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“For that,” Sam replied, “I’d need at least four more logs.”
“Why the protruding ends?”
“Two reasons: stability and leverage.”
“For what?”
“You’ll see. Right now I need some line—a few dozen six-foot lengths.”
Remi saluted. “As you command.”
AFTER AN HOUR’S WORK, Sam straightened up and stared at his creation. His narrowed eyes told Remi her husband was running equations in his head. After a minute of this, Sam nodded. “Okay. Should be buoyant enough,” he proclaimed. “With about twenty percent in reserve.”
WITH THE RAFT in tow, they slipped back through the inlet to the island’s western side and headed south along the coast until they were again over the bell’s resting place. Using the gaff hook, Sam maneuvered the raft around to the landward side of the Andreyale and secured it to the cleats.
“My gut tells me we’re due for another drive-by,” Sam said, sitting down in a deck chair. Remi joined him, and together they drank water and watched the water until, thirty minutes later, the Yulin appeared to the north, a half mile out.
“Good call,” Remi said.
The Yulin slowed to a walking pace, and from their afterdeck Sam and Remi could see a figure in a white uniform standing on its afterdeck. Sun glinted off binocular lenses.
“Smile and wave,” Sam said.
Together they did just that until the figure lowered its binoculars and disappeared into the cabin. The Yulin came about and began heading north. Sam and Remi waited until it disappeared around the curve of the island, then went back to work.
With the already prepped anchor in one hand, Sam donned his fins and mask and rolled over the side. After a bit of wrangling, he centered the raft over the bell. He knotted the end of the anchor line to the far side of the raft, dove at an angle until the line was taut, then jammed the anchor’s flukes into the sand.
Back on the surface, he caught the line Remi tossed to him, then looped it over the raft’s center beam, dove down, and clamped the D ring onto the bell’s crown. A minute later he was back on the afterdeck, where he secured Remi’s line to both cleats.
Hands on his hips, he appraised the setup.
Remi smiled sideways at him. “You’re very pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“You should be. My intrepid engineer.”
Sam clapped his hands together once. “Let’s do this.”
WITH REMI at the wheel, Sam called, “Slow ahead.”
“Slow ahead,” Remi repeated.
The water beneath the stern turned to froth, and the Andreyale eased forward a foot, then two. The cleated line began rising from the water. With a muffled squelch-pop, the rope cinched down on the raft’s crossbeam.
“Looking good,” Sam called. “Keep going.”
The raft began moving, closing the distance to the stern.
“Come on,” Sam muttered. “Come on . . .”
On the far side of the raft the anchor line quivered with tension as it negated the Andreyale’s drag on the raft. Sam donned his mask, bent over the side, and stuck his face in the water. Twelve feet below, the bell was hovering a few inches off the bottom.
Remi called, “How’re we doing?”
“A thing of beauty. Keep going.”
One careful foot at a time they lifted the bell until finally the crown broke the surface and thunked into the crossbeam.