Dark Harbour: The Tale of the Soul Searcher by Joseph Kiel Page B

the rusting Alchemist . Their multibeam bathymetry system fanned out sonar beams towards the seabed. The swath of signals returning to the computers produced maps from which the young mariners worked out possible shipwreck sites. So far they’d made only a handful of dives, and today’s efforts were once again fruitless.
    ‘It’s a wide playing field, but if they can find themselves that there Titanic , I’m sure we can find ourselves our old missus,’ replied the old salt dog Captain Harp. He’d spent more time on these waters than anyone else in Dark Harbour, which was exactly why Devlan had hired him. That and the fact that he was one of the few friends that Devlan had. In his early sixties, Harp had found a new lease of life taking on this job for himself and his faithful companion, the Alchemist , a well-used powerboat trawler with flaking blue paint.
    ‘Remind me to dig out my fishing rod, will you?’ Devlan said as he gazed thoughtfully across the waves.
    Captain Harp suddenly roared with laughter, or more like exploded with it. He was always brimming with enthusiasm like a barrel of frothing beer. ‘Ha! If we can’t find our booty, there’s plenty more fish in the sea, eh Devlan?’
    Harp started climbing the cabin to go to the helm. The three divers had now removed their diving equipment and the crew was ready to go home for the night and put their feet up before having another full day tomorrow.
    Captain Harp switched on the engines but they stuttered and choked out thick black smoke.
    ‘Come on, my dear,’ he pleaded. Perhaps the Alchemist wasn’t used to being taken out so much, for today she’d been acting stubbornly. Harp gave the key another forceful twist, and then finally she agreed to come to life. ‘Homeward bound we go!’ cried Harp as he pointed the boat to the harbour.
    Devlan called up to him: ‘What’s up with it?’
    ‘Think she must be in a bad mood with me.’
    ‘Let me have a look when we get back. I’ll have her fixed in no time.’ It was no exaggeration. Devlan had a genius ability to fix malfunctioning mechanical devices. Getting his hands on old rusty engines was actually something he loved doing more than anything else.
    ‘That you will,’ Harp agreed as he cheerfully began whistling one of his old sea shanties.
    Their spirits hadn’t dampened yet, even though they were yet to find any clues as to the whereabouts of this sunken pirate ship. On the third day, the divers had come across an old war plane, a Spitfire, which only encouraged their thirst for discovery.
    As long as Floyd was willing to pay then they were all content. Even if they were to be out there for months and find absolutely nothing, Devlan didn’t care. It was something to do.
    Devlan’s thoughts were interrupted as Captain Harp began singing his shanty:
     
    ‘ Her eyes were as pale as the moonlight’s glow,
    As she stood by the shore, her heart full of woe,
    Her love set sail,
    To search for that grail,
    And nevermore would he know, how she loved him so.’
     
    ‘Not heard that one in a long time,’ Devlan said.
    ‘No. Me either,’ replied Harp.
    He started on the second verse, the boat slowly chugging its way back to the harbour.
     
    When they arrived back, Devlan slid beneath deck to examine the engines. Harp stayed on board while the divers all went home to get their rest.
    ‘Seen what’s wrong with her yet?’ Harp shouted down the hatch.
    ‘Your injectors are playing up,’ Devlan replied.
    ‘Blasted things. Want me to fix a brew?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘Sure you don’t want a light down there?’
    ‘No, I’m fine.’
    Devlan heard Harp’s footsteps walking across to the galley. Below deck, the damp air smelt thick with cloying fumes and oil. As he reached for a ratchet, Devlan paused. Strangely, he was now picking up the hint of another scent down there. Aftershave. He knew that Harp didn’t wear any and the deodorants the divers applied to their bodies were washed away by the