by L. A. Meyer
The bell starts down again, and this time I let it go all the way to the bottom. Twenty more feet and it comes to rest on the sand, almost level.
Once again I drop down off of the bench, this time to stand with my feet on the sandy bottom. Amazing, I think, I'm standing on the bottom of the sea, the water to my chest, but with my head in the air. What a brave new world this is, indeed.
Another big gulp of breath, then I duck under, between the legs of the bell, and come up outside. This time, being on the bottom, I take up the green net bag and hunt for sponges and specimens—hey, the ever practical Jacky Faber. Waste not, want not.
Some things try to scurry away from me, but they don't quite make it, so they get stuffed into the bag. When all of the other creatures of the bottom have safely fled from my grasp, I jerk the three-knotted rope twice, and the bag with its contents flies up out of sight. I hope Dr. Sebastian will be pleased.
A final scan of this piece of the bottom yields nothing else, so it's back under and into the bell, as I think the ten minutes are about up.
Sure enough, as soon as I am seated on the bench and pull on the proper rope, I feel myself and the bell being hauled slowly to the surface.
There will be more test dives done today, I know, but tomorrow the Belle of the Caribbean Sea will dive on the wreck of the Santa Magdalena, and then we shall see what we shall see.
Chapter 32
Yesterday, after that first descent, when the bell was brought up and put back on my deck and I had crawled out from under it, a great cheer went up from the men on both ships. It surprised me, but hey, I like attention, so I took a little bow. Then we got back to work.
We ungrappled the two ships and moved the Nancy B. a few hundred yards farther out and reanchored, this time with four hooks to hold us steady in the wind, current, and tide.
The next dive was a little deeper, and this time I took a very excited Joannie with me, partly because she wanted to so much, and partly because we wanted to see how the air in the bell would hold up with two people in it. We harvested some sponges, and caught two lobsters, which we presented to Captain Hudson for his dinner—we're somewhat sick of lobster, ourselves. The third time that we ducked back into the bell, we found that the air within was becoming somewhat stuffy, so I yanked on the rope with the one big knot and up we went.
I reported on the lack of decent air to Tilly and Dr. Sebastian, and they decided that only one person (me) should go down for longer periods at great depths.
On the last dive before lunch, we swung the bell to the other, seaward side of the ship, and this time I went down a good hundred feet and all went well. I didn't take any specimens this time, instead just making sure that I could get about easily at this new depth—and it turned out that I could.
When I stepped out on the deck again, water streaming off me, Higgins was waiting with a big towel.
"We must get us one of these, Higgins!" I exclaimed. "Can you imagine the salvage possibilities? Why in Boston Harbor alone—"
"Yes, Miss, perhaps we shall recover the tea from the great Boston Tea Party. But for now, let us get you into something dry," replied Higgins as he hustled me into my cabin.
I reflected that it had been a most wondrous morning.
That afternoon, we took the Nancy B. in closer to land, where the water depth was only about thirty feet, and found a spot between two big coral heads where we could lower the marvelous bell between them and take our people down on excursions to see the beauty of the undersea world—any of them brave enough to go, that is.
It was a rare day for this sort of thing, and all who went down gasped in wonder at the beauty below. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the sun was almost directly overhead, sending shafts of light streaming through the clear, blue-green water and lighting the multicolored coral and its attendant plants most beautifully.
I went down with each to calm their nerves with my chatter, and when we reached the bottom, I slipped outside to swim about, to show them how easy it was—yes, and maybe to show off a bit. Perhaps I didn't have to do the somersaults ... oh, well...
Dr. Sebastian was the first to go down. "I cannot believe this!" said the good Doctor, entranced by the bright little fish who swam up to his window to peer in. "We must have a drawing of this entire expedition for presentation to the Academy! Oh, what a sensation it will be!"
Later Tink and Davy went down, each having dared the other so they both had to do it. When I was down with Davy, I made sure to swim outside the window, stick my thumbs in my ears, wiggle my fingers, and make faces at him. Tink, charmed by it all, declared his intention of making fins and goggles for himself.
