Raise the Titanic! (Dirk Pitt 4)

"I don't understand," Sandecker said.

"This instrument is a reminder of a small, but courageous act performed during the worst sea tragedy in man's history," Vogel replied. "It takes very little imagination to envision Graham Farley and his fellow musicians while they soothed the frightened ship's passengers with music, sacrificing all thought of their own safety, as the Titanic settled into the cold sea. The cornet's last melody came from the lips of a very brave man. I feel it would border on the sacrilegious for anyone else ever to play it again."

Sandecker stared at Vogel, examining every feature of the old man's face as if he were seeing it for the first time.

"'Autumn'," Vogel was murmuring, almost rambling to himself. "'Autumn', an old hymn. That was the last melody Graham Farley played on his cornet."

"Not 'Nearer My God to Thee'?'' Gunn spoke slowly.

"A myth," said Pitt. "'Autumn' was the final tune that was heard from the Titanic's band just before the end."

"You seem to have made a study of the Titanic," Vogel said.

"The ship and her tragic fate is like a contagious disease," Pitt replied. "Once you become interested, the fever is tough to break."

"The ship itself holds little attraction for me. But as a historian of musicians and their instruments, the saga of the Titanic's band has always gripped my imagination." Vogel set the cornet in the case, closed the lid, and passed it across the desk to Sandecker. "Unless you have more questions, Admiral, I'd like to grab a fattening breakfast and fall into bed. It was a difficult night."

Sandecker stood. "We're in your debt, Mr. Vogel."

"I was hoping you might say that," the Santa Claus eyes twinkled slyly. "There is a way you can repay me."

"Which is?"

"Donate the cornet to the Washington Museum. It would be the prize exhibit of our Hall of Music."

"As soon as our lab people have studied the instrument and your report, I'll send it over to you."

"On behalf of the museum's directors, I thank you."

"Not as a gift donation, however."

Vogel stared uncertainly at the Admiral.

"I don't follow."

Sandecker smiled. "Let's call it a permanent loan. That will save hassle in case we ever have to borrow it back temporarily."

"Agreed."

"One more thing," Sandecker said. "Nothing has been mentioned to the press about the discovery. I'd appreciate it if you went along with us for the time being."

"I don't understand your motives, but of course I'll comply."

The towering curator bid his farewells and departed.

"Damn!" Gunn blurted out a second after the door closed. "We must have passed within spitting distance of the Titanic's hulk."

"You were certainly in the ball park," Pitt agreed. "The Sappho's sonar probed a radius of two hundred yards. The Titanic must have rested just outside the fringe of your range."

"If only we'd had more time. If only we'd known what in hell we were looking for."

"You forget," Sandecker said, "that testing the Sappho I and conducting experiments on the Lorelei Current were your primary objectives, and on that you and your crew did one hell of a job. Oceanographers will be sifting the data you brought back on deepwater currents for the next two years. My only regret is that we couldn't let you in on what we were up to, but Gene Seagram and his security people insist that we keep a tight lid on any information regarding the Titanic until we're far along on the salvage operation."

"We won't be able to keep it quiet for long," Pitt said. "All the news media in the world will soon smell a story on the greatest historical find since the opening of King Tut's tomb."

Sandecker rose from behind his desk and walked over to the window. When he spoke, his words came very softly, sounding almost as if they were carried over a great distance by the wind. "Graham Farley's cornet."

"Sir?"