Found at Sea Page 7

  Jordan silently joined him, sitting in the empty seat atop the flying bridge. “How’s she handle?” he asked after a while.

  “Sweet. I enjoy hands-on navigation,” Neil said. “Don’t get enough of it.”

  “With the size of the cruise ship you command, I imagine not.”

  The ship moved slowly through the water, harbor traffic spread out in front of them and behind them. Wakes from various ships made the Dealer Ship pitch about for a bumpy ride.

  “The chop’s bad today.”

  “Narrow outlet?” Jordan asked.

  “No, just more traffic and bigger boats. It’ll smooth out once we hit open water. Oceanside Harbor’s much faster to exit, but until we find who’s after you, Donna and I agree with Aurora that it makes sense to take precautions by coming here and using my boat.”

  “I appreciate your help,” Jordan said, ignoring the issue of whose decision it should have been. “I never had a chance to say so in person.” He held out his hand to the other man, who shook it. “Thanks, Captain. I hope there were no repercussions from taking me onto the cruise ship for medical treatment.”

  “I’m the captain, and I made the call. It wasn’t challenged then or afterward.”

  “Still, I owe you.”

  Neil took his eyes off the water traffic and met Jordan’s gaze. “I’d hate to see anything happen to Rory. Keep her safe. That’s all I want.”

  “Plan on it.”

  Neil turned his attention back to the marine traffic. “Please have someone send me up a coffee. They know how I like it.”

  Dismissed, sailor, Jordan thought. You don’t want me on your bridge. Well, I get the message. I don’t care for strangers on mine, either. Neil seems okay—solid, responsible. Could even become a friend. Donna, too. It’s Rory who’s the wild card here.

  Aurora volunteered to bring Neil his coffee.

  “Here’s yours,” she said when she’d returned, handing Jordan a sturdy ceramic mug. “Neil give you his ‘I’m the captain, don’t screw up’ speech?”

  “Donna, too.”

  “Sorry about the sermons. They tend to be overprotective.”

  “They’re friends. They worry about you.”

  “Why? I’m not the one incarcerated in a Mexican jail.”

  “You told me you need a big windfall. Is it to pay for their lawyers?”

  “No—although I still owe them.” She shook her head. “I’ve tried the lawyer route with virtually no success. I’m planning to buy their freedom.”

  Jordan paused, the coffee mug frozen in front of his mouth. “We’re talking...bribes?”

  “Whatever it takes. I’m paying Dorian’s guard to smuggle extra food into their cell. And as for breaking them out of jail, that starts with getting Tanya transferred to a work patrol so she and Dori don’t spend twenty-four hours a day in lockup. She found out how much that’s going to cost me.” Aurora named the outrageous amount she had yet to raise. At Jordan’s shocked expression, she lifted her chin defiantly. “You don’t approve?”

  “A dangerous business. No wonder your friends are worried.” He took a bigger swallow of coffee. “You aren’t much for rules, are you?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You do disapprove.”

  “Running away from home, endangering Neil’s job, bribing prison officials. Frankly, I’ve never had this kind of business partner before.”

  “Lucky for you, or you’d be dead in the water.” She studied him closely, not appearing angry in the least. “Does this mean it’s your turn to sermonize? I don’t want to hear it—at least not until I’ve had my coffee.” She grinned.

  Jordan actually felt his temper rise. “You find this conversation amusing?”

  “No, just the situation. Lectures never work on me. Ask anyone.”

  “Maybe you should listen to them,” Jordan said.

  Aurora actually laughed. “I haven’t listened to anyone since I was sixteen years old. I’m not about to start now.”

  He started to go after her as she headed toward the bow, then stopped himself as he noticed Donna watching.

  “Hmm.” She glanced pointedly in Aurora’s direction and then at him. “We’re not even out of the harbor yet, and already Rory has you in ‘protect’ mode.”

  “She has a way of getting under my skin. I suspect she causes herself—and others—a lot of grief.”

  “She acts first and thinks later. No one’s ever been able to change that. We’ve all tried.” Her narrowed eyes assessed him. “Thinking of having a go yourself?”

