Spirits of the Pirate House (17 page)

“Really, really cool,” agreed T.J. “It was
worth all the lessons.”

“Any sunken treasure, dudes?” asked Mike
eagerly.

“Nada,” answered Bortnicker, accepting a
bottled water from LouAnne, “but we saw a few cannon-”

“And we can tell the front of the ship from
the back. It’s not all that big, really. But the scenery down
there’s incredible,” added T.J. He turned to his cousin. “Got any
good footage?”

“Won’t know till we look at it later,” she
said, “but it was cool when you guys pointed stuff out and got all
worked up.”

“Didja see the barracuda swimming around us?”
asked T.J. as he shucked his BCD vest.

“Yeah, and about a million other fish,” she
answered. “Very photogenic.”

By this time, Goodwin had removed all of his
gear and had downed a couple bottles of water. “Great dive, boys,”
he said, wiping his mouth. “You’ve obviously been trained well.
Now, have a sandwich and relax a little, and I’ll speak to you
before our second dive.”

Ronnie broke out some turkey and ham
sandwiches and potato chips, and the teens sat together eating
while Mike asked Goodwin about the boat; he was thinking of buying
one back in LA. Then they stretched out on the forward deck, and
the
Junior Gonzo Ghost Chasers
removed their black tee
shirts to get some sun.

T.J. and Bortnicker were semi-dozing, the
boat’s gentle rocking almost lulling them to sleep, when Goodwin
called everyone together on the stern where he’d laid out an odd
assemblage of equipment.

“All right, boys,” he said with mild
excitement, “here’s what I have in mind. Before you are some tools
you might find interesting. First, these wand-like thingies are
handheld metal detectors. Wave them over anything you think looks
promising, and we’ll see if you’re lucky. There will be an audible
beep if you pass over metal, I assure you. Then, we have a simple
ping-pong paddle which you can use to fan the sand away once you
get a hit. We use these to avoid breaking any delicate items which
might lie beneath. And, of course, we have for each of you a mesh
‘goody bag’ in which you can secure any small items.”

“What do we use to dig with?” asked
Bortnicker.

“Your hands, naturally,” answered
Goodwin.

“Gotcha.”

“Now, if there’s something that’s confusing
you, or the wand goes haywire, wave me over,” said Jasper. “If not,
I’ll just putter around and pick up some lobsters for my dinner
tonight. I think I found some rather promising hidey holes on our
first dive.”

“Can we suit up?” asked T.J.

“Let’s have at it.”

The boys and LouAnne donned their
still-clammy black tee shirts and geared up again, this time with
less trepidation. As before, Goodwin went over the side first. “One
treasure chest, coming up!” said Bortnicker with a wink at Ronnie,
and then they were again falling to the wreck.

T.J. stuck the ping pong paddle inside his
BCD and started wanding. He was excited to get a couple hits, but
just as deflated when his waving/digging turned up ancient handmade
nails and nothing more. Bortnicker was having as little luck as his
friend, finding only broken glass and pottery shards.

But then, almost 30 minutes into the dive,
T.J. got a clear
ping
as he passed the wand over a small
bump in the sand. He quickly took the paddle and began fanning the
mound, carefully scraping with the other hand. Gradually, a
circular outline came into focus, then a hard edge of something at
least a good foot across. He motioned Bortnicker over and
pantomimed an eating motion. Had he found a pewter plate, perhaps?
He glanced above to where LouAnne was looking down and realized
that she was on it, whatever it was.

Gently, T.J. started scooping handfuls of
sand from the center of the circle as Bortnicker pulled sand from
around the outside of the edge. T.J.’s hand went deeper. This was
no dinner plate. Realizing that time was now running out on their
second dive, he frantically gave Goodwin, who was back on the
bottom after bringing up a few spiny lobsters, the “come here”
signal. The Divemaster swam hard to the boys, his flippers
fluttering. When he reached them he stopped cold, and T.J. could
see his eyes widen in amazement.

Now all three of them scooped for all they
were worth, their excitement building with every palm full of
sand.

