Matthew made certain that both throttles were in neutral and turned the ignition switches to the off position. It was nice to have the quiet. Only the wind of the electric reel and the sound of small waves lapping against the hull of Bimini Twist could be heard. Skeeter looked around and liked what he saw. Gaffer paying attention to his son, his son having the time of his life, and the three of them enjoying a peaceful day on the ocean.
The line was beginning to pile up on the spool, so Gaffer knew the fish would be in sight soon. The rod tip shook the entire time he reeled. “Color!” exclaimed Skeeter. Matthew moved around behind his father and peered over his shoulder. Gaffer moved into position to grab the line as soon as the snap swivel reached the rod tip. From a distance of twenty feet below the surface the catch could be seen. There were four queen snappers, each larger than five pounds, dangling from the circle hooks. When the catch was at the surface Gaffer reached over and hauled it into the boat. This time Matthew grabbed the lead weight and placed it on the deck.
“That’s quite a spot,” said Gaffer. “Twenty pounds of queen snappers on one drop is amazing. Want to try one more spot before we head back? We’ll give Matthew another shot.”
“It’s your turn, Gaffer,” said Matthew. “I’ll drive.”
“Where to?” asked Gaffer.
Skeeter called up the landmark number for the next spot. To his surprise Matthew knew exactly how to guide the boat there. The site was four miles to the south and Matthew had them perfectly on it within nine minutes. Skeet was more that a little amazed. “How did you learn to do that?” he asked.
“I know about GPS,” he replied. “I watch you wherever we go. And I saw what Gaffer was doing. It seems real easy. Did I do good?”
Skeeter smiled. “You did great, Son. Just great.”
Gaffer took a turn dropping. Matthew controlled the boat and Skeeter took his turn on the gunwale watching. On the first try Gaffer came up with three queenies and a small shark. The queens were tossed into the live well with the others and the shark was returned to the ocean unharmed. “This is a nice spot,” said Gaffer. “Let’s give Matthew another try before we head back.”
Skeeter continued to watch from the gunwale while Matthew dropped and Gaffer took the helm. It took the five pound lead four minutes to hit the bottom. Matthew took some line back up and set the lead on the bottom gently. Within no time at all there was a riot of activity. Snappers were tugging on the baits and getting hooked up. The rod tip was shaking and jerking. Matthew threw the switch on the electric reel to bring the rig to the surface. It brought in ten feet of line and came to an abrupt stop. Matthew pushed hard to make certain that the reel was engaged but that was unnecessary. He could hear the motor straining but the line would not budge. Instantly he started losing line. Instead of bringing line in, line was going out. Many times when Gaffer was deep dropping, a large shark or some other type of strong fish would pull against the line and the electric reel would lose ground. But this was different. He had never lost ground so fast.
There was only one thing to do. He shouted to Skeeter, “Take the controls!”
Skeeter moved around to the helm while Gaffer replaced Matthew at the rod. “OK, back down hard. We’ve got to gain some line back or we’re going to lose everything. He quickly snapped a safety line to a stationary ring on the reel. That was to keep the ultimate catastrophe from happening, having the rod and reel get pulled from the rod holder and lost overboard.
As Skeeter held the boat in hard reverse the line slacked slightly. Gaffer took what line he could and wrapped it around the cleat on the port side of the transom. He gave it three crossing wraps and two locking wraps. “OK, Skeet. Go to neutral.”
Skeeter eased the throttles into neutral and the boat glided to a stop. Gaffer waited to see what would happen. He did not have to wait long. Whatever had a hold of the gear at the bottom was big and strong. The line straightened out and became taught as piano wire. For a few moments the catch actually caused the boat to move backwards. This couldn’t last for long. In spite of the fact that the line was 200 pound test spider wire and was probably strong enough to tow the boat for a short distance, the rigging at the bottom was designed to let go against an eighty pound pull.
Gaffer and Skeeter were certain the boat had moved backwards at least twenty five feet before the line parted and went slack. Gaffer just shrugged and untied the line from the cleat. There was nothing to do but reel in what was left and see if any of the hooks, the light or the weight were still there. From the speed at which the rigging was coming in, Gaffer knew the weight was gone but hoped the leader line and k-light were still intact.
