating something in her mind. After a few minutes of silence she looked at me. “How important is this to you, Peggy? It has to be something you want to do for yourself and not just because TB is taking scuba lessons.” I jumped up and down on the sofa excitedly and held out my arms wide.

“I really want to learn to scuba dive, Mom.” Then I settled myself back down on the sofa and put on my pious face again. “But not if we can't afford it.”
Nailed it.

“Well, I have been saving some money for a new computer, but I guess I can get along with the old one for a while longer. I don't mind as long as you're sure this is something you'd really benefit from.” I leapt off the sofa.

“It will be the best thing in the world,” I blurted. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Just don't forget that you promised you'd do things with your great aunt.”

“You bet — even if it kills me.”

The next morning I told TB all about my plan and the little lie I'd told. “So what about it, why don't you see if you can take diving lessons too?” He stared at me for a few moments with a blank look and then his face suddenly lit up.

“That's a brilliant idea. I always imagined myself a Jacques Cousteau kind of guy.”

“You know about him?”

“What, Cousteau? Well, duh. He's only like the father of scuba diving and underwater exploration.”

“Yup, good old Jack.”

“Jacques, you mean.”

“Right. So anyway, are you sure your mom will let you?”

“Peggy, one of the few benefits of having divorced parents is when one says no, you can almost always count on the other saying yes.”

“Great. I'm going to sign up after school at the Reef Dive Shop.”

“I thought you were doing something with your Great Aunt Beatrix today.” Shoot, I'd forgotten about that.

“Hey, TB. Help me out here. Phone my house and tell my aunt that you need me to come over so we can get started on that important school project that's due next Friday.”

“What important school project?” he said with panic in his eyes.

“There is no project dough-head. I just want you to say that so when I walk in the house and Aunt Beatrix gives me your message she won't think anything when I tell her I can't spend time with her today.”

“Sorry, Peggy. I don't like lying — especially to adults. From my experience I always get caught or end up making matters worse. You'll have to get out of this one on your own.” If he hadn't been my best friend I'd have given him a raspberry somewhere embarrassing.

When I got home, there she was — Queen Bee-atrix — in her hat and waiting to go out. “Peggy, you're slouching, stand up straight, dear.” I did everything to keep myself from groaning out loud. “So, where shall we wander today, dear? Mr. Grimbal suggested we take a stroll through Heron Park and have a look at the stone carvings — petroglyphs, I think he called them. It sounds delightfully primitive.” I sighed dramatically. “What? Doesn't that sound like a good plan to you?”

“Oh, it's not that, Aunt Beatrix. I definitely want to go see the petroglyphs with you. I'm just trying to figure out how I can do that and get my assignment done for school.”

“Assignment for school?”

“Yah, my friend TB and I have to make a diorama by tomorrow of Captain Vancouver's voyage along the Pacific Coast.” There it was again, the perfect lie rolling effortlessly off my tongue. “Oh well, never mind, I'll just call TB and tell him I can't do it …”

“You'll do no such thing. Getting homework assignments completed is absolutely paramount, Peggy. If there is anything I can teach you, it's to take your work seriously and live up to your commitments. Now you get to it right now, do you hear young lady?” I nodded as though I was completely disappointed and about to object.

It didn't take me long to scoot out the door, hop on my bike, and make my way towards the dive shop. I had mom sign the permission sheet that morning and write out a cheque to pay for the lessons. I pedalled as fast I could up the steep hill towards Ocean Park. I was hot when I got there but the moment I walked inside the dive shop I got goose bumps. Dangling from hooks were wet suits, masks, snorkels, and other gear. There was a guy there trying on flippers too.