Lethal Legend (7 page)

“How frustrating it must have been to have to postpone the dive.”

“I doubt that a few days delay did any harm. Miss Dunbar’s ship has already been down there for four hundred and eighty seven years.”

Ben smiled as Diana blinked in surprise. She’d assumed, as he had at first, that Miss Dunbar was looking for a colonial settlement, which would have meant a place established some
two
hundred and fifty years ago.

“Four hun—”

Graham Somener chuckled at her amazement. “Yes, Mrs. Spaulding. You heard correctly. The ship Miss Dunbar is looking for went down in the year of our Lord 1401—almost a hundred years before Columbus ‘discovered’ America.”

“And you think something could have survived?”

“Miss Dunbar does.” He shrugged. “Enough to be recognizable as part of a ship. There might even be bits of the cargo left. As I understand it, if the ship hit one of the ledges that surrounds this island and sank, it would have settled either on the ledge, in which case the remains were quickly broken up and swept out into deeper waters, or to the bottom. If it came to rest in sand, there’s a chance some of it has been preserved. It would have been covered up all this time, you see, and thus protected.”

Diana’s brow wrinkled in thought. “If only tiny bits of a shipwreck are left, how will anyone be able to recognize them for what they are?”

“Ah, that is the purpose of Mr. Ennis and his diving suit.”

As the meal progressed and Graham expanded upon his explanation, it occurred to Ben that his old friend had taken more than a passing interest in Miss Dunbar’s quest. He was not only remarkably well informed about the shipwreck, but about deep sea divers and their gear, as well. Well, why not? Graham had likely been the one who’d paid for it all.

“Everything is sealed,” Graham assured Diana, “so there is no risk of the suit filling up with water. In addition, these suits have a double security system. Air comes in by way of a hose that is close to the right ear and has a manually adjustable valve. A second hose goes straight to the mouth. Air escapes from a non-return valve on the helmet. That is necessary, you see, to get rid of stale or excess air.”

“I think I will need to examine an actual helmet to understand what you mean,” Diana admitted. “It sounds very complicated.”

“Much less so than earlier models. In the old days, helmet divers were hindered by lines and hoses and could move only with difficulty. To make things worse, their passage would stir up a cloud of muddy water, limiting visibility. In the best of conditions, if a diver wanted to take a closer look at something, he’d only dare lower his face glass for a moment. There was great danger otherwise of accidentally inflating his suit, which would blow him to the surface and likely kill him.”

“A dangerous business, then.”

“Indeed, and that wasn’t the only risk. If the anchor dragged on the tender carrying the air pump, the diver was as good as dead.”

“Fascinating.” Diana shifted eager eyes to Ben. “Will we have time before we leave to watch the start of the dive?”

He glanced at the Ormolu clock on the sideboard. “We should be able to see a bit of the action, but then we’ll need to head back to the wharf to watch for the
Miss Min
.”

Graham put down his fork with a clatter. “You
did
make her promise not to speak of any of this, or write about it?”

The surprised look on Diana’s face answered him before Ben could explain himself. “Ben?” she whispered, seeing the flash of temper in Graham’s eyes.

“Settle down, both of you. Diana’s not here to expose any secrets.”

“But if Miss Dunbar finds what she’s looking for, it will cause a sensation. Surely she’ll want credit for her discoveries. I—”

Graham rose to his feet so abruptly that his chair toppled over backwards. “You’ll not write one word. I forbid it.”

“If it concerns the excavation, it will not be up to you.” Cheeks flaming, Diana stood, too. She clutched her napkin so tightly that her knuckles shone whiter than the linen.

“Calm down!” Ben shouted.

Both parties jumped at the crack of his voice.

Graham drew in a deep, steadying breath. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to watch the dive, after all. There won’t be room in the rowing boats to take you around to the cove.”

“We can get there by way of the promontory path,” Ben countered, annoyed by the sudden renewal of  his old friend’s mistrust of Diana. “She’s not going to betray any confidences, Graham. You have my word on it.”

Diana said nothing.

Graham took several deep breaths, calmed down and, finally, nodded assent. “That’s a difficult descent for a lady, but if you don’t mind the climb, I suppose it will be alright for you to watch.”

