Adrift

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Thank you to CoffeeMuse, Grace Lee and Faeritales for the wonderful reviews. I'm all aglow! :) Here is the next chapter, dedicated to those kind enough to let me know that they are enjoying my flight of fancy.

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The next day was gloriously warm. A decent night’s rest had left Beth feeling much better despite the fact it took a few hours before sleep had actually come to her once she retired. The very enticing thoughts of what might have happened had she stayed aboard Hector’s ship had kept her awake far longer than she would have liked. No matter now, though. Seeing the boats anchored around the wreck site drove all memory of fatigue from her body.

“Betsy! Welcome back, luv!” Tony Newson, her deck boss, lifted Beth up in his arms and twirled her around as she jumped from the Morgan LeFay and boarded the Penzance, the decommissioned British minesweeper she’d had converted into a floating base camp.

“Thanks, Tony. I can’t wait to see what we’re dealing with here!” She disentangled herself from the old Aussie’s arms with a smile. The man was a legend in the retrieval of sunken treasures and could have named his price with any salvage group, but he chose to work with her and her fledgling company instead. When he took the job, he’d told her it was because he needed to work with someone who was doing it out of love rather than greed. In lieu of a decent pay cheque, she’d given him a small share of the company and counted her blessings every day that he was there to help show her the way.

“We got the grid set up this morning over the debris field; Lance and Jennifer are ready to get to work with the suctorials, but we all wanted to wait for you to suit up and join in. Didn’t think we’d ever hear the end of it if we went out on our own.”

“You know me too well,” she grinned back at him, only to see confusion and not just a little concern on his face as he looked past her. Beth turned and realized that in her excitement, she’d forgotten to tell him about their new comrades.

“Oh. Tony, I’d like you to meet some friends of mine…they’re going to give us a hand with some of the heavy lifting,” she said, leading the deck boss over to where Hector and his men stood. “These are Misters Mullroy, Pintel, Murtogg and Ragetti…and Captain Barbossa. Gentlemen, this is Mr. Tony Newson…he organizes my staff, keeps things moving around here.”

There was a pause as the men sized one another up and Beth glanced nervously between Tony and the others. All at once Hector’s men broke out in wide smiles, pushing past one another to shake Tony’s hand and talking all at the same time.

“We’re here to help, matey…”

“Just point us in the right direction, we’ll take care of things fer ye…”

“Pleasure ta meet cha…”

“Right impressive boat, ‘tis…”

Only Hector remained unmoving, waiting impassively as his crew received their assignments and moved off to become familiar with the ship. Tony eventually turned back to them, looking a bit overwhelmed at the sudden influx of manpower. “And how ‘bout you, mate?” he directed his attention to Hector. “Shall I find something useful for you to do?”

“No,” Beth interjected, seeing Hector’s face tighten. “I’ve a specific project in mind for him. He’s going to help me catalogue our finds; he has a background in ships’ artefacts from the 1700s.”

Tony arched his eyebrow. “That so? Can’t say your name is familiar …who have you worked with that I might know?”

It was with some sense of alarm that she watched Hector straighten his shoulders and curl his hands into fists at his side. “I’m doubtin’ that we keep the same set of acquaintances,” he growled at the deck boss.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Tony sneered.

“Have ye somethin’ as needs sayin’, Mr. Newson?” Hector replied with a grin full of malice. “Perhaps a private word away from the lady might be in order.”

“Too right, chump!” snarled the deck boss as he puffed out his chest and took a step forward.

“Tony,” said Beth, taking an arm and pulling him along. “Let’s take a moment, shall we? I’ll be right back, Hector.” The larger man inclined his head, silently accepting her intervention. She’d made it clear on the voyage out the she was in command while they were aboard the Penzance and she was grateful that he was content, for the moment, to honour that arrangement. She knew, though, that he was reaching the limits of his patience.

“This pommy bastard is bad news, Bets. I don’t know what you were thinking, bringing drongos like these out to our operation…” Tony sputtered as he was led away, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Hector. In return, she saw Hector give him a decidedly disingenuous smirk.

Beth held up a hand to halt his verbal rampage. “Listen, there’s something you need to know before you go all ‘alpha male’ on me. I didn’t tell you on the phone yesterday, but there was an incident the night of the storm. Someone came aboard Morgan and threatened me…and then tried to make good on his threat.”