  “As long as we’re in business together— absolutely.”

  “This,” Donna drawled, “should be interesting.”

  * * *

  BELOWDECKS, AURORA TIDIED the galley. She heard steps and swiveled to see Donna approaching.

  “Neil would like a second cup of coffee,” Donna announced, handing over the empty mug.

  “Neil always did like his coffee.” Aurora prepared to refill it. “Would you mind taking this up, just in case Jordan hasn’t finished his lecture yet?”

  “Getting on your nerves so soon? You’ve only been business partners for a day,” Donna observed.

  “To modify an old saying, business makes for strange bedfellows.”

  “Which he’s not. Interested?” Donna asked with the familiarity of old friends.

  “Well, my hormones are...”

  “Oh?”

  “But my hormones don’t run my life. He’s awfully serious...and very traditional.”

  “You’d be serious, too, if someone nearly killed you. And traditional’s not all bad.”

  Rory opened her eyes wide. “I sure didn’t expect to hear that coming from you!”

  “Still...” Donna said with a grin.

  “I’m certainly not going to date a man who disapproves of me. He’s far too judgmental, and I—” Aurora suddenly broke off. “Just whose side are you on anyway?”

  “Yours, of course.” Donna took Neil’s full mug of coffee and snapped on the non-spill lid. “But I wouldn’t stay down here too long. Might make you look like you’re hiding—or afraid.”

  Aurora watched Donna leave the galley. She’s right. I’ve been afraid ever since Tanya turned the family vacation into this nightmare. And I’ve been hiding since the day I had to entrust their lives to a stranger.

  She joined Jordan back on the main deck, her ingrained honesty forcing her to speak. “Sorry about laughing at you earlier. And walking off. It’s just that I hate being told what to do, and I hate being lectured even more. Especially when someone’s right.”

  “You admit it?” Jordan swiveled toward her, surprised.

  “Bribing prison officials is wrong, no question about that. But the alternative is so much worse. I can’t let my sister die in jail because her daughter’s a liar. I won’t let it happen. From the time I left my parents’ home, I’ve done what I believed was right, regardless of anyone else’s opinions. And that’s what I’m doing in this situation, too. It’s more important to get Dorian and her family out of jail than to worry about breaking a few laws.”

  “Your feelings about your sister’s problem I can understand. But what I don’t understand is... I know this is personal...but why did you leave home so early?”

  Aurora toyed with one of the mooring lines. “I could have stayed home living the life my parents wanted for me—and gone stark raving mad. I wanted to—had to—leave. I make no excuses for myself, Jordan. I take the good with the bad. I did then, and I will now. I’m not asking you to help me rescue them. I’m not even asking you to approve. All I ask is that we salvage the San Rafael, and you stand aside where my personal life is concerned. Deal?”

  Jordan set down his mug. “I can’t make any blanket promises, but I can say that I don’t want your family to suffer. Okay?”

  Aurora exhaled in relief and gave him a sudden kiss on the cheek. “Come on, let’s check out the diving gear. We’ll be coming up on the coordinates soon. The San Rafael is waiting.”
/>   * * *

  CLAD IN A WET SUIT to protect himself from the cold Pacific, Jordan glanced toward his dive partner. “Where are we?” he asked Aurora, taking in the jagged rocks, different water colors indicative of treacherous currents and the general instability of the area now navigated by the Dealer Ship. All four of them were on the flying bridge.

  “We’re just outside U.S. waters,” she said, “and just north of Mexican waters.”

  “A nasty-looking patch. How deep are we?” Jordan asked.

  “Seventy to ninety feet in the shallows, dropping down to one hundred and thirty away from the rocks,” Neil said, delicately adjusting the boat’s dual engines to maintain his position against the currents.

  “That’s too deep for any long-term dive. We have no decompression chamber,” Jordan said. “And you won’t be able to set anchor in this chop. It’ll tear the boat apart.”

  “Oh, we’ll manage.” Aurora grinned. “Trust me.”

  Jordan noticed that her curves were only slightly flattened by the thick wet suit, then forced his mind back to business. “When it comes to my life, I trust no one. You know the rules. Plan the dive, and dive the plan.”

