Port Starbird (Storm Ketchum Adventures)

by Garrett Dennis

  Kari came out the back door with a cup of coffee and joined him at the table. "Hey y'all," she said, "I wondered where you went. I missed you when I woke up." She nonchalantly appropriated half of his bagel without asking.

  "Jack wanted to go out. Guess who's on the front page of the newspaper?" He showed her the headline with Ingram's picture below it.

  "Huh. Well, he is the kind that likes gettin' his picture in the paper, right?" She seemed subdued this morning; maybe the previous night's activities had something to do with that. A protracted yawn supported that impression.

  "So I guess I'll get my gear together and then join you at the shop later and load up the tanks," he said. "I'll give the Captain a call as well, and make sure we're still on for this afternoon."

  "Sounds good," she said. "Well, I think I'll go jump in the shower. I should get over to the shop after that." She quickly finished off the bagel and the coffee, then padded back inside. He noticed she hadn't asked him to join her in the shower this time; but that was all right with him as he was tired, too.

  He confirmed with the Captain when he'd finished skimming the newspaper, then called the dog in and got himself cleaned up. He methodically packed his scuba gear as usual and his backpack, which today would contain the dog's boating paraphernalia as it typically did for a charter. He went to the Village Market to load his cooler with deli sandwiches, drinks, and ice for later, drove back to the house to pick up the dog, and made it to the shop more than an hour before Kari's noon closing time. The parking lot was empty.

  "Hello," he called when he and the dog entered the shop. "Did you get much action here this morning? Were you able to pack your gear?"

  "Hey, Jacky! Yeah, I got a little action - but nowhere near as much as I got last night," she said with a tight smile. "I'm packed. Let's load the tanks and take off, there's nothin' happenin' here."

  When they got to the boatyard, the Captain's arrant voice started assaulting their ears before they'd even killed the truck's engine. "Ahoy there swabbies, top a the day! Y'all need a hand with your gear? If you do, I got a number you can call!" he cackled from the deck of the Minnow.

  The Captain's good humor roused Mario, who'd apparently been puttering around on his boat. "Hey, Ketch! Hey, Kari!" he called. "You guys goin' divin'? Hang on, I'll be right over." Ketch put the dog's life jacket on for him and got him squared away aboard the boat while Mario threaded his way to the truck.

  "So where you guys headed?" Mario asked as he helped them haul their equipment out to the Minnow. "You got a lotta gear here, you goin' wreckin'? Find a new U-boat or somethin' like that?"

  "No, just one of the known wrecks," Ketch answered, thinking fast. Keying off Mario's 'wrecking' inquiry and relying on him knowing, as everyone around here did, that salvaging artifacts from shipwrecks in U.S. waters without permission was illegal, he elaborated in a lower voice, "No offense, but I don't want to say which one. I saw some odds and ends there that I'd like to bring home, you know, portholes and such."

  "Say no more, man," Mario demurred. "Your secret is safe with me." When he finished helping them get everything loaded, he called, "Have a good trip!" as he retreated back to his boat.

  "Well, that was smooth," Kari commented when Mario was out of earshot. "Damn right," the Captain said. "Where'd y'all learn how to fib like that? You're almost as good as me!"

  "It's not something I'm proud of," Ketch said. "Come on, let's cast off and get this thing done." He was seriously starting to taste the prize now, and he wanted to get going.

  While the Captain piloted them north up the sound toward Oregon Inlet, Kari sat Ketch down at the table in the cabin and went over the dive plan again with him. Though he listened attentively enough, knowing what was at stake, he also kept an eye on the dog, who was reclining out on the aft deck. The dog looked relaxed, but his nose was constantly twitching as he savored the rich olfactory treat the sea breeze was providing him. Shades of salt and fish seasoned with a tinge of death, Ketch thought; he liked it, too.

