Abaco Gold

by Patrick Mansell

  Scowling, the driver blurted out an obscene expletive and shifted into reverse. At idle RPMs the engines did not shake, but without the driver’s knowledge, the propeller was working its way down the shaft. “That’s a little better,” he said to his companion. “So the gears are probably OK”. He added a little power to the throttles to see if the engines could take it. The propellers might have stayed on as long as the engines were in forward and the motion was a pushing one. But in reverse, the motion was a pulling one which meant that every turn brought the propellers further down the shaft. The instant the RPMs were raised, all three propellers pulled themselves off the shafts and began to sink freely to the ocean floor. The shaking stopped as did the motion of the boat. The driver cursed some more and shut down the engines. Again he tilted the lower units forward and returned to the stern. This time he would not have to know anything about engine mechanics to see what his problem was. Even his dim-witted companion saw right away what had happened. They were hopelessly stranded. They had drifted into 300 feet of water and did not have enough anchor line to reach bottom. The were at the mercy of the wind and currents.

  On board the barge everyone heard the Mayday signal come across the radio. Skeeter chuckled reservedly while the others roared with laughter. They had no interest in helping out this boat and knew that the situation was not life threatening. A sport fishing boat answered the Mayday call to see what the extent of the emergency was, but upon hearing that it was merely a mechanical problem, they signed off the air and changed channels. No one else answered the call.

  Less than an hour later Bimini Twist returned to meet up with the barge. As the boat pulled along side the barge, P.J. called over to his father, “We heard a Mayday. What’s that about?”

  By now the Magnum had drifted a half mile to the south and was approaching the craggy beach on the north side of Man-O-Way Cay. Still no life threatening concerns, but the cries of the driver and his companion were becoming annoying and most of the boats in the area had changed to other channels or turned their radios off.

  “The Magnum is adrift and it can’t get anybody to come rescue it. It’s not a serious emergency, so they’re being ignored.”

  “Can I go have some fun with them?” asked P.J.

  “My best advice would be to leave them alone,” answered his father.

  “Is that a no?” asked P.J.

  “Not really,” answered his father.

  “Wait,” exclaimed Gaffer. “I want in on this, too.”

  Matthew eased Bimini Twist over to the barge so Gaffer could climb aboard. The three youths were ready for some mischief. Gaffer took over the helm and sped away from the barge at full speed. Within five minutes they were idling up to the stranded Magnum. The driver and his companion were waiving their arms, indicating they were in need of assistance. Gaffer eased closer.

  In his cockiest tone P.J. called over, “Wassup?”

  “We’re stranded and no one will come to help us.” The driver was straining to appear like a nice guy. It was very out of character for him.

  “Are you the one who called in the Mayday?”

  “Yes, it’s a Mayday,” responded the driver. “We’re stuck. Can you give us a tow?”

  Gaffer, ever the consummate authority on navigation and rules of the road interjected, “It’s not a Mayday if there is no threat to the safety of the passengers or if there in no threat of damage or sinking the boat. You’re just broken down, it’s not a Mayday.”

  The driver of the Magnum was beginning to lose patience. He had a very short temper to begin with and he did not need this kid correcting him.

  “OK,” he said impatiently. “It’s not a Mayday. I’m just broken down. Can you give me a tow?”

  P.J. stepped forward. “Where to?” he asked. The attitude in his voice left the impression that he knew he was very much at an advantage.

  In an uncharacteristically obliging tone the driver responded, “Can you get us to Marsh Harbour?”

  P.J. raised his eyebrows. “Marsh Harbour. Hold on.” He turned to Gaffer, “Look in the GPS and find the distance to Marsh Harbour.”

  Gaffer punched a few of the buttons on the GPS until Marsh Harbour appeared. Distance, twenty-one miles. P.J. grinned and returned to the side of the boat from which he had been talking to the driver. “Do you know how far that is?” he asked.

  “Ten miles or so,” the driver replied. “It won’t take an hour. Hey, man, I’ll pay you.”

