Bone Deep by Gina McMurchy-Barber Page B

pirates ransacking the inn in search of the treasure map and were hiding under the bridge. I was about to start the next chapter when I heard the splashing noise again. My heart skipped a beat and then started to race. I got up on my knees and glanced out the window but could see nothing but thick fog. Not even the night lights of Powell River were visible any more. As I sat, ears pricked, I heard the sound of water splashing a third time — it was coming from the aft of the boat. One side of my brain told me to hide, or at the very least get back in my bed. The other urged me to find out what it was. Before I had time to change my mind, I jumped off the seat and went through the galley towards the back, climbed the stairs and came out on the deck that led to the helm where Captain Hunter steered the boat. As I stood in the black silence, I heard the lapping of the waves on the boat, and felt the cool air tickle the hairs on my arms. The silence and the fog were like backdrops to some scary movie and I couldn’t shake the images of throat-slitting pirates hauling themselves up over the sides of the boat.
    â€œYou’re nuts, Peggy Henderson,” I said aloud for reassurance. Just then a swift dark figure surfaced from the water and just as quickly sank down again with a little splash that left the boat rocking. I didn’t know what it was and didn’t stick around to find out. I ducked back inside the cabin as fast as I could, dropped the book off on the table as I passed through the galley, painfully stubbed my toe on the bench, and finally stumbled back to my cabin out of breath. When I finally found the ladder I grabbed onto it and hauled myself up to my bunk. I panted as quietly as I could, trying to catch my breath and hoping Amanda didn’t hear me.
    â€œYou didn’t flush any toilet paper, right?” Amanda’s sleepy voice came from below. “Remember, only the natural stuff.”
    â€œRight, nothing but the real thing,” I answered back, glad to hear her voice even though I’d tried my best not to wake her.
    â€œGood. See you in a couple of hours,” Amanda whispered up to me.
    I don’t know how long it took, but I obviously fell asleep. The next thing I knew the engine was squealing and I could feel the boat was cutting through water. There was also a hint of light seeping through the porthole and the sound of clanging pots coming from the galley.
    â€œWell, you’re still alive then,” said Amanda, smiling. “I didn’t know if you were ever going to wake up.” I looked at the clock. It read 5:30 a.m.
    â€œSorry, I didn’t hear the wake up call,” I mumbled.
    â€œDon’t worry, most people have the same experience the first night or two. It takes getting used to, sleeping on a boat. Good thing for you it’s almost breakfast. You like pancakes and bacon?”
    â€œWho doesn’t?” I chirped.
    All that day we sailed up the Inside Passage. We saw an eagle diving down and snatching up a fish at the last moment, caught a glimpse of a couple of killer whales — just their flukes and tail fins really, and had a pod of porpoises chasing the boat for about a half hour. I took comfort watching their sleek bodies leap effortlessly out of the water and felt sure it must have been a porpoise I’d seen and heard the night before. When he took breaks from steering the boat, Captain Hunter told me more about what we’d be doing when we arrived at the site.
    â€œOnce we’ve located the ship we’ll create a point of reference — perhaps the anchor — that will allow us to find her again in the future. On our first dive we’ll set up a grid system and take some photographs. We have to be really careful not to disturb anything. The ship and the artifacts that may be down there are in a state of equilibrium with the environment. If we suddenly upset that balance it could cause things to rapidly