  Kari would dive with a dual-tank rig, one tank for her to breathe from and the other for filling the lift bags, each tank with its own regulator. Controlling a lift bag was tricky business due to the fact that the pressurized air it had been fed from the tank would expand inside the bag as the depth and ambient pressure decreased on ascent, like a balloon being inflated, making a runaway ascent a distinct and dangerous possibility. Since she'd had some previous experience doing it, she'd be the one to fill the bags, manipulate their dump valves as necessary, and control the ascent of the drum.

  Ketch would use a similar rig; he'd be able to breathe from both tanks if necessary, and they could use air from his second tank for the lift bags if needed. He'd be the first to descend on the anchor line and the one to locate the drum, using his wreck reel to reprise his circular search until he found it, while Kari hovered at a shallower depth to conserve her air, but keeping him in her sight. She'd drag the chain sling, previously attached to the free end of the boat's stern line topside and with two empty lift bags clipped to it, with her on her way down, along with a third empty bag clipped to her BC just in case. When Ketch signaled that he'd found the drum, Kari would complete her descent and he'd back away from the drum and ditch his reel. She'd try to tip the drum, and if she couldn't do it on her own, Ketch would approach and help. If they both had to tip the drum, they'd stay together only for the time it took to do that, and then Ketch would back off again.

  They were to maintain neutral buoyancy throughout and avoid touching or even finning near the bottom, to minimize silting and preserve visibility. Kari would secure the sling to the drum and then start releasing short bursts of air from her second regulator into both of the lift bags as evenly as possible. At all other times except in the event they had to use some of Ketch's air for the lift bags, they'd remain in constant sight of each other but stay well clear of each other to avoid entanglement and injury. Neither of them would be physically attached to the drum, and they'd both avoid lingering directly above or below the drum as much as possible.

  Ketch would provide lighting during the setup and ascent as needed, and the Captain would keep the stern line taut topside and take up the slack during the ascent, again to prevent entanglements; and he'd also keep the engines idling in case he had to nudge the boat closer to wherever the drum was located. When the drum reached the surface, the Captain would cleat the stern line, and Ketch and Kari would re-board the boat, doff their gear, and help haul the drum aboard. The five-minute safety stop at fifteen feet would be omitted today, but that shouldn't be a problem at the relatively shallow depth they'd be diving. Sometime later, Kari would make a bounce dive to recover the reel and free the anchor if necessary.

  She was certainly all business today, he thought, and she seemed tense as well - to a degree that he wondered if she was deriving any pleasure at all from this trip, despite her assertion a few days ago that she'd enjoy diving without students for a change. This wasn't really a recreational dive, though, and its goal was admittedly less than uplifting. Regardless, the most important thing for now was that she seemed to have thought of everything. But he knew things could still go wrong; what if she needed more or less weight, or he couldn't find the drum, or they couldn't tip it, or they needed a replacement bag or a third bag, or the grab hooks didn't hold, or the drum got away from her during the ascent, or there was too much current for her to stay with it, or they got tangled somehow, or someone got injured, and so on? What if Eleanor Roosevelt could fly, he thought, recalling one of his favorite old Saturday Night Live skits. They'd just stick to the plan and do the best they could; they had a redundant set of tanks and they could revise the plan if they had to try again, if it came to that.

  They soon passed through Oregon Inlet and headed out to sea. With the Minnow's powerful twin inboards smoothly plowing a path through the water at a faster clip than Ketch's TBD could have safely managed, it didn't take much longer for them to reach the target area. They anchored at
about the same spot Ketch had earlier in the week. After he'd tethered the dog to a table leg in the cabin and Kari had run up the dive flag (which she'd insisted on doing for safety), they set up their rigs, suited up, and began their descent.

  So far so good, he thought as he glanced back up at her along the anchor line. She didn't seem to be having any trouble descending, and she was signaling 'OK'. The visibility was at least as good as it had been the last time he'd been here, and there was hardly any current so far. He clipped his reel line to the anchor when he got close enough to the bottom and started his search, periodically verifying that she was still in sight above him and still signaling 'OK'.

