by Gary Paulsen
CHAPTER 8
The sun was just coming up when Tag locked the back gate. “Sorry, Ghost. You have to stay here. Can’t have a monster like you running around loose down at the marina.” He put his hand through the ence and scratched behind his pet’s big, floppy ears. Then he turned and ran down the road past the dock and up the beach to the bait shack.
The door to the shack was hanging by one hinge. It had been kicked in. The counter was on its side and all the bait had been dumped in a pile on the floor. On top of the pile was a crude homemade doll with sandy brown hair. A hatpin was stuck through its middle.
“Looks like somebody don’t like you much, mate.”
Tag whirled around. An older boy with ebony skin, a scar under one eye, and muscles bulging through his ragged shirt stood in the doorway laughing. Two other boys about the same age and size were behind him.
Tag had seen them before, hanging around over on St. David’s Island. The people up there were a close-knit group and usually kept to themselves, so he didn’t know these kids by name.
“Did you do this?” he demanded.
The big boy laughed harder. “Let’s just say, the boss man, he don’t like no double-cross.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The boss man says if he finds out you’re holding out on him, he’s gonna come visit you and your mama in the middle of the night.”
Tag clenched his fists. He rushed forward in a rage, but the older boy was ready. He punched Tag hard in the stomach, knocking him to the ground. Tag gasped for air and crawled to his knees. He heard a click of metal.
The other boy had a switchblade.
Tag scrambled backward. The boy stepped menacingly toward him, waving the knife in his face.
“What’s going on here?”
Thomas was standing in the doorway. Tag had never been so glad to see anyone in his life.
The boy closed the knife and slid it into his pocket before Thomas could see it. He turned to face the police officer. “No trouble here, man.” The three older boys moved around Thomas to the door.
The leader stopped. “By the way, little man,” he said to Tag, “the boss man hired him some real divers. Not scrap salvers, like you and your friend. He says you better hope they don’t come up empty.” The older boy’s eyes held a warning. “He also says to watch your mouth … or else.”
CHAPTER 9
Thomas helped Tag to his feet. His trained eyes surveyed the damage in the room. “Did those hoodlums do this? I can have them picked up before they get across town.”
Tag shook his head. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Somehow I figured you would say that.”
Thomas picked up the straw doll. “Bush? Are you into something over your head, son?”
“I … I can’t talk about it right now. I need time to think about all this, Thomas.”
Thomas sat on the edge of the overturned counter. “Word is that you’ve been working for some pretty tough-looking characters. That’s why I’m here.”
“Have you been spying on me?”
“No need to. Not much that happens on this island gets past the gossip chain. You know that. Want to tell me about it?”
More than anything Tag longed to tell his father’s friend about the contents of the yellow package. But he remembered the threat the older boy had made against his mother and decided to wait. “There’s nothing to tell.”
Thomas put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “These kinds of people are serious, Tag. They’re not playing games.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“So I see.” Thomas looked around the ransacked room, handed Tag the voodoo doll, and stood up. “I can’t make you tell me, Tag. But if you need me, call day or night. I’ll come.” The tall man limped to the door.
“Thomas?”
The officer turned and waited patiently.
Tag gulped. “Thanks. I mean for helping me out just now. I guess I was in a tight spot.”
“Watch your backside, Tag. It’s not over yet.”
CHAPTER 10
“I don’t like it.” Cowboy stood on the dock trying to finish his lunch while he watched Tag get the boat ready. “And why are we taking Ghost?”
Tag sighed. “I’ve given this thing a lot of thought, and I think our best chance is to stick with our original story. We’re just a couple of kids who like to dive. When we worked for Davis and Spear we didn’t find anything. Now we’re going on with business as usual. Just in case, I’m taking Ghost because I don’t want him home alone.”
The big dog barked as if in agreement and licked Tag’s face.
“I still don’t like it.” Cowboy reluctantly stepped into the boat. “What if those guys who busted up the bait shack come after us out there?”
“Those St. David’s bums don’t know these reefs as well as we do. They wouldn’t have a prayer if they tried to outmaneuver us.” Tag started the motor and headed out across the open water.
“What are we going to do with the you-know-what in the yellow bag, which we supposedly didn’t find?” Cowboy asked.
“I’ve thought about that too. When the coast is clear, we’ll bury it somewhere on Harrington Sound Road near Devil’s Hole. They’ll never know what happened to it.”
“I hope you’re right about all this.” Cowboy sat down, double-checked his tank, and tightened his weight belt.
Tag anchored behind a reef not far from Tiger Head. He was hoping that if anyone was watching they would think the boys were diving in a new place.
Tag tucked a hammer and chisel into his canvas diving bag and lifted his harness over his head. “Ready to go find that treasure?”
“Past ready. Did you bring something for the moray?”
“Thanks for reminding me.” Tag reached into a box and took out two large bait fish. He held them in one hand while he pulled his face mask into place. “You behave up here, Ghost. Guard the boat until we get back.” Tag gave the signal to Cowboy. “Let’s do it.”
Once they were in the water, the boys made straight for the hole in Tiger Head. Cowboy watched while Tag coaxed the small moray out of its hiding place with one of the bait fish.
