Uncharted Waters

by Steven Becker

  I knew what I had to do and with the blade in my right hand I was about to slash through the lines coming from my helmet when a violent move from the shark slung me against the wreck again, causing me to drop the knife. As I reached for it, I saw movement above, and I looked up in horror as the beams above my head came crashing down on me.

  Chapter 25

  With its last violent move, the shark had somehow freed itself and disappeared. With my circumstance improved, I checked my body, feeling my extremities. It was all good until I tried to move my legs. Thankfully they were not crushed, but were stuck beneath a large beam. Using what leverage I could, I tried to pull them clear with no luck, and turned my focus on the beam itself. It was a large piece of timber that had spanned the gunwales, giving support for the deck. Fortunately, the beam had caught on something as it fell. Whatever it was had saved my legs. They were pinned down, but not crushed.

  The helmet remained intact as well, allowing me to continue breathing as if nothing had happened. I knew there was some relation between deeper water and the diving sickness and I could only hope I was shallow enough that it wouldn’t affect me as I waited, knowing sooner or later the divers would be back in the water looking for me.

  From my position, I could see the bottom of the skiff and one of the divers as he broke the surface of the water. Still connected to the hoses and lines, I was easy enough to find, but as the man approached the ship creaked loudly and I slashed my hands in front of me warning him to back away. With my heart pounding in my ears, I felt the ship shift behind me, but it stopped and all was quiet again. The diver tentatively approached, and upon reaching me tried to lift the beam. Even with both of us working, our efforts were futile.

  Communicating is almost impossible underwater. With the dive bell, we had been able to talk inside the chamber, but with the helmet on, there was no way to tell the diver what needed to be done. From what I could see, the only way out for me was to use the block and tackle aboard the ship to start lifting the debris. Using my hands, I tried to communicate this to the diver. Unsure whether he understood or not, he had exhausted his air supply and headed back to the surface.

  The divers changed places, but I waved the replacement off. There was no reason for them to risk their own lives checking on mine. The diver returned to the surface and a few minutes later I saw several men swim off in the direction of the ship. The skiff was my lifeline and needed to remain above me. The wreck continued to shift, making loud noises that reminded me of the sounds my stomach made when it was upset.

  Behind me, a large crash brought my attention to the bow, where the deck had caved in on the hold beneath it. A large silt cloud formed as the falling material hit the sand. Looking back, it appeared every cavity that had given the ship its shape was gone. The wreck, which before had risen ten feet from the bottom, now lay more or less flat.

  A grating sound broke the surreal quiet. Noises, especially metal against metal, carried a long way underwater, and even though the ship was a hundred yards away I could clearly hear the links of the chain rode clink against each other as the anchor was raised. From the direction of the waves visible on the surface it appeared the wind would carry the ship back to my position, and within a few minutes I saw its large shadow on the surface. The anchor dropped about fifty yards away and the ship settled back just above me.

  Except for a small cloud where the anchor had landed, the silt had settled, and with the knowledge that my rescue was in hand I looked around what was left of the forward section of the wreck. The masts and rigging had toppled when the boat originally sunk and were spread out in the sand nearby. The deck had collapsed, leaving several posts and beams all that remained of the forward section. The resident fish, sensing the danger was over, returned, swimming around what looked like a skeleton rising from the ocean floor.

  My evaluation was interrupted by a diver in the water. He swam over to check on me, while just past him another man worked the line from the makeshift crane around the topmost piece of wreckage. The diver looped the rope around the highest timber—not the one that lay directly above my legs—a well-thought-out move. Patiently I waited while that beam and the next were raised. As they didn’t drop back into the water, I assumed they were hauled aboard the ship. Heavy timber, even seasoned by a month of saltwater, was in heavy demand in an area where the base of the thickest trees was not much wider than my leg.

  After lifting everything obstructing it, they finally started on the beam that had trapped me. I soon felt the weight lift and cautiously pulled my legs away. Slowly, I stood and walked several steps. Satisfied I was in good condition, I started toward the now-visible forward hold.

  One of the divers swam next to me, probably thinking that I was disoriented, and once he got my attention, pointed up to the ship. I returned his signal, telling him I was alright, and continued forward. Reaching the rubble, I carefully climbed over the deck boards and found myself in the hold. It lay exposed. Lafitte’s ship had been assigned as our escort while we recovered the treasure from the Panther. As such, they were not provisioned with any trade goods. In fact, the only thing aboard was a third-share of our salvage efforts. Stored in the otherwise-empty hold, the chests were piled near what had been the forward bulkhead.

  Separating me from the treasure was a wild array of beams, planks, rigging, and everything else that had been in this section of the ship. What lay in front of me seemed impassable. Even if I could walk through the maze, boards scattered at all angles would surely have snagged the air hose.

  The boom we had rigged had taken the ship down, but the coral heads and formations that had further damaged the hull on impact and now projected through the ship’s bottom, I wondered if the tactic had even been necessary. Looking around me, I saw several cannon lying nearby. What had once been the gun and main decks of the ship had collapsed. If my plan worked, it might be worth salvaging several, but for now I passed them by. With everything that had happened I needed to get to the surface.

