A CRY FROM THE DEEP (2 page)

Barnaby stepped forward and gave each stone a counter-clockwise turn.

As he did, the Curser made incantations in an eerie voice, one that seemed borne of the black crow flying overhead. “May every pestilential and ferocious gale blast the cursed ship the
Alice O’Meary
without fail!”

An “Aye” from Barnaby sealed the curse.

~~~

With the dancing over, Margaret’s father turned to the couple and raised his tankard. “May God be with you and bless you; may you see your children’s children. May you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings. May you know nothing but happiness from this day forward.” Clearing his throat, he added, “And as your fortunes improve, come back and get the rest of us.”

One of the rowboat’s seamen came up to the father and said in a grave voice, “We’d best be going, if we’re to leave at all.”

Margaret’s father hugged her and then grabbed James by the shoulders. “Take care of her, my son. She’s the world to me.”

James said, “I’ll take care of her as I do me own life.”

Margaret and James then watched the waves buffet her father and the seamen as they rowed back to shore.

~~~

Down in the first mate’s quarters, the bridal couple, giddy with wine, laughed when the ship suddenly pitched to one side, tossing them onto the bed. James kissed Margaret and said, “I will always love you.”

“And I you, forever.”

He cupped her chin and kissed her so deeply it shook them both. She moaned with pleasure as he unbuttoned the bodice of her gown. The tops of her breasts were exposed, and her skin gleamed like polished alabaster in the moonlight streaming through the porthole. He gently pulled her up from the bed and slid her gown off her shoulders.

Clothed only in a muslin slip, Margaret shivered not from the cold but from the lust that had been ignited by his touch and the way he looked at her. She helped him undo his shirt buttons. His chest glistened with sweat and when he embraced her, she pressed her thighs against his. With their desire mounting, he picked her up and laid her on the bed.

Though the waves crescendoed outside and the ship rolled, Margaret entertained no qualms. Hadn’t James told her many times about the gales he’d ridden without any calamity striking his ship? If he was relaxed in her arms, then she would be too, in his.

James was about to raise Margaret’s slip when a hard knock on the door jolted them both.

He frowned and got out of bed. He opened the door a crack.

It was the fiddler. “I’m sorry, mate, but you’re wanted on deck.”

