Abaco Gold

by Patrick Mansell

  One by one, Max, Gaffer and Jenny broke through the surface. Skeeter tossed his fins into the boat and climbed onto the dive ladder. He called over to Max, “P.J. is not with the group. Matthew saw him go by here a while ago. Can you float at the surface for five minutes while I go get him?”

  “I’ll go with you.” Max called back.

  “Just stay here with Jenny and Gaffer. I’ll be back right away.” With that Matthew turned the boat to the direction from which he had seen P.J.’s bubbles and throttled up to fifteen miles per hour. In thirty seconds he came upon the bubbles again. Skeet quickly put his fins back on and was in the water in no time. There below him was P.J., still swimming to the north only now he was in ninety feet of water. Skeet made a rapid descent to the sea bed and grabbed hold of P.J.’s fin. Startled, P.J. turned abruptly to see that he was face-to-face with Skeeter. He relaxed and paid attention to what Skeeter was showing him. For one thing, P.J. had now been in the water for fifty five minutes. He was ninety feet below the surface and when Skeeter lifted his pressure gauge to show it to him, P.J. saw that he had only 200 pounds of air remaining.

  It was a very good thing that it was Skeeter Pincus and not somebody else who came to retrieve P.J. Somebody else might not have been able to find him. Somebody else might be an air hog and not have enough air left to make the ascent to the surface. P.J., by extending his dive duration and depth, had placed himself in a higher dive category meaning his body, under the increased pressure for that duration, had released more nitrogen than the original dive profile had anticipated. Now he would have to out-gas for much longer than the three minutes they had originally planned. But P.J. did not have enough air to stay any longer. If he was to make it to the surface with his own air supply he would have to leave the bottom now.

  Skeeter took a few seconds to make P.J. understand that they would not go directly to the surface. At thirty feet they would level off and out gas for twenty minutes. At the end of that time they would ascend to a depth of ten feet and remain there for ten minutes before continuing on to the surface. Skeeter made this clear through commonly understood hand signals. He showed P.J. his air pressure gauge which indicated that he had 1,100 pounds of air remaining.

  P.J. and Skeeter kicked gently to toward the surface. To be completely safe Skeeter maintained a conservative ascent rate of two seconds per foot. Two minutes later they arrived at the thirty foot stop. Skeeter looked at P.J.’s pressure gauge to find it was indicating close to zero. By hand signals he indicated to P.J. to stay right where he was, not to move, and he would be right back. P.J. nodded his understanding. What Skeeter was to do next would not be easy, but he had done it before many times. He opened the clip on the strap which was holding his buoyancy compensator and tank. He slipped out of the arm holds and handed the entire assembly to P.J. He kept the regulator in his mouth and handed P.J. his secondary octopus mouthpiece. As P.J. was now out of air in his own tank, he grabbed the octopus and hungrily placed it in his mouth. Skeeter was treading water thirty feet below the surface with a twelve pound weight belt around his waste. He released the clip holding the weight belt and allowed it to drop to the ocean floor. Now he was buoyant and ready to make a free ascent to the surface.

  One more time Skeeter indicated to P.J. to stay right where he was. Using the OK sign, P.J. acknowledged that he understood. Skeeter checked the time on his dive watch, took a deep drag of air and took the regulator from his mouth. He leaned back and calmly began to float to the surface, slowly releasing air bubbles all the way up. When he broke through the surface he swam quickly to Bimini Twist. He climbed up the ladder and called to Matthew, “I need a scuba rig right away. Help me put one together.”

  Matthew quickly grabbed a tank and buoyancy compensator and handed it to his father. By the time Skeeter strapped the tank to the B.C., Matthew was ready with the regulator. “Is there another weight belt around here?” asked Skeeter.

  Before Skeeter could attach the regulator to the tank and turn on the air, Matthew had reached into to rear starboard storage compartment and retrieved three five pound deep dropping leads. While Skeeter donned the scuba gear Matthew placed the leads into the pockets of the buoyancy compensator.