Then I let Joannie take Daniel down, but kept a good eye on the proceedings below. When they reached the bottom, Joannie came out and cavorted about as much as I had; but then, instead of going back under, she wiggled her feet fins and shot straight to the surface, to play a bit of a trick on Daniel, I suppose.
The trick turned out to be on her, however. As soon as her head broke the surface, Tilly was leaning over the rail, pointing his finger at her face.
"If you go down in the bell, girl, you must come up in the bell!" he roared.
Joannie looked at me, mystified. Haven't we free-dived to that shallow depth a hundred times already? she seemed to ask.
I shrugged and pointed down. If Tilly doesn't see fit to explain, well, so be it.
She flipped over, stuck her little rump in the air, wiggled back down to the bell, and got in, and we hauled it up. She emerged very abashed, poor thing. Nobody likes to be yelled at, especially my crew, who ain't used to it.
I then took Jim Tanner down. When we came back up, Captain Hudson was standing on our deck, his shirt off and with a big grin on his face.
"Take me down, Miss," he ordered. "And let's see what the fuss is all about."
We did it and he was suitably impressed. I pointed out many things of interest and then slipped out to do my underwater ballet act.
"You really are a piece of work, Jacky Faber," said Captain Hudson, on our way back up, looking as much at me as at the panorama of nature outside. Hmmmm.
Yes, many took the little trip down that day—including the Brotherhood, except for Jaimy. He did not. He just went a little pale when I held out my hand to him and shook his head. I regret the offering, because he was so plainly distressed, and I shan't do it again.
Too bad, Jaimy. We could have had a little bit of naughty fun down there.
Chapter 33
Having once again taken our bearings on the western tip of Key West, and on the red rag still hanging in the mangrove bush that marks the old Indian campground and alligator pit, we maneuver the Nancy B. into position, fish out our marker buoy, and I get ready to dive.
We figured the first time we'd dive on the Magdalena would be to the depth I had previously gone when I first spotted her—about a hundred and fifty feet, I reckon. Tink measures out that distance on the bell's winch line and attaches a marker.
"Ready to go, Jacky."
I put my goggles on my forehead and prepare to duck under.
"Be careful, Miss," warns Dr. Sebastian. "This is the farthest you've gone down in the bell, so far." Professor Tilly and Captain Hudson are also in attendance.
"As far down as the Dolphin is high," mutters Jaimy, who also stands by, looking into the mainmast rigging of the Dolphin and imagining the depth to which I will go. He looks rather sickish.
I put my hand on his arm and look up into his eyes. "Don't worry, Jaimy. It's just a lot of water, and you must admit I have a way of always bobbing back up." Big grin and big eyes. "You'll see, we'll have dinner together tonight and everything will be fine."
"Nothing to it, eh, what?" That's from Lieutenant Flashby, who has graced us with his presence on my deck today, there being no danger of his being invited to go below. He swaggers about in full uniform, tapping the bell with his knuckles and pronouncing it a fine thing. I suspect he is here because he thinks the gold mig
ht be brought up soon. And maybe because he likes looking at me in my diving gear. I do not mind the others looking at me, but I do mind it when he looks at me, because he makes it very plain what he is thinking. Which to me, ain't a pretty sight ... or a pretty thought.
"All right, let's do it," I say, as I duck under the bell and climb onto the bench. In a moment John Thomas and Finn McGee begin to turn the capstan and I am lifted up and swung over the side. Then once again I see the waves of the water beneath me flatten out as the bell heads down.
And down and down and down ... The surface of the water within the bell inches higher with each fathom lower—soon it almost touches the tips of my swim fins. The air in the bell is getting mightily compressed; I can tell, 'cause I keep having to swallow to clear my ears.
Finally the bell stops, and I hang there for a while, looking down. It's like looking into the depths of an emerald ... No, more blue than that ... More like a sapphire, actually ... But I see no sign of the Magdalena.
Ah, well, best get out and have a bit of a look around.
