Terrors of the High Seas

Chapter

Four

IT WAS MID-AFTERNOON already, and they’d been making good time. After an early morning romp in the sea, Dar fired up the boat’s engines and headed southeast, crossing the ruffled blue-green Caribbean as the sun tracked steadily overhead.

Dar pored over the chart clipped to the console in front of her, marking out a route on the plastic sheet with a big purple marker.

She checked the GPS against the chart and grunted, satisfied with their progress and with her navigating skills. She nudged the throttles forward a little and rested her elbows on either side of them, gazing out at the horizon with a slight grin.

Hands-on had always been something she’d enjoyed, right from the very start of her career. It was one thing to sit in some boardroom with a pad of paper and argue about how to do things, but a very different thing to be able to put your hands on the technology and actually do it yourself. It’s what had set her apart from the rest of the management at ILS. Dar had worked very hard to keep her skills current, and she was very, very proud of the fact that she could go into their state-of-the-art ops center and run every piece of technology inside it. It wasn’t always easy. Her position kept her very busy and the tech changed every day, it seemed. But Dar had decided she never wanted to be in a place where her staff knew more about what they were doing than she did, so she put in the long nights, bought the new manuals, and occasionally even took things home so she could take them apart and play with them.

Being able to captain her ship across the sea had been just another challenge, and again she’d put in the time to brush up on her charting and diesel skills. Her peripheral vision caught a change in the depth meter and she studied it, then altered their course just a little, steering the Dixieland Yankee into a deeper channel.

With no other immediate piloting needs to see to, Dar picked up the pencil next to the notepad and started idly sketching. At first she doodled in the horizon and the boat’s bow, but that got boring, so she started looking around for something else to draw. She 32 Melissa Good leaned back and looked down, then grinned. Ah. Her pencil moved against the paper as she focused on her new inspiration.

KERRY PUT HER pen down for the nth time and let her head rest against the chair. She was ostensibly working on poetry, but the sun, the mild drone of the engines, and the sweet sea air were combining to subvert her creative intentions in favor of some lazy daydreaming.

She wiggled her bare toes contentedly. Dar had promised a twilight dive when they neared the Virgin Islands, then dinner at a small place she’d last visited just before they’d met. “Fresh conch chowder.” Kerry licked her lips thoughtfully. “Sounds great, just so long as you don’t think too much about what a conch actually looks like.”

“You say something?” Dar called down from the bridge.

“No, sweetie,” Kerry replied. “Just mumbling to myself.” She worried a grape off its stem from the bowl next to her and popped it into her mouth. “Whatcha doing?”

“Driving the boat.”

“That all?” Kerry asked, tipping her head back and looking up, one hand shading her eyes.

“Doodling.”

“Yeah? What this time?”

“Nothing you’d wanna see,” Dar remarked with an easy grin.

“How’s the writing coming?”

Intrigued, Kerry tucked her book into the side pocket of the deck chair and put down her fruit bowl. “It’s not,” she admitted, getting up and walking to the ladder, stretching out her body as she did. “Sad to say, I’m too lazy to even write today.” She climbed up onto the bridge and put her arms around Dar, gazing down at the pad in front of her. Then she blinked. “Yikes.”

Dar snickered. “Toldja.”

“That’s me.”

“Sort of, yeah,” Dar agreed.

Kerry eyed the sketch, which showed a reasonable rendering of the boat’s stern, with her sprawled in the chair. “You’re getting pretty good at this, you know that?”

“Depends on what I’m drawing,” Dar said with a shrug.

Kerry gave her a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she told Dar, as a memory floated into her mind’s eye.

Another day, another meeting. Kerry carried her notes into the big conference room and paused; most of the table was already full up. That left the end seat, which was always Dar’s, and an empty one on either side Terrors of the High Seas 33

of it. Hm . Kerry walked around to the left hand side and sat down in the chair beside Dar’s. I should come late more often . Then she had an excuse to sit next to her boss and not have anyone think it was strange.

Dar entered, and as she circled the table, she raised her eyebrow just a trifle at Kerry’s choice of seats, but her lips quirked into a tiny grin at the same time, making Kerry’s insides warm as their eyes met.