Her friend looked stunned. “Bloody hell! What happened?!”

She explained her injuries and the care she’d been given. “Someone doesn’t want us out here, and we can’t watch our backs and do our jobs at the same time. If having Hector and his crew out here means we can focus on retrieval and reclamation, then we’ll be better for it. And I need to know I can count on you to make it all work. Promise me. Please.”

He looked at her sadly, shaking his head in disappointment. All at once she felt as though she was ten years old again and had brought home a bad report card. “That bop to the noggin must have been a bad one if you think this lot will make the situation any better. More likely than not we’re gonna end up with a blood bath on our hands and it’ll be our people caught in the crossfire.”

She threw her hands up, her frustration brimming over. “What would you have me do, then? This project could be the big break that Swann Song needs. Really, Tony…it could be the difference between buying new equipment and holding a garage sale at the end of the pier to get rid of what we have now.”

“You don’t need to be telling me the lay of the land, girly. I’m into this operation for no small part,” he snapped.

Beth took a deep breath, trying to compose herself before she said something she couldn’t take back. “I know that. But the difference between us is this…if this whole thing blows up in our faces, you can walk into a job the next day anywhere in the world. This is all I’ve got and if I screw it up, my reputation will be crap and I’ll be finished. Worse still, William would have been right about my chosen profession all along and I don’t think I could stand that.”

Tony’s mouth twitched in something approximating a smile before he turned dead serious once more. “God knows I wouldn’t want that little wanker to think he’d got something on you. But you need to understand that you’re taking a dark road here.”

“I’m not asking for your blessing but I will ask you to respect my decision,” she said, nearly pleading. It hurt more than she could stand that in this, he lacked faith. “If you trust me, then you have to trust them. They’ve never shown me anything but kindness, and if they are willing to step up and help keep things afloat, then how can we turn that down?”

The ship swayed beneath their feet and the silence between them stretched on. Tony sighed heavily, his eyes searching the heavens as he struggled for an answer. Finally he looked down at her with resignation and not just a little indulgence on his weather-beaten face.

“I suppose that if there’s trouble out there, these blokes are the ones to give a little trouble back. If it keeps you safe, then I’ll make it work. I won’t like it, but we’ll give ‘er a fair go.”

A lump had grown in her throat and it threatened to choke off her words as she spoke, her gratitude for his friendship and support unexpectedly overwhelming. Beth wrapped her arms around him and drew him in tight. “Thank you, Tony. I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

“Bah! Enough!” he grumbled, uncomfortable at the turn in her emotional tide. “Leave off and let the battlers get some work done around here.” Tony wriggled his way out of her embrace and turned away, wiping suspiciously at his own eye as he went to check on his staff.

Beth watched him go and rubbed at her forehead, a migraine threatening to creep in as her blood pressure increased. This was supposed to have been the best part of her day – how long had she waited to get a good close look at the wreck? But the constant sniping was starting to get a little old. Worse, the need for her to step in as referee was positively wearing. She felt tired once again – her earlier enthusiasm had waned.

“Are ye fallin’ ill?” Hector asked as she returned to him, his face drawn in concern. He clasped her arm and pulled her closer, lifting her head with a finger beneath her chin so he could better see her face.

She gave an exasperated laugh. “Why is it, Hector, that you seem determined to bring out the very worst in the men I know? Not everything needs to be a pissing match!”

He snorted. “I’ll not be challenged by the likes of them, ’Lizabeth. ‘Tis not in me nature. Ye want a lap dog, ye can have either Norrington or yer dear Mr. Turner follow ye around.”

She pulled her arm from his grasp, angry again. “How could you possibly say that about either Jim or William? You don’t even know them!” Good lord, she was defending her ex…if that didn’t speak to her stress level, nothing did.

The question seemed to give Hector pause. “Yer right,” he finally grumbled. “Don’t know ‘em, but ‘tis not the first time I’ve come across men of that ilk. And I know, sure as sunrise, that what ye be needin’ ain’t some lily-livered sop what does naught but yer biddin’.”

“Really? You think you know what I need? Well, let me tell you …”

Beth stopped short. Yes, she did know what she needed and he likely did as well. She felt the flush burning up her neck and settling in her cheeks. She knew exactly why Hector was acting as he was.