  “Twenty-one miles,” P.J. responded emphatically. “Twenty-one miles. It’ll take two hours to get you there and then back here. And it’ll take thirty gallons of fuel.”

  “I’ll pay for the fuel,” replied the driver, now showing his annoyance. “And I’ll pay you for your time. How much do you want?”

  P.J. was calm as can be when he answered. “Two thousand dollars.”

  The driver screamed and cursed a stream of expletives that would make a truck driver blush. P.J. stood there with his arms crossed, listening patiently to the man going ballistic over his offer. After a two minute tirade P.J. calmly leaned over toward the Magnum and replied, “Hey, and what’s with all the swearing? Better make that 2,500. You want to go for 3,000?”

  The companion on board the Magnum grabbed the drivers arm and shook him. P.J. could not hear what they were saying, but from the body language he could tell that the companion was trying to get the driver to calm down. After a minute of the two men arguing with each other, the companion finally called over to P.J., “OK, man. Is the offer for $2,000 still on the table?”

  “Are you going to be nice to me?” chided P.J. “No more Mr. Tough Guy. Just nice and respectful?”

  The driver was steamed, practically apoplectic trying to hold back his temper. The companion moved in front of him to get him out of P.J.’s view. “Yes, nothing but respect. No more mouthing off. I promise.”

  “OK then,” replied P.J. “Well take the $2,000 and give you a tow back to Marsh Harbour. Hold on, I’ll get a tow rope.” He indicated to Gaffer to move a little closer to the Magnum, but not close enough so that one of the men could jump across. Gaffer eased to within ten feet of the other boat.

  P.J. held the tow rope up for the men to see. “OK, here’s the tow rope. We’re ready to toss it over. Now let’s see the $2,000.”

  The companion looked puzzled. He leaned over to the driver and they passed a few words. He looked back up and replied, “We don’t have it on us now. We’ll get it when we get to Marsh Harbour. Promise,” he smiled. “We have it back at our place. We wouldn’t rip you off, man.”

  P.J. did not reply. He merely smiled and without a word he moved Gaffer away from the helm. He then placed the throttles into gear and idled away from the stranded boat. He made certain to move slowly, very slowly, making just the least progress so that the two men could watch their opportunity for a rescue slip agonizingly slowly away. When Bimini Twist was forty feet from the Magnum the men started calling for them to come back. As it continued to move away, the men’s shouts became more frantic. By the time they were 150 feet away, all P.J. could hear was threats and swearing.

  Then something came over him, as often did in confrontational situations such as this. When he was 100 yards away, he throttled up to thirty-five knots and turned back toward the stranded vessel. Gaffer and Matthew were a little apprehensive, but at the same time they were laughing and joking about the situation. P.J. aimed Bimini Twist broadside to the Magnum and, at the last possible moment, in fact, way too close for comfort, he turned the wheel hard to starboard. There could not have been more than five feet between the boats at their closest point. The sharp turn threw a giant spray of salt water into the other boat, followed by a wake that rocked the two men off their feet. P.J. could hear more swearing but he did not stay around to see what else might come his way.

  Within ten minutes Gaffer was idling Bimini Twist up to the side of the barge and Matthew was handling the docking lines. When they were safely tied off, the three boys climbed
over to the barge. Max and Skeeter were still taking their surface interval from the earlier dive. The boys were laughing and smiling and in a cut-up mood, much more than usual.

  Max’s curiosity was raised. “You boys are up to something. What gives?” he asked.

  “Nothing, Dad,” said P.J. “Really nothing.”

  “What about the Magnum?” asked Skeeter.

  “Well,” said P.J. “We went over there. We even offered them a tow. But we never could work out the details. I think they’re going to drop an anchor near shore and probably spent the night.”

  “That’s a very bad idea. Man-O-War Cay has more mosquitos and flying insects that any other island in the area. They’re going to have a miserable night. They should have let you tow them in.”

  “I thought so too,” said P.J. “But I think they wanted it this way. Oh, well. What can you do?”