“What’s our depth?” Gaffer called to Skeeter.
“Twenty one hundred feet,” was the reply.
“That’s deep for us,” said Gaffer. “We consider 1,500 pretty deep. What can you catch at 2,000 feet?”
“There are a few different species of snappers and groupers at that depth. And there is also the unknown.”
“Unknown what?” asked Gaffer.
“No one knows. That’s why it’s called unknown.”
Gaffer looked puzzled but said nothing. Three minutes later his rigging appeared fifteen feet below the surface. To his surprise there were still three hooks and the k-light attached to the line. Three hooks and the lead weight were gone. “It looks like the hooks are still baited,” said Gaffer.
Skeeter stood by to accept the rigging as it cleared the surface. He lifted the hooks into the boat and examined them carefully. Gaffer had been right about the bait on two of the hooks, but on the third, the meat was not bait at all. Skeeter looked closely and examined it. They had hooked into something, something that was probably feasting on their catch and got itself tangled in their rigging. What was this meat? Skeeter had seen it before. His eyes fell upon the bait bucket and at once he had his answer. They had been fishing all day with squid. The evidence was right in front of his face.
“Mystery solved,” he said. “What took our catch and left a little of his flesh was a squid.”
“That’s crazy!” exclaimed Gaffer. “A squid could never tighten our line like that or make the boat move. It must be something else.”
“You have no concept of the power of a giant squid. We’re in 2,000 feet of water. It’s cold down there and all kinds of things live there that you never see at the surface. In the Sea of Cortez there’s an industry that catches squids twenty five to thirty five pounds as a matter of routine. Squid can grow to sixty five feet, and there is even a theory that there could be ninety five foot squids. You think something like that couldn’t move this boat? Think about it, a ninety five foot squid. It could wrap itself around this boat and take it to the bottom in an instant. There’s something else you should know, the big squids are not nice, they’re vicious. They’re wrecking machines. They even eat sharks!”
“Well, I’ve had enough of this spot for today. What do you say we get the hell out of here. That would make me feel much better.”
“Me too,” said Matthew. “Let’s go.”
Gaffer started the engines again and placed the gear shifts into forward. He was happy to be moving from this spot. “Are you sure that was a giant squid?”
“I’m just deducing that,” said Skeeter. “I’m sure that is a piece of squid skin on that hook. Of that I am certain. And the skin is thicker by far than the squid you use for bait, so we didn’t put it there. The next logical argument is that the squid broke through 500 pound monofilament line and pulled this boat in reverse. Therefore we know that this is a squid, but not one of the thirty five pounders from the Sea of Cortez. This one is big and is from 2,000 feet below the surface. Draw your own conclusion.”
Gaffer decided to give it some gas just to get away from the area a little quicker. He looked down to see that his speed was forty knots. Feeling foolish he throttled back to twenty five. “What else do you know about the squids?” he asked.
“The scientific name for those big guys is ar
chiteuthis. They live deep in the darkest parts of the sea where they dominate everything. They have excellent vision even at depth. They have the biggest eyes of any animal on the planet. They’re the size of a dinner plate, imagine that. They have jet propulsion and can move forward and backward.”
With that statement Gaffer sped up a little more. Within a few minutes he was clearing the channel at Whale Cay Passage and safely back in the fifteen foot depths. He settled back down to twenty-eight knots for the ride to Great Guana.
As Bimini Twist entered Skeeter’s turning basin, Gaffer mused about the great day of deep dropping with two new friends and some excellent coordinates for the future. He glided up to the dock and allowed Matthew to tie off. Susan heard them coming and led Sissy by the hand down to greet them.
Skeeter, Matthew and Gaffer spent the next thirty minutes cleaning fish and talking about the adventures of that day. When the cleaning work was done it was time to go. Gaffer took the filets of two of the queenies and left the grouper and the rest of the snappers for the Pincus family.
