Finally they had wheeled the trailer to the shoreline and stood twisting out their kinks and rubbing aching shoulders. “Boy, moving that trailer on the sand was tough going,” Grace panted. “What time is it, anyway?”
Alfie checked his brand-new waterproof watch. “Five-oh-five,” he reported.
Late already, Grace thought. It figures. She reached inside the boat, picked up a life preserver and threw it to Alfie. “Take off your shoes and put this on. We don’t have much time. Let’s hustle.”
Alfie pulled the straps nice and tight and gave Grace a mock salute. Grace unlaced her Trail Blazers and handed them to Tanya.
“Guard these boots with your life,” Grace commanded as she put on the other life preserver. “All right then, let’s go, Alfie.”
They tipped the trailer forward and the three of them yanked on the bowline, digging their feet into the wet sand, until the rowboat slowly slipped into the surf.
“Later, Agent T.” Alfie saluted his cousin as he and Grace drifted away from shore. “Stand by for ocean updates!”
Grace added her own tepid wave.
After five attempts, Alfie managed to get the motor revved and purring. Grace located the brightly lit La Toya Pier in the distance. “Head that way,” she said, pointing seaward, in the direction of the Sally Mae.
The boat puttered along like a pokey old shanty. Grace could have swum to the wreck in a tenth of the time, but that was a fact she wisely kept to herself. Meanwhile, Alfie looked happier than ever, commandeering the graffiti-covered, broken-down wreck of a boat.
“I wish I had a camera,” Grace called to him. “You look like a real boat dude, Alf.”
“Yo ho ho,” called Alfie. “This is the best day of my life!”
Let’s hope it stays that way, thought Grace.
Chapter Twenty Four: Uh-Oh, Heave Ho
They arrived in the general vicinity of the Sally Mae twenty minutes later.
“Stop here, Alf,” Grace instructed.
Alfie cut the motor. “Agent T., are you there?” he said into the walkie-talkie. “Do you copy? Over.”
After a few seconds, Tanya’s crackly voice sounded. “Agent Tanya, here. Over.”
“Have arrived at destination point. Over.”
“Super-cool. Over.”
“What’s happening on shore? Over.”
“Not a whole lot. Just seagulls eating dead crabs. Over.”
“Over, over, over. Can we please get over the ‘Over’?” Grace sighed. “Alfie, come give me a hand with the anchor.” She began unraveling the line that spooled in the bottom of the boat, came to the end, and groaned. “Alfie. Where exactly is the anchor?”
Alfie examined the anchorless line. He looked at Grace and they both said,“Christi.”
“Guys, guys. What’s going on out there?” Tanya asked.
Alfie, adopting an easy-listening radio deejay voice, answered, “Nothing to worry about out here, Agent T. Everything’s under control. We’re just having a slight equipment problem.”
“What kind of equipment problem?”
“Oh, we seem to have misplaced the anchor. That’s all. ”
“Misplaced the anchor? How does someone misplace an anchor?”
Grace grabbed the walkie-talkie from Alfie and barked. “Christi took it. Big surprise.”
“ERRR! I’m gonna kill that mean, nasty—”
“Over.” Grace cut Tanya off. She was trying to hang on to the meager crumb of compassion she still felt for Christi. If she let Tanya rant, she might be compelled to lend a murderous hand. Grace turned her attention to the anchorless length of rope. It was super-duper long. We’ve come this far, she thought, we might as well keep going. “I think there’s enough line for me to take it below and attach it to a boulder or something.”
Grace took the scuba apparatus out of the garbage bag, removed her life preserver, and pulled off her sweatshirt. She shivered as the cool ocean air hit her skin. She couldn’t get in the ocean soon enough.
Alfie eyed the scuba gear. “That’s some high-end self-contained underwater breathing apparatus you’ve got there, fearless leader.” He stood suddenly, and the boat tipped alarmingly from side to side. “I bet you didn’t know that was what SCUBA stood for.” Alfie stumbled, almost falling overboard.
