Page 39 of Heart Marks the Spot

Twenty-Nine

Stella

I decide to dive with Teddy today. We haven’t really spent the same kind of quality time together as we usually do.

I’m not sure why that is, but regardless it will be good to remedy that.

Gus can teach Huck how to be a better diver and spot artifacts that are covered in coral and other detritus.

He’ll keep him focused. My switching dive partners is purely practical; it is in no way because of what Huck said in the galley last night, or what I read in his book before that.

And it definitely isn’t because I feel like spending hours beside him is too big a risk to take with my waning resolve, with the heart I put back together with glue and string and sheer will.

Teddy is on his best behavior this morning.

He got up early, inspected all our gear, even made sure I didn’t miss any spots with my sunscreen.

He’s all fun memories and inside jokes and thoughtful gestures.

This is the lovable Teddy who makes life better just by being around, who dances while he works.

“You’re in a good mood today,” I say.

“Must be the company.” He smiles.

“The company hasn’t changed.”

He glances over in Huck’s direction. “You think he’s getting the material he needs for his next book?”

“Not sure.” I’d almost forgotten that this was a work trip for Huck. “He’s learned a lot about the boat, navigation, and diving. Maybe that’s useful? I’m hoping that today we at least turn up some interesting finds.”

“What’s it Mel Fisher used to say? ‘Today’s the day’?”

“I think so, but I’m not sure. It would be great if today was the day, though, wouldn’t it?”

Teddy glances down at the chart and the marked search zones where we detected hits with the magnetometer.

“Well, the good news is we have about twenty solid hits to check today, so the odds are at least one of them should be something. Personally, I’m betting that the San Miguel disintegrated in the ocean and all these hits are a massive debris field of gold and other precious artifacts.

We’ll be pulling treasure up all day long. ”

“Wouldn’t that be amazing for Huck’s new book?” I ask.

“I guess. To be honest, I’m more interested in things that are real.”

I don’t stop to try and decipher his meaning while I get into my wetsuit. Teddy zips me up and I sling on my BC and my air. We check each other’s tanks.

“Good to go,” I tell him. “Let’s get to it.”

I turn to Gus and Huck, who are looking at a notebook together and talking thoughtfully. “I numbered the mag hits on the chart. Ted and I will take the odd-numbered ones, you guys take even, okay?”

“Right on,” Gus said. “We’ll be right after you.”

“If you’re not first, you’re last,” Ted calls, and flings himself off the boat in a spin move that probably dislodges his face mask.

But he doesn’t miss a beat. An instant later he disappears under the surface.

I chase after him as he powers down to the ocean floor.

Fortunately, it’s not too deep here. We follow the buoy line we dropped to orient ourselves, scanning the ocean floor with our metal detectors as we go.

Teddy is hard to keep up with. He zigs and zags wildly and has to circle back when I get a hit.

“Are you getting the Gunnarsson vibes, Stell?” Ted asks as we wave the sand away with our hands and focus our attention on the object that’s starting to emerge from the sandy floor.

“I don’t know. Can you see what it is? I think it might be a bronze pin from the ship.”

“It’s the right size,” he agrees. I take out my underwater camera and document the find while Teddy places a black-and-white marker. “I’ll let everyone know.”

He radios up to the boat. “We got something. Can Gus check out the site one once he’s down? I’m moving the buoy so he can just follow the line.”

“Roger that,” Zoe says. “He’s on his way.”

Gus verifies that what we’ve found is likely a brass pin.

While it’s not the most exciting find of all time, it is absolutely a good sign.

These pins were used to nail the decking boards down on ships like the San Miguel .

Since wood tends to break down over time in warm waters like those off the Keys, we might not see the actual shipwreck and find only the metal components that were left behind.

Gus and Huck stay to take additional pictures before moving on to site two.

Teddy and I head toward the next hit on our list. It’s not too far to swim, but I am conscious of the time it takes to get within range of it, and how much air we’ve used so far.

“How’s it going down there?” Zoe’s voice comes in from the boat. “Getting anything else?”

“All good, but nothing yet,” I say. “How close was number three from that trench? I don’t see the line yet.”

Zoe is quiet for a minute while she checks the map. “Pretty close. Watch that. If you get over there, you’ll want to stick to the ledge. Teddy, are you hearing me? No going rogue today.”

“When do I go rogue? Concrete examples, please,” Ted says.

“Rogue is practically your middle name.”

“Please. My middle name is Danger. Besides, Stella likes my unpredictability.”

“Ha, it certainly keeps things interesting,” I say.

“Sorry to interrupt.” It’s Huck. His voice sounds so good, even through the radio. “We got a hit! It’s big.”

“Looks like a grappling hook,” Gus adds.

“It’s freaking amazing.”

“Seriously?” I say. “You guys aren’t messing with me?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Huck says.

Gus’s voice comes through, “Hell yeah, it’s for real!”

“Woohoo!” Zoe whoops.

“You guys have to see this,” Huck says.

“Are you meeting us here or have you got something too?” Gus asks.

I’d passed the line for the target a few meters back and didn’t get any signal from my metal detector.

It couldn’t have been a bottom strike of the mag that caused the reading—we’re too deep here for that and the ocean floor is still sloping down at a sharp angle. We’re already at almost eighty feet.

“Ted, let’s head back to site two,” I say.

“No. Not yet. I think we should keep going.”

“Did you grab a trimix air tank?” I ask. Depending on how deep this goes, the helium in trimix can help stave off the nitrogen narcosis that sets in around one hundred feet.

“Just checking the ledge, Stell, no need to alert the media.”

“I’m taking that as a no, and here I was thinking you were on your good behavior today.”

“When am I ever on my good behavior, gorgeous?” He propels past me over the edge, following the angle of the wall that descends deeper into darkness.

I check my air—still doing okay—and follow him down.

As I scan the ledge, I calculate the amount of air we’ll need for our ascent and the safety stop.

I can stay down for another fifteen minutes or so, but Teddy’s cutting it close.

Because men typically have larger lung capacity, they burn through their air at a faster rate than women.

I remind him of this, but he makes a flippant comment about ladies being the stronger sex and keeps going.

My mind flashes back to Huck’s lesson and how I’d told him that I was used to Teddy’s underwater shenanigans.

That was true, but it didn’t stop me from worrying now.

If Teddy goes much deeper, his three-minute safety stop turns into a ten-minute decompression stop to let the nitrogen out of his system. I check my dive computer again. We’re past one hundred twenty feet. “Ted, you need to go up.”

“Just a little bit further, Stell,” he says. “Hang in there with me. A little bit more. I think it’s here.”

“Teddy,” I say. “Stop fucking around.” He’s dropping out of sight.

“Stella, Ted, you both good?” Zoe says.

Teddy doesn’t answer either of us.

“I’m going silent to save air,” I tell her, and then I head down to get Teddy.