Ten

In Search of San Pedro

“What’s that all about?” asked Jenny. She was addressing Skeeter and pointing to a thirty six foot open boat loaded with tourists and dive gear. At coordinates twenty-six degrees, forty-nine minutes north by seventy-seven degrees, twenty-one minutes west, Conchy Lady was anchored up with Bimini Twist tied off its stern. They were preparing for the first exploration dive of the new venture.

“That’s the resort dive trip out of Treasure Cay. They go out twice a day. They attack the shallow reefs with beginning divers and then head back to pick up their afternoon group.” Skeet watched the dive boat chug by and waved to the captain whom he had known for several years. Then he added, “That’s Troy Matson. He runs the dive operation out of Treasure Cay. Now that he has seen us rafted up he’ll wonder what’s going on. And since we’ll be here day after day, he’s really going to wonder.”

“Well, that’s not good,” said Jenny. “We have curious onlookers and we haven’t made the first dive yet. What will it be like after a week of sitting on this spot? The word will be out all over the place.”

Godfrey Frey added, “News of expeditions like this spreads fast. I’ve been on archaeological sites that were mobbed with onlookers, scholars, thieves and muggers. You’ve got to be tight lipped and very protective.”

Just then the VHF radio on board Conchy Lady came to life. “Conchy Lady, this is Abaco Diver. What’s up, Skeet?”

Skeeter turned to Jenny and Max both of whom looked concerned. “I’ll take care of this right now and for good. At least for the time we’re exploring and until your permit is issued. Watch this.” He then keyed the mike and called back, “Hey Troy, how you doin’?”

“Hey, Skeet. What’s going on. Looks like a party.”

“I’m just out here with a couple of friends. They’re helping me set out some anchor buoys for the government to establish an underwater park. We’ll be out here for a couple of weeks drilling and pouring.”

“Excellent,” replied Troy. “If the boats can tie off stationary buoys then they won’t have to anchor up and destroy the bottom.”

“You got it,” replied Skeet. “That’s what we’re thinking. I might have a job for you while we’re at it, if you’re interested.”

Troy replied, “I don’t know, the resort is pretty booked. I’m jammed up for the rest of the summer. What do you need?”

“Maybe just some gear,” replied Skeet. “When the job is done, the honchos from Nassau will want to inspect it.”

“That’s no problem,” came Troy’s reply. “Let me know whatever you need and I’ll make sure you have it. Have a good day and I’ll catch up with you later. Abaco Diver, out.”

“Thanks, Troy, I’ll be in touch. Conchy Lady, out.” Then to Max, Jenny and Godfrey he said, “There, done. Not only will he leave us alone for the next two weeks or so, everybody else in the area will as well. And we have a commitment of any extra gear we might need. The biggest gossip in Abaco is now one of us, only headed in the complete opposite direction. We can dive in peace.”

Max laughed while Jenny smiled broadly. “You handled that like a pro,” she said. “I’m glad you’re one of us.”

“Me to,” said Skeeter. “Now, let’s go over some search and recovery techniques with all the divers. We’ll be fifty percent more efficient if we do this systematically.” Skeeter assembled the group at the stern of his boat and spent twenty minutes reviewing underwater searching patterns. It was technique they would all have to know about not only now, but also later when the galleon was found. He then took ten minutes to establish diving protocol, who would be in the water, when they would be in the water, the routines for buddy diving and the use, maintenance and storage of the diving equipment. It was a half hour well spent because it would save hours, maybe days, later on. It kept everything controlled, organized and safe.

For the next few minutes Jenny and Max schooled the group on how to find artifacts at the bottom of the sea. Look at everything, imagine it as a shape. Visualize it without all the coral encrustation. Look for something out of place. Any stick or bar or piece of rope, anything could be a clue to the find. If you can lift it, bring it to the boat so we can analyze it. If you can’t lift it, tie a buoy to it and we’ll come back to examine it where it sits. “This doesn’t mean we are going to attack the area and turn over everything in sight. We need to be very careful not to disturb the habitat of any of the little critters down there,” said Jenny. “What we’re doing here can be done without being destructive and that is our first priority.”

Max, Skeeter, Jenny, P.J. and Gaffer all suited up for the first dive. With masks and fins in their hands, they crossed over into Bimini Twist where Matthew was standing ready to guide them to the beginning point of the dive. Godfrey stayed aboard Conchy Lady to keep an eye on things topside.

