The Sea Hawk

by Brenda Adcock

  "You can see her in your sleep, can't you?" a voice from behind Julia said.

  Without looking back, she answered. "I do dream about her. She calls to me like a lover in my sleep."

  "Well, I don't know if I'd go quite that far." Frankie Alford said as she leaned against the rail beside Julia. "Scared?"

  Julia smiled as she looked out over the water. "A little. This is the biggest project I've ever been responsible for. I don't want to fuck it up, Frankie."

  "You're doing great. You've been inordinately careful, painfully slow and precise, annoyingly demanding and critical and I won't even start on your micro-managerial skills."

  "Run out of negative adverbs for my work methods?"

  "Pretty much," Frankie chuckled. She turned Julia to face her and added, "I've learned how it's supposed to be done from you, Dr. Blanchard. It's been worth taking it slow and today is the pay-off we've all been waiting for. Now get going so that damn cannon doesn't have to wait another century."

  Laughing, Julia pulled the rubberized hood of her diving suit over her head and tucked in stray strands of hair while striding toward the diving platform at the rear of the ship. The day began as slightly overcast, but the sun finally won the battle, making the peaks of the small waves around the Discovery shimmer. Julia climbed down the four-step aluminum ladder from the main deck to the diving platform, joining the second member of the project dive team, Damian Lorenz. Like Frankie, he was a volunteer graduate student working on the marine excavation.

  "Everything set?" she asked.

  "Ready to rock and roll, Doc," Damian answered with a boyish grin. Despite his shaggy head of black hair and generally unkempt appearance, Damian proved to be a serious marine archaeologist with an ingrained belief that work should be fun or it shouldn't be done at all.

  Julia slung an air tank onto her back and snapped the belt around her waist. She brought the mouthpiece to her mouth to test the flow of air. She sat on the lid of a storage compartment and slid her feet into her flippers. Julia then made her way to the rear edge of the platform where she knelt down and dipped her mask into the water and pulled it on, letting it sit on her forehead. She pivoted around with her back to the water and smiled up at Frankie who was leaning on the railing of the main deck and gave her a thumbs up. She pulled her mask down, adjusted it slightly and inserted her mouthpiece. With a nod toward Damian she flipped off the platform into the silent world below the Discovery.

  Approximately five fathoms separated the final resting place of the ship and the ocean's surface. Even though the underwater world she loved was beautiful in many ways, Julia remained wary as she and Damian made their four-story descent. It always surprised her to read about the relatively shallow depths in which many shipwrecks were discovered. One well-preserved Spanish galleon was discovered in only twelve feet of water off the Texas coast. The Peach was thirty-six feet deeper. Over time, sediment flowing into the Atlantic from the Savannah River estuary and bottom soil carried into shore by Atlantic storm surges successfully entombed the large ship.

  Sunlight filtered through the water, becoming dimmer as the depth increased. With each descent Julia was shocked when the now-exposed vessel unexpectedly came into view. One moment there was nothing. The next the graceful ribs of the inner hull rose from the murky waters like the ribs of an ancient mammoth. Perhaps it was a blessing that the Continental Shelf was sparsely populated by either vegetation or more than small schools of fish. Only occasionally would they spot a nurse shark or a barracuda, but the team's presence didn't seem to provoke them into more than mild curiosity.

  The Peach wasn't her first shipwreck, but was, without a doubt, the oldest and the first for which she was chosen lead conservator. Most marine archaeologists worked a lifetime without getting the privilege to see or touch a glimpse into a distant past from the beginning. I'll do right by you, old girl, she thought with a smile. Thank you.

  IN THE DAYS following Julia's disappearance, Frankie and Damian continued bringing artifacts up from the ocean floor. Damian was exhausted when he dragged himself onto the diving platform on the stern of their new cruiser. At first he resisted the idea of continuing the dives, but Frankie convinced him they owed it to Julia's memory to complete her last project. As he leaned against the hull to catch his breath, Frankie strapped on a new tank.