“Thanks for that important information, mister know-it-all. Now just sit and untangle that line. I’ll take care of this self-contained whatever-ma-jig myself.” Grace shoved her feet into her dad’s flippers, which were ridiculously large. Grace pretended to check the pressure gauge on the oxygen tank, twisting and turning a knob or two for good measure, before hoisting it on to her back and tightening the harness straps. She took the end of the line from Alfie and tied it around her waist. Finally, she suctioned the scuba mask over her face.
“Stay out of trouble, Alfie,” she warned, before popping the gag-inducing breathing device into her mouth. Looking and feeling like a space alien, Grace shuffled to the edge of the boat. With the garbage bag clutched in her hand and the line around her waist, she jumped flipper-first into the sea.
Underwater, she headed downward, kicking her legs fast and furious, determined to get as far below the rowboat as possible before transforming into her mer-self. Once she was at a safe distance, Grace pulled off the cumbersome flippers and stuck them in the bag. She pulled off the mask and spit the regulator out of her mouth. Almost instantly Grace’s tail morphed and her gills broke free. All her senses became mermaid-intense, ready for deep, dark maritime action.
Grace shoved the mask in the garbage bag with the flippers and let the mouthpiece bob by the side of her head. The tank and harness would be too unwieldy to carry all the way to the Sally Mae, so she left them on her back as she started her journey toward the shipwreck. Grace propelled herself fluidly along the ocean floor until the rocky ledge rose into view out of the dark gloom. From the ledge, she plummeted down the steep wall, the garbage bag knocking annoyingly against her fin, the unaccustomed heft of the tank cumbersome on her back. She wished she could just leave it on the ledge, but she worried about it getting misplaced in her absence. What if a shark or sea lion mistook it for fish food and tried to gnaw on it? What if some crustacean decided to crawl through the mouthpiece and take up residence inside the breathing tube?
Luckily the anchorless anchor line reached all the way to the Sally Mae. Grace untied the line from her waist and knotted it to a rusty bolt near the ship’s bow. Next, she worked her way along the corroded surface of the boat until she found her favorite opening to the cabin. The octopus had resumed its favorite position on the springless sleigh bed, and Grace skirted the creature, passed the mirror without a glance, and paused before the desk. The decrepit wood of the desk drawer fell apart in her hands as she opened it. Among the dust clouds that remained was an algae-coated pocket watch and an old-fashioned skeleton key. Grace added the watch and key to the garbage bag, then retrieved an antique metal spoon from the galley.
“Shipwreck swag for Alfie,” she said to herself. “Check.”
Finally Grace dove through the hallway hatch to the storage compartment. She couldn’t provide Alfie with gold, but she could provide proof of a formerly gold-holding chest, preferably something stamped with authentic Gold Rush details. She found just what she was looking for on the cover of a small chest. A stamped metal medallion on the lid read “Property of Hogben Trading Company, Perth, Australia.” Grace wrenched the insignia from the rotting lid and added it to her stash.
Mission accomplished, she thought as she swam back through the hole in the cabin wall. However, as she passed the faded letters near the bow, she paused. Alfie would love this, she thought. S LLY MAE. There is only one missing letter. This really proves we have found the wreck.
Grace tied the garbage bag to the same bolt as the anchor line so she could use both hands to pry loose the boards. No luck. How
was it the rest of the boat seemed to disintegrate at her touch, but this wood wouldn’t budge? The harness of the scuba tanks was hampering her ability to really give it a good yank. One more try, she told herself. Slipping off the harness and tanks, she deposited them on the deck of the ship, then returned to the bow. Anchoring her tail against the boat as a counter lever, she wrenched at the letters with all her mermaid-might. The boards containing the S LLY MAE letters finally came free, splintering into a cloud of wood powder and sodden splinters. Even worse, the vibrations from Grace’s efforts loosened the bolts that had secured the garbage bag containing the flippers and face mask. The bag of gear dropped fast into the deep, and the anchorless line drifted westward at an alarming clip.
