The last rays of the setting sun caromed off the tall buildings of downtown Boston as Maddock and Bones made their way to the old Charlestown Navy Yard on the shore of the Charles River. They’d set Jillian up at a local motel while they saw to their task.
They crossed the Charlestown Bridge and turned onto Constitution Drive, pausing to pay their respects to Old Ironsides along the way. Its mast lights shone down on the white pine mainmast and black and white hull.
“So, what’s your big plan?” Bones asked as they continued on.
“An old friend of my dad’s lives here in town, and he owns a dive boat. He’s going to hook us up with the gear we need and take us out. There it is right there.”
“Whoa,” Bones gasped. “Check that out. When you said dive boat, I pictured something smaller.”
The live-aboard craft measured a good eighty feet from bow to stern with a twenty-five foot beam and second-deck bridge. Maddock admired its sleek lines and thought he would love to own a boat just like this when he left the service.
“Dane Maddock, you swarmy son of a sea dog!” A rough voice called out.
Marco Cosenza, an old Navy pal of Maddock’s father, Hunter Maddock, was a dark complected, meaty slab of a man with close cropped hair. His appearance and manner reminded Maddock of Vince Lombardi. He lumbered down the gangplank and caught Maddock up in a rough embrace. Maddock clapped man on the back and pushed away before his ribs caved in.
“How the hell are you, son?”
“I’m doing well, coach.” Cosenza had been his Little League coach when the two families had been stationed in the same city in Florida decades ago. “I really appreciate you helping us out.”
“Glad to do it.” He turned to Bones. “I guess Maddock isn’t going to introduce us. I’m Marco Cosenza.” They shook hands and Cosenza looked Bones up and down. “Anybody ever tell you you’re the biggest Indian they’ve ever seen?”
“Nope. You’re the first. I’m Bones. Good to meet you. I just hope you have a dive suit to fit me.”
“I think we can find something.” Cosenza turned back to Maddock. “You told me where you want to dive, but not what you’re looking for.”
“How about we go aboard and I tell you all about it?” He followed Cosenza to the gangplank and stopped at the bottom. “Permission to come aboard Sea Foam, sir?”
“Granted.” Cosenza chuckled and waved them aboard.
“I like your boat.” Bones looked it over with an approving smile. “Ever think about renting it out for parties? I’ll bet I could get a band and fifty Hooters girls on here easy.”
Cosenza threw back his head and laughed. “My wife would love that!”
“That’s why I’m never getting married. Too much Bones to go around. I can’t deprive the lovely ladies of all this.”
“I like your friend. Where did you find him?”
“He’s not my...” Maddock’s voice trailed away under Bones’ expectant look. “We’re in SEAL training together.”
“How’s that going, anyway?” Cosenza asked.
“So far, so good. We made it through BUDS. We’ve still got a way to go, though.”
“I always knew you’d make something of yourself. I know your dad is proud of you. How’s he doing anyway? I haven’t heard from him lately.”
“He’s off in Nova Scotia doing his pirate research. I don’t know why he goes back to the same place every summer. You’d think he’d exhaust the possibilities and move on to someplace else.”
An odd look passed across Cosenza’s face and vanished as quickly as it had come. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. Come on, let’s get going before the night gets away from us.”
Within half an hour, Cosenza had piloted Sea Foam out beyond the mouth of Boston Harbor. The temperature quickly dropped a good fifteen degrees and Maddock breathed deeply of the cool ocean air. As the dive boat churned through the water at fourteen knots, Maddock and Bones brought Cosenza up to speed. The university library had held plenty of information about the sinking of the Somerset, and enough information about currents and the ocean bed around Massachusetts for him to make a solid guess as to the ship’s present location.
“I doubt there’s much of Somerset left to find. A wooden vessel down in the waters of the North Atlantic more than two hundred years?”
“It’s not probable,” Maddock admitted, “but it’s possible. In any case, there might be detritus strewn about, items left over from the wreck. They’ve even found cargo of ships from ancient Greece, and that’s a lot older than what we’re looking for.”
“That’s the Mediterranean. But, if you kids want to swim around down there in the dark, I won’t stop you. Better get suited up. We’re almost there.”
They donned their Lycra suits, Maddock’s a bit baggy around the middle, and Bones’ too short at the wrists and ankle, and checked their air tanks. The steel AL80 cylinders were in suitable condition and filled to their seventy-seven cubic feet capacity. Maddock doubted they’d be down long enough to need it all, but they each took a pony tank just in case.
Cosenza stood on the deck, arms folded across his chest, a light breeze ruffling what remained of his hair. The searchlight from a nearby lighthouse, high above the shoreline, sliced the darkness with a beam of white light, stretching toward the east.
“We’re smack dab on the coordinates you gave me. Ready to do this?”
“See you soon, Coach.”
Maddock and Bones made their final checks, donned their cylinders, and moved to the deck rail. Maddock gave Cosenza a quick, two-fingered salute, and flipped backward into the water.
He activated his dive light and plunged into the ocean’s inky depths, shivering as the cool water enveloped him. A beam of white lanced through the water nearby as Bones activated his own light. Kicking steadily, they went deeper into the darkness.
Their lights found the silt of the ocean floor minutes later. He kept his breathing regular as the respirator filled his lungs with sweet air. The two men stayed close to one another, sweeping their lights back-and-forth. As they swam, Maddock saw nothing but a featureless seabed.
It did not take long for him to determine their search was likely to be in vain. If any part of Somerset had withstood the corrosive power of the salt water, it had likely been carried away, either by human hands or the strong current.
Bones’ dive light blinked three times, and Maddock kicked toward him. He followed the beam down to the seabed. He couldn’t help but swallow a little extra air as his heart skipped a beat. He recognized the large, curving wooden object immediately. Somerset’s keel!
They swam down for a closer look at the relic that hadn’t seen the dawn in two hundred fifteen years. The meager light shone on the ship’s wooden ribs, the timbers emerging from the silt like fingers reaching up from the grave. There was, however, no cargo to be seen. They probed the silt, but found nothing.
Maddock’s sense of wonder at seeing this ship out of a pivotal point in America’s history battled with his disappointment. He supposed he hadn’t truly expected to find the lantern down here, but his meticulous personality required him to at least eliminate the possibility. Plus, it had afforded him the chance to do the thing he loved most: dive on a wreck.
Bones tapped him on the shoulder and pointed up toward the surface. Maddock nodded and they followed their bubbles upward. As they ascended, he spotted not one, but two hulls floating above them. He broke the surface and his vision exploded with white light.
Bones spat out his mouthpiece and squinted. “What the hell, dude?”
“United States Coast Guard,” a deep voice boomed. “Come aboard, and keep your hands where I can see them.”
Bones looked at Maddock. “Babes and bar-hopping are looking pretty good right now, aren’t they?”