He spilled several buckets of sea water over the deck of the boat and gave it a quick brushing. Skeeter lifted Matthew up onto the dock and turned to Gaffer. “This was a special day for Matthew and I want to thank you. It was also a big day for me and Matthew to work on the father son thing. We don’t get enough of that and you kind of threw us together. We needed it and I appreciate it very much. So, thanks again.”
“Thank you, Skeet. I learned a lot from you today. And thanks for the numbers. They’re awesome!”
“You can have all the numbers I have. And I’ll tell you something else, I’ll fish with you any time. I thoroughly enjoyed myself today.” With that Skeeter shook Gaffer’s hand and climbed up onto the dock.
“Thanks again,” came the voice of Matthew as he untied the boat and handed the dock line to Gaffer.
The Pincus family stood together on the dock thanking Gaffer and wishing him luck until he was embarrassed and had to get out of there. He eased away from the dock and turned Bimini Twist 180 degrees in a distance no longer than the boat itself using only the motors. As he idled out of the turning basin his heart swelled with pride at Skeeter’s kind words. He turned and waved back at Skeet and his family who were standing there watching him leave. Fifty yards away from the dock he gunned the engines and pointed toward Boat Harbour as the Pincus family watched him speed away.
Eight
Government House
The charter flight from Abaco to Nassau in the ancient Queen Air took fifty minutes. Upon landing at the International Airport an official Bahamas vehicle was standing by to escort the duo to Government House. Max had been to Nassau many times and hardly noticed the native scenery. Jenny was new to the islands and was amazed by everything she saw.
They drove on for fifteen minutes before the traffic became unbearable as they entered the city of Nassau. Cars jammed the narrow streets, pedestrians everywhere, animals being herded along, peddlers on every corner. Island color was not the kind of thing Jenny was used to. She sat with her eyes wide taking it all in, while Max studied the reports from the Seville archives and paid no attention to his surroundings.
The car pulled up to Government House, a sprawling three story colonial building of bright white paint and pale green trim, sitting half way up a tall hill overlooking the downtown area, the bustling harbor and Paradise Island. The driver took them around to the back of the building so they could enter through the official business entrance. As they climbed the wooden stairs toward a broad porch, the door swung open and a tall, handsome and distinguished-looking Bahamian gentleman stepped out. Max’s grin matched that of the other man. Arms flung open as the Bahamian official gave Max a huge bear hug. They embraced, stepped back, shook hands. They were as pleased to see each other as two old friends could be.
“Max, I am so very happy to have you here. It has been too long, my old friend.”
“You look terrific, Virgil. It’s great to see you too.”
“Introduce me to your friend, Max. Who is this lovely lady?”
“Of course. Virgil I’d like to present Jenny James from the Maritime Studies department of the University of Miami. Jenny, this is my very good friend Virgil Price.”
Virgil took Jenny’s petite hand in his large mitt and gently pressed. “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss James.”
“The pleasure is certainly all mine. Pleasure and honor I might say. Max has told me so many good things about you.”
Virgil was smiling broadly, happy to see his friend once again. Max was grinning too. Virgil placed his hand on Max’s shoulder and led him inside. They walked across wooden floors that shined mirror bright from decades of buffing. The rooms were light and airy with many large windows, fireplaces in the public rooms and graceful antique furniture. Virgil led the way up a wide flight of stairs and down the hall to a set of double doors made of dark mahogany wood. The sign read ‘Royal Bahamas Defense Force, Virgil Price Superintendent’. Through the impressive doors was a room at least thirty-feet wide and forty feet long. Virgil’s desk was ten feet wide with polished mahogany top and sides, and gold leaf on the corners and legs. It sat on a Persian area rug of exceptional beauty with a delicate pattern of teal and silver against a background of burnt orange. Behind the desk was a large picture window through which the bustling city of Nassau could be seen with the billion dollar Atlantis Resort in the distance. At one side of the office was a mahogany credenza with two computer screens and two radio kits, one VHF, the other receiving its signals from a satellite circling the planet. Virgil led his guests over to a side of the room where there was a sitting area furnished with overstuffed chairs and a matching couch, teak end tables and coffee table and delicately shaded table lamps which sent a white glow that softened the edges of the room even more.