  Gaffer and Matthew were laughing hysterically. They could not control themselves. Max shrugged. He knew they were up to something, but he also knew they were not going to tell him. Fine, he had diving and fishing to do. In his mind the boys had offered the help as any good and courteous boaters would. His conscience was clear.

  Fifteen

  Mahi Frustration

  Max was all smiles. He stood on the Boat Harbour dock with his two sons while Virgil Price approached. Gaffer and P.J. ran ahead to greet Virgil and help him with his bags. Max was waiting to give him a warm welcome.

  “How was your trip?” Max asked. “Are you ready to run up to Great Guana? It’s only about a thirty minute ride.”

  “I am very anxious to get there. I need to see Cameron and his men for a briefing. After we do a little planning and redeploying, I will be free to relax for a few days.”

  While they walked down the dock, Gaffer ran ahead and jumped into Bimini Twist. The boat was untied and ready to go by the time the others approached. Virgil and P.J. handed five suitcases down to Gaffer and everybody climbed aboard.

  “My favorite little fishing boat,” said Virgil, as he climbed aboard. “I’ve only been on it a few times, but believe it or not, I think about it often. Fishing on this boat is where I want to be.”

  Gaffer smiled. “I know what you mean. It’s my favorite thing, too. Get ready,” he continued, “ because I’m going to show you some fishing you won’t believe. I’ve been here all summer and let me tell you, this place is incredible.”

  “Better than Bimini?” Virgil asked.

  “Not better,” said Gaffer. “Just different. I can catch grouper in the fifty pound class every day, several a day. In Bimini we only catch one every now and then. Every drop for queenies brings up three or four fish as opposed to one or two in Bimini. But don’t get me wrong, Bimini is still my favorite place on earth. I just have had a lot of luck here in Abaco. Skeet has the absolute best numbers for fishing I have ever seen.”

  As they idled out of the marina the conversation turned to an update on the salvage operation. “You’re going to be pleased with the progress thus far,” said Gaffer. “Everybody is working hard and being as careful as possible bringing up the junk from the wreck. There’s some pretty good stuff too, gold, silver. We now have two cannons up. All kinds of wood planks, pieces of barrels. Jenny located the main ballast a while ago. They have been vacuuming up debris and separating the good stuff from the sand and rocks on the bottom. You can almost make out the shape of the hull. Now there are divers all over the site all day long. I’ve been going down nearly everyday myself. I hope you don’t mind, but some of your guards have been diving the wreck also.”

  “It’s OK,” said Virgil. “I told Cameron to let the men help out. The more help Jenny gets, the sooner everybody can go home. I hope to make a few dives, myself, while I’m here. This trip is supposed to be business although I plan to do very little business and much relaxing. ”

  “I’m with you on that one,” said Max. “I need to unwind too. Too much work and not enough play. I’ve become a very dull person.”

  Virgil laughed. He knew this was going to be a fun time. The mood was already set. Everybody was ready to kick back and enjoy their time off.

  When Gaffer idled into the turning basin on Great Guana Cay, only Susan, Sissy and Cameron were there to greet them. Everybody else was still out on the dive site. Cameron took the dock line from P.J. and tied off. Virgil was meeting Susan for the first time, so a few minutes were spent on pleasantries. Then the passengers came ashore and the suitcases started moving across the dock. Gaffer and Matthew stayed on the boat to clean it, while P.J. and Cameron helped the others with the luggage. P.J. thought Virgil’s suitcases were awfully heavy so he asked him about them.

  “One of the cases has my personal belongings and the others are full of that high tech stuff you like so much. I’m refitting the security detail with new radio and surveillance equipment.”

  “Any guns?” P.J. asked.

  “That’s something you do not need to know,” said Virgil. “I have strict orders from your parents to keep you away from that stuff.”

  P.J. replied, “I guess that answers my question. What kind did you bring?”

  Max interjected, “Don’t bother Mr. Price with those kinds of questions. His work here is of a secret nature and his equipment is not your business.”