Grace swam madly toward the line, her heart racing in her chest, when an electro-receptive jolt shocked her into stillness. She heard an intense wail coming from the stern of the ship, a soul-crushing cry that reverberated through her own body, like the sobs of a grieving giant. She had never heard any living creature make such a noise. If logic had any say in matters, Grace would grab the line and speed back to the rowboat as fast as she could. If she had any common sense, she’d get away from the Sally Mae that very instant. But logic was having no say, and common sense was long gone. Instead, a deep intuition drew Grace inexorably toward the cry.
The plaintive cry increased in pitch as Grace approached. Her head and gills pounded and the charge in her tail was overwhelming. Some gigantic and potentially dangerous being was in serious pain. For all she knew it could be a sixteen-foot-long tiger shark, ready to take a chomp out of her tail, or a giant black jellyfish, ready to sting her with toxic venom. Grace momentarily slowed her pace. It was then that words from Mrs. Shelby’s letter came to her: It is one thing to avoid dangers you know as a girl…But creatures of the deep may pose a whole other threat to you.
Words of wisdom, to be sure. You could die, Minnaugh, thought Grace. Maybe you need to let this whatever-it-is die instead.
But no. To back away from someone or something in need was not the Grace Minnaugh way. So, in spite of the danger, or because of it, Grace kept swimming toward the cry. She had to help, if she could. Grace rounded the stern of the Sally Mae. She took a deep draw of water through her gills, steeling herself for what she might find, and came face to face with the desperate, enormous creature. And was hit full force with a whopping, even more enormous truth.
Chapter Twenty Five: Wacked out
“Mom?” Grace shrieked.
“Hey, Gracie. Wanna give me a hand?”
Minerva—a mermaid? Like Grace, she had shimmering, feathery gills on her neck and a fish tail, brilliantly silver and easily nine feet long, a fish tail that was currently wedged between deadly sharp planks of wood. Blue-black liquid trickled from raw patches of flesh near Minerva’s horribly stuck fin.
“Omigod,” Grace finally spoke. “You’re my dolphin. And you’re bleeding! Or at least I think that’s blood.…”
“Yes, it is blood. But, no, I’m not your dolphin. I’m your mother.”
Grace’s brain began to click. “Wait a second. Have you been following me?”
Minerva nodded.
“Since August?”
Minerva contorted her body in an attempt to free her tail. “Gracie,” she sighed, “I’ve been following you from the moment you took your boots off and stuck your feet in the ocean for the very first time.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I have my reasons, Gracie. For now, you will just have to trust me.”
Grace tried to control her frustration. She wanted to know everything immediately, but now was clearly not the time. Alfie was drifting away overhead, and her mermaid mother’s fish tail was perilously stuck. The splintered wood had cut deeply through Minerva’s silver scales, and dark blood oozed in a steady stream from long rents and tears along her tail.
“Mom. You have to stop moving.”
“I’ve tr…tried everything I co…could think of...” she said with a shudder, her eyelids drooping closed over her big blue eyes.
“Mom!” Grace shook Minerva’s shoulder.
Minerva opened her eyes and smiled weakly. “I’m okay, sweetie. Just resting for a moment. But you’re right. I guess moving around isn’t a great idea.”
Grace scanned the planks around Minerva’s tail to see if there were any openings, any boards she could yank out of the way. Finding a small crevice, Grace shimmied her hand between Minerva’s tail and the wood.
“Ouch,” she gasped as splinters cut into the flesh of her palm.
“Gracie, please,” Minerva cried. “Don’t hurt yourself. One injured mermaid is quite enough.”
“I’m okay, Mom,” Grace reassured her. It hurt like heck, but she wasn’t going to let on. She had to save her mother. Gritting her teeth, Grace gripped the board and tugged. It wouldn’t budge. Dang it! she thought. Now what?
Grace pulled her hand out and blue-black blood clouded from the cuts in her palm.
“Mom, what if I could push your fin out from the other side?”
Minerva shook her head. “There are too many blocked passages, Gracie. And even if you managed to clear a path, it might take too long to get back.”
“Too long?” Grace cried. “Mom, what are you saying?”
Minerva shrugged. “I’m sorry, Gracie.”
“Sorry? Mom, you can’t just give up!” Grace fully freaked out. “You can’t…can’t… die.”
