“These treasure ships didn’t sail alone; they were usually part of a large fleet, with the slow moving galleons protected by smaller, faster escort ships. It’s rare, though not unheard of, for an entire treasure fleet to be sunk—”
“The Plate Fleet of 1715,” intoned Nichols. “Twelve ships were lost in a hurricane. I looked for it myself a time or two.”
“Exactly. Although in that case as in most others, there were surviving ships that carried the news back to Spain. That’s how we know where to look. But the records going back to 1594 are spotty at best. The details could have gotten confused, but a more likely explanation is that the Spanish reported the location incorrectly in the hopes that they might one day be able to return and salvage it themselves. I think that’s what happened to the Misericordia. She actually went down near Bimini, and I think she took Alvaro and the Moon stone with her. Along with a fortune in Spanish gold.”
“Now you’re speaking my language,” said Nichols.
“You’re welcome to keep whatever gold we find,” Ophelia assured him. “Or rather, I should say, you’re welcome to fight it out with the Spanish government.”
Nichols shrugged. “Goes with the territory. Honestly, I’m too old to care about being rich. I’d rather be famous at this point.”
Well that explains the television show.
“We probably won’t find a wreck per se,” said Professor. “Four hundred years of exposure to salt water will have destroyed the wood and ferrous metals, and whatever’s left is probably buried under a couple tons of sediment. But if there really is some kind of space-time distortion going on, Paul’s clocks should detect it. From there, it’s just a matter of following our noses. The good news is that the wreck site will almost certainly lie on the continental shelf, max depth three hundred feet. Still a bit deep for recreational diving, but a hell of a lot better than twelve hundred.”
“You folks seem to know what you’re doing,” Nichols said, “Bimini is about ten hours out, figure another couple to Great Isaacs. We can start running the search as soon as cook puts out the first pot of coffee.”
He gave Ophelia a long scrutinizing stare. “You know, I’ve been sailing these waters most of my life. I’ve seen some strange things, but nothing to make me believe that there’s anything to these stories about the Bermuda Triangle. It doesn’t bother me that you’re going looking for — how’d Professor there put it? — spooky stuff. Honestly, I wish the cameras were rolling. Spooky stuff gets great ratings. I just want to know that this thing you’re looking for won’t get us all killed or give us cancer or something like that.”
Ophelia smiled. “I won’t make promises I can’t keep, Mr. Nichols. If you wanted safe, you should have chosen a different career.”
Barry gave them a brief tour of the ship’s working areas. Jade didn’t need to hear his explanation of what the “mailbox blowers” did. The big aluminum elbow pipes at the stern could be lowered into place over the ship’s screws, directing the engine thrust straight down to the sea floor, creating an artificial current to sweep tons of sediment away and hopefully uncover buried riches. The blowers were a standard tool of professional treasure hunters, though Jade had never seen boxes as big as the pair on the Quest Explorer.
Much of the deck served as a platform for the boom crane which could be used to deploy the submersible Quest Explorer-Deep, nicknamed “QED,” or retrieve heavy artifacts from the sea floor, like cannon or if they were really lucky, great big chests full of gold ingots.
The QED was parked on the foredeck, covered with heavy tarpaulins and strapped down. It looked smaller than Jade expected and she was a bit dubious about Barry’s claim that it could comfortably seat three people, “and all their cameras and sound equipment.”
The atomic clock Dorion had requested had been air freighted to Nassau ahead of their arrival, loaded aboard and stowed near the submersible. The long plastic shipping container looked ominously like a casket, “You’re welcome to inspect it now,” Barry told him, “but it’s going to be dark soon. Might be easier to wait until morning when you’ll have daylight.”
Dorion accepted this without protest and they continued the tour with a cursory glance at the engine room, finishing at their staterooms, which were nicer than some hotels Jade had slept in, but not on par with the salon. Jade’s luggage — which consisted only of a single carry-on size suitcase containing clothes and sundry items she had had picked up before leaving Greece — was waiting on the bed. There was nothing particularly essential in the case. She patted the pocket where she was keeping the Shew Stone — after Delphi, she had not let it out of her sight — then leaving everything where it was, headed back to the salon for dinner.
She found Professor standing on the deck, staring out across the water. “Hey sailor,” she called out, and then immediately wondered why she had.
He turned to her with an easy smile. “Careful. People will talk.”
She had to fight the urge to hit back with a barbed comment, maybe something about how people might talk about the time he had spent in Delphi with Ophelia. “Actually, I wanted to thank you for not shooting me down earlier.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know, you’re always Mr. Voice of Reason. You’re the last person I would expect to become a believer.”
He laughed. “‘Mr. Voice of Reason’? Jade, we’re scientists. It’s not about what we believe; it’s about going where the evidence leads. We already know there’s some weird science at work in the world. ‘There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy’ as the Bard would say. So, when I went down the list of so-called Bermuda Triangle phenomena, I had to consider space-time distortions as a possible factor.”
“Yeah, well, thanks all the same.”
“Sure thing. Just remember, we’re scientists. Belief is for people who don’t have enough facts to back up their position. We go where the—” He trailed off, his eyes leaving her face and roving to the horizon.
“What?”
“Great Isaac Key is west-northwest of Nassau. The sun should be just off the port bow.”
Jade looked toward the orange orb of the setting sun. It was almost perfectly centered on the western horizon, parallel to the course of the ship. “We’re heading due north.”
Professor turned away without confirming the statement and headed for the stairs that led to the ship’s bridge, with Jade right behind him.
The control room, with its horseshoe-shaped bank of computer screens and other electronic equipment, looked more like something from a science-fiction movie, but there was only one bored crewman present. He sat in one of the fixed swivel chairs in front of the workstation, but was turned away, using the console as an armrest while he read a paperback novel. The crewman raised his eyes, but otherwise made no move to acknowledge their presence.
“What’s our course?” Professor asked.
With a sigh, the man put down his book — Jade recognized the cover art. It was the latest book in the Easter Egg series by Sue Denim — and swung around to glance at the screen of the nearest computer. “We’re here,” he said, pointing to a red dot. “And this dotted yellow line is our track.”
The indicated line showed the ship moving in the northwesterly direction, the direction they should be going.
“What’s our compass heading?”
“Compass?”
“You do know what a compass is.” Jade could hear the irritation in Professor’s voice.