  “Son, P.J. is taking a safety stop. He blew out his dive profile and needs nearly thirty minutes to out-gas. I’m going to stay with him. You go pick up the other divers and be sure to tell Max that everything is OK with his son. We’ll be back up as soon as possible. Tell everybody to change tanks over. We’ll take a surface interval and grab some lunch on our boat. Gotta go. See you in a few minutes.” With that Skeeter jumped backward and headed straight down to join P.J.

  By the time Skeeter made it back down to the thirty foot level, five minutes had passed. He found P.J. relaxed and easily maintaining the proper depth. P.J. gave the OK signal indicating that he had no problems. Skeeter opened the belt holding P.J.’s tank and helped him struggle out of it. He blew air into the manual inflator of the buoyancy compensator until it was full, released the entire rig and allowed it to float to the surface. Then he helped P.J. to don the gear he was holding. By the time this changeover was complete there was only five minutes left on this safety stop. P.J. and Skeet gave each other the OK sign and relaxed. There was nothing to do but wait.

  At the surface Matthew was picking up the other divers and helping them with their tank changes. He explained to Max what had happened with P.J. This allowed Max to relax. “They’re going to be down there for a little while longer and I’m sure P.J. is OK,” said Matthew. “How about I take you over to Conchy Lady and come back and pick up my father and P.J.?”

  “Sounds good,” said Jenny. “We can do the changeover and get lunch ready. Let’s go.”

  Matthew deposited the divers onto Conchy Lady. By the time everyone crossed over and Bimini Twist returned to the pick up site, Skeeter and P.J. were bobbing at the surface ready to climb aboard. Even as they treaded water Skeeter was sternly enumerating for P.J. all the things he had done wrong on that dive. “Messing up like that, not following instructions, swimming off by yourself, that’s how people get hurt. Sometimes that’s how people get dead. Do you have any idea what dive group you’re in after that dive?”

  P.J. did not have an answer. He had completely forgotten everything he had ever learned about diving, spaced out the dive tables, nearly run out of air and jeopardized everybody’s safety. All he could do was to apologize and hang his head in shame. Skeeter allowed P.J. to climb aboard the boat first and then followed him up the ladder.

  “I released P.J.’s B.C. and tank a little while ago,” Skeeter said to Matthew. “Did you see it float to the surface?”

  “I already picked it up,” said Matthew.

  “Let’s go,” said Skeeter as he and P.J. shed their scuba equipment. Skeeter would not talk to P.J. He was steamed. P.J. moved slowly toward the bow to get out of the angry Skeeter’s sight.

  By the time Bimini Twist returned to Conchy Lady, Godfrey had lunch spread out for the divers and all the tanks for the second dive had been readied. As soon as P.J. crossed over to Conchy Lady his father laid into him, “What did you think you were doing? Don’t you have a brain? Do you know you could have been killed leaving the group like that? What were you thinking?” Max voice was loud and angry. Nobody was trying to stop him either.

  P.J. was embarrassed and hurt. He had to hear it first from Skeeter and then from his father. What he had done was absurdly dangerous. He waited for the noise of the lecture to calm down and went over to where Matthew was sitting on a deck chair eating a sandwich. “Matthew, where did you put my BC?”

  Matthew stopped chewing long enough to answer, “I put it on a fresh tank. It’s right there,” he said pointing to a spot in the bow along the starboard gunwale.

  P.J. walked forward and retrieved his scuba outfit and dragged it back to where Max was engrossed in conversation with Jenny and Godfrey. He stood in front of them saying nothing, just standing there until Max asked him what he wanted. />
  “I just wanted to show you what I found and why I got separated from the group. When I found this thing I thought it looked interesting and I got caught up in it and forgot about the dive.” He reached into the pocket of the BC and pulled out a coral encrusted object. It was not a normal shape. It was exactly what Jenny had told the group to look for, something out of the ordinary. The coral was discolored with what appeared to be a brown stain and it was in the shape of a perfect semi circle. It appeared that the rusty metal end of something was protruding from the coral. Jenny’s eyes widened as she took the object from P.J.’s hand.

