Professor Harris was built like a pro football tackle. The Dolphins should have one like him. But he wore thick glasses that made his eyes look enormous. He told me he’d had cataracts, and that he’d had diving goggles made with that same thick prescription glass in them because he did a lot of diving in connection with his work.
Well, when we went back to the Frosts’ cottage after we’d finished eating, Mrs. Frost had us all sit down and brought out some little cups of after-dinner coffee and passed them around. Then Mr. Frost asked me to tell them in detail everything I knew or guessed about Dolphin Inlet and all the odd things that had happened to me and Susan there.
I did the best I could.
When I came to the part about finding the doubloon, I took it out of my pocket and passed it to Professor Harris. He took one look at it through his thick glasses, front and back, and tossed it to Mr. Simons. “It’s genuine,” he said. “No question about it. Spanish doubloon minted in Mexico City in 1714.” He looked at me and grinned. “In terms of our money, Pete, your doubloon was probably worth over a hundred dollars when it was struck in 1714. But plenty of coin collectors will pay you up to a thousand dollars for it today.”
“Wow!” Susan piped up. “You’re rich, Pete!”
Her father shushed her and I finished telling them about Dolphin Inlet. Mr. and Mrs. Frost had already heard most of it from Susan; Mr. Simons and Professor Harris listened to every word.
At the end, Mr. Simons said, “How’s it sound to you, Max?” Max was Professor Harris. “Myself, I’d say that not only have Pete’s actions in this matter been exceptionally circumspect, but his analysis of the situation admirably plausible. I’ll go further. I’m willing to hazard the firm opinion that there’s a Spanish hulk on the bottom of the Gulf at Dolphin Inlet, exactly as Pete and Susan have envisaged it.”
Professor Harris moved his head up and down in a nod. “Me, too,” he said briskly. “Sounds like the kids have earned the thanks of your people, Frank. I agree that on the evidence so far, it seems pretty likely that there’s a Spanish treasure ship at this Dolphin Inlet place. Although heaven knows how it happened to sink away up here on the west coast!”
Susan spoke up. “Pete thinks a hurricane must have caught a plate fleet somewhere around Key West, and a crazy wind of some kind cut this ship out of the fleet and drove it north up the west coast onto the rocks at the base of Dolphin Point.”
Professor Harris said, “Not a bad guess, Pete. It’s the only way it could have happened, I dare say. This is the first treasure find I’ve heard about on the west coast, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen.”
Mr. Simons laughed. “Matter of fact,” he said, “we have an investigator looking into a reported treasure find down around Fort Myers right this minute. Fellow down there’s supposed to have unearthed some solid gold Aztec statuettes. So Dolphin Inlet won’t be the initial west coast find.”
“About this diving that’s going on in the inlet,” Professor Harris said. “Three people, or possibly four, if we count this Hamilton Osgood you haven’t seen yet, hardly seem enough hands to do an efficient job of underwater salvage, Pete. The treasure hunts I’m familiar with on the east coast are usually pretty well-staffed, scientific undertakings, aren’t they, Frank?”
“Of course,” Simons answered. “But they’re overt ventures, properly accredited and licensed by the state, and officially protected against piratical attacks during salvage, if any. This thing here, on the other hand…”
When he paused, Mr. Frost spoke for the first time “… is quite evidently clandestine in the extreme,” he said. “Under the circumstances, you couldn’t expect it to be anything else. And I guess there’s no reason why two or three skillful divers can’t clean out a treasure wreck pretty handily, is there? It just takes them longer than it would a bigger group, I should think.”
“That’s right,” Professor Harris said. “And their equipment described by Pete just now—the two boats and the diving gear—sounds quite adequate to me.”
I got up nerve enough to ask, “What was that thing like a vacuum cleaner, sir? They said it was used to suck up samples of bottom.”
“They were telling the truth,” said the professor, “up to a point. That dredging apparatus is probably being used to suck up sand on the Gulf bottom in one place and move it to another spot.”