Kerry felt herself blush and she studied her notes, trying not to show the unsteady confusion pulsing through her body, reacting to Dar’s very near presence as the woman sat down and their forearms brushed.

Dar leaned back in her chair and balanced her pad on her denim clad knee as she asked for the weekly report.

They were in casual wear, and Kerry found herself wanting to reach over and touch the soft cotton Dar was wearing. She folded her hands together and sternly told her body to behave, hardly believing how out of control she felt around her new lover. Especially since the more experienced Dar was seemingly quite unaffected by it all, breezing through their workday as though nothing at all had changed between them.

Kerry, on the other hand, felt like she had “I’m with her” tattooed on her forehead. She sighed and picked up her water glass, taking a long sip as the operations staff started their recitations. The water didn’t help much. She was almost hyper sensitively aware of Dar’s every motion, every sound— from the faint shifts of her clothing on the leather chair when she moved, to the light scrape of the pencil lead with which she was doodling.

Lucky Dar . Kerry snuck a look at her boss, who looked relaxed as she glanced up from her doodling as each staff member spoke. Dar seemed almost bored, or a least borderline inattentive, giving the speakers a brief nod as she accepted their reports.

“Next.” Dar kept her eyes on her pad. “Did you get those servers?”

Mark had to report in the negative. “Not yet, boss. Two more days.”

Kerry looked at him, seeing the wince as he waited for Dar’s reaction, along with the rest of the staff.

“Okay.” Dar nodded. “What else?”

Everyone around the table looked at one another in surprise.

“Um.” Mark wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“We’ve…uh...got some problems in Canada two big pipes down and they’re complaining.”

“And?” Dar continued her sketching, cocking her head to one side.

“Can we fix them?”

“Not without digging up some fiber.”

“Guess they’ll have to wait then,” Dar replied. “Tell our fiber contractor up there to call me with an estimate when he gets a chance.”

Another round of puzzled looks circled the table.

“Uh…okay,” Mark said. “That’s all for me.”

“Anyone else?” Dar’s gaze sharpened and she scoured the group with 34 Melissa Good ice blue eyes. “No? Good.” She stood up, casually ripped off the top sheet of her pad, and tossed it over to Kerry before she picked up her coffee cup and headed for the door. “Budgets are due next week. Don’t be late.”

The door closed behind her, and everyone relaxed. “Whoo.” Mark wiped his brow in exaggerated relief. “Got off lucky this week!”

“Yeah. I thought she was going to roast your butt. How’d you do that, Mark?”

“Right time, right place. Caught her in a good mood.”

“The one time this year. Go figure.” Charlene rolled her eyes. “What caused that, I wonder? She get to fire someone this week?”

Kerry didn’t hear any of it. Her eyes were on the casually tossed sheet in her hands as she stared at the neatly shaded sketch in the center of it. Her own image looked back at her, a very creditable rendering outlined in a roughly shaped heart, with Dar’s initials on the bottom.

“Maybe it was because she got to cancel that planning contract.

She’s always hated that guy’s guts. ”

“Nah. I bet she denied that Sales request again.”

Kerry very carefully opened her folder and put the loose sheet inside.

“Hey, Kerry.”

Kerry looked up. “Yes?”

“What’s the deal? You know what’s got big D in such a mellow mood?”

“Yes. Matter of fact, I do.” Kerry exhaled, biting off a grin as she stood up and pushed in her chair. “See you guys tomorrow.” She walked out with a jaunty step, closing the door behind her.

Kerry ruffled Dar’s hair. “All this pretty scenery, and you have to draw me?”

“All those pretty fish, and you have to take my picture?” Dar countered drolly, wrapping one arm around Kerry’s leg. “We’ll be at the dive site in an hour. You up for that, or do you want to give it a miss and just go to dinner?”

Kerry leaned against the captain’s chair and let her head rest on Dar’s shoulder. “Does my utter laziness show that badly?” she complained. “I fell asleep twice down there in the chair. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“We’re on vacation. You’re supposed to be lazy,” Dar stated, her eyes scanning the horizon again. “We can go straight in.”

