Twenty-eight
Virgil and Skeet
The storm left its calling card in the form of broken trees and roofing tiles scattered here and there, and sunken vessels littering the shallows and marinas from one end of the Bahamas Islands to the other. Telephone service and electricity were soon restored to Great Guana and, just as the Pincus family had returned to their everyday routine, so would Virgil Price and the Carsons have to return to their other lives very soon.
By the fourth day following the hurricane, the seas had returned to normal and thoughts returned to the San Pedro project. Max, Jenny and Virgil huddled together to discuss the state of affairs of the wreck, the progress that had been made, and the work that still needed doing. Together they had formulated a plan that would insure the continued well-being of the project. They asked Skeeter to meet them on board Abaco Diver so they could speak privately.
Virgil started the conversation, directing his speech at Skeeter, “What have you been thinking lately about job prospects after this project winds down?”
Skeeter took a moment to respond, “I know this job won’t last forever. We will probably have most of the important artifacts up before winter sets in. Then you won’t need me anymore and I’ll either have to buy a new boat and take up fishing again, or I don’t know what. It’s a problem that nags me constantly, knowing I’ll be out there with my hat in my hand in a few months. The thought of it sickens me.”
“That doesn’t have to happen,” said Virgil. “I have noticed the work you have done and the invaluable contribution you have made to this project. I’d like to hire you to work for me.”
Skeeter perked up. “You want me to work for you? I’m listening, what did you have in mind?”
“I had in mind having you join the Defense Force. With your military training you’d be a natural. My idea is to bring you to Nassau for an abbreviated police course, say a month of communications and procedures training. The combat and weapons training would be unnecessary, you could probably teach the course.”
“Did you have it in mind for me to move my family to Nassau? Our life is here, my wife and I really don’t like Nassau that much. We’re kind of attached to Great Guana.”
“No,” replied Virgil, “I mean you stay here and man the Defense Force’s Abaco outpost. We need representation right here, and I think you would be perfect for the job. What do you think?”
“I think it sounds like a blessing for me and my family. Thank you, Virgil. I’d very much like to be the guy who mans your Abaco outpost. Let’s get Susan in on this.” He picked up the VHF radio and called the house. “Susan, are you there?”
Susan answered through the radio, “Hi, Honey. I’m here. Do you need something?”
“I need you to come down here. I have some news to share with you.”
“OK, Honey. I’ll be right there.”
In less than a half minute Skeeter heard the door close and looked up the path to see Susan approaching. The mood on the boat was charged with excitement and good cheer. Everyone was happy for Skeeter, no one more so than Virgil Price. When Susan heard the news, first she screamed with delight, then she cried. Then she kissed Virgil on the cheek and thanked him three times.
Skeeter was curious. “Virgil, what will happen to those fellows we caught on the wreck? Are they going to prison.”
“They’re not going to prison,” said Virgil. “They’re already in prison. They’ll have a fair trial but in the end I would say they are facing seven years each at Fox Hill. They have information we need about the man who employed them. If they cooperate their sentences could be reduced to four or five years.”
“Did you determine that Grant Web was their co-conspirator?” asked Jenny.
“I might add that they were only too glad to give him up. We have their testimony that he is the primary conspirator. I also have taped conversations implicating him, but with the witnessing Hammerhead and Whale will be doing, we probably will not need the tapes. I will arrest Grant Web as soon as I get back to Nassau, if he is still there. It seems that he owes a loan shark a great deal of money at an outrageous rate of interest. He is also responsible for the damage to that gray Magnum to the tune of at least $10,000. He also owes in excess of $130,000 for the loss of the Ocean Master we confiscated. He owes so many people so much money, he’s probably be better off safely away in jail. I’ll be glad to help arrange that.”
“But won’t the boats be returned to its rightful owner when this is all over?” asked Jenny.
Virgil responded, “Miss Fit and Abaco Diver are now property of the Bahamas Islands. They were used in the commission of a crime and have been impounded. The dive boat will be used to take the place of Conchy Lady on the archaeological expedition. The Ocean Master will be our new patrol boat for the Abaco area.” Virgil finished with a smile. “It will be used by our local representative on the Defense Force to help fight crime.”