  He found a couple of groupings of drums and shined his dive light on every one of them, even the ones that didn't overtly look like salvage drums, so he'd be sure to spot the telltale swatch of brightly colored fabric - but no luck so far. When he found a third grouping about fifteen minutes into the dive and struck out again, he looked up at her and shrugged his shoulders. She signaled 'OK' again and motioned for him to continue searching - which he knew they still had plenty of time and air to do.

  He finally hit pay dirt a few minutes later in the next grouping he found. He had to make a conscious effort to control his breathing as he excitedly signaled to her that he'd located the drum and she should descend, which she slowly did. Before he backed away from the drum as planned, she got close enough for him to see the expression on her face behind the mask and regulator. Knowing her more intimately as he now did, it seemed to him that she looked surprised, and possibly also a bit upset for some reason.

  But it didn't seem to matter. He watched her work at freeing the drum, gently rocking it back and forth while she hovered upside-down so her fins wouldn't stir up any more silt than necessary. Excellent buoyancy control, he thought. She was finally able to tip it onto its side. A small silt cloud rose up around the drum as it re-settled onto the bottom, but not enough to completely obscure his view. He moved a little closer and shined his dive light on the drum to help her see what she was doing, and watched as she successfully attached the chain sling to the drum and began squirting air into the lift bags.

  Everything was proceeding according to plan so far, with nary a glitch. Maybe he'd been mistaken about what he thought he'd seen on her face; maybe she was just concentrating on her designated tasks. He followed below her at a safe distance, being careful to not drift beneath the drum, as she alternated between adding small amounts of air to the bags and dumping air from them, waiting for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time after each action in order to gauge the reaction. But what she was doing made perfect sense; it was somewhat analogous to avoiding oversteering while handling a boat.

  It turned out the amount of air in her second tank was more than sufficient for the lift bags, the grab hooks were holding, and the stern line wasn't getting in the way. When the bags at last broke the surface and he heard the boat's engines cut off, Ketch was both relieved and amazed. Their plan had worked flawlessly so far, something he knew didn't often happen in the real world. Of course, they literally weren't quite out of the water yet, so something could still go wrong. For example, they'd have to be careful when they hauled the drum aboard; after all this effort, it wouldn't do to dislodge a grab hook and send the drum plummeting back to the bottom of the ocean.

  Kari surfaced ahead of Ketch and swam to the stern and handed her fins up. When he was about to do the same himself, he thought he could hear the dog barking - but not the way he did when he was happy about seeing someone. As soon as his head popped above the surface, Ketch saw the reason for the dog's apparent distress.

  "Gimme your fins," the Captain directed him, squatting on the stern platform. "And then get your ass up here. As you can see, we got company, and neither me nor your dog's much likin' it."

  ~ ~ ~

  18. Anyone can behave poorly if given the chance.

  Ketch obeyed and passed his fins to the Captain. He could see that there was another boat tied up alongside the Minnow - Mario's boat - and he heard voices drifting down from the flying bridge. Kari for sure, and who else? He looked up and shaded his eyes. Mick. It sounded like they were arguing, though they were keeping their voices down and he couldn't make out what they were saying. "Jack, settle!" he commanded the dog, who stopped barking but kept a low rumble going in his throat.

  "They snuck up on me when I was mindin' the stern line, didn't notice 'em at first with the engines runnin'," the Captain explained, keeping his voice low as well as he helped Ketch wriggle out of his rig. "Said their head was busted and could they use mine, Mario said he really had to go."

  "I figured Mario was here. Anyone else besides Mick?" Mario would have to be involved, Ketch knew, since it was his boat and Mick didn't know much about boats. Nor did Mick dive or know much about that either, nor was he educated in anything at all that Ketch knew of. He wondered what Kari had ever seen in that wastrel.

  "Nope, just them two."

  "What are they doing out here in the first place?"

  "That's what I wanna know. I'm guessin' we'll find out shortly."

  "Hey Ketch," Mario called, emerging from somewhere below, not from the head. "Could you make sure I don't get attacked? I don't think ole Jack here likes me much today, acted like he might want to nail me before."

