The Sea Hawk (13 page)

"You should be asleep,
mon chou
. We leave tomorrow and I shall need your assistance," she smiled down at him.

"I had to say goodbye to Hercules," he said, looking up at her. "I will be ready."

Leaning down, Simone kissed Joaquin on both cheeks. "Sleep well, little man."

"
Bonne nuit
," he said. He paused and spoke briefly with Julia and accepted a good night kiss from her as well. Simone watched Joaquin walk to the house, acutely aware of Julia's presence. No matter how much she tried, she was involuntarily drawn to her. Simone walked to within a few feet from her. There was something she wanted to say, but no words came to her.

Julia nodded and said, "Good evening, Captain."

"
Mademoiselle
," Simone's voice stopped her.

"Yes, Captain."

"Tomorrow, as you know," Simone began, avoiding direct eye contact with Julia, "we will be leaving."

"I shall be ready."

"I am certain you will be glad to leave here and return to your home."

"Actually," Julia said quietly, "it is lovely here."

Clearing her throat, Simone said, "You and

Mademoiselle
Longmire will be on board the
Northumberland
with my brother tomorrow." "What?" Julia said, her eyes shooting up to Simone's face. "But I..." "You will be safer on the
Northumberland
. The accommodations will be quite comfortable for you."

Seeming to search for a response, Julia finally said, "But what about Joaquin? His lessons? Surely you do not..."

"I do not wish more trouble on board my ship than necessary. I have other matters to occupy my mind," Simone interrupted, her eyes finally meeting Julia's. Even in the moonlight, her eyes took Simone's breath away.

"I would not be in your way, Captain," Julia said.

The pull of Julia's eyes was as steady and certain as the pull of the moon on the tides and Simone took a step back. "Anton will be expecting you. Good evening,
Mademoiselle
," she managed to say despite her distraction.

Simone watched the figure walk away from her and said softly, "Julia, please." She thought she detected a momentary pause in Julia's steps, but waited until she was certain Julia had entered the house before following and making her way to her room.

Chapter Nine

WHILE THE
DISCOVERY II
piloted back into the harbor at Tybee Island, Frankie Alford changed into her comfortable khaki cargo shorts and a summer-weight knit pullover. Her well-worn deck shoes provided her with good traction over the cruiser's wet deck as she leaned over the railing to loop a mooring line around a pylon.

As soon as they tagged and logged the artifacts from the day's dive she would turn her attention to the one project she had been avoiding and dreading most. The cannon raised before Julia's disappearance. The chemical process of stabilizing the metal from its long immersion in salt water was completed. The directors of the Institute were anxious to see the newest prize.

Damian joined Frankie in her Jeep. "We gonna start tonight?" he asked as she adjusted her seatbelt.

"Yeah. I can't put it off any longer. The
Peach
has waited long enough to tell her story. We've got a lot data to compile. When we get back, I'll log in the items we brought in today. I want you to develop the pictures of the ship I took. I think I noticed something unusual."

"Like what?"

"Look at the pictures and tell me what you see."

Wheeling the Jeep into her usual parking space, Frankie followed Damian up the stairs to the Institute's front doors. She tossed a film canister to him. "How long?"

"Maybe an hour. Maybe less if the dryer cooperates. See you in your office," he said as he trotted down the hallway.

FRANKIE CARRIED HER computer case into her office and set it on her desk, scooting her chair closer as she brought the laptop to life. This was the boring part of her work, but it still had to be done. She plugged the computer in and walked down the hall to a break room, praying there was still coffee available.

Successful in procuring a mug of barely tolerable brown liquid, she scooted her office chair closer to the desk as she wiggled the mouse for her laptop. Based on measurements the team had taken of the shipwreck and the approximate position of its masts, they extrapolated the size and dimensions of the
Peach
and pieced together the location of several bulkheads in the lowest part of the ship. Using their combined historical and scientific expertise, the estimated length of the ship had been approximately one hundred to one hundred and twenty feet. If they had been correct in their assumption, the ship originally contained four decks, the possible height from waterline to main deck would have been nearly thirty feet. More of the ship than they first believed had survived as it came to rest in a soft section of the shallow Continental Shelf.