There was a one knot current moving from south to north, so the dive started at the southeast corner of the search area. The divers instructions were to space themselves thirty feet apart and let the current take them for forty minutes. The depth of the water varied from fifty five feet to seventy. Going carefully and slowly they were to try to stay even with one another. At the far end of the search area they would take a three minute safety stop at fifteen feet to allow the out-gassing of nitrogen bubbles that had accumulated in their blood from the increased atmospheric pressure. They would then surface and wait for Matthew to pick them up.

At least that was the plan. Had they all been professional divers, it might have worked that way. But only Skeeter was a pro, the rest were experienced, but still only sport divers. So, somehow, Gaffer who had begun the dive between Skeeter on the eastern end of the divers and Jenny who was in the middle, ended up on the other side of Max who was originally positioned as the diver on the western most end of the line of divers. P.J. did not surface with the rest of the group and could not be seen from under the water. Besides the line being broken by P.J. and Gaffer, nobody saw anything worth a second look.

Skeeter surfaced first and Matthew had the boat immediately ready to pick him up. “I can’t find P.J. down here, Matthew. Have you seen him?”

“About ten minutes ago I saw what looked like bubbles go by about 100 feet over that way,” replied Matthew pointing to the northwest.

One by one, Max, Gaffer and Jenny broke through the surface. Skeeter tossed his fins into the boat and climbed onto the dive ladder. He called over to Max, “P.J. is not with the group. Matthew saw him go by here a while ago. Can you float at the surface for five minutes while I go get him?”

“I’ll go with you.” Max called back.

“Just stay here with Jenny and Gaffer. I’ll be back right away.” With that Matthew turned the boat to the direction from which he had seen P.J.’s bubbles and throttled up to fifteen miles per hour. In thirty seconds he came upon the bubbles again. Skeet quickly put his fins back on and was in the water in no time. There below him was P.J., still swimming to the north only now he was in ninety feet of water. Skeet made a rapid descent to the sea bed and grabbed hold of P.J.’s fin. Startled, P.J. turned abruptly to see that he was face-to-face with Skeeter. He relaxed and paid attention to what Skeeter was showing him. For one thing, P.J. had now been in the water for fifty five minutes. He was ninety feet below the surface and when Skeeter lifted his pressure gauge to show it to him, P.J. saw that he had only 200 pounds of air remaining.

It was a very good thing that it was Skeeter Pincus and not somebody else who came to retrieve P.J. Somebody else might not have been able to find him. Somebody else might be an air hog and not have enough air left to make the ascent to the surface. P.J., by extending his dive duration and depth, had placed himself in a higher dive category meaning his body, under the increased pressure for that duration, had released more nitrogen than the original dive profile had anticipated. Now he would have to out-gas for much longer than the three minutes they had originally planned. But P.J. did not have enough air to stay any longer. If he was to make it to the surface with his own air supply he would have to leave the bottom now.

Skeeter took a few seconds to make P.J. understand that they would not go directly to the surface. At thirty feet they would level off and out gas for twenty minutes. At the end of that time they would ascend to a depth of ten feet and remain there for ten minutes before continuing on to the surface. Skeeter made this clear through commonly understood hand signals. He showed P.J. his air pressure gauge which indicated that he had 1,100 pounds of air remaining.

P.J. and Skeeter kicked gently to toward the surface. To be completely safe Skeeter maintained a conservative ascent rate of two seconds per foot. Two minutes later they arrived at the thirty foot stop. Skeeter looked at P.J.’s pressure gauge to find it was indicating close to zero. By hand signals he indicated to P.J. to stay right where he was, not to move, and he would be right back. P.J. nodded his understanding. What Skeeter was to do next would not be easy, but he had done it before many times. He opened the clip on the strap which was holding his buoyancy compensator and tank. He slipped out of the arm holds and handed the entire assembly to P.J. He kept the regulator in his mouth and handed P.J. his secondary octopus mouthpiece. As P.J. was now out of air in his own tank, he grabbed the octopus and hungrily placed it in his mouth. Skeeter was treading water thirty feet below the surface with a twelve pound weight belt around his waste. He released the clip holding the weight belt and allowed it to drop to the ocean floor. Now he was buoyant and ready to make a free ascent to the surface.

One more time Skeeter indicated to P.J. to stay right where he was. Using the OK sign, P.J. acknowledged that he understood. Skeeter checked the time on his dive watch, took a deep drag of air and took the regulator from his mouth. He leaned back and calmly began to float to the surface, slowly releasing air bubbles all the way up. When he broke through the surface he swam quickly to Bimini Twist. He climbed up the ladder and called to Matthew, “I need a scuba rig right away. Help me put one together.”