Only Ben noticed the tight compression of Diana’s lips before she accepted Graham’s grudging invitation. “I’ve had quite enough of small boats for one day,” she told him. “I will be glad of a brisk walk.”

Courageous or foolhardy? Ben was never quite sure which word best described his fiancée. What he did know was that Diana Spaulding had enough determination to keep her fear of heights at bay. Because she’d said she would, she’d climb down the steep, narrow path that led from cliff top to beach and utter not a single complaint along the way.

 * * * *

“Difficult” did not begin to describe their descent, Diana thought. Safe at the foot of the promontory at the seaward end of the island, she looked back the way they had come and shuddered. A rock-strewn goat path twisted and bumped its way upward. If she had not had Ben’s arm to hang on to, she was certain she’d never have kept her feet. Worse, she’d had to keep her eyes open the whole way. Twice she’d been unable to repress the urge to look down. Both times the dizzying, stomach-wrenching aftermath had stopped her in her tracks for several long minutes while she fought to regain her courage and continue.

Now she made a production of straightening the divided skirt of sturdy blue serge that she’d changed into before they set out. The action did little to hide her trembling hands but Ben, gentleman that he was, pretended not to notice.

“The boats are just arriving,” he remarked. “We’ve plenty of time before they are ready for the dive.”

She pasted a bright smile on her face and once more took his arm. “Onward then.”

“A moment first. I need your promise, Diana. No word of Miss Dunbar’s explorations must leak to the press. Nor can you publish anything about Graham.”

“I will write nothing without their permission,” she temporized.

Ben considered her answer carefully, searching her face, before he nodded his assent and started walking towards the landing site.

She was not on ground that was either level or solid, since the sand shifted with every step and was littered with rocks besides, but it was easier going than on that wretched path. As they picked their way along she studied her surroundings, paying particular attention to details that might interest her readers. She was convinced that she’d eventually write about Serena Dunbar’s archaeological expedition. To create a sense of being on the scene, she’d have to report sounds and smells and textures as well as a factual description of what she saw.

“What is that?” she asked Ben, pointing to a bird she did not recognize.

“Osprey. There is a colony of them on the island. Also gulls, cormorants, herons, ducks, and loons.”

“I’m well aware there are gulls.” Their plaintive, rather annoying cries were as constant a part of the background on Keep Island as the sound of waves lapping against the shore. An even more unpleasant racket reached her ears as they advanced upon the tents set up in the cove.

“Pigeon hawk,” Ben answered, before she could ask. “Nasty birds. They deplete the songbird population.”

Underfoot, the way continued to be rough and rocky—no white sand beaches on this part of the coast! In fact, the ragged shoreline was littered with large, irregularly shaped rocks, worn down by water and wind but far from smooth.

She sniffed cautiously. Brine. Seaweed. And the distinctive odor of mud flats. She could not tell if the tide was coming in or going out but to judge by the high-water line, they were in no danger of being cut off and drowned.

“Look there.” Ben stopped suddenly to indicate a point of land that curved back upon itself like a sheltering arm to create the small cove.

“What am I supposed to see?” Nothing about the rather bleak bit of beach and the low, jagged cliff above seemed unusual to her.

“See that dark, irregular circle? That’s the entrance to the cave Graham and I played pirate in as boys.”

The opening was all but invisible until Diana stared directly at it. Even after she located the spot, she could see no way to reach it. “Wasn’t that a dangerous place for young boys? How on earth did you get up there?”

He directed her gaze to a large boulder at the base of the cliff. “The path begins just behind that rock and winds out towards the point and up. At high tide, of course, it is entirely submerged.”

“Does the inside of the cave flood?”

“We speculated that the back portion stayed dry, but we were never foolish enough to allow ourselves to be trapped inside in order to find out.” He grinned at her. “Those were good days. Carefree days. Graham’s Aunt Min kept to herself and let us do as we wished. She said we couldn’t get lost, this being an island and all, and that we’d turn up when we got hungry.”

“In her place I’d have been afraid you’d drown, or fall off a cliff.”

“Sheer luck we didn’t, I imagine. I’m a good swimmer, though. So is Graham.”