I adjust my goggles and slip out the bottom, curious to see if this greater depth has any effect on me.
I swim out, and it seems that everything is as it was before—'cept that when I turn around to look up, the hulls of the Nancy B. and the much bigger Dolphin look really tiny way up there.
Twisting around again, I peer into the azure watery mist all around me. I head off in a direction to the east and find nothing, except to note that the ocean bottom slopes off sharply, into the lower depths. There are sparse stands of coral down here, and various large rays and fishes. And, yes, sharks drift by—but they pay me no mind—and so I search on.
I pop back into the bell, rest for a moment, take a breath, and then head out in the other direction. This bottom, too, has outcroppings of coral, and there seem to be rocky ledges with caves and crevices carved into them—better watch out for the big eels if I venture close to that ... and...
...and there she is, once again!
My greedy heart beats ever faster. There she is!
I float over the Santa Magdalena, her spectral masts and spars to either side of me, her hull lying spread out below. I want to go to her now, but no, I must be deeper before I do that.
I fly back to the bell, slide inside, take a big breath, and pull the rope. I am drawn up slowly, too slowly by my way of thinkin'.
When at last I am brought back onboard, I spill out of the bottom of the bell and say, "We are on her. We've got to move a hundred yards in that direction. Get out as many anchors as you can to hold us steady. Tink, I'll go another fifty feet down." I take off my goggles and lay them aside. "And this time I shall lay my hand upon her."
I know it will take some time to affect this change of position, so I grab Jaimy's wrist and head for my cabin for a bit of ... well ... rest ... when I hear the call from Daniel, high in our crow's-nest.
"Missy! Sail off to the south! She flies the red colors!"
Jim Tanner slaps my long glass into my hand as I run by him, put my feet on the rail, and jump over onto the Dolphin, then run up the ratlines to the foretop, where I train the glass on the intruder. I feel a presence behind me and then two hands on my waist.
"What is he?" asks Jaimy.
I continue to squint at the ship that seems intent at lying just out of cannon range. From the mainmast flies a very familiar flag—a red-horned skull on a field of black, with two crossed cannons below. Flaco, you dog, we meet on the sea once again. I smile and bring down the glass.
"It is only Flaco Jimenez. Don't worry, he won't close with us," I call down to those below. "The Dolphin is just too formidable." I turn to Jaimy. "Plus, we are friends, sort of."
"We are?" asks Jaimy, looking off into the rigging. I give him a poke in the ribs.
"Come on, Jaimy, be happy. Look where we are—on the foretop of the dear old Dolphin, where first we started out as kids. No one can see us, so give me a kiss."
I throw my arms around his neck and present my face, lips pursed, and he obliges me...oh, yes! A kiss and a pet.
"Missy! What to do?" comes the call from Jim Tanner below.
I break away from Jaimy and lean over the edge of the foretop and say, "It's nothing, Jim. Prepare for the next dive. I'll be down in a minute."
I turn back to Jaimy, determined to enjoy this little bit of time, but then I see something on the foremast that brings tears to my eyes. Carved in the thick wood is JF+JF with a circle about the initials.
I run my fingers over the rough letters and say, "Oh, Jaimy, that is so sweet."
He reddens and looks away. "I ... I carved it on the day we left you in that school in Boston ... I ... I ..."
"I know, Jaimy. I was at a window and watched you sail away, and it was all so sad. I just could not hold back the tears. I could hardly stand it."
He nods and says nothing.
"But no sadness, Jaimy. Let us just live in the moment. Now give me another kiss ... That's it ... Oh, so good, Jaimy..."
"Miss Faber?" calls Dr. Sebastian from the main deck, and I know I must go.
"Later, Jaimy," I say, pulling away from him and giving him a peck on the cheek. He sighs and lets his hand fall from the small of my back, where it had been resting, and I put my own hand on the ratlines. "I've got to go under again."
And I swing back down to the deck, pick up my goggles, and get back in the bell.
"Let's go."