  Pulled aboard the skiff, I received a warm reception from the men, but I had too much on my mind to celebrate.

  Mason was at the tiller.

  “Can you row to the forward section of the wreck?” I asked him.

  He gave the order without question and the freedmen at the oars pulled toward the area I pointed to. The sun was dipping into the western horizon, setting some glare on the water, and I would check again from the deck and rigging of the ship when I returned, but for now, I wanted to see what the wreck looked like from the surface. It was flat-calm, the water clear enough that the bottom could easily be seen from the deck of the ship, but it was the level of detail I was interested in. I needed to know if the lookouts aboard the ship could see that the hold now lay open. What I hoped was that the water obscured just enough of the wreck to buy us some time. Now that we knew where the treasure was and how easy it would be to recover it, we could spend a few days biding time and working on my plan to escape.

  From the perspective of the skiff it was difficult to see the bottom. I stood, shading my eyes with my hand, and peered into the water. The wreck was visible, but only by its straight lines. Other than the obvious man-made features, there was no telling the condition of the wreck. Once aboard the ship I would evaluate it again.

  “I’ve seen enough. Take us back to the ship, if you please.”

  Mason gave me one of his looks that made me question if I had lost my mind. His interest in my well-being aside, he would have to wait until later to find out what I had found. For now, I wanted to make a report to the captain before the first mate returned.

  Chapter 26

  While I waited for the captain to summon me to his cabin, I saw the second skiff approach the ship. The first mate stood tall in the stern, no doubt giving orders to the men at the oars. Watching him, I couldn’t help but think how our leadership styles differed. He got what he wanted from his men through threats, intimidation, and fear; I tried to earn mine. I suspected we would soon get a
chance to see whose crew reacted better under duress.

  Standing above the hold waiting to see if the captain would call me down before the first mate returned, I winced when I heard the sound of the chains being placed on my men. Vengeance would be ours, but we would have to be patient. We had found the treasure, but our goal was no closer. Tomorrow, while timbers were being brought to the surface, I would make sure we stockpiled the tools and weapons we needed for our escape.

  There was still no word from the captain when the first mate climbed over the rail and immediately sought me out. Growing up around pirates, there were few men that intimidated me. The man standing toe-to-toe with me now was one. It wasn’t only his size; there was a look he had about him, a darkness in his eyes, that told me he was no stranger to violence.

  “We’ve done your errand,” he said.

  I had to bite my tongue for wanting to inform him that any gold retrieved would enrich him more than me. “We’ll take it from here. I’ll need a few of my men released to do the work.”

  He nodded to the two men beside him, who climbed down into the hold. A few minutes later, Blue and Mason appeared. We would not only get the hoses prepared, but hopefully, as the guards had become lax, we would have the chance to talk.

  “Right, then.”

  “And what of the diving today?” he asked.

  “I was waiting for the captain to summon me. I’ll give him a full reporting.”

  “The captain’s indisposed.” He cast a mutinous look at the companionway. “You’ll give me the damned report.”

  His tone told me there would be no seeing the captain tonight. “Very well. We had divers below for most of the day. They made little progress, so I went myself this afternoon.”

  His look eased slightly at my revelation that I had done some of the work. “The stern is totally blocked. The bow less so. We had a problem, though.” I told him of my run-in with the shark, and again I could tell his opinion of me rose, if only slightly.

  “Wouldn’t want to see one of those buggers up close.”

  “In order to untangle the beams we had the ship brought above the wreck and used the block and tackle. Three or four beams already should be aboard.” I was about to say they were worth something in themselves, but he already knew that. The only problem with the lumber was its size. There would be no way to leave them off the manifest, a common ploy for the crew to enrich themselves.

  “With two divers, all your men, and mine, we should make short work of it.”

  I was surprised by his offer to help. The manpower would be welcome, but it would also force our time line. Instead of dragging the salvage operation out for a few days—which would have let us accumulate what we needed for our escape—with both crews working together our preparations would have to be completed tomorrow.

  He turned and walked away without another word. While I applied the pitch, finishing the second helmet, Blue and Mason laid out the hoses to start treating them with lard, I thought about the first mate’s decision to put his crew to work with us. It would surely be unpopular, leaving me wondering what the reason might be. It had to be time; we had the provisions to stay out for two weeks, which the salvage would have realistically taken—without the shark attack that had inadvertently revealed the treasure. The first mate was no fool. He knew what the bones of a ship looked like, and that if we had brought up four beams in an hour’s time, the decks of both halves of the wreck could be cleared tomorrow.

  With the helmet finished, we’d been greasing the hoses for an hour in silence. I’d checked every five minutes to see where, and how alert, the guards were. Every time I looked, they were further away. On a ship this size there was only so far one could move and they had reached that limit.

