Second Nature

Chapter 51

51 

A broad patch of blue-white light from Cade's lighting tree glared on the barnacle-encrusted hull of the San Pedro. The freighter sat upright on the reef in twenty-two feet of water; in another few hours, at low tide, the depth would shrink to a dozen feet. He and Jimi swam back to the bow of the ship and swam due east again in a zigzag search pattern. Cade pushed before him a lighting tree built from an aluminum frame rigged with six powerful dive lights, two 24-volt marine batteries and one air tank and buoyancy compensator to make the contraption maneuverable underwater.  

It was almost dusk above the water, but they could see details of the pinkish-gray coquina reef in the blaze of lamplight. They should be seeing the Emancipator, directly below where they swam now, but the ship was not there.  

Jimi tapped Cade's shoulder and signaled that his tank had reached the one-quarter-full mark. Cade checked his own pressure gauge; he still had half a tank. Jimi was breathing harder than Cade, typical of a less-experienced diver. Oh, well. What the hell. No point in wasting more time. They had crisscrossed the wreck site marked on his father's chart four times, and even swung out to cover a wider search pattern. The ironclad had vanished. 

His dad's salvage chart had shown the outline of the hull of the Eleutherios only sixty feet from the San Pedro. If Eleutherios was not a code name for Emancipator, then it must be the actual name of some Greek ship that sank on the reef. So where did it go? It should absolutely be down there, right now, stark in his lights, resting on the bottom.  

Nothing. Just two scuba divers and a school of barracuda hovering over a jagged mountain of coquina. 

Cade felt a heavy pressure squeezing his chest that had nothing to do with the depth. He had felt such hope that he would find the plaque, bring it home, and not only save the inn and bring Weston to justice, but somehow redeem his loving memory of his parents. Change history, set things straight. That's what his dad and mom had tried to do. Now Cade had also failed.  

He put his face mask close to Jimi's and pointed to the surface. They held onto the anchor line and followed their slowest bubbles up to the boat. 

As soon as their heads broke above the sea, Jimi pulled out his mouthpiece and said, "Where the hell's the ship? We were right there." 

"You got me, man. Makes no sense. We covered the site thoroughly." 

They swam to the ladder that hung from the dive platform at the boat's stern. Jimi tugged off his flippers and climbed up to the water-level platform. Cade clambered up after and together they hauled in the lighting tree and slid it flat onto the deck above. Then they both climbed aboard. Standing on deck, they helped each other remove air tanks and vests. Jimi lifted the heavy set of twin tanks off Cade's shoulders, but Cade felt the weight of defeat still pressing down on him. 

"So now what?" Jimi said. "What do we do?" 

"Now we head home. Or should I say, back to shore? Home is not going to be there much longer." 

I've failed. I have to tell Lana again that she's going to lose the inn. 

Venus blazed in the twilight sky above the island like a signal fire. A soft curtain of darkness descended on Stanton Hill and Cool Bay Inn. Cade unzipped the neck of his wetsuit and warm vapor escaped like steam. In spite of the warmth, a deep chill of uneasiness snaked up his spine. 

He turned to Jimi. "Lana is going to call you once she finds a motel, right?" 

"That's the plan. Why?" 

"She's got her phone on?" 

He nodded. "Something wrong?" 

"I don't know. Just got a really bad feeling." 

"I'll call her now." Jimi picked up his cell phone and dialed Lana's number. His face took on a worried look. "Keeps ringing," he said, "but she's not answering."  

The two men stared at each other for a heartbeat. "Stow the dive platform," Cade said. "I'll get the anchor." He ran to the bow and hauled the anchor aboard. Then he rushed back to the helm, cranked the engine, and shoved the throttle ahead full.  

The Dolphin's Smile kicked up a white rooster tail as the inboard diesel hurled the boat toward Coolahatchee Bay.