For a moment the moray hovered in the opening, staring at them with dull, snakelike eyes. Then the green body slithered out of the hole. The fierce-looking mouth opened and closed in a steady rhythm, displaying long, sharp teeth. When it struck it moved so quickly that it caught Tag by surprise, yanking the fish from his hand. It took its prize and swam away to finish it off.
Tag made the okay sign with his thumb and forefinger. Cautiously he brought out the other fish and dangled it near the entrance of the hole. Like lightning a second moray grabbed one end. It rolled and spun, trying to pull the fish inside the hole, but this time Tag was ready. He held on until the moray had to come out of the hole to retrieve its prey.
Once that eel was gone, Tag went to work, hoping that would be the last of them. He took the hammer and chisel and began working to widen the hole. The reef here was thin and brittle and the work was easy. In no time he had made a hole big enough to squeeze through.
Tag unclipped his light and looked around the inside of the cave. It was large, with several dark passages leading off into other parts of the reef, and it was breathtaking. The light shimmered off the walls in myriad colors. But there was no time to stop and appreciate the beauty. They had only an hour’s worth of air and the morays could decide to come back at any time.
There was no sign of the galleon. Tag hadn’t really expected that there would be. The timbers would probably be rotted by now. The best they could hope for would be artifacts.
This time both boys used Ping-Pong paddles. They dropped to their knees and delicately swept at the sand on the bottom of the cave. Tag felt a tap on his shoulder. Cowboy handed him a black lump. Tag turned it over in his hands. Whatever it had been, it had turned to silver sulfide. He motioned for Cowboy to put the lump into the orange diving bag attached to hi
s friend’s belt.
Tag continued working, waving away layers of sand deposited over centuries. Something glistened and caught his eye. Gently he pulled it up. It was a solid gold dagger. The hilt was ornate, and three large emeralds had been set in the handle. Tag clutched the dagger tightly and closed his eyes. If only his dad had lived to see this.
Cowboy tapped Tag’s shoulder again. This time he held up a gold medallion. It had a cross in the center and letters on the back. Tag nodded and showed him the dagger. Cowboy’s eyes danced with excitement. He grabbed Tag, picked him up off the floor of the ocean, and threw him a few feet up in the water.
Tag smiled and pointed at the gauge on his tank. They had already been down almost an hour. If they were going to keep working, they’d have to go back to the boat for more air.
When they neared the surface of the water, Tag spotted the white bottom of another boat not far from theirs. As they broke the surface they could hear Ghost barking furiously.
The other boat sped away, but not before Tag looked up into the mocking black eyes of the boy who had attacked him at the bait shack.
Ghost was whining and thrashing wildly around in a circle. Blood streamed down his right front leg.
“He’s hurt!” Tag hoisted himself into the boat, yanked off his mask and tank, and rushed to examine the wound. “It’s okay, Ghost,” he said soothingly. “Let me take a look.”
Cowboy handed him the first-aid kit. “How bad is it?”
“Could have been worse. They just grazed him with a rock or something.” Tag continued to talk gently to his pet while he applied antiseptic and bandages. “They were probably going to sabotage the boat, but Ghost had other ideas.”
“This is getting worse all the time, Tag. Maybe we should just give the stuff to them and get it over with.”
“Right. And I guess you think they’ll just pat us on the head and let us go on our way?”
Cowboy looked miserably at the floor of the boat. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Tag stroked Ghost’s matted fur. “Somehow we have to figure out a plan that will get rid of the drugs and save our skins at the same time.”
CHAPTER 11
The bell on the screen door tinkled softly. Tag looked around the diving shop. “Gamell? Anybody here?”
“Hang on. I’m coming.” Gamell moved aside the curtain he used for a door to the back room. “Oh, it’s you.” The elderly man stepped behind the counter. “What can I do for you boys today?”
Tag unzipped the orange canvas bag, drew out the black lump, and set it on the counter.
Gamell adjusted his glasses and examined it. He reached under the counter for a small chisel. Carefully he cracked the lump open. It split perfectly. On the inside was an impression of a cross and what looked like a castle. “Hmmm, not bad.”
“What is it?” Cowboy asked.
“It was silver. A piece of eight.” Gamell held it up. “I can’t make out the date. It’s too far gone.”
“Are you saying that this thing used to be a coin?” Tag leaned forward. “Was it a Spanish coin, by any chance?”
Gamell nodded. “It’s not worth anything now, though. Once silver oxidizes, it’s pretty much useless.” He handed the pieces to Tag. “Where did you find it?”
The corners of Tag’s mouth turned up mischievously. “Guess.”
“Tiger Head?”
Cowboy nudged Tag’s elbow. “Show him the rest of it.”
“There’s more?” Gamell ran his hand through his hair and sat back on a tall stool.
Tag took out the dagger and laid it gently on the counter. Gamell didn’t touch it. He just stared at the golden knife, transfixed. “You found it, didn’t you? You found El Patrón.”
“We think so. But we couldn’t have done it without you. Cowboy and I have talked it over. You’re a full partner in everything we find.”