  "You need to give this a rest for a while, Frankie," he said as he squinted up at her, sea water dripping down his face. "The Peach has been down there two centuries. She isn't going anywhere."

  "This will be my last dive. I thought I spotted something the last time down and want to check it out before I forget where it was," Frankie said as she tightened the strap across her chest holding the tanks in place. "I've still got a couple of hours of good light left."

  "Didn't you mark it?"

  "I was on my ascent and just caught a glimpse of something."

  "Probably another fuckin' beer can or license plate," Damian groused as he unhooked the tank strap across his chest and took a deep breath of fresh air.

  Shoving the mouthpiece between her lips, Frankie flipped into the water and began one more trip to the Peach. She knew Julia reveled in working on the excavation, but Julia was gone. The Peach was nothing more than a grave site. Now it had taken yet another victim and Frankie was beginning to hate it.

  She couldn't remember what her depth had been when she saw the object that caught her attention as she dropped deeper, slowly scanning the ocean floor below. Whatever she saw had been perhaps two or three yards from the main excavation site. As soon as the Peach loomed up from its final resting place on the bottom, Frankie stopped her descent and looked to the right, but saw nothing. Remaining at the same depth she moved slightly, looking up at the bottom of the Discovery II. Shafts of sunlight penetrated the water, wavering in the gentle movement of the water. She thought she was about in the same position she had been when she saw the object the first time. Turning her head back toward the seabed she saw it, caught for a second in the dim wavering light. Swimming lower, her eyes never left the spot. When she finally reached the location, she got her mask as close as she could before tentatively moving the sediment away with the tips of her fingers.

  Reaching to her waist belt, Frankie switched on a small waterproofed work light to examine the object. It was metallic and even though it was round, it didn't appear to be ammunition, or an ever-present beer can. The portion not buried in sediment was heavily pitted, but seemed to be in fair condition. Using a plastic probe, Frankie followed the edge of the object and began carefully moving more sediment away until she saw what appeared to be a metal tankard of some type. Probably pewter. It would have been a common item aboard such an old ship. Afraid she might damage it by pulling it from the location, she continued removing it from its tomb. It was amazingly intact and she shined the work light over its surface and examined it carefully. Perhaps a clue to a crew member, she thought as she placed the drinking vessel carefully into a mesh bag attached to her work belt. Marking the spot with a bright yellow plastic flag, Frankie began her rise back to the surface. She wished Julia could have been there to see her discovery. She blinked away tears as the Peach disappeared below her once again.

  THE DAY AFTER the storm passed, the sun had felt good against Julia's face, warming her body. Now, two days later, the summer sunlight reflecting off the water became the enemy. The muscles in her face ached from squinting against the glare to prevent blindness. The skimpy neoprene rash suit left her arms and shoulders exposed to the sun, as well as her upper legs. Even if she ducked her head in the water to cool off, the sun quickly turned it into hot water against her already burning skin. While her torso remained relatively cool in the water, her head, arms, and legs were continuously exposed. For the first day or so she managed to float effortlessly. But by the end of the second day, she could feel the tightness of her skin as it dried and burned. The cold water which accompanied the storm was gradually replaced by temperatures in the lower eighties. Even though
the water was warmer, it was still less than her body temperature. She could burn to a crisp under the glaring sun while suffering from hypothermia. As the sun began its descent once again, she was shocked as she brought her hand up to wipe sea water away from her face. Blisters had begun to form on the flesh on the backs of her hands. If the blisters broke open and salt water got under her skin--she didn't want to think about how painful it could be.

  Gingerly she touched her face with her finger tips. Her skin felt hot and, as tightly as the skin was pulled, she suspected her face may have begun to swell. The sun beat relentlessly down on her head and shoulders and the water around her began to noticeably heat as well. She treaded water and spun in a tight circle, looking for anything on the horizon. Anything outside the sight of land would have to be at least as large as the Discovery. But there was nothing.