Based on her calculations, Julia had believed the ship could have been a British brigandine from the War of 1812 period. British ships had been active along the American Atlantic southern seaboard, intercepting American shipping as well as that of the Americans' French allies during the blockades of Georgia and South Carolina seaports beginning in late 1812.

"These are some great shots, Frankie," Damian announced as he entered her office.

"Have you looked at them all?"

"Of course," he answered, sounding slightly insulted.

"What do you think caused her to go down?"

Damian dragged a chair next to Frankie's desk and sat down next to her. Shuffling through the photos again, he puffed his cheeks out and exhaled. "Well, I think we can rule out a hurricane."

"What makes you say that?" Frankie asked as she typed figures into her computer program.

"Well, look at this freakin' hole in the side! It had to have been during a battle or skirmish." Bringing a picture closer to his eyes, he pointed to a dark splotch and said, "Looks like it took a direct hit...about here."

"Really?" Frankie questioned as she tapped a key on the laptop and leaned back. "Think three dimensionally."

"What?"

"Mentally see the ship upright and floating. Do you see it?"

"I'm working on it, but I always did for shit on those spatial tests."

"Maybe this will help," she said as she turned the laptop toward him.

Glancing at the computer simulation and back at the photograph, he said, "But that's not possible. Is it?"

"The only way I can think of for that hole to be where it is would be if the crew deliberately scuttled her." Leaning forward, Frankie stared at the computer monitor. "It couldn't have been an explosion in the magazine or the debris would have been blown to hell and back and not nearly as defined. And since the ship predates torpedoes, the only explanation is that this hole below the waterline came from within the ship itself. We'll have to examine the wood around the area and hope it still shows the directionality of the blast."

"Sabotage?"

"Possibly, but we might never know for sure."

"Well, that's more than a little frustrating," Damian said as he tossed the pictures on Frankie's desk.

"I'd almost be willing to bet it took more than one cannon shot to sink this bad girl. Pretty big ship for her day. Could have carried, what, maybe a crew of around eighty?"

"But it could have been manned by as few as a dozen good sailors. Could have been scuttled to prevent it from falling into enemy hands if they were undermanned."

"Maybe," Frankie said. "Probably gonna end up another one of those annoying maritime mysteries, like the Bermuda Triangle." Her eyes began misting over. "I wish Julia could be here to see this." Damian ran his hand over Frankie's shoulders while they watched a computer animation of the
Peach
turn on the computer screen.

FRANKIE SAT AT her desk, staring once again at the computerized picture of the
Peach
. The longer she gazed at the animation, the more clearly she could envision what the large ship might have looked like. She shut the computer down and made her way to the lab two floors below her office.

The eighty-thousand-gallon receiving tank had been prepared days before the dive team began bringing up artifacts from the
Peach
. Its salt water content matched that of the Atlantic Ocean off the Georgia coast and was kept at a temperature matching that at the ship's depth. Seeing it through the clear new container, Julia had been so proud the day the encrusted cannon had been raised to the surface. Now Frankie couldn't drag her eyes away from it. It was beautiful. The cannon rested mere inches from her fingers. She reached out and touched the glass of the tank as lab technicians prepared to hoist it onto a work bench.

A bright fluorescent work light hung over the table. Frankie pulled on rubber gloves and guided the dripping cannon into a waiting cradle. The electrolyte reduction process had loosened large chunks of the encrustation. The remaining cleaning would be done by hand, a long and tedious procedure. She ran her fingers over the metal and felt a portion of the crust near the breach loosen slightly. She moved around the table and saw a small uncovered area that looked like a brass or copper plate. She withdrew a small plastic probe from a pocket of her cargo pants and slipped the tip of the instrument under the loose section. She twisted it slightly, grinning like the village idiot when a small piece of embedded sediment fell away. She brushed the small, newly uncovered area and swung a magnifying glass over the pitted surface. Letters etched into the plate were still difficult to read, but Frankie hoped it would eventually reveal the maker or brand name for that particular cannon. Armed with that information she might be able to trace it to t
he name of the ship carrying it. She spent the next two hours working on the plate, typing entries into her field notes and activity log.