“Yer gonna tell me, what?” His stubborn expression had faded, replaced by a look fiery enough that the warmth that had bloomed in her face began to slowly spread southward. Clearly, he’d missed neither the blush nor a guess as to the turn her thoughts had taken.

He slid a hand around her waist and slowly guided her in close. As she gazed up at him, it occurred to her once more that his eyes truly were startling, of a colour that went from light blue when he laughed to deep blue-green when his anger – or his passion – were aroused. And it would be so easy to lose herself in their dark depths now and relieve some of this agonizing tension. But no…not now. It wasn’t the time. She needed to get into the water, needed to get the reclamation started. Needed to cool off.

“What I wanted to say,” she sighed unevenly, allowing herself the indulgence of smoothing a hand over his magnificent chest, “was that you don’t need to prove anything to Tony or anyone else. I already know who the better man is.”

“Are ye tryin’ to play me, girl?” he chuckled, the roughness of his voice belying the attempt at humour as he caught her hand in his and held it fast.

“Depends,” she conceded coyly. “Is it working?”

“A dangerous game, to be sure, but I’ll pander to ye fer now. I’ll not let the likes of yer quartermaster get me riled again. Make no mistake, though, missy. I’ll be demandin’ fair trade in exchange for me kind understandin’.”

“Agreed,” she said, smiling at last. “Right now, however, I am going to get out of these clothes. You can go sit with Tony in the control room and he’ll let you watch the dive through the remote control cameras.”

Hector leered at her. “Are ye sure I can’t be helpin’ with the clothes instead? Might go faster if I lend ye a hand in disrobin’.” He slid a finger beneath the strap of her swim suit, seemingly eager to demonstrate his skills in that area.

Beth laughed and pushed him away gently. “The disrobing might be faster, but I wonder how long it would take to find my way from the cabin to the wreck? Maybe later you can help me get out of my wet suit…”

“Sounds like a fine idea. Go on, then. Take yer walk, see what lies beneath the waves.”


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“Ye look as though yer expectin’ grand things down there, ‘Lizabeth,” Hector said as she checked her equipment on deck and prepared for descent. “Wasn’t every ship as carried Spanish gold and priceless gems; ye might be disheartened.”
Beth shook her head. “It’s not important what she was carrying, Hector. It’s about being about to reach down through the centuries and touch something of our past. That’s the real payoff, not the financial gain.”

“Them as sailed ‘er might have had an opinion that differed,” he answered, his lips quirking up in a grin.

“You could be right. Go on, now. Watch from the control room…and Hector?”

“Aye?”

“Play nice with the other boys, okay?” She adjusted her mask one last time, put the regulator in her mouth and flipped backwards off of the diving platform, not waiting for his response.

She sank beneath the waves, slowly righting herself as she bobbed in the current. The first and best thing about diving was the sound…actually, the lack of sound. Yes, she could hear air pumping and the bubbles as she blew out, but the lack of external noise filled her with peace. The tepid waters of the Gulf washed over her bare legs and arms, and she closed her eyes so that the feeling of it filled her senses. She was home.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw that Lance and Jen had taken up positions over the PVC grid, their flippered feet moving slowly back and forth as they waited for the boss. She gave them an okay sign and they moved into position, starting up the suctorials. The air and water suctorials – more or less submersible vacuums – would be the first step in the excavation. As they worked, the sludge would be carefully removed and artifacts exposed without damage.

Beth kicked closer, anxious to watch but not wanting to stir up any more silt than necessary. She knew that both Tony and Hector would be watching on the monitors and she didn’t want to reduce their visibility. Besides that, the images might prove to be important for historical records or even for pitching future projects to potential investors.

For something that had been submerged for over 200 years, the ship was actually in pretty good shape. Although sea life had begun the gradual process of turning the wreck into something of a reef, it wasn’t nearly as advanced as she’d have suspected. The keel was broken into pieces, of course, but many of the timbers were relatively intact despite the best efforts of the wood piddocks. Though terribly corroded, she could even spot pieces of what had once been brass emerging from the sediment.

She followed her divers, carefully pinning numbered plastic tabs beside each piece as it was revealed. With her pencil and plastic dive slate, she carefully recorded the item beside each number for future reference.

“Betsy…look up,” came Tony’s tinny voice over the com. “Lance has something you’ll want to see.”