***
This time the bell comes down to rest well below the tops of the masts of the Santa Magdalena, and I get myself ready to go out for a look. I had kept my hand on the panic rope the whole way down in case the bell got hung up on one of the wreck's masts, but I ended up about ten yards to the left of the hull and only about fifteen feet higher than the deck, with plenty of room for the bell to swing around. Perfect.
I slip out and swim over to the Santa Magdalena and lay my hand upon her, the first living hand to touch her in over seventy years. I give a thought to the lost Spanish sailors—whether seamen be enemy or friend, English, Spanish, American, or French, all sailors die the same hard death when a ship goes down.
Proper reverence being paid, I then kick and glide over the main hatch to the foot of the mainmast. All the rope rigging, except for a few threads hanging here and there, is long gone. But there is something large and covered with silt attached to the foot of the mast, and I think I know what it is. I take my hand to brush off the sea dust and find myself staring into the face of Jesus.
Yes, it is the golden crucifix that all Spanish warships carry fixed to their main! And this one is a good five feet high.
Back to the bell for a breath and then out for a check of the Magdalena s hull. It is generally intact, which is not all to the good, since it doesn't give me a way in. Well, I guess I shouldn't expect the gold cargo to be just lying there waiting for me to pick it up.
Another wiggle of my swimming fins as I scan the various hatchways that lead down into the ship. All the hatchway covers are off, their hinges having rotted away long ago. I go to peer into one, but all is darkness in there, and I cannot go in. Prolly monsters in there, too. Not only would I not be able to see, but the deck could fall in, trapping me beyond all hope of rescue, and I've no wish to lie down here in the deep alongside these unfortunate Spanish sailors for all eternity. While I am sure they would be good company, I have other things to do.
I pull my shiv from its sheath and poke about the wreck's wood in various places. It generally goes in easily, right to the hilt. Sheathing the knife, I go back to the bell, yank the rope, and we start our slow ascent. As I go up, I think on the problem of just how to retrieve that gold.
Eight Bells rings out just as I step on deck. Good. I'm getting hungry. "Captain Hudson, Lieutenant Fletcher, will you join us for lunch on my mess deck?" I ask as I towel off. "As you know, we do not stand on ceremony and we all eat at the same table, but, I'll wager our cook is better than yours."
"By God, I accept," says Ca
ptain Hudson. "Lead on!"
"Dr. Sebastian, if you will show the gentlemen to their places while I change? Thank you, Sir. Joannie, run down and tell Jemimah that two more will be joining us. Higgins, some of our better wine, perhaps?"
I leave Flashby to find his own lunch back on the Dolphin, while I pop down into my cabin to shed my swimsuit and toss on a light cotton dress. I'll be damned if I'll feed that man.
Entering the mess deck, I see that all are standing by their chairs, even my own uncouth Nancy boys. I go to my place at the head of the table—and thank you, Captain Hudson, for again being gracious about that—raise the glass that has been placed there for me, and say, "Gentlemen ... to our mutual enterprise."
Hear, hear! is heard and all sit down.
I place my now-dry, cotton-clad bottom in my chair as Joannie places my plate in its slot in front of me and I fall to. Nothing like a morning spent two hundred feet beneath the sea to whet the appetite, I say. Today Jemimah has prepared arroz con pollo, with side dishes of conch chowder and a corn pudding. It is all wondrous good.
For a while, all that is heard is the crunching of bones, the slurping of wine, and the smacking of lips. "My word, this is uncommon good!" the Captain cries, and looks over covetously at Jemimah, who stands at her station down in front of the stove.
A little later, as all of the food has been served, Jemimah herself eases into her chair at the foot of the table, and as has been our custom, Joannie and Daniel place her dish and cup in front of her, and she eats.
I cut a sly look at Captain Hudson, absolutely sure that he has never sat at a table with a black person before. To his credit, he merely smiles and says nothing.
I, however, do lean back and say something.
"I have placed my hand on the Santa Magdalena today, but I cannot get inside her." I tell them of my explorations. "Does anyone have any ideas?"