The old man took his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes. “After all these years, it’s finally decided to show itself.”
“Actually it didn’t really show itself. It’s inside the reef.” Tag lifted the last object out of the bag. “This medallion was down there too. Ghost had a little accident and we didn’t get to search as long as we wanted, but we figure there’s lots more where this came from. We’ll try to go back down tomorrow.”
Gamell picked up the gold medallion and fingered the crest on the front. He turned it over. On the back were the initials B.D.C. “This is just what you need to apply for a license to bring the rest of the stuff up. Here’s proof it’s definitely El Patrón. The admiral left his calling card. B.D.C.—Admiral Bartolomé de Campos. This good-luck charm must have belonged to him. Now you can have the site registered so that none of the so-called experts can steal it out from under you.”
Tag zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Will you take care of the paperwork for us, Gamell? And, if it’s all right, we’d like to keep what we’ve found so far in your safe. We’re having a little trouble with some of the St. David’s crowd right now and we don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands.”
“What kind of trouble? Bush?”
“Some. They hurt Ghost and they’re using voodoo to try and scare us.”
The old man held up his finger. “You wait here.” He disappeared through the curtain. In a few moments he was back. “Here.” He handed them a paper sack.
Tag looked inside and frowned. “Feathers and chicken bones?”
“I know it sounds silly, but if they really know their black magic, they’ll be scared to death of these. Stick them in front of your house, boat, everywhere. They won’t mess with you.”
CHAPTER 12
That afternoon Tag sat on the braided rug on his living room floor looking through his father’s diary. Cowboy was stretched out on the sofa, sleeping on his stomach with his right arm folded behind him, snoring.
The sound of several small engines broke the silence.
“What … What was that?” Cowboy sat up and tried to focus.
Tag looked out the window. “It was hard to tell over all the noise you were making, but it looks like we have company.”
Cowboy moved to the window. “It’s the St. David’s creeps.”
The same three boys had driven up on old mopeds. They stopped on the other side of the feathers Tag had stuck in the ground near the house.
The leader called to them. “Hey, little man. How’s your doggie?”
Tag’s face turned red. He started for the door. Cowboy caught his arm. “That’s what they want you to do. Don’t you see? Gamell was right. Those dummies are afraid of a couple of white feathers and some old bones.”
Tag slid the window open and pointed to the feathers and chicken bones he’d hung from the edge of the roof. “Hey, we’ve got powerful magic in here. Unless you want to wind up in your mama’s stewpot tomorrow as a toad, you and your playmates better get lost.”
Two of the boys stepped back toward the mopeds. The leader stood his ground. “You don’t scare me, little man. You can’t stay in there forever.” He moved to his moped and started the motor. “We’ll be waiting!”
Tag watched them ride off and dropped the curtain. “Did you make those phone calls I asked you to?”
Cowboy nodded. “I hope this works.”
Tag looked at his watch. “Me too. Looks like it’s time. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 13
“It’s getting late. Do you think they’ll show?” Cowboy sat near the motor in Tag’s boat, searching the water around them. The only other vessels were a couple of old fishing boats, and they were a half mile away.
“When you called, you told them we wanted to trade the drugs for five hundred dollars, didn’t you?” Tag popped a peanut into his mouth.
“That’s what you told me to say.”
“Then don’t worry. They’ll show.”
“You also told me to call Thomas. He said he’d be here too, but I don’t see him.”
“He’ll
be here.”
From the distance a blue-and-white outboard slowly approached Tag’s boat. Davis and Spear anchored next to them.
The heavyset man had an angry look on his face. “So, you two thought you’d be cute and cut yourselves in for a piece of the action?”
“Why not?” Tag shrugged. “You bring the money?”
Davis snapped his fingers and Spear produced a large wad of bills. “The question is, boys, did you bring our missing property?”
Cowboy reached under the seat and lifted up the yellow bag.
“Good!” Davis rubbed his chubby hands together. “Why don’t you relieve our little friends of what is rightfully ours, Spear?”
Spear took a gun out of his shirt. “Whatever you say, Davis.” Spear stepped into Tag’s boat and tossed the yellow package to Davis.
Davis looked inside. “It’s all here.” He threw Spear some rope. “Make sure you tie them good and tight. We wouldn’t want them to miss the party.”
“Wait a minute!” Tag yelled as he struggled against the big man. “You were supposed to pay us.”
“Oh, we’re gonna pay you all right. You and your nosy friend are going to get exactly what you deserve.” Davis handed a small bundle to Spear. “Set the timer for ten minutes. We don’t want to be anywhere around when it goes off.”
Spear tied the last knot around Tag’s feet and then stuffed rags in both boys’ mouths. He set the timer and climbed back into his own boat.
Davis waved at them. “Bye, boys. I know you’re just dying for us to leave.” He laughed and pointed the blue-and-white boat toward shore.
The two fishing boats Cowboy had noticed earlier had moved in. One stopped in front of the outboard. Thomas spoke to them through a megaphone. “This is the police. Throw down your weapons. I repeat, throw down your weapons.”
The second fishing boat moved in beside the outboard, making escape impossible. Several rifles were trained on Davis and Spear.
