Treasures Lost, Treasures Found

by Nora Roberts

  He picked up one last piece of equipment—a small powerful spear gun. He’d take no more chances with Kate.

  “Okay, slow it down to the minimum,” he ordered. “And keep it there. Once Kate and I are down, we don’t want the prop-wash shooting cannonballs around.”

  Kate stopped the deep breathing she was using to ease tension. Her voice was cool and steady. “Would it have that kind of power?”

  “Not at this speed.” Ky adjusted his mask then took her hand. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  Then he kissed her, hard. “You’ve got guts, professor,” he murmured. His eyes were dark, intense as they passed over her face. “It’s one of the sexiest things about you.” With this he was over the side.

  He knew. Kate gave a quiet unsteady sigh as she started down the ladder. He knew she was afraid, and that had been his way of giving her support. She looked up once and saw Marsh. He lifted his hand in salute. Throat dry, nerves jumping, Kate let the sea take her.

  She felt a moment’s panic, a complete disorientation the moment she was submerged. It ran through her head that down here, she was helpless. The deeper she went, the more vulnerable she became. Choking for air, she kicked back toward the surface and the light.

  Then Ky had her hands, holding her to him, holding her under. His grip was firm, stilling the first panic. Feeling the wild race of her pulse, he held on during her first resistance.

  Then he touched her cheek, waiting until she’d calmed enough to look at him. In his eyes she saw strength and challenge. Pride alone forced her to fight her way beyond the fear and meet him, equal to equal.

  When she’d regulated her breathing, accepting that her air came through the tanks on her back, he kissed the back of her hand. Kate felt the tension give. She wouldn’t be helpless, she reminded herself. She’d be careful.

  With a nod, she pointed down, indicating she was ready to dive. Keeping hands linked, they started toward the bottom.

  The whirlpool action created by the wash of the prop had already blasted away some of the sediment. At first glance Ky could see that if the wreck was buried under more than a few feet, they’d need something stronger than his home-made apparatus and single prop engine. But for now, it would do. Patience, which came to him only with deliberate effort, was more important at this stage than speed. With the wreck, he thought, and—he glanced over at the woman beside him—with a great deal more. He had to take care not to hurry.

  It was still working, blowing away some of the over-burden at a rate Ky figured would equal an inch per minute. He and Kate alone couldn’t deal with any more speed. He watched the swirl of water and sediment while she swam a few feet away to catalog one of the cannons on film. When she came closer, he grinned as she placed the camera in front of her face again. She was relaxed, her initial fear forgotten. He could see it simply in the way she moved. Then she let the camera fall so they could begin the search again.

  Kate saw something solid wash away from the hole being created by the whirl of water. Grabbing it up, she found herself holding a candlestick. In her excitement, she turned it over and over in her hand.

  Silver? she wondered with a rush of adrenaline. Had they found their first real treasure? It was black with oxidation, so it was impossible to be certain what it was made of. Still, it thrilled her. After days and days of only waiting, she was again pursuing the dream.

  When she looked up, Ky was already gathering the uncovered items and laying them in the mesh basket. There were more candleholders, more tableware, but not the plain unglazed pottery they’d found before. Kate’s pulse began to drum with excitement while she meticulously snapped pictures. They’d be able to find a hallmark, she was certain of it. Then they’d know if they had indeed found a British ship. Ordinary seamen didn’t use silver, or even pewter table service. They’d uncovered more than the galley now. And they were just beginning.

  When Ky found the first piece of porcelain he signaled to her. True, the vase—if that’s what it once had been—had suffered under the water pressure and the years. It was broken so that only half of the shell remained, but so did the manufacturer’s mark.

  When Kate read it, she gripped Ky’s arm. Whieldon. English. The master potter who’d trained the likes of Wedgwood. Kate cupped the broken fragment in her hands as though it were alive. When she lifted her eyes to Ky’s they were filled with triumph.