  “He’s not bothering me. He’s just curious about guns like all boys are. I’ll keep them safely away from him. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Thank you. P.J. sometimes acts first and thinks later. It’s much better if he does it without a gun in his hand.”

  Virgil chuckled. “I understand completely. Don’t worry, we keep the weapons locked tightly away. There is no possibility of problems there.”

  P.J. and Cameron lead the way to the dormitory for Virgil. The dormitory was perfectly clean and ready for inspection. Virgil’s luggage was carried into a room that had been set up as his living area and office. The guards were expecting this to be a working trip for Virgil, strictly business. Virgil had other ideas.

  When they were finally alone, Cameron gave Virgil the latest news on the security aspects of the project. “We have visitors showing up at the site practically every day. Naturally everybody is interested in what we are doing. Most of the visitors idle around away from the barge and then lose interest and ride off, except for that gray Magnum that you think was chartered by Grant Web. It comes by every day. It gets right in our face, idles right up to the barge, leaves and then comes back again later. I know they are just waiting for us to turn our backs and they’ll be all over the site. Did you get any information about their identities from the records department?”

  Virgil produced a folder with several loose pages of computer printouts and fax copies. The first was a copy of a charter listing for the grey Magnum. “The investigation begins right here with this offering on the boat. Within a few days of the luncheon between the Governor and Minister of Antiquities with me, Max and Miss James, this boat was rented out by Alexander Riley, a.k.a. Hammerhead Riley, who is known to be a hired hand for any type of illegal commerce you might imagine. Our records show that Grant Web placed a call to him subsequent to that luncheon and from that the trail of evidence points to a conspiracy originating in Mr. Web’s office. I have taped recordings in my office that are very incriminating to the Deputy Assistant.”

  “Did you know that we had an incident with them yesterday?” asked Cameron.

  “What do you mean ‘incident’? asked Virgil.

  “Skeet Pincus thought they were getting too close and becoming a bother, so he rigged their props to fall off. They were dead in the water for most of the day. They had to call a tow boat to take them in.”

  “In a way that’s funny,” said Virgil. “But in another way it’s probably not smart to start something with them. I think we’re on stronger ground if we let them be proactive against the operation as opposed to us provoking them.”

  Cameron interjected, “Now that the wreck is producing, I would expect some sort of en
d run to put their divers on the site when we are not looking. They would not have to steal many gold bars or coins to make it worth their effort. With a little luck, two or three hours of diving on that site could result in the theft of a several million dollars in artifacts. Because the site is protected, we do not bring up everything at once. Sometimes very rare and valuable artifacts sit exposed in plain view on the bottom. Jenny James is trying to make certain that Godfrey Frey photographs every object in its original position in every way possible. It is important that the entire architectural record be maintained with complete accuracy. If we weren’t here to guard it, I don’t know what would happen. I’m guessing that there would be nothing left to salvage in a very short time.”

  “I’m certain you are correct,” said Virgil. “Grant Web is a sneak and Hammerhead Riley and his friend, Sidney ‘the Whale’ Mills, are a couple of thugs. The Hammerhead and the Whale, now there’s a couple of real winners. Smugglers, thieves and strong arms with criminal records that span two decades.”

  “Well, let me ask you this,” said Cameron, “how dangerous are these guys? I’ve been keeping armed guards at the site day and night, at least two and sometimes three on station at all times. Do we need more security than that?”

  “I don’t know just yet,” said Virgil. “Tomorrow we’ll dive on the site and that should give me a feel for what additional measures are needed. You can be certain of one thing, whatever information has been sent on to the Minister, has most likely inadvertently fallen into the hands of Grant Web as well. That means we have to be so much more vigilant in protecting the site.”

  “That’s not going to be so easy,” replied Cameron. “All the men have been working and diving during the day to help out. When night time rolls around the duty sentries actually sleep on the barge. If we stop our diving activities the job will never get done. The guards recover probably half of all the artifacts that come up. We’re spread quite thin.”

  “I thought they were going to hire divers to help with the salvage. Are we the only ones working this site?” asked Virgil.