When she raised her head, she saw Lance signalling to her to join them. When she swam over, she was in time to see the last of the sludge disappear from an old English cannon. The rope breaching was gone, of course, and the wood trunk carriage had disintegrated, but the barrel was intact. She’d have smiled if her lips weren’t so tightly closed around her regulator…it was beautiful! Beth ran her fingers gently over it, plucking strands of seaweed away from the concretion-encased iron.

Cannons weren’t exactly rare; the waters around Florida, Mexico and Texas were full of them. But one in such immaculate condition – now that was a find! She was anxious to get it back to the lab and start releasing the treasure from its stony prison.

She drew a happy face on her slate and she saw Lance’s eyes crinkle in response. He held his hand up for an underwater high-five and she responded in turn. Beth had resumed recording details on her permatrace when she saw something dart out from under one of the beams.

She dropped down to take a closer look, but whatever it was had blended in perfectly with its surroundings and she couldn’t find it again. Out of the corner of her eye, however, she saw another movement, and this time she stayed perfectly still until the creature had worked its way into her range of vision.

It was a Gulf ghost crab, its stone-coloured shell making it nearly impossible to spot until it began picking its way across the ocean floor. Beth’s brow furrowed in confusion; she was no marine biologist but she understood that these creatures never wandered into deep water. They lived on the shoreline, emerging in the evenings to run into the surf for oxygen – that this one was 73 feet down was strange. It might have been inadvertently caught up in the tide, Beth supposed. Probably just an anomaly.

She likely would have shrugged it off without another thought but for the fact that there were now little scuttling movements all around her. Whirling, she watched wide-eyed as dozens of the tiny pale crabs, their beady black eyes waving on their stalks, converged on the wreck.

“Is there a problem?” asked Tony. “Bets, what are you doing?”

Why was he asking? How could he possibly miss the teeming wave of crustaceans moving over the site? Glancing over at Jen and Lance, she saw that they were continuing on with business as usual, seemingly oblivious to what was happening. Maybe her tank was low and she’d started hallucinating from lack of oxygen. She pulled the indicator around to take a look at it…no, it showed she had lots of air and was only half way through her 30 minute maximum dive time.

Beth wrote the word, “crabs” on her slate and held it up for the camera-bot for a few moments until the creatures drew her attention once more. They weren’t moving in a random pattern; they were circling as a group near the stern, close to where the captain’s cabin would have been.

“We can’t see anything on the monitor,” came Tony’s voice again, this time in carefully measured tones. If the cameras weren’t picking up anything, then the instruments on her equipment must be malfunctioning. Whether the vision was a symptom of a mechanical problem or not, it was time to start re-surfacing; at this depth, she had to go slowly and stop at least twice to avoid any issues with the bends. The need to get back to the boat was becoming urgent, though, as panic began to take hold.
Tony had radioed Lance and Jen; they’d stopped what they were doing and were starting towards her, worry in their eyes. Beth waved them off, giving them the thumbs- up indication that she was going back to the Penzance.

She kicked a couple of times, but when she looked back at the debris field, the crabs had morphed into a formation reminiscent of a whirlpool. It was completely mesmerizing and she stopped, unable to take her eyes from the sight.

Suddenly the crabs began to dig into the sand en masse, disappearing into the ocean floor. She could still see movement from beneath and then something shiny in the sand caught the light from the flood beams set up all around the site. Forgetting her earlier alarm, Beth descended again towards the spot where the crabs had vanished.

She waved over at Lance, trying to get him to bring the suctorial over. When he hesitated, Beth swam over and impatiently grabbed the hose from his hands so she could do it herself.

“Elizabeth Swann!” yelled Tony into her earpiece, trying to get her attention. She knew she was in trouble when he bothered to use her proper name instead of his own nickname for her, but it didn’t slow her down. There was something there…something wonderful.

As she began to clear away the silt, both Jennifer and Lance approached, enticed by what she was doing. The both of them sank down beside her and excitedly swept the sand away by hand, trying to uncover whatever was concealed beneath the muck. Beth found the edge of the item…it was black, elaborately carved and stretched out about nine feet in a single direction. She followed the edge around and found another, shorter edge. It was thick and rectangular…and most remarkably of all, in one clean, unbroken piece.

Jen stopped what she was doing and Lance froze at almost the exact time. They both looked up at Beth, excitement clear on their faces. The three of them looked down again at the same time and saw themselves reflected back from the surface of perfect, unblemished mirror.

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