Peggy Henderson Adventures 3-Book Bundle. Gina McMurchy-Barber

as this would only create an imbalance amongst the coastal people and upset the natural order. I cannot in good conscience be part of such a bargain. Our interpreters, Peter and Loki, have done their best to convey my regret to the chief. To temper his mood I made him an excellent offer for copper pots, tinware, buttons, and blankets — a better deal than made to others — but I could see by his ingenuous demeanor that he was lost to us.

      When I returned to the ship I found Mister Lockhart so intent on completing the trade that he was threatening the men with dire consequences unless they started unloading muskets and gunpowder. He soon discovered their loyalty to me runs deep.

      Peter tells me that Chief Noomki perceives the broken deal as deeply humiliating and retaliation is likely. I too sensed that the chief is a dangerous man and I feel it prudent to make preparations to set sail at first light. I should like to navigate the ship to a safer distance from shore, but a storm is moving in and I am also worried about an outcropping of rocks that were observed when the tide was low. For now, the ship is well anchored and I have set Mister Thomas on first watch, and Mister Barry at the entrance of the ammunitions room. While I do not trust the chief, I trust Mister Lockhart even less.

      Tomorrow, when all of this is behind us, I will decide what is to be done with him. I am now convinced that every man on this ship is doomed should we continue with him aboard. I will consider my options once we are safely on our way.

      Captain James Whittaker

      As I came to the end of the page I realized something. To be sure I was correct I counted on my fingers starting from the day we’d left the docks at Steveston. Then just to be double certain I counted a second time. There was no mistake — the date on the page I’d just read in the captain’s log was June 24th— the same date as today. As this idea settled in my mind I couldn’t decide if this coincidence was a good thing or not. Then it occurred that the next day was even more significant — because it was on June 25th that Intrepid sank. Now I’m not a superstitious type, but I decided not to read the final entry — at least not until after our dive the next day. I closed up the captain’s log, shut off the light, and put my head down on my pillow. As the boat swayed gently to and fro I looked out the small window beside my bed, noting how eerily quiet it was and how there was nothing to see, for it was a perfectly black night — if such a thing could be perfect.

      The next morning everyone was buzzing around in preparation for the big dive. Since I didn’t have much to do I volunteered to cook up some scrambled eggs and toast while they got ready. Over breakfast the conversations were flying around the room. The captain gave everyone instructions for what they were to do during the dive. Amanda reminded Scott to bring the extra waterproof camera. And Dr. Sanchez gave the latest weather report.

      “For now it’s perfect weather, Dr. Hunter.”

      “Great. Well, team … let’s go!” Just as everyone set off to get into their wet suits the captain caught me by the arm. “Peggy, I got the feeling there was something you wanted to talk to me about last night.” I hoped the captain didn’t notice that my cheeks were suddenly flushed.

      “Well, there is something I want to discuss. I just think it would be better if I waited until afterwards.” I was glad that he accepted my response for it was definitely not the time for a confession.

      The surface visibility that morning was poor, but as soon as we’d descended to the ocean floor we could see as far as a hundred feet or more. The wreck was perched on a shallow ledge, where the fast currents had transformed it into a living reef. The wooden hull lay blanketed with fine silt and the stern was covered with ghostly white plumose anemones. Schools of black rockfish hovered over it until they sensed our presence and instantly disappeared.

      I was a little jealous that everyone on the team had a job except me. I watched as Marnie and Scott silently criss-crossed the wreck with measuring tapes in order to create a grid. Dr. Sanchez was taking samples of the wood and storing them in small vials. And while Captain Hunter took photographs Amanda made diagrams and notes.

      I was free to explore the area as long as I didn’t swim out of sight. I swam to the quarterdeck of the ship where I noticed a door. It must have settled in an open position when the ship landed on its side two hundred years earlier. I gingerly thrust my flashlight into the cavern to see what was inside. As my eyes settled on the dimly lit space I could see a cabinet and bookshelves, and then an overturned table, and a high-back chair. As I stared into that silent room it slowly dawned on me I was looking into the captain’s quarters. Then a vision flashed through my mind of Captain Whittaker sitting at that wooden table writing in his captain’s log … right up to the hours before the ship sank. It was a sight that was sort of creepy, but at the same time squeezed on my heart.

      When I felt a hand on my shoulder I jumped. It was only Dr. Sanchez giving me the “get lost” sign. I’d have given him a hand sign of my own, but just then a really gross looking fish darted out of the door and swam towards the stern. I followed after him, determined to get a good look so I could identify the species later. He took off over the quarterdeck and then swam towards the stern. As I pursued him he led me down the back of the ship and then slipped from my view.

      I scanned the area to see where the slippery little devil had gone. As I searched on the back side of the ship I realized the others wouldn’t be able to see where I was. I didn’t want to cause concern so I made my way back towards the side of the ship where they were working. As I swam something vaguely familiar caught my eye. Really, I’d seen it so briefly that it nearly didn’t register. But a small voice in my head told me to swim back for a closer look.

      All mammal skeletons — whether they’re seals, monkeys, or humans — share similarities. Take the vertebrae for example — all animals have back bones that are basically the same shape. Then there’s the long bones — like the radius, ulna, and humerus — that are generally similar too. But there’s one thing that is unique to humans: it’s our long and opposable thumbs. Those two little appendages allow us to thread a needle, paint beautiful images, write with a pen, and throw a curveball.

      And it was just such a neat little row of thumb bones — the first and second phalange, the metacarpal and carpal — that caught my eye in that split second while swimming by. When I turned around and came back for a slower, second look sure enough there it was — a thumb, protruding from the silt like a hitchhiker. I didn’t know if it was a good idea or not, but I took off one of my flippers and used it to fan the silt and sand surrounding the bones. While I waited for the murky cloud to settle I had to keep reminding myself not to hold my breath. When the sand finally cleared from the water I could see the bones of an entire human hand. I excitedly fanned the silt again … and this time I could see that the tiny hand bones were attached to a radius and ulna. Then something shiny caught my eye — as I looked closer I could see it was a single brass button. The kind found on a uniform — like maybe the cuff of a captain’s uniform. I double inhaled then exhaled slowly as the idea settled in my mind that there was a good chance that if the rest of the sand were removed it would reveal a complete human skeleton — and there was a good possibility it was Captain Whittaker’s.

      When I reached Amanda I tugged impatiently on her arm. She signaled to wait while she finished up her diagram of the main mast. But instead I pulled the pencil from her hand and made her follow me. I could tell she was annoyed as I led her to the back of the hull where the bones waited. I knew she wouldn’t be mad for long — and I was right.

      After letting out enough air bubbles to fill a bathtub she took out her measuring tape and notepad. While she made notes and a quick sketch I dragged Captain Hunter, Marnie, and Scott to see what I’d found. I even reluctantly encouraged Dr. Sanchez to come, but he gave me the “beat-it” signal again. It wasn’t until Captain Hunter went for him that he got to see what everyone else was so excited about.

      The worst part about doing underwater archaeology is that you can only stay under the water for a little while. And then you have to wait several hours before diving again — that’s so your body can release the build-up of nitrogen gases that come from breathing compressed air. As we all slowly ascended to the surface I was pretty sure they all felt the same as me — wishing that we didn’t have to go.

      Feeling