  Eleven

  P.J. and the Pirates

  Godfrey Frey replaced P.J. in the line of divers searching the bottom. There was a feeling of elation around the group for having found something interesting on the first dive. But there were dark attitudes about P.J. for having placed himself in such danger. It was better all around to leave him topside and let those who were so angry at him go for another dive.

  The second attempt was fruitless in the search for artifacts. Most of the divers stayed down a full forty minutes before giving up and heading to the surface. The one successful aspect of the dive was that everybody stayed in a straight line abreast and the dive was safely executed. The exertion of the second dive also had the effect of tiring the divers so that by the end of the dive, they had lost the energy to stay mad at P.J. Skeeter noticed that most of the members of the group had not dived in a while and were not in top shape for multiple dives. He decided that a few of the group members should be allowed to make two dives, only he and Gaffer would be allowed to make three dives, and nobody would make four dives on this day. Safety first was his motto for scuba diving. To err on the side of caution and conservatism would be OK. To err and get somebody hurt would be unforgivable. By the time the tanks were stored, the group was tired and happy. Jenny was anxious to get to shore and learn what she could from the coral encrusted artifact.

  Gaffer and Matthew, on board Bimini Twist, followed Conchy Lady to Great Guana Cay. There was an hour of cleaning the boats, securing gear and showers before the group was ready to enjoy Susan’s special feast of queen snapper and conch fritters. Jenny’s initial observation of P.J.’s find was that it was possibly a part of the hardware connecting a barrel stave from a period several hundred years earlier, a very encouraging find.

  At the dinner table Max wanted to take another step toward getting organized further. “This group is way too big to descend upon this household for the duration of this search. I suggest that after tonight we set up operations back at Boat Harbour and make day trips to the site. We can’t expect to set this household in a spin by being here day and night. It’s too much responsibility and too much work.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” replied Susan. “I enjoy helping and having all the company. It’s kind of thrilling to be at the center of all this activity.”

  “How about compromising with me,” suggested Max. “It would be helpful perhaps for Jenny to stay here. She could get more work done on any artifacts we find and her commute to the search area would be more manageable. I’ll shuttle back and forth from the marina, ferrying passengers and supplies.”

  “I want to stay here, Dad,” said Gaffer. “I can do a lot to help from right here. You and P.J. and Godfrey can commute. I’ll help keep Conchy Lady ready for action. It’ll take some of the burden off Skeeter and his family.”

  “What about that?” asked Max.

  Skeeter replied right away, “We’d very much like to have Gaffer stay with us. He can be a big help and his company is always welcome. Instead of going all the way back to Boat Harbour, why don’t you check into a room at Orchid Bay Marina. It’s walking distance from here and it has gas and everything else you need.”

  “I’ll call them after dinner and see if they have a room and a slip. If they do, then I’ll check out of Boat Harbour in the morning. That makes a lot of sense. If we can do that, we’ll all get more rest and we’ll be able to work more effectively.” Then to Jenny he said, “Tell us about what we found today.”

  “I placed the encrustation in a bucket of water outside after I finished examining it. I don’t want it exposed to the air until I’m ready to restore it chemically. It’ll oxidize and disintegrate if it stays out. Think about it, if this is what we’re looking for, this will be our first artifact. We’ll put it in a special place in the museum along side the two coins and make a big deal about it.”

  Those words made P.J. feel a lot better. He had still not recovered from the embarrassment of leaving the dive team and getting chewed out in front of everybody. This changed the tone and cheered him up.

  Jenny continued, “The metal has the right curvature and drill holes to place it in the seventeenth century. By itself that’s not conclusive but I can send it back to U of M. They’ll confirm it in no time at all.”

  The dinner concluded and Gaffer and Skeeter moved over to where the Pincus family albums were kept. Page after page, book after book, Skeeter had caught every species of fish known to visit the Bahamas. His prize was a 2,400 pound six gill shark, a world record. Gaffer was interested to know that Skeeter’s next favorite catch was a thirty three pound tuna he had caught on four pound test tackle with an eight pound monofilament leader. Small tuna were not usually something to brag about, but this one had been a strong fighter and taken over an hour to get to the boat. Some catches are just more memorable and enjoyable than others. The rest of the evening Gaffer spent looking at the 500 pound marlins and 900 pound tunas. It was a walk down memory lane that Skeeter enjoyed showing and Gaffer enjoyed taking. His respect for this great fisherman grew with every turn of the pages.