It was an inverted bell, encrusted with
various types of coral and other growths, and a few shells attached
to boot. Goodwin stopped and shook his head slowly, still not
completely accepting what he was seeing. Then, he gave the boys a
signal to wait a minute and kicked hard for the surface. They
continued excavating until they felt him re-enter the water,
dragging with him a metal basket attached to a rope. Once on the
bottom, the three divers managed to rock the bell enough that it
broke free from the sands which had covered it for centuries.
Goodwin tipped the basket, and the boys managed to push/roll the
bell inside. Making sure it was securely in place, he gave the rope
a couple yanks and motioned the boys to move back.

Almost immediately the rope went taut, and
the basket began a slow climb to the surface. Goodwin, after
exchanging slow motion high fives with the teens, tapped his watch
and then gave the signal to ascend.

“Are you kidding me, dude?” yelled Mike as
they broke the water. He was helping Skeeter, who’d used a winch to
retrieve the basket, to ease the bell down onto the deck. Ronnie
was jumping up and down excitedly, and LouAnne was paddling hard
back to the boat.

“I got it all on film!” she cried
triumphantly. “The whole thing!”

The divers quickly shed their equipment, then
sat around the basket in awe. “This is ... quite extraordinary,”
said Goodwin finally.

“Ya
think
?” answered LouAnne.

“The ship’s bell,” Weinstein marveled. “What
are the odds?”

“Astronomical,” said Jasper. “I simply cannot
believe we found this. Boys, I’m ... flabbergasted.”

“Are there any markings?” asked Ronnie,
hosing some sand off the bell’s outer surface.

“Well, there’s moderate encrustation,”
answered her father, “which is to be expected. But if we can chip
some of this lighter stuff away, I think we can get to the brass
fairly easily. This must’ve spent a lot of time totally
buried.”

Skeeter, who had momentarily disappeared,
suddenly produced a hammer and chisel-like instrument.

“Oh, I don’t know about this,” said Goodwin
doubtfully. “Wouldn’t want to cause any damage. I’m a diver, hardly
an archaeologist—”

“Oh Daddy,
please
!” exhorted Ronnie.
“You’re not going to leave the discovery to someone else, are
you?”

The captain looked at all the hopeful faces,
frowned, then sighed. “It appears I’m outnumbered,” he observed
with a slight grin. “Miss Darcy, you might want to grab that camera
again. Skeeter, hand me those things and let’s have a go. But I
warn you now, if it doesn’t work fairly easily I’m going to stop
before I ruin the surface. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” the team said in unison.

“Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Goodwin,” piped
LouAnne, clicking on RECORD.

And so, very gingerly, Jasper Goodwin began
chipping away at the bottom third of the bell. At first, only the
tiniest bits of coral flaked off, but he gradually became bolder,
and after one particularly solid tap, a chunk of matter dropped
off. “Oops,” he said quietly.

“Keep going, Daddy! I see something!” urged
Ronnie.

Another tap; another flying piece of crust.
Then another.

“Stop!” cried T.J. suddenly. “Look!”

There, inside a band which most certainly
circled the base of the bell, were etched the letters DFA. All of
them were breathing heavily now.

“One more letter,” said Goodwin, and gave the
chisel another rap. Winking in the Bermuda sunlight were the
letters ST. They’d found the
Steadfast
.

“Incredible,” said Goodwin, by now drenched
in sweat, as the others danced around in glee. Weinstein was so
overcome he roared a loud “Woohoo!” and cannonballed off the
Reef Seeker II
into the crystal blue water.

T.J. stood, frozen in amazement, until his
cousin put down the camcorder and gave him a bear hug. “Proud of
you,” she whispered amid the joyous din.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, unable to hug her
back.

After a few minutes of whooping and
hollering, Jasper Goodwin assembled his crew, including a dripping
Mike Weinstein, on the stern. “Right,” he said evenly. “It appears
we’ve surpassed our wildest expectations here, and that’s all well
and good. The question is, what next?”

“What do you mean?” asked Mike, toweling
off.

“Well, the fact of the matter is that you’ve
only just begun your investigation,” he answered, picking a snail
shell off the bell. “You still have to visit Hibiscus House, and I
reckon another dive this week is in order, now that we know it’s
actually the
Steadfast
. If we go ahead and announce our
find, it will be front page news on this island, and none of us
will have a moment’s peace.”

“So we keep it quiet?” asked Bortnicker.

“For the time being. It will give me some
time to really work on the bell and for you to continue your
activities. Agreed?”