Matthew quickly grabbed a tank and buoyancy compensator and handed it to his father. By the time Skeeter strapped the tank to the B.C., Matthew was ready with the regulator. “Is there another weight belt around here?” asked Skeeter.

Before Skeeter could attach the regulator to the tank and turn on the air, Matthew had reached into to rear starboard storage compartment and retrieved three five pound deep dropping leads. While Skeeter donned the scuba gear Matthew placed the leads into the pockets of the buoyancy compensator.

“Son, P.J. is taking a safety stop. He blew out his dive profile and needs nearly thirty minutes to out-gas. I’m going to stay with him. You go pick up the other divers and be sure to tell Max that everything is OK with his son. We’ll be back up as soon as possible. Tell everybody to change tanks over. We’ll take a surface interval and grab some lunch on our boat. Gotta go. See you in a few minutes.” With that Skeeter jumped backward and headed straight down to join P.J.

By the time Skeeter made it back down to the thirty foot level, five minutes had passed. He found P.J. relaxed and easily maintaining the proper depth. P.J. gave the OK signal indicating that he had no problems. Skeeter opened the belt holding P.J.’s tank and helped him struggle out of it. He blew air into the manual inflator of the buoyancy compensator until it was full, released the entire rig and allowed it to float to the surface. Then he helped P.J. to don the gear he was holding. By the time this changeover was complete there was only five minutes left on this safety stop. P.J. and Skeet gave each other the OK sign and relaxed. There was nothing to do but wait.

At the surface Matthew was picking up the other divers and helping them with their tank changes. He explained to Max what had happened with P.J. This allowed Max to relax. “They’re going to be down there for a little while longer and I’m sure P.J. is OK,” said Matthew. “How about I take you over to Conchy Lady and come back and pick up my father and P.J.?”

“Sounds good,” said Jenny. “We can do the changeover and get lunch ready. Let’s go.”

Matthew deposited the divers onto Conchy Lady. By the time everyone crossed over and Bimini Twist returned to the pick up site, Skeeter and P.J. were bobbing at the surface ready to climb aboard. Even as they treaded water Skeeter was sternly enumerating for P.J. all the things he had done wrong on that dive. “Messing up like that, not following instructions, swimming off by yourself, that’s how people get hurt. Sometimes that’s how people get dead. Do you have any idea what dive group you’re in after that dive?”

P.J. did not have an answer. He had completely forgotten everything he had ever learned about diving, spaced out the dive tables, nearly run out of air and jeopardized everybody’s safety. All he could do was to apologize and hang his head in shame. Skeeter allowed P.J. to climb aboard the boat first and then followed him up the ladder.

“I released P.J.’s B.C. and tank a little while ago,” Skeeter said to Matthew. “Did you see it float to the surface?”

“I already picked it up,” said Matthew.

“Let’s go,” said Skeeter as he and P.J. shed their scuba equipment. Skeeter would not talk to P.J. He was steamed. P.J. moved slowly toward the bow to get out of the angry Skeeter’s sight.

By the time Bimini Twist returned to Conchy Lady, Godfrey had lunch spread out for the divers and all the tanks for the second dive had been readied. As soon as P.J. crossed over to Conchy Lady his father laid into him, “What did you think you were doing? Don’t you have a brain? Do you know you could have been killed leaving the group like that? What were you thinking?” Max voice was loud and angry. Nobody was trying to stop him either.

P.J. was embarrassed and hurt. He had to hear it first from Skeeter and then from his father. What he had done was absurdly dangerous. He waited for the noise of the lecture to calm down and went over to where Matthew was sitting on a deck chair eating a sandwich. “Matthew, where did you put my BC?”

Matthew stopped chewing long enough to answer, “I put it on a fresh tank. It’s right there,” he said pointing to a spot in the bow along the starboard gunwale.

P.J. walked forward and retrieved his scuba outfit and dragged it back to where Max was engrossed in conversation with Jenny and Godfrey. He stood in front of them saying nothing, just standing there until Max asked him what he wanted.

“I just wanted to show you what I found and why I got separated from the group. When I found this thing I thought it looked interesting and I got caught up in it and forgot about the dive.” He reached into the pocket of the BC and pulled out a coral encrusted object. It was not a normal shape. It was exactly what Jenny had told the group to look for, something out of the ordinary. The coral was discolored with what appeared to be a brown stain and it was in the shape of a perfect semi circle. It appeared that the rusty metal end of something was protruding from the coral. Jenny’s eyes widened as she took the object from P.J.’s hand.