  Fretting against her inability to speak, Kate pointed to the mark again. Ky merely nodded and indicated the basket. Though she was loath to part with it, Kate found herself even more eager to discover more. She settled the porcelain in the mesh. When she swam back, Ky’s hands were filled with other pieces. Some were hardly more than shards, others were identifiable as pieces left from bowls or lids.

  No, it didn’t prove it was a merchant ship, Kate told herself as she gathered what she could herself. So far, it only proved that the officers and perhaps some passengers had eaten elegantly on their way to the New World. English officers, she reminded herself. In her mind they’d taken the identification that far.

  The force of the wash sent an object shooting up. Ky reached out for it and found a crusted, filthy pot he guessed would have been used for tea or coffee. Perhaps it was cracked under the layers, but it held together in his hands. He tapped on his tank to get Kate’s attention.

  She knew it was priceless the moment she saw it. Stemming impatience, she signaled for Ky to hold it out as she lifted the camera again. Obliging, he crossed his legs like a genie and posed.

  It made her giggle. They’d perhaps just found something worth thousands of dollars, but he could still act silly. Nothing was too serious for Ky. As she brought him into frame, Kate felt the same foolish pleasure. She’d known the hunt would be exciting, perhaps rewarding, but she’d never known it would be fun. She swam forward and reached for the vase herself.

  Running her fingers over it, she could detect some kind of design under the crust. Not ordinary pottery, she was sure. Not utility-ware. She held something elegant, something well crafted.

  He understood its worth as well as she. Taking it from her, Ky indicated they would bring it and the rest of the morning’s salvage to the surface. Pointing to his watch he showed her that their tanks were running low.

  She didn’t argue. They’d come back. The Liberty would wait for them. Each took a handle of the mesh basket and swam leisurely toward the surface.

  “Do you know how I feel?” Kate demanded the moment she could speak.

  “Yes.” Ky gripped the ladder with one hand and waited for her to unstrap her tanks and slip them over onto the deck. “I know just how you feel.”

  “The teapot.” Breathing fast, she hauled herself up the ladder. “Ky, it’s priceless. It’s like finding a perfectly formed rose inside a mass of briars.” Before he could answer, she was laughing and calling out to Marsh. “It’s fabulous! Absolutely fabulous.”

  Marsh cut the engine then walked over to help them. “You two work fast.” Bending he touched a tentative finger to the pot. “God, it’s all in one piece.”

  “We’ll be able to date it as soon as it’s cleaned. But look.” Kate drew out the broken vase. “This is the mark of an English potter. English,” she repeated, turning to Ky. “He trained Wedgwood, and Wedgwood didn’t begin manufacturing until the 1760s, so—”

  “So this piece more than likely came from the era we’re looking for,” Ky finished. “Liberty or not,” he continued, crouching down beside her. “It looks like you’ve found yourself an eighteenth-century wreck that’s probably of English origin and certainly hasn’t been recorded before.” He took one of her hands between both of his. “Your father would’ve been proud of you.”

  Stunned, she stared at him. Emotions raced through her with such velocity she had no way of controlling or channeling them. The hand holding the broken vase began to tremble. Quickly, she set it down in the basket again and rose.

  “I’m going below,” she managed and fled. Proud of her. Ka
te put a hand over her mouth as she stumbled into the cabin. His pride, his love. Wasn’t it all she’d really ever wanted from her father? Was it possible she could only gain it after his death?

  She drank in deep gulps of air and struggled to level her emotions. No, she wanted to find the Liberty, she wanted to bring her father’s dream to reality, have his name on a plaque in a museum with the artifacts they’d found. She owed him that. But she’d promised herself she’d find the Liberty for herself as well. For herself.

  It was her choice, her first real decision to come in from the sidelines and act on her own. For herself, Kate thought again as she brought the first surge of emotion under control.

  “Kate?”