Kerry chewed her lower lip, then shook her head. “No. I’m going to go make some coffee. I really want to see that old wreck, Dar. You made it sound really cool.” She straightened up and put her hands on Dar’s shoulders, massaging them lightly. “Let’s go for it.”

Dar relaxed, enjoying the strong kneading. “You sure?”

“Positive.” Kerry gave her a kiss on the back of the neck. “Take me to the galleon, Cap’n Dar.”

Terrors of the High Seas 35

“Aye, aye, matey,” Dar replied promptly. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll find us some pieces of eight.”

Kerry chuckled, resuming her position draped over Dar’s shoulders. “With our luck, all we’ll find is jellyfish or a cranky moray eel.”

“Or a pile of tin cans.”

They both laughed, a sound muffled by the spray of the boat’s wake to either side of them.

KERRY ADJUSTED HER mask, holding her hand over it and her regulator as she stepped to the back of the boat and paused, then took a big step off and plunged into the water.

It was always a bit of a shock—going from the light and breezy air into the dense, blue water. She sucked in her first breath off her tank, feeling her body adjust as the familiar above-water weight of herself and her equipment moderated in the water’s buoyancy.

While she waited for Dar, Kerry held on to the anchor rope with one hand and tightened the straps on her BC with the other.

Her ears popped, and she gently pinched her nose closed and blew out a little, equalizing the pressure in her middle ears. Just then, the water was disrupted by Dar’s entrance, her tall figure in a whirl of bubbles that cleared as she made her way over to where Kerry was waiting.

Dar’s eyes flicked over her, Kerry noticed, checking her gear out of endearing habit. She endured the scrutiny, and in return she snugged Dar’s tank a little tighter and pulled her hair out from under her BC. Dar winked at her and pointed down, and Kerry nodded.

They started down the anchor rope, descending slowly through the water toward the ocean floor sixty feet below. Diving deep was different than reef diving, Kerry had discovered. You encountered a lot of sensations you didn’t get in the shallows, like thermoclines—

layers of colder water that crept up and enveloped you unexpectedly as you descended, and the awareness of the sea pressure slowly growing against you. Breathing was just a little tougher, and the sense of being a part of the ocean was greater down there since you tended to look down more than up, and the surface was much further away.

They reached the bottom, a patch of soft, creamy white sand that had a few sparse stalks of seaweed poking up through it. Dar checked her dive computer, then motioned Kerry to follow her and started off.

Kerry obliged, staying to one side, out of the draft of Dar’s fins.

Her partner’s leg kicks were a little slower than her own, but more powerful, and Kerry put some effort into keeping up against the 36 Melissa Good light current. They approached a rock escarpment, and as they did, Dar half turned and made a motion near her mask, as though she were snapping a picture. Understanding that a photo op was about to be encountered, Kerry unclipped her camera and adjusted it, then swam after Dar as they crested the escarpment and could look over it.

Wow. Kerry’s eyes widened and she quickly focused on the scene. Forty feet below them was a valley of white sand, and half buried in the sand were the reef-encrusted remains of an old wooden ship. The visibility was incredible, even at this distance, and she kept snapping as they descended toward it.

Schools of fish darted amongst what was left of half broken spars, and one entire side of the front of the ship was gone, leaving a huge hole big enough to admit the largest of the fish swimming around it. Kerry clipped her camera to her vest and just enjoyed the moment, stretching out her arms and releasing some of her buoyancy. She fell through the water in a glide very much like slow motion flying, twisting her body to change angles as she approached the wreck.

Bits of the ship were strewn across the bottom, where they’d scattered when she went down or in the storms afterward. Kerry spotted lumps of metal and she swam over to investigate, reaching out with a gloved hand to touch metal links half the length of her arm. Anchor chain, she realized.

She left the chain and headed toward the tilted, coral-encrusted deck, surprising a school of grouper that scattered when she drifted over them. A grumpy looking barracuda remained, however, glaring at her from between a hatch and a piece of collapsed spar.

Kerry slowly lifted her camera and drifted down to eye level with the denizen of the deep, focusing on the fish’s intimidating jaw. She snapped the shutter, then moved away, watching the ’cuda watch her as she entered a school of angel fish.