Simons nodded agreement. “That’s always the vital factor in treasure salvage from sunken ships, Pete,” he said. He talked more like a professor than the professor did. “It is essential to move sand—quantities of it—from one place to another on the sea bottom.”
“Why?” asked Susan. “I should think you’d just go down and pick up what treasure you could see and…”
“There’s more to it than that, my dear,” Simons said. “Vastly more. You must understand that during the years since the ship sank, its wooden timbers have all either rotted away or been devoured by teredo worms, who have a voracious appetite for wood.” He coughed. “You rarely see much treasure lying about on the sand in the open near the wreck. Occasionally a few coins or jewels that may have been washed into the open by the currents of strong storms, just as Pete’s doubloon was undoubtedly washed ashore the other day. However, after the timbers are gone, about all that’s left of the boat is a pile of ballast stones on the bottom, under which most of the valuable metal objects that were in the original ship lie buried. The ballast stones themselves get partially covered with sand as well. Thus, if you wish to recover treasure in any worthwhile amount, you must first move the ballast stones that lie over it. And to do that, it is absolutely imperative that you move tons and tons of sand. Is that clear?”
“Sure,” I said. “But how does that dredge of theirs move sand?”
Professor Harris said, “They probably pump hose water at high pressure into the open-ended pipe and start suction so the sea rushes in, pulling sand with it. And small objects, too, like coins. The sand, shells and small stuff it sucks up come out of the pipe a few feet away and settle to the bottom there where they can be easily examined for any little bits of treasure they contain. And meanwhile, a lot of sand has been moved—the overburden on the ballast stones.”
“Gosh!” Susan said. “I never knew it was such a job!”
Her father laughed. “If you find a million dollars worth of treasure under the ballast stones, you can reconcile yourself to a certain amount of hard work, I suppose.”
I still didn’t know where Perry Osgood and Mr. X stood with the state, in case they were diving for treasure without a license. I asked Mr. Frost about it.
“It lines up more or less like this, Pete,” he explained. “The Florida Internal Improvement Fund trustees are in charge of a lot of things in Florida, and one of them is treasure-hunting projects. The state claims a quarter share of any treasure found, as you know. It issues treasure-hunting licenses and tries to keep track of the salvage projects, and collects the state’s twenty-five percent. But the old laws about treasure-trove were pretty loosely worded and not too well enforced in Florida, so a little while ago, the state passed the Florida Antiquities Act, which replaces the old laws. This act establishes a Board of Antiquities in Florida, made up of the state’s top executives, including the governor, and headed by the Director of that Internal Improvement Fund. It says the state will still get at least its twenty-five percent of recovered treasure, but requires that all salvage operations be carried out under the immediate supervision and control of official representatives of the board, and that all treasure be valued by three professional appraisers. On the basis of their appraisal, the Board of Antiquities then decides the salvager’s fair share.”
“What does that make the Osgoods and Mr. X then?” I asked.
“Not criminals, I expect, even if they’re diving for treasure without official supervision, Pete. On a little project like this, maybe they don’t even know they’re supposed to be wor
king with the state. Briefly put, the situation is this: if anybody is recovering treasure and the state hears of it, the state does everything necessary to get its lawful share. Is that clear?”
“I guess so,” I said.
Professor Harris put in his oar. “Speaking as a scientist and historian, there’s a little more to it than just a twenty-five percent cut for the state. An underwater archaeologist like me can learn a lot from sunken hulks about the details of ship’s equipment and about events in the past that are not recorded in any other way. Sunken treasure ships are valuable historical documents, you might say, and the Board of Antiquities aims to see that trained experts get a chance to study them and any artifacts that may be in them, before they are simply stripped by treasure hunters interested only in gold. That’s why I’m here tonight.”
Mr. Simons rubbed a handkerchief over his bald head. He said briskly, “Well, gentlemen, that brings us back to the basic question about which we have been warily circling all evening, doesn’t it? Namely, is there a wreck at Dolphin Inlet, and if so, is treasure being recovered from it?”