  “I know. I’m prepared.”

  “I’m not!”

  “That’s because I want to surprise you. Neil and Donna have checked my dive plan.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “Trust her,” Donna urged.

  “Come on, Neil, help me out,” Jordan demanded. “I don’t like going underwater blind.”

  “It’s a tethered dive—the lines are already in place,” Neil said. “You won’t go past seventy, and she’s planned for an hour only, no decompression time. Like Donna said, trust the lady. We’ve both dived with her countless times. She’s the best dive master I’ve ever worked with, and I’ve got twenty-three years of experience with the navy. She won’t steer you wrong.”

  “See?” Aurora said. “Come on, Jordan, do you want to see your ship or not? Get into your gear.”

  Jordan headed down toward where the tanks, regulators and dive vests were stored.

  “Talk about a stickler for rules,” Aurora murmured.

  “Can’t blame the guy,” Neil said. “Safety is safety.”

  “I know, and that’s one thing I’m always careful about. We won’t be long.” Aurora easily descended the ladder to Jordan’s location, where they both ran through the safety drill on the tanks. She also examined the valves, the gauges, tested the buoyancy compensators and checked out her octopus. Jordan did the same.

  “Secure your octopus to the Velcro, or it’ll get snagged in the kelp,” she warned.

  “I already have. Let’s hope neither of us needs it,” Jordan said tightly. The octopus was a double air regulator and mouthpiece system, providing a backup mouthpiece system for the wearer or another diver if the first breather malfunctioned. “If you were anyone else, I’d refuse to dive at all. I hate working this way.”

  “Normally I wouldn’t,” she said. “But I want this to be a special experience for you, Jordan.” She spoke solemnly, then abruptly switched to a matter-of-fact tone. “You have enough lead on your belt?” California waters were cold year-round and required the quarter-inch-thick neoprene suits, hoods, gloves and boots to maintain body heat. Even surfers wore neoprene surfing suits. But unlike surfers, who used the neoprene’s natural buoyancy as life jackets, divers needed lead weights to counteract the suits’ flotation properties.

  “I’ve dived colder waters,” he said. “I’m all set.”

  Aurora nodded, shoved her hair under the hood and watched as Jordan spit in his mask and smeared it around with his fingers.

  “I’ve got some professional defogger, if you want,” she said, holding out a small bottle.

  “No, thanks. The chemicals irritate my eyes. I’ll stick with the old-fashioned way.”

  “Sure? This brand isn’t too bad.” She squeezed two drops of the white liquid onto the inside of her own mask. “I don’t want you to miss a thing. This is your heritage we’re talking about. Part of your family’s history! The San Rafael.”

  He started to catch some of her excitement. “Trust me, I won’t miss a thing. Let’s go.”

  Within minutes they were on the dive platform, dive watches synchronized, face masks on, one hand keeping their masks in place, the other holding on to the lead-weight belt in case the buckle popped open. With a thumbs-up and a nod, both jumped into the water.

  Jordan gasped as the shock of cold Pacific seawater flooded his suit. He ignored it, knowing the neoprene would keep that same water against his skin, and the water temperature would soon match that of his body. With a button valve, Aurora let out the air in her B.C., as buoyancy compensators were generally called, changing it from a life jacket to a deflated vest. Jordan did the same.

  With a few more powerful kicks against the crosscurrents, they were at a metal line, its end fastened to a piton firmly pounded into the rock.

  How did she get that there? Jordan wondered. She must have anchored away from the currents in the open water and swum out here. Hard to believe that lithe body had the strength.

  Working efficiently, Aurora tethered first him, then herself to the line. She reached for her gauge and checked it, then his watch. Jordan did the same. She flashed him the thumbs-up sign again, silently asking if he was okay. He flashed her the sign back, indicating his readiness for the dive.

  Aurora led the way. She swam on the left; he stayed on the right, the tethers keeping them close. Huge kelp from the ocean depths filled the waters with the life-giving forests of this part of the Pacific. Jordan observed her carefully, making sure he didn’t snag his diving gear on the hardy giant kelp or on the smaller buoyant bladder kelp.