Skeeter beamed. “I’m going to be the law in this part of the Islands, and I’m going to be patrolling in the Ocean Master. Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s about the size of it,” replied Virgil.
Skeeter wise cracked, “Gaffer is going to be so jealous.”
Everyone laughed at that, no one more than Max because he knew it was true.
Twenty-nine
Last Day in Paradise
This would be Virgil Price’s last day in Abaco for this visit. It would also be Max, P.J. and Gaffer’s. Virgil was flying back to Nassau in the morning. The Carsons would be setting out for the 160 mile trip home. They would spend half of today on the barge with the other members of the expedition and then return to Great Guana to prepare for the trip home. Gaffer had two hours of preparations to make on Bimini Twist before it would be ready for the Gulf Stream crossing.
They arrived on the work site before 8:00 AM. It was a clear, calm day. Small ocean ripples gently lapped the edges of the barge as Skeeter opened the dive room and began distributing equipment. Since Virgil Price and the Carsons were only putting in a half day, Skeeter signed them up to make the first dive with him.
“The very first thing I want done is to further explore the K 12 grid where P.J. found those gold bars,” said Jenny. “Godfrey is to video tape everything because we’re ready to start hauling stuff to the surface. You can finish digging out that box that P.J. started tearing on and bring it up. Enough notes, enough photos, it’s time to excavate.”
“As you wish,” said Skeeter. “You tell us what you want and we’ll get it for you.”
The six divers descended in a wide cloud of bubbles. They carried with them baskets, inflatable lifting bags, ropes and spare air. Within two minutes of the time they entered the water, they were descending upon the K 12 ready to dig and haul. Weeks of daily diving had sharpened their skills so that they were able to do difficult jobs easily as a unit. The six divers working in unison removed a small mountain of sand from around the footlocker sized crate and lifted it to a level spot on the ocean floor. They secured a sturdy rope around the box and made their controlled ascent to the surface.
The instant Skeeter returned to the surface he climbed aboard Abaco Diver and moved to the winch to begin reeling in the box. Godfrey by now was snapping pictures every few seconds. In no more than ten minutes the large wooden crate was lowered to the deck of the boat and the lines were released.
“Are you ready to open this right here, now?” asked Skeeter. “I don’t think we can wait any longer.”
“I can’t wait any longer either,” said Jenny. “Open it up.”
“Before I do,” said Skeeter, “You need to know something.”
“What’s that?” asked Jenny.
Impatiently Virgil Price cut in, “Will you just please stop talking and open the box. I think you’ve kept us waiting long enough.”
“OK, OK,” said Skeeter.
“What’s the other thing?” asked Jenny.
Prying at the top of the crate Skeeter said to Jenny, “W
hen we removed this box, it was laying on several other boxes. I don’t know how many but I could see the sides, corners and tops of at least four more boxes. Different sizes and shapes, but they’re there.”
In his haste to examine the contents of the crate, Skeeter split the wooden lid into two parts. As half the lid peeled back from the other half, the contents of the box came into full view. The trip to the surface had scattered things about but it was apparent that originally the gold bars had been neatly stacked in even rows and columns. Nothing but gold bars, stacked eighteen high, four columns long, ten wide. Seven hundred twenty gold bars, each comprising in content alone a value of $32,000. The value just by weight was over $24,000,000. As artifacts they were priceless. Virgil Price gasped, Jenny beamed while Max and his sons gaped and Godfrey clicked away.
Jenny was hurriedly preparing her scuba gear for another dive. To Skeeter she looked as if she would jump overboard leaving the rest of her dive team behind. He had to slow her down.
“Jenny, calm down and wait your turn. You are way too excited to get into the water. Get a grip on yourself. Whatever is down there will wait for you.”
“But from what they have told me, I feel so anxious. I can’t wait.”
“You will wait,” Skeeter said in a gently commanding voice. “You will wait until you compose yourself before you get into the water. This is your Dive Master speaking!”