  She was a strong swimmer, but her arm and leg muscles screamed with fatigue, forcing her onto her back again. Her eyelids ached, but on her back she couldn't keep her eyes open and expose them to the blinding sunlight. Squeezing them shut eventually began to give her a headache. I have to take my mind somewhere else. I can't keep thinking about every little ache and pain, damn it! Just suck it up! But every part of her hurt too much to ignore.

  She never saw the wave coming before it curled over her, catching her just as she exhaled and pushing her beneath the water. With little air in her lungs and precious moments slipping away, she became disoriented and couldn't locate the surface. Panicking, she flailed her arms and legs, forcing her eyes open, enduring the biting salty sting of the water that blurred her vision. She wanted to breathe the air one more time. A sliver of light pierced the water and she fought the impulse to open her mouth and take a deep breath. Using the last of her energy, she forced her arms to stroke toward the light. As her head rose above the water, she gasped for air between the nauseous gagging caused by inhaling water at the same time.

  I'm sorry, Daddy. I tried to wait until church was over, but I can't. Salty tears ran down her face, adding to the water around her, as she sobbed and gave herself to the sea.

  TALBOT BLANCHARD SAT with his arm around his wife Regina, looking down at her soft profile as she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, hugging her slightly. When she looked up at him, the grief in her eyes tore at his heart. Tal, Jr. and his wife sat on the other side of Regina, holding hands and listening to a litany of speakers sharing their memories of Dr. Julia Blanchard and her work. As Talbot stared at a large picture of Julia in her dive suit, her head thrown back, laughing at something as the sunlight reflected off her short sun-bleached reddish-blonde hair, he thought how beautiful his thirty-four-year-old daughter was. The picture captured her at her best, nearing the peak of her profession. Talbot was proud of his daughter although he knew he hadn't told her so often enough. He always believed there would be time for that. He'd taught his children never to brag about themselves and their accomplishments. In a strange way it made him feel good to hear others do that. Some of the memories they heard were poignant and occasionally Julia's exploits led to laughter. It felt good to be able to laugh, at least on the outside.

  The Coast Guard abandoned their search for Julia nearly one week earlier. Even though Talbot and Regina didn't want to give up hope, realistically they couldn't believe there was any way Julia could have survived alone on a vast ocean longer than a day or two. She was killed by the thing she loved, Talbot thought to himself. Although not officially declared dead, it seemed to be something they would all be forced to accept.

  As the final eulogy and prayers were said at the memorial service at St. Jude's Catholic Church in Richmond, Virginia, Talbot helped his wife up and hugged her close to him. Stepping into the mid-July heat, Talbot and Regina were met by their priest and exchanged a few words with the man who had christened both of their children. Talbot knew Julia hadn't been to church for quite a while, but hoped she was in God's good care now. As they turned and made their way down the church steps, they were intercepted by an attractive red-head who had obviously been crying. Talbot recognized her immediately.

  "Mr. and Mrs. Blanchard, I'm so sorry about Julia," Amy said as she wiped at her eyes.

  "Thank you," Tal said stiffly. "We'll be in Savannah next week to pack Julia's things and place her house with a realtor." Although he and his wife had tolerated Amy because she was their daughter's "friend", in truth their dislike for the woman was obvious. "I'm assuming you will have your belongings out before we arrive."

  "I was hoping to stay in the house. It was our home," Amy said.

  "My understanding is that the house belongs solely to Julia."

  "I am...or was...Julia's partner. She wouldn't want me forced out of the home we made together."

  Looking coldly at Amy, Tal said, "Our daughter is dead, Miss Robie. As her family, we will make whatever decisions need to be made regarding the disposition of her property. You have one week to remove anything you believe is rightfully yours. Please make an inventory list in case we have a question about any of it." With that final statement, Tal and Regina walked solemnly to the waiting limousine.