Chapter Ten

SIMONE WAS SADDENED to leave her island home, but the excitement of setting sail always seemed to dispel that sadness. She went to her ship before daybreak and now stood on the main deck of
Le Faucon
watching the long boat carrying Julia and Kitty toward the
Northumberland
. Reaching down she offered a hand to Esperanza and lifted her onto the deck before pulling Joaquin up to join them. Esperanza cast a glance at the
Northumberland
anchored nearby, making sure she had Julia's eye as she slid an arm possessively around Simone's waist.

Julia watched Esperanza and her son board
Le Faucon
, and what she saw seemed like a cohesive family unit. She knew she could easily submit to her attraction to Simone, but also knew she couldn't do anything to hurt Joaquin. She didn't understand the forces that brought her to this time and place and thought, if she were very lucky, it would all wind up being a dream from which she would eventually awaken. Simone was nothing more than a fantasy, a temptation, an internal manifestation of her own desires. A hand meeting hers brought her back to her current reality as she stepped onto the deck of the
Northumberland
.

FOR THE NEXT three and a half calm days, Julia did little more than think. Gradually her thoughts turned back to the
Georgia Peach
. Sadness swept through her as she stood near the deck railing and observed Simone's ships plying through the open waters. She missed her life. Even without Amy there was so much she looked forward to. None of her skills prepared her to live in this time. She missed flush toilets, documentaries on television and long drives into the Georgia countryside. She laughed out loud at her thoughts, followed immediately by the overwhelming knowledge she might never see or do those things again.

"Are you all right,
Mademoiselle
?" a male voice asked from behind her. Julia looked over her shoulder and saw Anton.

"Yes. I was just thinking about my home," Julia answered, turning and leaning against the railing.

"You will return there soon,
Mademoiselle
," Anton smiled. "Simone may travel to the American coastline once we leave Isla de Margarita."

"How long a trip is that by ship?"

Rubbing his jaw, Anton said, "It is quite a long journey. We must sail past the British strongholds in Jamaica and the Cayman Islands. Perhaps a month if the winds are with us."

Another month, Julia thought as she stared down at the water. "Do you enjoy this life, Anton?" she asked.

"It has been profitable, but soon Simone and I will be leaving it behind us."

"Why?"

"Simone only wishes to be with her Arabians now. She is at an age that marks the decline of her life."

Julia laughed. "She is still a young woman."

"My sister will soon pass her thirty-fifth year," Anton said, looking at her incredulously.

Only a year older than I am.
Thinking back, she had no idea what the life expectancy might have been in the early 1800s. "And what about you? What are your plans before you become an old man?" she asked.

Blushing slightly he continued, "I hope one day to take a wife and have many fat, healthy sons. This would be no life for them."

"No daughters?" Julia smiled.

"No more than one," Anton chuckled. "Women are such fickle, but delightful creatures. I do not know if I could tolerate more than one."

"Will your sister keep Esperanza with her if she gives up this life?"

"Esperanza would stay, but Simone does not keep her. She is a free woman and my sister is an honorable woman." Anton seemed offended by Julia's question.

"I did not mean to suggest otherwise. I know the Captain is quite attached to Joaquin."

"He is like a son to her, that is true." Looking down, as if weighing his thoughts, Anton said, "Esperanza fills a need. Other than that I cannot comment as to the nature of their relationship."

"I did not mean to pry," Julia said, pushing away from the rail. "Where is Kitty?"

Blushing furiously, Anton said, "Ah, yes. Last I saw her she was still sleeping."