“Mum’s the word,” said Skeeter, the first
thing he’d uttered all day. The group burst into laughter.

“So we’re agreed,” said Jasper. “Good. But
though we’re keeping this amongst us, I think a celebration is in
order, don’t you? I fetched us a few good-sized lobsters while you
archaeologists were at work, and I wouldn’t be averse to cooking
them up for a proper feast. Your thoughts?”

“Sounds great,” said T.J.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” added
LouAnne.

“No trouble at all. Veronique, ring up your
mum on the cell and tell her to meet us at the Blue Lagoon in an
hour or so with all we’ll need to whip up a serious lobster
boil.”

“I’ll call T.J.’s dad and tell him to take
the scooter over and join us after I call Chappy to pick us up
later than planned,” said Weinstein. “Jasper, should I tell Tom to
bring anything?”

“I should think a couple bottles of champagne
would be appropriate,” he replied with a broad smile.

Chapter
Sixteen

It took a while to
dock the
Reef Seeker II
and wash her down, but everyone was
on such a high that nobody cared. By the time T.J. and the other
divers had rinsed off in the Blue Lagoon’s outdoor shower stall and
thrown on a change of clothes, Jasper Goodwin and his wife had
transformed the back patio into a waterfront café, complete with
umbrellaed picnic table and chairs.

Upon meeting Claudette Goodwin, T.J. and
Bortnicker immediately determined how Ronnie had gotten her looks.
She had the same stunning eyes and smooth skin and seemed to glide
as she walked. “I’m thinking Halle Berry,” whispered Bortnicker as
T.J. stepped into his flip-flops.

“With a little Beyoncé thrown in,” T.J.
quipped.

But whereas Ronnie was demonstrative and
outgoing, Claudette was more like her husband—all Bermudian
politeness and reserve. “So pleased to meet you,” she said with a
feminine handshake. “Veronique has told me so much about you. I
hope you’re enjoying your stay.”

“It’s been great so far,” answered
Bortnicker.

“And you must be LouAnne,” said the woman,
taking her hand warmly. “You’re as beautiful as my daughter
described you.”

“Thanks,” LouAnne said, coloring. “I still
feel kind of sticky and salty—”

“Nonsense. You look just fine. Would you like
to help Veronique and I prepare the cassava pie?”

“Actually, Mrs. Goodwin,” said Bortnicker,
stepping forward, “that’s kind of my specialty. I’d be glad to
pitch in!”

“Well, fine then,” she smiled. Claudette put
her arm in his and led him to a corner of the patio where her
husband had set up a grill, which Ronnie was lighting.

“I think he’s in heaven,” said T.J. to his
cousin.

“Oh yeah,” agreed LouAnne. “They’ve got him
surrounded.”

T.J. looked around uncertainly. “Want to go
for a walk?” he offered.

“I’d like that,” she smiled. “Get my land
legs back.” They wandered off just as Tom Sr. pulled in on his
moped.

“So what happened?” he asked Jasper while
handing the champagne bottles off to Mike.

“The boys actually found the
Steadfast
’s bell. Come look.” He led Tom Sr. to a back room
where the bell sat submerged in a tub of saltwater. The telltale
letters were even more visible now, as Jasper had been chipping
away at more of the encrustation.

“Wow,” said Tom Sr. “Things like this don’t
normally happen, right?”

Goodwin shook his head. “Mr. Jackson, things
like this
never
happen. Not to amateur divers, anyway. It
was like a magnet drew them to the bell. Rather spooky,
actually.”

“What now?”

“Well, we’ve agreed to, you might say, ‘sit
on it’ for a bit while the kids conduct their investigations of the
house. But I have strongly suggested another dive day on Thursday
to see what else we might find.”

“Such as?”

“Well,” said Goodwin, “Sir William was, after
all, a pirate. There could be some valuable items under that sand,
or there could be nothing. I just want the kids to have the
opportunity to find it first because, quite frankly, secrets don’t
last long on an island as small as Bermuda. If we could keep the
news of our find quiet for just another week, I’d be pleased—and
amazed.”

“Understood.” Tom Sr. reached into the tub
and felt the outer shell of encrustation on the bell. “The kids
must be sky-high over this,” he marveled.

“Oh, yes. And no matter what happens from
here on, when word of this discovery gets out the boys will be
instant celebrities.”