  Ketch went into the cabin and held onto the dog's collar while Mario passed. "So you couldn't find a bush, eh?" he said.

  Mario laughed at that. "Ketch, my man - and you too, Don - I want you to know this ain't personal, it's just business. Mick heard you guys were makin' a score and we just decided to get in on the action, you know? And I'm real sorry about not finishin' the work on your house, Ketch, but I figure you probably won't be wantin' me around after today anyway, am I right?"

  "What kind of score? What are you talking about?" Ketch said.

  "You know - treasure, man! What'd you do, find some old Spanish ship? Or maybe a load of coke or grouper somebody had to dump? Whatever we can sell, it's all fine with me." Mario called up to Mick, "Hey, come on down from there, let's get whatever this is outta the water and check it out!"

  "Ha!" the Captain said to Ketch, "I wish 'em luck tryin' to sell what you-all brung up! So that's what they're after? Well, the joke's on them. What a couple a idiots!"

  But Ketch knew it wasn't that simple. Mario apparently believed a story that Mick had probably fed him to gain the use of his boat, which Mick had done because Kari had apparently tipped him off; and she knew there was no treasure, so that wasn't really what they were here for. But if Mick and Kari were in this together, then why were they arguing?

  The two collaborators climbed down from the flying bridge and joined Mario on the aft deck, Kari doing her best to avoid Ketch's penetrating stare. Yes, she was definitely involved. He should have known better, he thought; and though he was sad about losing the best thing he'd had in his life in a long time, his predominant emotion was anger. Why hadn't he trusted his instincts and followed up on all of his suspicions? Why had he allowed it to come to this? Well, he knew why - he'd let himself degenerate into a besotted poon hound, that was why, and he'd gotten bamboozled because of it. She was to blame, for sure; but so was he.

  "So, Mario told y'all what's happenin' here? Good. Okay now, I want you and you," Mick said, pointing to Ketch and the Captain, "to stay in the cabin and set down there at that table. And make sure that dog stays tied up so I don't have to hurt him, hear?" The dog was snarling now, and in a very convincing manner.

  "Oh, so you think we're gonna just set back and let you-all do whatever you want?" the Captain retorted, taking down a gaffing hook he happened to be standing near. "Who do you think you are, the ree-tard pirates a the Caribbean? Kari, Ketch, get on over here, I got more stuff we can use. It's three against two, we can take 'em!"

  A smirk grew on Mick's face. "Wrong, old man, she's on our side," he spat. "And it don't matter how many sticks you got," he declared, extracting a small handgun from a pocket of
his cargo shorts. "This here is the only thing that matters."

  "Hey, what the hell, man?" Mario said. "What'd you bring that for? We don't need that!" Ketch noticed that Kari looked like she might upchuck at any moment.

  "Shut up and start haulin'," Mick snapped. "Kari, you give him a hand if he needs one, and watch out he don't drop the damn thing. Go on, get on over there. Don't make me tell you twice, bitch, you know what happens then!" When she complied, Mick turned and trained the gun on the Captain, who silently re-mounted the gaff and retreated into the cabin.

  "What in hell does she have to do with all this?" the Captain asked Ketch when they were both seated at the table. "I never figured her for a floozy. Oh, hey, I'm sorry buddy, I really am. I know you were sweet on her." Ketch got up and stood in the doorway of the cabin, and watched his femme fatale and her hooligans raise the drum and stand it upright on the deck.

  "This just looks like one of those drums we been dumpin'," Mario remarked, disappointment evident in his voice. "Is there somethin' we can use inside? I don't get it."

  "This ole coot," Mick said, motioning toward Ketch, "reported us to the feds for dumpin' them drums, so we gotta move this one to deeper water."

  "Ketch did that? Why'd you go and do that, man?" Mario said. Incredibly to Ketch, given that he'd been ready to steal from him, Mario actually sounded hurt.

  Oddly, Kari tried to cover for Ketch. "He just found the drums and reported them, he didn't give any names, he didn't know it was you," she started to explain.