  The divers were exhausted from a long and exciting day under water. Susan was wiped out from all the cooking and cleaning. By 10:00 PM there was not a soul still awake in the house. People were bunked all over the place, giving further support to Max’s conclusion that part of the operation needed to move away from the Pincus house.

  Six o’clock seemed to come early, but the group awoke to the smell of fresh coffee brewing and bacon frying in the pan. With Susan tinkering in the kitchen and Gaffer and Matthew stumbling around the house, it wasn’t long before the entire group was awake and taking turns using the bathroom. By 7:30 the crews were on their boats and ready for another day of diving and searching. Within another hour the first group of divers, including P.J. this time, were suited up and ready to dive. Gaffer stayed topside with his father. It was scheduled to be a three tank day for each of the divers. This would mean four dive groups altogether would perform search patterns, a long day of maximum diving, so each diver would sit out one out of every three dives and by the end of the day, would no doubt be spent. Half hour bottom times on seventy and eighty foot dives with at least one hour surface intervals between dives would keep the dive profiles in the safe range. Skeeter insisted on this because everyone, with the exception of himself, was a sport diver and could be in great danger of decompression sickness if these strict bottom times were not observed.

  Another problem was that between the two boats there were only twelve tanks. That meant that while the third dive group was on its search, P.J. and Matthew would have to run the empty tanks back for refills at the air compressor at the Pincus house, and then run them back to the awaiting search party for the fourth dive. It promised to be a long and tiring day for everyone, but hopefully it would be productive.

  The steel gray, forty foot Magnum muscle boat picked up Bimini Twist’s trail the minute it entered Abaco Sea. P.J. did not think much of it until he looked back and saw that it had taken up a course right in Bimini Twist’s wake. It followed every move P.J. made, all the way to the Pincus house. As P.J. idled into the turning basin, the Magnum idled in behind him, making no effort to hide what they were doing. Matthew climbed up onto the dock and P.J. began handing up the scuba tanks to be filled. The Magnum pulled along side and its three occupants sat there observing. The driver and one of his passengers
were tough looking, scruffy, tattooed and shirtless. The third occupant was much cleaner looking, wearing expensive jewelry and clean polo shirt and baseball cap.

  “Can I help you?” P.J. asked. “Do you want something?”

  It was the clean guy who spoke. “How’s the search going. I heard you guys were treasure hunting out there. Did you find it yet?”

  P.J. was startled that an outsider knew of the operation, but he chose to play dumb. “I don’t know what treasure you’re talking about. We’ve been out lobstering all morning, if it’s any of your business.”

  The gentleman was unperturbed. “Excellent, how many did you get? I’d like to buy a dozen or so tails if you’re selling. Let me see your catch.”

  P.J. was stumped. He did not know the right thing to say so he just said the wrong thing. “We’re not selling, so why don’t you just turn around and get out of here.”

  Now the gentleman sneered at P.J. and answered calmly, “That’s exactly what I thought.” He spoke under his breath to the Magnum’s driver who, in turn, sneered at P.J. He started the powerful engines on the race boat and executed a 180 degree turn. In a moment he hit the throttles and blasted out of the turning basin.

  P.J. turned to Matthew, “Well, ” he said, “it looks like the pirates have arrived.”

  “What are we going to do?” Matthew asked in a frightened, timid voice. “They looked kind of scary.”

  “The first thing we’re going to do is call your dad and my dad and tell them what just happened. Then we’re going to fill the tanks and return to the search area. There’s nothing to hide anymore.”

  P.J. picked up the VHF handset and dialed in channel sixty eight. “Conchy Lady, this is Bimini Twist. Over. Come in Conchy Lady.”

  Ten seconds later Gaffer’s voice came over the radio, “Yo, P.J. What’s up?”

  “Tell Dad and Skeeter that we just had a visit from someone who wanted to know all about the search and they didn’t look too friendly. Over.”