Minerva drooped from the stern as more blue-black mer-blood pooled and clouded around her fin.
Grace felt a panic rising in her chest. Her entire body and tail began to tremble. If this was a situation her mother, clearly an expert mermaid of long standing, couldn’t handle, what could she, a newbie, do? Her tail flicked nervously, like that of a skittish pony. Glancing down at her maniacally swishing tail, Grace had an idea.
“Hold still, Mom,” Grace cried. “I’ll be right back.” She dove down and whipped along the bottom of the wreck. The hows, whys, and wherefores of Minerva also being a mermaid didn’t matter in the slightest. Right then, Grace needed to stay focused on one thing and one thing only—saving her mom’s life.
Moments later, Grace found her father’s scuba tank where she’d left it lying atop the deck. Thank goodness she hadn’t put the tank in the garbage bag with Walter’s flippers and mask. She grabbed the tank and sped back to Minerva, praying her idea would work. She might not have time to come up with another one. Once back at Minerva’s side, Grace wrapped the harness straps of the scuba tank around the bottom of her fish tail and tugged the straps tight. She took a deep, concentrated gill-suck of water, then swung her loaded tail wide, ramming it against the side of the Sally Mae with awe-inspiring force. The wood around Minerva’s tail cracked instantly. Her fin was freed. Grace released the tank and let it sink to the ocean floor.
Minerva stirred to consciousness as color returned to her cheeks. “Gracie? How did you do it?”
Good, thought Grace. She didn’t see the tank. She tells Dad about that, and I’m doubly screwed. Grace wiggled her fingers. “I guess I just found the sweet spot.” It was then that she noticed that the cuts on her hand had healed. No more drops of weirdo blue-black blood.
“My saving Grace,” declared Minerva as she kissed Grace’s forehead. Then Minerva curled her tail upward to examine her injuries, her fin expanding like a giant silver fan. The bleeding had stopped, but she still seemed very weak. “Just a few superficial cuts, but any longer and it would have gotten ugly.” She lowered her tail and stared at Grace.
“Insta-healing. This all just gets more and more insane,” Grace cried.
Minerva squeezed Grace’s shoulder. “There’s nothing insane about it, Gracie. You’ll learn everything eventually. But listen to me now. This is very important. No one can know about the Sally Mae. Do you hear me?”
“But why?”
“It’s complicated. For now you’ll just have to trust me. Let’s go home. We’ll talk there. We both have a lot of talking to do.” Minerva began to swim away from the Sally Mae, her tail a swish of glorious silver light.
“But, Mom, I have to get back to Alfie.”
Minerva stopped and turned. “Alfie?”
Grace cringed. “I thought you followed me.”
“Not this morning, Grace. This morning we had no idea where you were. Then we noticed that your bicycle was missing. Your father is probably still driving around La Toya searching for you. I came here on a whim, hoping I’d find you.”
“I guess we found each other,” said Grace. “Or found out about each other, I should say.”
“Thank Neptune you were here. Now what’s this about Alfie?”
“He’s up there. In a boat.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “You’re gonna kill me when you hear the rest.”
Minerva winced as she pumped her tail impatiently. “Quick, tell me.”
Grace took a deep breath and related the details of Operation Silly Me. Salty tears formed in Grace’s eyes and merged instantly with the water around her. “Pretty lame, huh?”
Minerva grabbed Grace’s arm. “Very lame,” she said. “But in any case, you have to get up there and get your friend back to shore. Which way did the anchor line float?”
Grace pointed westward, where she had last seen the line.
“Not good.” Minerva looked worried. “There are lots of strong currents running in that direction.” Minerva shot ahead, then slowed—her tail clearly still paining her. Grace fluttered like mad to catch up.
“Here, Mom. Take my arm,” said Grace.
Minerva linked elbows with Grace. “Okay, you take the lead, mergirl.”
It was harder swimming in tandem with an injured mermaid, but Grace pushed on. “Alfie’s gonna be okay, right, Mom? I mean, he’s in a boat. We’ll find him, won’t we?”
The Tantalizing Tale of Grace Minnaugh Page 14