Jenny laughed. Skeeter was teasing her, keeping it light, but making his point. The artifacts had been down there for centuries, a few minutes more, for the cause of safety, would make no difference.
Virgil helped by adding, “Jenny, we’re all excited about this discovery and I understand your impatience. But these guys are right, you have to calm down and Godfrey and Max have to complete their surface interval. It would be dangerous for them to dive before the interval is over.”
Jenny took Virgil’s hand and sighed deeply. “I know you’re right. Skeeter can tell us when to go. Thank you, Virgil.”
Jenny turned her attention to Godfrey. “How ready are you? This dive will be the biggest yet. We need all your guns.”
“I’m taking three cameras. I’ll get 100 pictures. Max is going to video tape the entire dive. We’re acting as if this is the culmination of the project even though I know we’ll still be here in a year doing the same thing. Anyway, to answer your question, the equipment is ready.” Now the entire dive team was suited up and ready to dive. Skeeter walked down the line of divers, checking each one’s equipment and giving words of encouragement. This was not the normal ritual, it was extraordinary. But this was to be an extraordinary dive. Everything had to be right.
Six divers lined up along the back edge of the dive platform at the rear of the barge. There was much fidgeting, adjusting straps, testing regulators, spitting into masks to keep them from fogging. Again, one more time, Skeeter checked their readiness, offering words of encouragement. It was time. To lightening up the mood and offer one more chance for the divers to relax, Skeeter used the submariners chant that the group was so used to. “Everybody ready?” he called. Everyone raised a hand indicating their readiness. “OK then, this is what you’ve been waiting for. Dive! Dive! Dive!”
The loud splash broke the surface of the calm ocean as the six divers hit the water simultaneously. For a moment they bobbed at the surface with their heads above water, adjusting straps and rinsing face masks. Jenny was to lead the group. She called out, “Everybody ready?” Hands were raised and heads were nodded. “OK, let’s go.” Six hands came out of the water holding the deflation buttons on their buoyancy compensators. Six bodies left the surface and gently descended to the ocean floor.
Before Bimini Twist could return to Great Guana it had two errands to run. The first was to visit the lobster ‘condos’ that Skeeter had planted in the Sea of Abaco. These condos were a series of boxes placed here and there, and their locations were recorded on the GPS log. Gaffer and Matthew were to locate these coordinates and anchor up. They would then dive with Hawaiian slings and spear any unfortunate lobsters that might have sought shelter in the condos. Their instructions were to collect no more than three dozen tails for tonight’s feast. They accomplished this after uncovering only fiive of the boxes.
The second stop for Bimini Twist was at the marina to gas up. The main 200 gallon tank, as well as the reserve 100 gallon tank, had to be full to the brim before setting out the following day. Rough seas, or stops along the way to troll over an interesting spot, would increase their fuel consumption. If there was any question about being able to make it all the way back to Florida with the fuel they had, they would stop at West End to top off again before setting out across the Gulf Stream.
As Bimini Twist headed up the sea, Gaffer and Matthew could see that Abaco Diver and Miss Fit were pulling into the turning basin two miles ahead. Gaffer put the throttles to the wall and caught up enough so that he was able to idle in behind them. When Max saw Bimini Twist, he called over on the radio. “Gaffer, how did you make out with the lobster condos?”
“Real good,” came the reply. “An even three dozen as requested.”
“Good, Son,” replied Max. “And gas?”
“To the brim,” said Gaffer.
That was the end of that conversation. With three boats maneuvering around and trying to moor up all at the same time, things started getting confusing in the turning basin. Gaffer, being the last one in, saw that he was not helping things by being there. He reversed his engines and idled away from the other two boats. He would come back in when they got settled.
Finally the three boats were sitting comfortably together in the turning basin. Abaco Diver was tied along side the dock, as was Miss Fit. With a large section of the dock still battered in, Bimini Twist had no place to tie up except along side the dive boat. The divers spent the next half hour unloading the boats, artifacts, coolers, lobsters, whatever else needed to go ashore. Gaffer spent another twenty minutes washing down Bimini Twist and checking instruments and fluid levels. Satisfied that everything was ship-shape, he climbed across the dive boat and jumped onto the dock. He and Matthew were the last ones to make it up to the house.