  TAL REMOVED HIS suit jacket and loosened his tie. He was more tired than he could ever remember being. A moment later the telephone in the living room rang. Regina had gone upstairs to change as soon as they returned home. Tal was worried about his wife. The bond between mother and daughter had been a particularly strong one until Julia began bringing women home. Regina, however ridiculously, blamed her own family for her daughter's orientation. Always considered the black sheep of the family, Julia's Uncle Bertie was a flamboyant gay man unabashedly unashamed of the talk his escapades caused. Bertram, as Regina preferred to call him, was a successful barrister in Great Britain. Uncle Bertie waited until his financial security was well established before beginning to lead the life he wanted to lead, complete with an extremely attractive young man Bertie referred to as his house boy.

  "Hello," Tal said as he rested the receiver between his shoulder and jaw, struggling to remove his cuff links.

  "Mr. Blanchard? This is Detective Long with the Savannah Metro Police Department," a disembodied voice announced through light static.

  "Yes, what can I do for you, Detective?"

  "I tried to reach you earlier today, sir. Your daughter's cabin cruiser has been located," Long said.

  "What?" Tal nearly dropped the receiver. It took him a minute to collect both it and his abruptly scattered thoughts.

  "The cruiser was found in a marina near Jacksonville. From what we can determine, the boat was pirated by a group of men the drug task force in Jacksonville suspect are part of a modern day pirating ring."

  "But what about my daughter?" Tal managed to ask.

  "The individuals in custody say they found the cruiser abandoned and simply took it into a safe port."

  "That's bullshit and you know it!" Tal seethed.

  "The harbor master on Tybee Island says that Miss Blanchard..."

  "It's Dr. Blanchard," Tal interrupted, not knowing why it suddenly seemed so important that Julia's academic title be used.

  "Sorry. It seems that Dr. Blanchard took the cruiser out alone and apparently went diving. It's possible the boat was stolen while she was on her dive. There was no evidence of foul play on board."

  "Well, didn't they think it was a little strange that they found the clearly marked damn thing empty? Why didn't they contact the Institute? They took it and left my daughter out there alone to die!"

  "We're not sure we can charge them with more than theft at this point, Mr. Blanchard. They all deny seeing anyone on or near the boat."

  "Thank you for letting me know, Detective," Tal said. "Please keep me informed if you learn anything else."

  "Who was that, Tal?" Regina asked as her husband replaced the receiver.

  "The Savannah police. Julia's cruiser has been found in Florida," he said as he walked toward her.

  "My God! She might still be alive!" Regina said, the dullness in her eyes for the
past week brightening a little. "She might have made it to shore and is wandering around not knowing who she is."

  Taking his wife in his arms, he took a deep breath. "The police are confident the boat was stolen while she was diving."

  "They left her out there!"

  "She shouldn't have gone out alone, Gina," Tal said, trying to face the stupidity of his daughter's actions. "What the hell could she have been thinking?"

  "She was thinking the boat would be there when she returned to the surface. Please, don't give up on her, darling. She's an experienced diver and an incredibly strong swimmer," Regina pleaded.

  "I know. I know, Gina. I just don't want you to get your hopes up too high. Promise me," Tal said as he held her face between his hands.

  "I might have to eventually, darling, but I can't give up on Julia yet."

  Chapter Three

  AN UNFAMILIAR SOUND roused Julia from her watery nap. She closed her eyes against the sun beating down on her and wished she had her Ray-Bans. She brought her hand to her face. It felt hot to her touch and she knew she was getting the mother of all sunburns. The best she could do was tread water periodically before resuming her floating. As she forced her legs down and moved her arms slowly to keep herself above the water, she looked around. The sound she heard was a thumping noise, but, knowing sound could travel great distances under water, she couldn't tell how far away it might be. She wished she could cover her face before it turned into a charcoal briquette. Glancing around she saw the same thing she had seen since sunrise...nothing. A few minutes later, her arms and legs grew tired and she flipped onto her back again. I can see the headlines now, she thought with a grin. Woman floats around the world.

  Dozing and trying to ignore her growing sunburn, Julia was suddenly awakened by something hitting her body and the sound of voices calling out to her. Half opening one eye, she rotated it in its socket and gasped. Oh, God! Now I'm hallucinating! Father forgive me for I have sinned.