Sitting in this very comfortable setting Virgil spoke. “In a little while we will be joining the Governor and the Minister of Antiquities for lunch in our official dining room. You said this could be important, Max, so I set it up. Tell me a little more about it.”
“Jenny, you go first,” said Max.
Jenny spoke, “I had the coins that Max sent me analyzed and studied. We looked at hundreds of possibilities, some of them very remote. The conclusion keeps coming up San Pedro. We have not found the wreck yet but Max has found strong evidence. It is certain to be within an area of only about one square mile. We’ll find it in a few days once we get started.”
“I’ve not heard of the San Pedro,” said Virgil. “What’s it about?”
“It’s a Spanish galleon that went down in 1660. Back in the 1950s some wreckage was found near Gorda Cay. Among the artifacts were some silver ingots with markings from the Royal Mint of Santa Fe de Bogota dating to 1652. The record of the manifest that was researched in Seville indicates that the San Pedro was carrying exactly this kind of coinage. It was also carrying as much as $300,000,000 in gold. None of it has ever been found. The wreck was thought to be lost forty miles from where Max found those two coins. There’s enough evidence to turn the archaeological community on its ear. Everybody would want a shot at it.”
“And that is exactly what I am afraid of,” said Max. “There are all kinds of salvers out there. Some call themselves marine archaeologists and then go out and use dynamite to excavate the site. We’d like to avoid that. We’d like to set this up as a true archaeological site. We would use the latest scientific techniques to map and record the site, recover the artifacts, catalogue them, preserve them and set up a museum for the whole world to enjoy. Jenny is a scientist and archaeologist. I have a minimal background in marine archaeology but I am interested in it and would like to have the right thing happen with respect to this find. It could be very significant and it deserves to be handled properly.”
“On a scale of one to ten,” said Virgil, “how would you rate this find?”
“In terms of what you might be able to understand,” said Jenny, “it’s the Atocha all over again.�
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Virgil let out a low whistle. The Nuestra Senora de Atocha was another Spanish galleon of unusual value discovered in 1985 off Florida’s Marquesa Keys. It contained over forty seven tons of solid silver and a total value of gold, gems and artistic jewelry in the neighborhood of $400,000,000. Mel Fisher, the owner of the salvage operation, fought for years for salvage rights to the site. The courts worked against him and he spent a great deal of time and effort trying to keep poachers away.
“That could be a big deal for these islands,” said Virgil. “What did you have in mind? What point would you like to make when we see these two gentlemen?”
Max answered, “The very instant the word about this gets out, treasure hunters from every corner of the globe will show up to claim a share. Our intent is only to protect the remaining artifacts. We want to excavate the site properly and preserve the archaeological record. We would hope the Bahamas Islands would want to create a museum in honor of this amazing find. We will return all of the artifacts to the government of the Bahamas. We just want it done right and kept safe. There’s a correct way to do this, but we can’t do it alone.”
“Exactly what can we here at Government House do? What’s the best way for us to help?”
“There are a couple of things we will need. One is a license to be the exclusive salver. Since we are returning one hundred percent of the artifacts to the government, we would like to cut through about ten years of red tape and just get the license issued. Do you think they can do that?”
Virgil laughed. “When we set our mind to it we can cut through anything. It will be helpful if you can outline the economic benefits of this program for the minister. Do you have any figures?”
“The numbers are impressive,” said Max. “We believe it will take up to two years to fully excavate the site, providing the wreckage is in less than 100 feet of water, which we believe it is. There are many techniques for keeping the cost down, but to do it right there are professionals we will need to hire. They don’t work for free. We will need tons of equipment from the government and that won’t be cheap. We will also be importing more tons of equipment and supplies. It needs to have duty free status. The operation will probably cost $1.5 million dollars to get running and 1.5 to 2 million dollars in operating costs. The upside is the possibility to put together a unique museum that will bring in scholars and tourists from all over the world and more than $10,000,000 a year in visitor dollars.”
Abaco Gold Page 7