They poured over her and she rotated onto her back, looking up at them outlined against the surface like a far off mirror above her. Then she inhaled in surprise as a small squid jetted by, almost within her grasp, its tentacles trailing behind it and brushing her arm.

This sensation of floating in an alien world was still so amazing to her, even after a year. She twisted and looked around, finding Dar floating nearby, her hands clasped on her stomach and her fins crossed as she watched. Kerry grinned and gave her a thumbs up.

Dar grinned back, then pointed toward the hole in the side of the ship and raised her eyebrows in question, visible even over her mask.

Ah! A new adventure. Kerry nodded, following readily as Dar, her underwater lamp clasped in one hand, led the way toward the Terrors of the High Seas 37

interior of the boat. As they reached it, Dar turned on the light and edged inside, carefully examining the space before she proceeded, motioning Kerry after her.

Before she followed Dar inside the ship, Kerry did a quick check of her BC to make sure all her hoses were tucked into their holders and nothing was dangling. She pulled out her own light and turned it on, illuminating a ghostly world of algae-incrusted wood. The structure inside was heavily damaged, but her imagination was able to fill in the missing pieces.

She could envision the sailors who’d lived there, and the cargo they carried across the warm basin of the Caribbean. Long ago, this ship had held dreams. Now all that remained were ghosts, and the flash of odd eyes as her flashlight skimmed over the interior. For a fleeting moment, the thought occurred to her that the eyes belonged to those lost souls who went down with the ship, still there after all these years. Then a lobster scuttled by her, waving its claws menacingly, and Kerry jumped, almost cracking her head against the wood above her. Okay, she told her imagination sternly, save it for topside. With a shake of her head, she drifted down toward the bottom of the hold. Tiny fish swirled around her curiously and as her light reflected off something unidentifiable, she peered closer.

Dar approached, lifting her dive computer and displaying the time they had remaining. Kerry nodded, then pointed with her light, catching the flash again. They both swam closer, peering under the collapsed ribs and time deteriorated cases piled on the bottom, resting against what had once been the side of the ship.

Dar tried to edge closer on one side, but her bulk kept her from getting any nearer. Frowning, she motioned Kerry over, but even Kerry’s smaller form was too wide to fit through with her tank on.

Dar considered a moment, then she turned Kerry around and unclasped her tank from her BC, holding it in one hand and moving it to one side.

Kerry grasped the spar and pulled herself down, now just able to get between the wood and the side of the ship. She could see the shining something, and as she squiggled closer and her motion brushed a collection of algae off it, it resolved itself into a flat surface. She felt Dar’s hand on her hip in a reassuring pat, and she edged a little further, now able to put her hand on whatever it was.

She just about panicked when an eel suddenly erupted from around the object, squirming right past her neck toward Dar and giving her a lash with its tail on the way out. A muffled burst of noise came from Kerry’s throat, sending a stream of bubbles upward, but after a jerk behind her as Dar got out of the eel’s way, the comforting pat returned.

Jesus. Kerry flexed her hand and reached a little further, getting her fingers around the surface and tugging. It resisted her pull but 38 Melissa Good she persisted, and with the faintest crackling as she freed it from the growing coral, it came loose and she brought it closer to her mask.

It was a box. The shine had been the hammered metal insignia which covered it, though corrosion had mostly obscured the design.

Kerry started backwards, glad for the grip on her belt that was guiding her out of the tight spot. Dar peered over her shoulder as she reattached Kerry’s tank, and they both gazed curiously at her find.

A buried treasure. Kerry blinked delightedly. Even if it was, as it appeared to be, just an old box, still—the box held history, and it fascinated her. She clutched it tightly as they made their way out of the hold and into the open sea, which seemed brilliantly lit by sunlight now that they were out of the darkness of the ship.

Dar gave her a big thumbs up and Kerry returned it, grinning around her regulator. They leisurely made their way back to the anchor line, carried now by the drift current going in the opposite direction. Kerry tucked her treasure away in her BC pocket as she gripped the line, ready to just watch the show around her as they slowly made their way out of one world, and back to their own.

”WHOO.” KERRY RUFFLED her hair dry with a towel and padded across the deck. “Dar, that was awesome.”