The kitchen in the Pincus residence was in full swing. Tonight was to be the final summer’s end celebration. It was good bye to Virgil Price and the Carson family tomorrow. But it was also the unveiling of some mysterious objects that had been excavated from the San Pedro site earlier in the day. Most of what they found they left there for further excavation tomorrow, but today’s haul was also very promising. Along with the crate of gold bars that had been recovered, were two more boxes of the same size promising to be more of the same, an encrustation of about forty pounds of what Jenny believed to be silver, and two small wooden boxes. One of the boxes was six inches deep by fourteen inches long, by eight inches wide, approximately the size of a shoe box. The second box was smaller, only about half the length of the larger one.
While Susan and Godfrey worked in the kitchen, preparing a feast of snapper and lobster for the twenty people who were associated with the expedition, Jenny was busy in her work area cataloging artifacts and rubbing the gold bars until they shone. She chipped away at the encrusted blob of silver, but it was old and it was frail, and it was very damaged by centuries of exposure to the salt water. In spite of a painstaking effort to be careful with the delicate piece, it crumbled into a thousand pieces. Tragedies like that happen on all archaeological expeditions. It was a sad event but the excitement of the day’s finds could not be tarnished.
Work in the kitchen stopped for the grand opening of the mystery boxes. Whatever was in them had better be indestructible, because salt water had invaded all of them. As suspected, the two larger crates, which were taken apart much more carefully than the first, held gold bars equal to the first crate. The total count of gold bars was now over 2,000. It had been a banner day in the annals of marine archaeology.
Then came the job of opening the two smaller boxes. There was no need for tools for t
his job. The original hinges that held the tops on quickly crumbled into rusty dust. With a fingernail, Jenny was able to remove the encrustation that held the top on the smaller of the boxes. She carefully wiggled the box top and it came loose. Now was the moment of discovery. The crowd around her moved in closer. She lifted the lid. A soupy concoction greeted her. What looked like it may have been papers had fallen apart and become part of the surrounding water. Only two small pieces of leather, which appeared to have been a part of the binding of a journal, remained. Jenny slowly drained off the water, careful not to allow any of the crumbs of evidence to slip away. Unseen at first through the murky water, was a small, anklet-sized gold chain, measuring perhaps ten inches in length, with rough links three eighths inch across. Jenny carefully removed the chain and placed the empty box in a bucket of water. The box was as important an artifact as the chain, and she was counting on the water to keep the wood from oxidizing and falling apart. She carefully rinsed off the gold chain and, with a ten power loop, examined it closely.
Jenny was grinning like a Cheshire cat when she handed it to Virgil for his inspection. When she looked up to hand it to him she noticed that he was frowning. She was taken aback. “Virgil, what’s the matter. This is a terrific find. You don’t look happy.”
“I think I can speak for all of us when I say you have fussed over a nearly empty box for the last ten minutes keeping us waiting to see what might be in that other box.” Now he too was grinning as he went on, “How long are you going to make us wait?”
Laughter rang through the crowd. Everyone was in agreement. Sounds of, “We can’t wait any longer,” “Open the box,” and “Hurry Up!” came from the gathering.
Jenny blushed, gave a mock curtsy and turned to the larger box. As with the other box, the hinges disintegrated and the top was easily freed from the body. Jenny lifted the top and the crowd crushed around her again. Another box full of water. Sounds of disappointment. Jenny knew not to rush to a hasty conclusion. “Wait, don’t give up. Give me a second.” With that she began to drain off the water. She was right. Very right. Before half the water had run from the box, signs of metal objects and loose shapeless blotches were visible. As the water continued to slowly drain, more and more of the artifacts were visible. There was a whole pile of them half filling the box. Now the crowd was really crushing Jenny. She had to ask them to give her a little room.
Abaco Gold Page 23