  “The deck collapse exposed the forward hold. The chests were sitting there plain as day.” Blue’s and Mason’s faces appeared to be set in stone, knowing better than to expose their true emotions. It would be hard to leave the chests behind, but with the first mate pressing hard, we would have no choice but to execute our plan tomorrow.

  “What about weapons?” Rhames asked.

  Both men showed more interest in our escape than the gold. Rhames was out for the bloodsport, but I knew Blue would give everything he had to rescue Lucy, as I would for Shayla.

  “We’ve got a pile of cutlasses and daggers in one of the sunken skiffs. We get this second set of gear ready, we can be sending up lumber all day and still strip her of everything that might be valuable.”

  “Still got the locks on the chains to deal with,” Rhames reminded me.

  We fell silent for a few minutes while we greased the hoses. I’d never liked that part of the plan. There wasn’t a lock-pick amongst us, though Blue had a knack for things like that, but if there was even one lock that we couldn’t pick the plan would fail.

  “Take the bastards in broad daylight. We’s all unlocked then, anyway. If that cock-sure bastard is game to put his crew to work, ain’t no of ‘em gonna be watchin’.”

  He was right, but we would surely be noticed salvaging weapons instead of gold. Our plan had called for the bundled weapons to be pulled up to the skiff from the wreck by a line mixed in with the diving equipment. The helmet and hoses were brought aboard every night to be serviced and inspected. The two lines the freedivers used to descend quickly without using their precious air supply were left in place, along with several others used to lower and retrieve tools and treasure. We had taken to leaving those half-dozen lines out. An additional line or two would mean nothing to our captors.

  The original plan, as Rhames had pointed out, required the men’s locks to be picked—all of them. If we could make the weapons look like they were just another crate of gold, we might be able to smuggle them aboard. Keeping the ship’s crew busy salvaging timbers was critical. As I laid out the revised plan, I could only hope that the first mate’s unexpected offer of help would benefit us as well.

  By the time we were finished talking, the hoses had been greased twice over. Laying them out to dry, there was nothing to be done except go back to the hold and make the best we could of the rest of the night. What I hoped would be a restful night turned into a soggy mess when the heavens opened at the start of the middle watch, shortly after midnight.

  The opened hatch above us allowed the built-up heat of the day to escape and provided us fresh air at night, but no one had anticipated the storm. As typical at these latitudes, it didn’t last long, but twenty minutes was plenty of time to thoroughly soak us. What I was worried about—more than the sturdy constitution of the men to endure a little water—was the wind that accompanied the squall and what it might have done to our lines. It was hard to predict what the first mate was going to do under normal circumstances; impossible if something went awry.

  Settling back for a cold, wet night, I found that the guards had retreated under shelter, leaving us enough privacy to speak quietly. There was a clear feeling of excitement and fear, as there always is before a battle. I felt it too, but my life held more than just me. There was Shayla, and I had sworn to save her. Part of the pirate image of fearlessness was their day-to-day existence. When you are rich with gold coins in the morning and poor in the afternoon from whoring and gambling, and expect more of the same tomorrow, it’s not even worth thinking of the day after, because you might not be alive to witness it. But the men around me, with the exception of Rhames, all had futures that in most cases would include a new family to protect.

  Chapter 27

  Dawn broke, calm as a sleeping baby. Though as with a child, the weather at this latitude was fickle and could change in an instant, as last night’s storm proved. With the squall long gone, it looked like the weather was in our favor—or I hoped so.

  “Tomorrow will be a storm.”

  I turned to Blue, who stood next to me at the rail. He had seen something different in the sunrise and corrected my ignorance.

  “Those clouds,” he said, pointing to a narrow line of pink clouds high in t
he sky.

  I could see now that they were moving opposite of the larger clouds below. If Blue was right, and he usually was, we would need to accelerate our plan.

  With barely a ripple on the water, we loaded into the skiff. The conditions were excellent for supporting the divers and lifting the beams, but without wind to interrupt the surface, it revealed more of the wreck below than I cared to be seen. A lone lookout was perched in the crow’s nest above. I feared if he turned and studied the wreck, he would see our ruse, but he was focused on the approaches. If it came, trouble would arrive from that quarter.

  After a short meeting with the first mate about the logistics and signals for lifting the beams, the crew and I dropped down to the waiting skiffs. With the ship positioned over the wreck, the skiffs were secured by lines run up to the deck. If all went according to plan they would remain there, serving as platforms to assist the divers.

  For our plan to have any chance to succeed it would need the element of surprise. It was alarming to look up to see the first mate staring at us. Proceeding with the recovery effort as if nothing was astir was essential. As badly as I wanted to get in the water, I decided it would be to our benefit if I made only the last dive, ensuring that everything was ready. Bringing the first two divers together, I explained what I wanted them to do.

  The first beam broke the surface a half hour later. We had decided on a pace quick enough to keep the crew on the ship occupied and, hopefully, tire them out. Though the diving was often difficult, the heavy lifting would be done on the deck. A steady stream of lumber was hauled up, disguising the activity of the other diver working the wreck. If asked, that could easily be explained as further exploration, but I wasn’t inclined to defend my plan.