  She turned, and though she thought she was perfectly calm, Ky could see the turmoil in her eyes. Unsure how to handle it, he spoke practically.

  “You’d better get out of that suit.”

  “But we’re going back down.”

  “Not today.” To prove his point he began to strip out of his own suit just as Marsh started the engines.

  Automatically, she balanced herself as the boat turned. “Ky, we’ve got two more sets of tanks. There’s no reason for us to go back when we’re just getting started.”

  “Your first dive took most of the strength you’ve built up. If you want to dive tomorrow, you’ve got to take it slow today.”

  Her anger erupted so quickly, it left them both astonished. “The hell with that!” she exploded. “I’m sick to death of being treated as if I don’t know my own limitations or my own mind and body.”

  Ky walked into the galley and picked up a can of beer. With a flick of his wrist, air hissed out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I lay in bed for the better part of a week because of pressure from you and Linda and anyone else who came around me. I’m not tolerating this any longer.”

  With one hand, he pushed dripping hair from his forehead as he lifted the can. “You’re tolerating exactly what’s necessary until I say differently.”

  “You say?” she tossed back. Cheeks flaming, she strode over to him. “I don’t have to do what you say, or what anyone says. Not anymore. It’s about time you remember just who’s in charge of this salvage operation.”

  His eyes narrowed. “In charge?”

  “I hired you. Seventy-five a day and twenty-five percent. Those were the terms. There was nothing in there about you running my life.”

  He abruptly went still. For a moment, all that could be heard over the engines was her angry breathing. Dollars and percents, he thought with a deadly sort of calm. Just dollars and percents. “So that’s what it comes down to?”

  Too overwrought to see beyond her own anger, she continued to lash out. “We made an agreement. I fully intend to see that you get everything we arranged, but I won’t have you telling me when I can go down. I won’t have you judging when I’m well and when I’m not. I’m sick to death of being dictated to. And I won’t be—not by you, not by anyone. Not any longer.”

  The metal of the can gave under his fingers. “Fine. You do exactly what you want, professor. But while you’re about it, get yourself another diver. I’ll send you a bill.” Ky went up the cabin steps the way he came down. Quickly and without a sound.

  With her hands gripped together, Kate sat down on the bunk and waited until she heard the engines stop again. She refused to think. Thinking hurt. She refused to feel. There was too much to feel. When she was certain she was in control, she stood up and went up on deck.

  Everything was exactly as she’d left it—the wire basket filled with bits of porcelain and tableware, her nearly depleted tanks. Ky was gone. Marsh walked over from the stern where he’d been waiting for her.

  “You’re going to need a hand with these.”

  Kate nodded and pulled a thigh length T-shirt over her tank suit. “Yes. I want to take everything back to my room at the hotel. I have to arrange for shipping.”

  “Okay.” But instead of reaching down for the basket, he took her arm. “Kate, I don’t like to give advice.”

  “Good.” Then she swore at her own rudeness. “I’m sorry, Marsh. I’m feeling a little rough at the moment.”

  “I can see that, and I know things aren’t always smooth for you and Ky. Look, he has a habit of closing himself up, of not saying everything that’s on his mind. Or worse,” Marsh added. “Of saying the first thing that comes to mind.”

  “He’s perfectly free to do so. I came here for the specific purpose of finding and excavating the Liberty. If Ky and I can’t deal together on a business level, I have to do without his help.”

  “Listen, he has a few blind spots.”

  “Marsh, you’re his brother. Your allegiance is with him as it should be.”

  “I care about both of you.”

  She took a deep breath, refusing to let the emotion surface and carry her with it. “I appreciate that. The best thing you can do for me now, perhaps for both of us, is to tell me where I can rent a boat and some equipment. I’m going back out this afternoon.”

  “Kate.”

  “I’m going back out this afternoon,” she repeated. “With or without your help.”

  Resigned, Marsh picked up the mesh basket. “All right, you can use mine.”