Frustrated, Margaret buried her head in the pillow. Any further lovemaking would have to wait.

~~~

The roar of the storm made Margaret uneasy. It had been awhile since James had left the cabin. With the ship tossing violently from side to side, Margaret put her dress and boots back on, grabbed her shawl, and fought her way out the cabin door. She then gripped anything that protruded in the passageway to keep her balance.

Once on deck, her heart pumped wildly with dread. The boards were covered by a shallow lake that sloshed about with each roll of the ship. Every seaman was battling the storm—working the rigging or bailing with buckets. The casks that had stood motionless on deck were on their sides, sliding with each thrust of the raging sea. Any movement was treacherous, as her boots slipped easily on the deck. Her drenched clothing clung to her body and her hair lay in wet strips across her chest and back. It was so hard to see with the water pelting her face that she had to keep her head down. Though scared and nauseated, she pushed forward in the wind that lashed the ship and everything on it.

Margaret could see the captain at the helm with James at his side. She was about to climb the steps to the bridge, when one mast broke. She yelled as a piece of it plunged to the deck, narrowly missing her. Stopping only to cross herself, she clenched her teeth and grabbed the stair rail, pulling herself up one step at a time. James, along with the captain, was struggling to control the wheel. She called out his name in the deafening storm, but he couldn’t hear her. It was then a boom crashed, striking the captain and sending him reeling against the ship’s side. He lay there, unconscious, blood gushing from the deep wound on his forehead.

“Oh, Mary of God!” she cried as she slid into James. In fright, they held one another. As she nestled her head into his chest, the ship lurched, and a rogue wave rose over the gunwales and swept them into the sea.

ONE

Provence, France, 2010

Catherine Fitzgerald walked up and down her rows of lavender plants, looking for any damage after an unusually harsh winter. There was no serious harm but the large number of slow budding plants was distressing. It meant that even with extra help, she’d have trouble getting the flowers to the distillery in time for the tourist season. Why, she asked herself, had she tossed aside her life in Manhattan for a centuries-old farm in France? Had this been another mistake?

A raucous honking caught her attention and she glanced up to watch a vee of gray geese fly low over her fields. She raised her hand in salutation. They knew where they were going, unlike her.

She was about to check another row, when she heard the phone ring. She looked across the field at her thatched cottage, the one she’d bought on a whim. It had reminded her of an oil painting she’d seen at the Tate gallery in London. There was something about the past that Catherine found reassuring.

“Mama,” cried Alex, her daughter, as she ran out the front door, holding the phone. “A man wants to talk to you. He says his name is Frank.”

Catherine knitted her brow. This was the moment she’d been dreading, ever since she’d learned that Frank was back as editor at
National Geographic
. She could never say no to him. He was the kind of man who made every assignment appealing, even when her intuition told her to run the other way.

Meeting Alex half-way down a lavender row, she took the phone. “Hi, Frank.”

“Hey, Catherine. Nice to hear your voice. It’s been awhile.”

Not long enough,
she thought as she followed Alex back to the cottage. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

“How did you know? I thought you’d dropped out completely.”

“I got an email from Henry.” Henry, a coworker from her glory days, still kept in touch even though he’d retired from the business a year before. “Is he the one who told you where I was?” She opened the front door, and Alex scooted through.

“Well, when you need the best, you find out where to look.”

“I hope he told you I’m content where I am.” She took off her dusty garden clogs in the entryway, where some of her photographs hung on the walls. A photo of a parrotfish caught her eye, and she stood there a few moments marveling at its turquoise and fluorescent pink skin. 

“Let me tell you what I’m calling about before you say no.”

“Frank, you haven’t changed.”

He responded with that endearing throaty laugh she remembered. “You remember Kurt Hennesey?”

“Of course.” Hennesey had made his reputation through his profitable but unethical deep sea dives in both hemispheres. “Is he still up to his old tricks?”

“He’s like a cockroach. You can’t get rid of him. He’s about to go on another big hunt, one that’s raising a lot of questions. He’s got government agents and marine archaeologists breathing down his neck.”

She glanced over at Alex, who was finger-knitting a dolly scarf. It was nice to see her so absorbed. Getting Alex away from the intensity of Manhattan had been good for her.

“Catherine, are you still there?”

“Yes, Frank, I’m listening. So what’s he after now?”

“He’s got another galleon in his sights, off the Donegal coast in Ireland. One of the lost ships from the Spanish Armada.”

That was a surprise. “I thought all the ships had been found.”

“Actually, there’s a number that have never been recovered. He’s unearthed some evidence that suggests there’s one north of Galway. He’s hinting this could be bigger than the
Atocha
.”

She smiled. “Did he say that or are you spreading honey on that carrot you’re waving?” The
Atocha
was the find of the past century; its jewels, gold coins, and artifacts now scattered among the major museums of the world.

Frank laughed. “You know there’s no one else who can do it like you.” There it was. The old sell. Frank was a master at it.

“C’mon, I’ve been out nine years. My equipment’s outdated. My contacts have probably disappeared. I’m sure you can find someone else to do the job.”

“Are you kidding me? When you were doing this work, you were the best.”

“That’s just it.
Was
the best.” She could hear him groan. He was probably rummaging through his head for a better argument while taking in the Washington, D.C. skyline from his office window.

“You don’t lose those skills overnight. I could probably get you one of our cameras to use. A Canon G10 with a Fisheye FIX housing.”

She’d read about the camera. It was very compact and operated well in extreme depths. Trust Frank to pull all stops to lure her back. “Tempting, but I’d have to retrain.”

“Don’t tell me you’re fat and flabby now?”

She laughed. “No. I’m good. My farm has kept me fit. And I cycle and do yoga.”

“I expected as much. You were never one to let yourself go.”

“That’s not the point. There’s all the new diving equipment. How am I going to get—?”

“I already thought of that. A couple of weeks with a good instructor, three tops, and you’ll be up to speed. It’s like riding a bicycle. Once you learn, you never forget. Besides, Hennesey’s not leaving for a few months. You’ve got time.”

Though she hated the pressure, she loved Frank’s directness. He was one man who didn’t play games. “I told you, I love it where I am. Alex is happy. Why would I want to get back into the fray?”

“Why? 'Cause you’re good. You know what to shoot and how.” When she moaned, he added, “And also because you ran away. If you don’t come back, what happened to you will haunt you for the rest of your life. You have to face your fears sooner or later.”

She could feel her stomach knotting up. He was right; her last dive still haunted her. She’d almost drowned. Even the thought of going down again put her body on high alert. Everything about this screamed,
No!
She swallowed hard. “I wish I had your confidence. You’re asking the impossible.”

“If I believed that, I never would’ve phoned you. Besides, I need someone with a good eye. If there’s anything untoward, I know you’ll catch it on film.”

“What about Charles? That’s something he’d jump at.”

“Charles was in a car accident. Concussion. He’s on strict orders to take it easy for awhile.” When she didn’t reply, Frank went on. “Just think about it, that’s all I ask. I need someone to follow Hennesey right from the start. He moors his boat in Florida.”

“You want me to go to Florida?” She sat down beside Alex on the sofa.

Alex raised her head from her knitting. “Isn’t Disney World in Florida?”

Catherine covered the speaker with her hand. “Shhh.”

Alex whined, “I’ve never been to Disney World.”

“Was that Alex? How old is she now?”

“Yes, that’s Alex. She’s seven.”
Going on twenty.

“I’ll pay for you and Alex to go down there. You can shoot him on his boat in the marina, and then we’ll talk.”

Alex tugged at her mother’s shirt sleeve. “Please, Mama. Please.”

Catherine covered the phone again. “I’ll take this call somewhere else if you keep bugging me.”

Throwing her arms in the air, Alex said, “No fair,” and flung herself back on the couch in frustration.

Frank’s insistence grew. “The pay’s way better now.”

“You know, Frank, it was never about the money. Not that I couldn’t use it, but as tempting as it is, it would mean dragging Alex all over the place. It’d be hard on her.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” said Alex, standing up to protest. “I don’t mind you dragging me. I’d love it.”

Frank chuckled. “I see I have someone on my side.”

“Can you wait a second, Frank?” Catherine covered the receiver again and said, her voice rising, “Alex, I asked you not to interrupt! Either you stay quiet or I’m going to have to take this in another room.”

“You’re so mean.” Pouting, Alex made a point of moving to the far end of the couch.

Catherine stood up and walked to the entranceway. “Sorry, Frank, you know kids.”

Alex made a sour face and stuck her tongue out.

Catherine did her best to ignore it. This wasn’t the time to have a confrontation.

Frank said, “Listen, it doesn’t have to be complicated. Meet with Hennesey and then take Alex to Disney World. Get a feel for him, that’s all I ask, then we can get together in New York. Isn’t her father there?”