Pirate (Fargo Adventures 8)

His smile sent a shiver down Remi’s spine, and she was glad when they were interrupted by the call to dinner. She and Sam took seats near Nuno, but when Remi tried to engage him in conversation, he politely excused himself and left the table.

The weather held up that night, and they slept peaceably, awaking early the next morning to begin the dive.

Sam suggested that they suit up and do a final check of their equipment. The captain asked if they needed help with anything, which they politely declined, and he returned to the helm.

The Golfinho eventually anchored well off the southern tip of the island—far enough away from the very rocks responsible for sending many a ship to the depths over the past few centuries. Whether one of those ships was the vessel they were searching for remained to be seen, Remi thought, watching as they readied the fifteen-foot Zodiac SeaRider.

Nuno climbed down the ladder, secured their gear in the boat, including the large case with the portable side-scan sonar unit. He helped Sam in first, and Sam, in turn, helped Remi. The young man still had difficulty making eye contact, but he seemed polite and willing to help. Soon they were speeding toward Ilha da Queimada Grande. The beauty of the island grew as they neared, the treacherous rocky shore giving way to lush jungle that climbed to a steep peak. Had it been anywhere else, Remi would have enjoyed hiking up to the top to look out over the water. Just thinking about the snakes made her very glad for the large body of water between her and them.

Sam set up the side-scan sonar unit, then directed Nuno on the speed and direction to achieve the best scan of the ocean floor while he monitored the screen. At the moment, the water was fairly calm, but with the predicted rain later, that could change. Much depended on luck and the accuracy of their instruments for locating the wreck—and hoping it was the right one—or they’d be repeating the entire operation when the weather cleared.

If they were lucky, they’d find what they were looking for—not that she was naive enough to think they’d stumble across the actual cipher wheel. A lot of factors came into play when it came to salvaging wrecks, and quite often the contents of a ship weren’t always found in the immediate area where it went down—never mind the possibility that the cipher wheel had already been recovered and was lying in some private collection, its owner none the wiser as to its true purpose and worth.

Right now, all they needed was enough wreckage to figure out what sort of ship went down. That thought sent her gaze to the deadly island, wondering what it must have been like for the survivors, if there were any, thinking they could swim to shore and safety. Assuming they could avoid being smashed against the rocks in the storm-tossed waters and they managed to make it onto the island . . .

Sam sensed her concern and glanced up from the sonar screen. “Something wrong?”

“I was thinking about the shipwreck. Imagine being that close to land, thinking you were safe . . .”

His gaze followed hers to the island. “I think I’d prefer drowning over death by pit viper venom.”

“I’d prefer neither.”

He drew her toward him. “I can use your sharp eye,” he said.

They sat next to each other, and Remi tried to concentrate on the sonar readings, feeling as if they’d been out there all day with nothing to show for it. Eventually the wind picked up and, with it, the water got rougher. She was about to suggest they call it a day when Sam pointed to the screen. “I think we’ve found it.”

Sixteen

The area Sam had indicated looked like the remnants of a rockslide, as though some long-ago earthquake had turned the rocky southern end of the island into a pile of rubble that had swept down to the ocean floor. A few feet away was another long, narrow stretch of rubble that seemed far too neat to have been caused by any landslide. Undoubtedly ballast from a ship. The fact it wasn’t scattered meant the ship went down right there either because it was too badly damaged or it was scuttled to prevent it from being captured.

Remi leaned in closer for a better look. “Do you think the rockslide came after the wreck?”

“Possibly,” Sam replied. “Either way, that vessel was too close to navigate safely. Too many underwater rocks that could have done it in, especially in a storm.”

“Maybe they did it on purpose. Keep it from falling into the wrong hands.”

“Makes you wonder what that

cipher wheel leads to.”

After final instructions to Nuno, they gathered their metal detectors, put on their diving gear, and dropped into the water.

They descended into the depths. As always, the tranquillity and beauty of the sea amazed Remi. It didn’t matter how many dives they made, each one was like a new world to be discovered, as the tropical fish scurried away and the bright colors muted into blues and greens the farther down they went.

The ballast pile she’d seen in the monitor seemed to be all that was left to indicate that a ship once rested there, a mere twenty-five feet below the surface, most of it having disintegrated long ago.

Before they explored what was left of the wreck, they scanned the water around them. The coast of Brazil was known for its higher-than-average fatal shark attacks. Granted, the majority occurred in the northeast coastal region around Recife. But the state of São Paolo due west of them had the second-highest concentration. For the most part, the victims had been swimmers and surfers, probably attacked by the aggressive bull sharks known to frequent the shallower waters off the beaches and estuaries. But the warmer equatorial coastal waters were also home to the equally dangerous and much larger tiger shark, but not as likely—Remi hoped—here in the shallows off Snake Island.

As she and Sam circled about back-to-back, they saw several barracuda, but no sharks, and so they started at the far end of the ballast pile, working their way inland toward the rockslide, moving their metal detectors along the ocean floor. Neither expected to find anything—although there was always hope—and the silence of their equipment confirmed their suspicions. The wreck’s location was well documented and had undoubtedly been searched numerous times. Even so, as Remi and Sam well knew, the ocean floor was constantly shifting, revealing secrets one day, hiding them the next.

They examined the ballast stones. Sam moved a few, tossing them aside, each one raising a cloud of silt as it landed. The next one he picked up was different. Sharp, triangular, and yellow. He shined his light on the stones, and she saw more of the same. Broken pieces of yellow brick. Not your typical ballast. Maybe something that could be traced. She held open the dive bag, he dropped the piece in, and they continued their search.

After several minutes, he tapped her shoulder, pointing to his right, where a moray eel slithered out of its home in the rocks. For a moment, she thought he was teasing her about it being a seafaring pit viper, but then he shook his head and pointed back toward the dark enclosure where the sea snake had emerged in a cloud of silt and shined his light across the space. It was several seconds before the silt settled, but then she saw what caught his attention. Whether it was the way those large rocks landed or the eel that had enhanced the opening for a home, there was a shallow hollowing beneath it. Sam swam over and used his hand to fan the silt, revealing a barnacle-encrusted rib from the ship on the ocean floor that hadn’t been visible before.

That confirmed that the rockslide had probably occurred after the ship went down, possibly covering part of the wreck.

Which meant that there could very well be something beneath those rocks. He signaled for her to check. She inserted her metal detector into the space, hearing nothing near the entrance, but a definite ping as she moved it farther in. She handed the metal detector to him, then aimed her light into the space, waving her hand over the floor, lifting the silt.