Dar looked up from the basin, at the bottom of which rested their little prize. She studied Kerry’s face, a smile on her own responding to the honest delight she saw there. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”

Kerry applied the towel to her lover’s body, drying the droplets of seawater off it. “That eel scared the poo out of me, though. Did it hit you on its way out?”

“Right in the mask, yeah.” Dar chuckled. “Bounced off me and just kept going. He was a big one.” She glanced up as the sound of far off engines disturbed the otherwise peaceful air, and watched as a small tender approached, slowing when they came even, very obviously giving them the once over.

Kerry peered over Dar’s shoulder. “What’s that all about?” she queried. “We’ve got the dive flag out. Is there a problem with that here?”

“Nah.” Dar frowned. “There’s a thousand old wrecks like this around these islands. That’s just an old island freighter. Some of the historic wrecks have no-dive zones, but not this area.”

“So what’s their problem?” The small boat circled them lazily, then after a moment, roared off.

Dar watched the small boat retreat into the distance. “Beats me.” She shrugged. “Maybe they’re not used to people using a 56

Terrors of the High Seas 39

foot Bertram as a dive platform.” She finished covering the seawater-filled water well that held the box they’d brought up.

“Let’s leave that in there until I figure out how to take it out of the water and not have it fall to bits on us.”

“Rats.” Kerry’s arms circled from behind and gave Dar a squeeze. “I wanted to open it up and see inside.” She inspected the basin. “I know it’s nothing much, just an old cigar box or something, but—”

Dar turned around and returned the hug, giving Kerry’s neck a friendly scratch. “I think we might need some oil first…to keep the wood from drying out. Tomorrow, okay?”

“Mm.” Kerry licked a few remaining drops of water off Dar’s throat. “Okay.” She released her lover, but took her hand and led her over to the cooler. “Share an iced tea with me?”

“Sure.” Dar waited while Kerry opened the bottle and took a swig, then accepted it and sucked down a mouthful herself. She swished the tea around before she swallowed it, clearing the last taste of saltwater and rubber from the dive. “All right, how about we pull up anchor and go get us some conch?”

Kerry stifled her mild amusement over the casual speech, wondering if Dar knew how much she sounded like her father sometimes. In the office, it almost never showed. There, Dar’s vocalizations—when they weren’t wall-rattling yells—were crisp and sharply professional. Only when they were alone and her lover was relaxed did her Southern upbringing tend to slip in. “Sounds great to me, Dixiecup,” Kerry teased. “I’ll go pull in the buoy.”

Dar captured her with one long arm and pinned her up against the bulkhead. “You making fun of my accent, you little Yankee?”

“Nope.” Kerry ran her hands over Dar’s still damp body. “I love your accent. I wish you’d let it out more often.”

One of Dar’s eyebrows lifted expressively.

“I so want to hear you tell Jose to ‘get yer damn ass outta mah office.’” Kerry giggled. “Yah damn little pansy assed pissant.”

Dar burst into laughter. “He’d piss in his pants.”

Kerry nodded cheerfully. “Exactly!”

Dar’s chuckles wound down, and she quieted. “It’s funny…you liking my redneck side.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “It just is. To me, anyway. I worked so hard to cover all that up,” Dar said. “I remember sitting in a management meeting once, after I’d made regional director, and listening to three of the other people there trash one of the Southern project managers.” She exhaled. “Called him a hick and a lowlife redneck.”

Kerry sighed. “They make fun of everyone, Dar.”

Dar nodded. “I know. But this was different, because it might as well have been me they were talking about, only the other guy 40 Melissa Good wasn’t bothering to pretend.” She gazed thoughtfully over Kerry’s shoulder.

“Mm.” Kerry was slowly rubbing Dar’s back, easing the tension she felt there. “What did you do?” she asked softly.

“Called them jackasses and told them to go find some class before the company had to buy it for them,” Dar admitted.

“That’s my Dar.” Kerry leaned her head against Dar’s collarbone, soft chuckles emerging from her throat.

“Yeah, well.” Dar had to smile herself. “After that, they never did say anything about rednecks in any meeting I was in.”

No. Kerry hugged her frequently curmudgeonly boss. “I bet they didn’t.” Just like no one says anything about you… in any meeting I’m in. Damn right.