“It’s there, sir,” I said. “I’m pretty sure of that.”
“Why don’t you just go and ask the Osgoods?” Susan suggested.
Mr. Simons hesitated. “We-ah like to have a little more to go on than mere speculation, suspicion or rumor,” he said. “It saves embarrassment all around. And it’s usually conducive to so much more whole-hearted and satisfactory cooperation between the treasure hunters and the state.” He paused, then turned to Mr. Frost. “I suggest that if it’s possible, John, we charter a small plane at Sarta City Airport tomorrow and make at least a superficial examination from the air of the Dolphin Inlet area where Pete says the diving is taking place. If there’s a wreck down there, we can perhaps spot some indication of it from the air.”
“Good idea,” Professor Harris said promptly. “Pete says it’s shallow water. And it should be clear enough by now after the storm for our chances to be better than even.”
I asked curiously, “What could you see from the air that would identify a Spanish ship down there?”
Simons said, “Nothing much except a dark patch, perhaps, roughly oval in outline and considerably darker in color than the surrounding sand. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, a pattern of long shapes protruding from the oval patch—ship’s cannon that haven’t sunk into the floor of the ocean.” Seeing my skeptical look, he added with a smile, “We fly very low, of course. Practically at wave top.”
Mr. Frost left to telephone in the back room of the cottage. Everybody had another thimbleful of coffee while he was gone. When he came back, he nodded at Mr. Simons. “All set, Frank. Sarta City Airport has a charter job that will do very well for us. And a pilot who knows the Keys like the palm of his hand. Tomorrow at eleven o’clock.”
“How big is the plane?” Susan asked.
“Big enough for the three of us to squeeze into it all right, according to the man I talked to. Besides the pilot, of course.”
Susan’s eyes turned to me and she said with considerable heat, “I object!”
Everybody looked at her in surprise. Even her mother. “You object to what?” Mr. Frost said, amused by Susan’s angry tone.
“I object to your freezing Pete and me out of the best part of the Dolphin Inlet mystery, that’s what! Here we are, the original discoverers of the Osgoods and the treasure ship, and you want to leave us out of the most exciting part of all! We ought to go in the airplane, too!”
I grinned at her spunk. I’d have given a lot to go in that plane and watch the aerial survey of Dolphin Inlet, and she knew it. I was pretty sure that she wouldn’t get to first base with her objection, though.
I was right. Mr. Frost said, “Don’t be childish, Susan. There’s no room for you. And besides, you’ve taken enough chances over this business already, you and Pete. From here on, we’ll handle it. That’s what Mr. Simons and Professor Harris came here for.”
“Yes, Susan,” Mrs. Frost backed up her husband, “you and Pete have done enough.”
“It isn’t fair,” Susan insisted. “Don’t you agree with me, Pete?”
I said, “Well, I’ll be just as glad to leave it to the experts, Susan. I think we’re over our heads, to tell the truth. That’s why we asked your father’s advice.”
Mr. Frost said approvingly, “Exactly.”
Susan wasn’t to be left out of the action as easily as that. She stood up and said in a challenging manner, “I bet you’d like to know what happens tomorrow when your plane starts circling over Dolphin Inlet, wouldn’t you?”
“What do you mean?” Mr. Simons said.
“Suppose Perry Osgood and Mr. X see your plane snooping over their treasure ship and think there’s a state investigator in it, maybe? Or other treasure hunters who’ve located the wreck and want to share in the treasure? What will they do?”
I saw what she was getting at. “She means they may try to grab whatever treasure they’ve already recovered from the wreck and make a run for it,” I said. “Especially if they’re deliberately avoiding paying the state’s quarter share.”
Susan nodded her head up and down so fiercely her hair jerked. “That’s right! And if they do make a run for it, wouldn’t you like to know where they’ve stored the treasure they’ve brought up? And which direction they take when they leave? And whether they go by boat or car? And stuff like that?”
“We’ll be right above them…” Mr. Frost began.
