Page 10 of Austen

Five minutes later, she’d followed the anchor line to the bottom.According to a recent posting in one of her online dive communities, someone had picked up a piece of majolica pottery in this area, crusted over with sea barnacles and algae, but after cleanup, the shiny white tin glaze had revealed a coat of arms from the house of Philip II of Spain.

So, early fifteen hundreds.Maybe theSan Miguelhad broken up on the coral reef that edged the sandy shoal, scattering her debris along the reef.

And of course, as she swam toward the deeper water where the waves could have buried the heavier cargo, her old partner Margo’s words hung in her brain:“Today’s the day, Tennie!”

Not her original words—Margo had adopted the relentless optimism of Mel Fisher, but said it with her signature smile, her eyes shining as she jumped into the blue...

“Yes, today’s the day, Marg.”

Austen wove through a garden of coral life teeming with angel and clown fish, the coral itself a landscape of color and shape.She flicked on her dive light and glided around golden elkhorn spires, over green brain coral, around pink boulder coral, scattering clown fish embedded in the carpet of a magnificent red bubble-tip anemone.

A stingray lifted from the rippled layers of the sandy bottom, and her light landed on a lurking grouper.She checked her dive watch, then her O2.She had a good forty minutes of bottom time left.She pulled out a search-grid map on her diver’s slate and marked it.

Settling just above the bottom, she pulled on her earphone and turned on the metal detector, keeping it parallel to the bottom.She’d work the grid in lanes, and should it ping on anything, she’d disturb the sand, raking up years of sediment.

The pulse whined over an area littered with shells and rock.She stirred up the sand, let it settle, and the whine sounded over a small barnacle-crusted object.Digging in, she found a ring.Probably a diver’s lost wedding band.She pocketed it, then kept searching.Found a ring of keys, a watch, and even a couple coins.

From 1963.

A check of her O2 suggested she should turn home, but not before she searched another sandy pocket rimmed by boulder coral.She spotted a giant scallop, its mouth moving to collect plankton and algae, and imagined the pearls she might find inside.But she didn’t have a permit.

Besides, she didn’t need treasure.Just...

Closure.A promise kept.

The Sea Hunter pinged around the base of some elkhorn coral, and she stirred up the ground.Waved the metal detector over the sand, and the whine settled.She grabbed her Quest XPointer and searched.

There.Something metallic in the gleam of her dive light.She pulled a trowel from her belt and dug it up.

Oh, she wished she could turn to Margo and shout, or at least give a fist pump.A layer of verdigris turned it almost black, but it was clearly a mug, complete with a handle.

Like the kind a Spanish galleon might have for its crew.

Or a modern-day ship might offer to a sailor enjoying a sunset mule.But...maybe.

She pulled out a mesh bag and added the mug to it, then glanced at her O2.It had sunk toward the red.Turning around, she glanced at her compass and headed back to her down line, listening now to Stein’s words as he’d dropped her off at her boat.

“You’re diving by yourself?”He’d stood there, arms akimbo, his expression judgy.

“I’m not reckless, Stein.You know that.Besides, if anything happens, I always dive with a PLB.”

“A Personal Locator Beacon isn’t going to save you if you get tangled in netting or run into a gear issue.”His phone had beeped then, and he’d pulled it out, frowned.Put it back.“I have something I need to do tomorrow, but wait for me—I’ll go with you.”

Yeah, maybe that would have been a good idea.But the trip took two days in good weather, and she’d wanted at least two decent days of diving.

So, “Not this time, bro.”She’d hugged him, and he’d growled.

Now, as she searched for the down line, his growl thundered through her.

She checked her compass again, aware of the beeping from her watch.Low air.Yeah, yeah,she knew.

Except, where was the line?Around her, the ocean seemed darker.She hadn’t noticed the change, thanks to the depth and her dive light.

She let out her BCD air and ascended to her safety stop.She must have mistaken her GPS point.

Three minutes later, she reached the surface and inflated her BCD to float.

Rain pinged down on her, and the ocean had turned wild, the waves cluttered, disorganized, pitching her.

---