  Jordan kept watch for sharks. He knew they tended to frequent the kelp beds, especially those with rocks for sea lions to occupy.

  The light started to fade, unable to pass through the deeper water and the kelp. The thickness of the kelp increased until he had to force his way through it, as Aurora did. A few times the tether line snagged. Aurora and Jordan both had to draw their dive knives, cutting kelp away from the tether.

  Too bad the surge off the rocks is so strong. It’d be easier to swim without it, Jordan thought. He checked his depth gauge. Thanks to the long, sloping angle of the tethered line, they hadn’t even reached seventy feet yet. But he dared not descend faster in these cold, unknown waters with their shadowed depths of kelp.

  No ship could survive these rocks and surges. I’ll be lucky if I find a cannonball, let alone a cannon or any hull. But Aurora says the San Rafael is here. Is she right? Is my search finally over?

  CHAPTER SIX

  JORDAN DESCENDED even deeper. What was it Mel Fisher, the legendary salvager, used to say before every single dive—until he found his Atocha, the silver-, gold- and emerald-laden Spanish galleon outside Florida’s waters?

  “Today’s the day.”

  If that could only be true for me... Yet Mel Fisher had paid a tragic price for his treasure ship. He’d lost his son and his son’s wife in the same stormy waters that had claimed the Atocha centuries earlier. Jordan didn’t want to pay for treasure with anyone’s life—especially his or Aurora’s.

  His thoughts were interrupted by Aurora’s sudden stop. He followed her pointing finger. From out of the massive kelp forest, their stalks as tall as redwoods, came the sea lions. The bright orange Garibaldi, California’s protected state fish, schooled tightly and fled. Jordan mentally groaned. Sea-lion behavior could range from playful to aggressive to downright dangerous. At times they’d been known to rip off face masks and snap at interlopers in their feeding grounds. The last thing he needed was a mammal twice his weight making forty-mile-an-hour passes at him.

  Jordan took only three more kicks before the sea lions swooped in. Their flippers were everywhere as they streaked through the water. He admired their gracefulness, even as he kept his eye on the largest male.

  Almost as soon as they’d
appeared, they were gone, and the thankfully short chance encounter had ended.

  Jordan checked his dive computer and air gauge. Aurora did the same, then she motioned him downward. They kept descending, the surge even stronger here, causing first her, then him to hang on to the metal tether for stability.

  This is crazy! He was just about to tap Aurora on the shoulder, point to his watch and pantomime the question How much longer? when she stopped.

  Jordan stopped, too, confused. The current tore at his resting body as Aurora gestured for him to look straight ahead. What? I don’t see a thing. He turned back toward her, still holding on to the tether, but she continued to point. When he shook his head, not understanding, she pointed straight up toward the sun, then toward her eyes and finally back to the rocks and kelp before her. He flashed her a thumbs-up.

  Okay, gotcha. We’re waiting for the light. The late-July sun played chase with the clouds above, making it even harder for its rays to penetrate the thick kelp. He couldn’t move his hand without coming up against the tough, ropy stalks, as large around as three fingers. The leaves were much broader than the stalks, ranging from a foot to a yard long. They cast their own shadows, as did the rocks themselves.

  Real hull gougers, those rocks, even more dangerous since they were hidden by the kelp. Suddenly, the lay of the rocks under the water, the current and surge, the tug of the water on their tethered bodies—it all made sense. Of course. I underst—

  At that moment, the sun broke out from behind the cloud cover, and undiluted light filtered through the water. Experienced diver though he was, Jordan gasped, sucking in water along with oxygen. He coughed once, his forefinger automatically reaching for the regulator purge button to spray out the excess. His finger never made it to the regulator.

  The murky outline of a collapsed ship could be seen, cradled, almost nestled, on a sloping underground ledge formed by the surface-breaking rocky structure. The ship listed heavily sideways, almost two centuries’ worth of kelp poking up, around and through the ship, holding the wreckage firmly against the rock. The wood had been kept as intact as possible in an unbreakable lattice of kelp.