“But you won’t be able to see what’s happening from up there. You’ll be looking for a sunken treasure ship. Besides, what if the Osgoods and Mr. X don’t run away, but decide to hide some place around the inlet until they know what your airplane is up to? Wouldn’t you like to know where they’ll hide?”
“I suppose,” said Mr. Frost mildly, “that you’re trying to tell us something, Susan.”
“I am.” She turned to Professor Harris and Mr. Simons. “Wouldn’t you like to know the reactions of the Osgoods and Mr. X to your airplane survey? Wouldn’t that help you?”
“Why, yes, I agree it might prove helpful,” Mr. Simons said carefully. “The state’s interests here are not clearly defined, but…”
“See?” Susan didn’t wait for any more. “So why don’t Pete and I hide in the woods while you’re over the inlet and watch what happens?”
“It could be dangerous, Susan!” Mrs. Frost protested.
I had to hand it to Susan for coming up with a quickie. So I helped her out. I said, “There won’t really be any possible danger that I can see, Mrs. Frost. If Susan and I stay inside the woods and don’t go near the Osgoods’ house or the point, nothing could happen.”
Susan thanked me with her eyes. “And how about this, Mother? I’ll take a canvas and my paints so if anybody sees us, I’ll claim I came to paint the inlet and the Osgood house. They gave me permission to, remember.”
“W-e-l-l,” Mr. Frost said. Everybody waited for his decision. Simons and Harris were hiding their amusement at Susan’s persistence. “I don’t suppose any harm could come of that.”
Susan went over and hugged her father. “Oh, thanks, Daddy! I couldn’t bear to miss the excitement!” She said to me, “How about it, Pete?”
I felt a little embarrassed. “I’ve got to work in the fish market as long as I’m needed. So I can’t spend too much time at Dolphin Inlet. But I think I’ll be able to meet you out there by the time the plane gets there and starts searching. Did you say eleven o’clock, sir?” I asked Mr. Frost.
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll be flying over the inlet a few minutes after. How long will it take?”
“No idea, Pete,” Professor Harris said. “Not too long, though. Either we see something fairly soon, or we don’t.”
“I’ll figure to get there about eleven, then, if I can,” I said to Susan. “Okay? I’ll meet y
ou inside the woods by the beach where I took my swim.”
“Okay,” she said.
I thought of something else. “How will you get there? Your father will have your car at Sarta City Airport.”
“I’ll drop her off at the inlet on our way to the airport about ten,” Mr. Frost said.
And that’s how we left it. It was quite late when I got home.
CHAPTER 13
THE BODY ON THE BEACH
At ten twenty-five the next morning, the announcer’s voice came thin and rasping from my pocket-size transistor. “And now for the local news,” it said. “The body of a scuba diver, tentatively identified as that of a Roscoe Chapin from a nametag inside his diving suit, was discovered on the beach at the southern end of Perdido Key this morning by a teenage boy looking for shells. Chapin’s body had evidently been washed ashore. There were empty air tanks on his back and diving weights on his belt. The direct cause of death was presumably drowning, police say, although the body also exhibited severe lacerations of the left upper arm and a depressed fracture of the skull, either of which wounds might well have caused death in themselves. Pending a medical opinion, police are inclined to believe these wounds may have resulted from the battering taken by the body in the Gulf, although the possibility of foul play has not been ruled out. Identification is not yet firm. Perdido police ask that anyone with information about the dead man please get in touch with them. Here’s the name again: Roscoe Chapin.”
I dropped my fish knife. The big redfish I’d been working on slid into the sink. I stared at the transistor radio on the edge of my cleaning board as though a coral snake had just crawled out of it, dribbling venom.
Roscoe Chapin! Dead on the beach! And still in diver’s gear. Then he had drowned at Dolphin Inlet the day he’d taken a shot at me? He hadn’t returned to the Freebooter. His car was still parked in the woods. So I was probably the last person to see him alive, wasn’t I? Aiming a spear-gun at me twenty feet down in the Gulf?
The Mystery of Dolphin Inlet Page 11