Diana shivered. “I never learned how.” A very good reason, she thought, to stay out of sea caves.

Continuing on towards the excavation, Ben assisted Diana over the uneven terrain by keeping a reassuring grip on her arm. As they drew closer, she could see that two large rowing boats had been pulled up onto the shore. Quite a number of people stood clustered around them. Graham Somener and Miss Dunbar were there, and Ennis, Carstairs, and Amity, but so were Mrs. Monroe and two men Diana did not recognize, although she thought one of them might be the guard she’d seen earlier.

“Who are they?” she whispered to Ben.

“The groundskeepers Graham temporarily reassigned as watchmen. The fellow with the fiery red mustache is MacDougall. The other is named Landrigan.”

The latter
was
the guard from the cliff. He was younger than Diana had thought, his face clean-shaven. He kept a wary distance from his employer and further betrayed his uneasiness by repeatedly adjusting the fit of his checked cap. The second time he shifted position she saw that he still had his rifle with him.

By the time Diana and Ben came abreast of the group, Miss Dunbar and Mr. Ennis had moved a little apart from the rest. They were speaking in low voices, but from his rigid stance and her flushed face, Diana could tell that the exchange of words was heated. As she watched, Ennis put his hand on the lady archaeologist’s upper arm. Miss Dunbar froze, her eyes locked with his and the tension between them was suddenly so palpable, and so charged with frustration, that Diana felt her own face warm.

In the moment before Miss Dunbar pulled free and stalked off, Diana was certain Frank Ennis was about to haul his employer into his arms and kiss her. She shook off the fancy when Miss Dunbar reached Graham Somener’s side and tucked her arm through his in a familiar manner.

“Would you care to see our camp, Mrs. Spaulding?”

Diana jumped.

It was Frank Ennis who had spoken. He’d come up close beside her while she’d been staring at Miss Dunbar. He offered her his arm, pointedly ignoring his employer. She pretended to take no notice of him, either.

Diana cleared her throat. “If you have time, I would very much enjoy a tour.”

“There’s not a great deal to see. We hadn’t been here long before we fell ill.”

“Lead on then,” Diana invited, and she and Ben followed the archaeologist up an incline into a more sheltered area well above the high tide line.

Even in bright sunlight, the place was chill and damp. Diana could not imagine why anyone would have preferred camping out to living in the mansion. As for the excavation itself, there was indeed very little evidence of archaeological activity.

“Sand and bedrock,” Ben said in a low voice. “Not much to dig in.”

But the area had been marked off with posts and criss-crossed with cord and off to one side Diana could see what looked like a giant sifter made of wood and wire mesh.

“This is our work area,” Ennis said, ushering them into one of the tents. It had been furnished with tables and shelves but at present seemed to be in use only to store equipment—trowels, brushes, and other implements Diana could not identify.

The second tent provided living quarters and contained three cots and case upon case of food. Two crates, one open and one still nailed shut, were marked with the distinctive brand name “Moxie Nerve Food.”

“Those belong to Paul Carstairs,” Ennis said, seeing the direction of her gaze, “although he’s talked me into drinking a bottle once or twice. Claims it’s good for digestion, fatigue, insomnia, and whatever else ails you.” He grimaced at the memory. “To tell you the truth, when we first got sick, I was sure it was the Moxie that had poisoned us!”

Diana grinned back at him. She’d once tried a sip of the carbonated beverage herself. That had been more than enough of the horrible stuff. It had a bitter taste appropriate to the medicine it claimed to be.

“Why does he have so much of it?” she asked.

“Says it affords him more relief than anything the doctors gave him after the accident.” At her questioning look, he added, “He took a bad fall on his last expedition.”

“Frank!” Miss Dunbar’s voice, sharp and impatient, reached them from the other side of the tent flap. “If you’re going to dive, let’s do it now.”

Ennis grinned. “She’s like a broody mother hen about this excavation. Wants to keep it all safely tucked under her feathers so nobody can get at it.”

He was already pulling off his outer garments as he left the tent. Beneath, he wore heavy woolen underwear. Diana managed not to blush, but she had an uncomfortable moment wondering just how much more he intended to strip away.