  It took the rest of the morning for Kate to arrange everything, including the resolution of a lengthy argument with Marsh. She refused to let him come with her, ending by saying she’d simply rent a boat and do without his assistance altogether. In the end, she stood at the helm of his boat alone and headed out to sea.

  She craved the solitude. Almost in defiance, she pushed the throttle forward. If it was defiance, she didn’t care, anymore than she cared whom she was defying. It was vital to do this one act for herself.

  She refused to think about Ky, about why she’d exploded at him. If her words had been harsh, they’d also been necessary. She comforted herself with that. For too long, for a lifetime, she’d been influenced by someone else’s opinion, someone else’s expectations.

  Mechanically, she stopped the engines and put on her equipment, checking and rechecking as she went. She’d never gone down alone before. Even that seemed suddenly a vital thing to do.

  With a last look at her compass, she took the mesh basket over the side.

  As she went deep, a thrill went through her. She was alone. In acres and acres of sea, she was alone. The water parted for her like silk. She was in control, and her destiny was her own.

  She didn’t rush. Kate found she wanted that euphoric feeling of being isolated under the sea where only curious fish bothered to give her a passing glance. Ultimately, her only responsibility here was to herself. Briefly, she closed her eyes and floated. At last, only to herself.

  When she reached the site, she felt a new surge of pride. This was something she’d done without her father. She wouldn’t think of the whys or the hows now, but simply the triumph. For two centuries, it had waited. And now, she’d found it. She circled the hole the prop-wash had created and began to fan using her hand.

  Her first find was a dinner plate with a flamboyant floral pattern around the rim. She found one, then half a dozen, two of which were intact. On the back was the mark of an English potter. There were cups as well, dainty, exquisite English china that might have graced the table of a wealthy colonist, might have become a beloved heir-loom, if nature hadn’t interfered. Now they looked like something out of a horror show—crusted, misshapen with sea life. They couldn’t have been more beautiful to her.

  As she continued to fan, Kate nearly missed what appeared to be a dark sea shell. On closer examination she saw it was a silver coin. She couldn’t make out the currency, but knew it didn’t matter. It could just as easily be Spanish, as she’d read that Spanish currency had been used by all European nations with settlements in the New World.

  The point was, it was a coin. The first coin. Though it was silver, not gold, and unidentifiable at the moment, she’d found it by herself.r />
  Kate started to slip it into her goodie bag when her arm was jerked back.

  The thrill of fear went wildly from her toes to her throat. The spear gun was on board the Vortex. She had no weapon. Before she could do more than turn in defense, she was caught by the shoulders with Ky’s furious hands.

  Terror died, but the anger in his eyes only incited her own. Damn him for frightening her, for interfering. Shaking him away, Kate signaled for him to leave. With one arm, he encircled her waist and started for the surface.

  Only once did she even come close to breaking away from him. Ky simply banded his arm around her again, more tightly, until she had a choice between submitting or cutting off her own air.

  When they broke the surface, Kate drew in breath to shout, but even in this, she was out-maneuvered.

  “Idiot!” he shouted at her, dragging her to the ladder. “One day off your back and you jump into forty feet of water by yourself. I don’t know why in hell I ever thought you had any brains.”

  Breathless, she heaved her tanks over the side. When she was on solid ground again, she intended to have her say. For now, she’d let him have his.

  “I take my eyes off you for a couple hours and you go off half-cocked. If I’d murdered Marsh, it would have been on your head.”

  To her further fury, Kate saw that she’d boarded the Vortex. Marsh’s boat was nowhere in sight.

  “Where’s the Gull?” she demanded.

  “Marsh had the sense to tell me what you were doing.” The words came out like bullets as he stripped his gear. “I didn’t kill him because I needed him to come out with me and take the Gull back.” He stood in front of her, dripping, and as furious as she’d ever seen him. “Don’t you have any more sense than to dive out here alone?”